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POPULAR NOVELS.

LY MAY AGNES FLEMING.

7.-

8.-

9.-
10.-
11.-
12.-

i.j.

-GUT EARLS(^()UI?T'S WIFE.

-A woxDj;iii''ur. wo.m'an.

-A TEKItlULE SECRET.

-NoniNE-s ul:vi::>(;e.

-A .MAD MAiailAGH.
-ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY.
-KATE DANTON.
-SILENT AND TRUE.
-IICiR OF CIIARI/rON.
-CARRlin) 15Y STURM.
-LOST FOR A WOMAN.
-A WIFE'S TRAGEDY,
-A CHANGED HEART
-PRIDE AND PASSION (New).

"MrB. Flcmin',''H ptoric? are growin.u; more and more
popular ovcry day. Tlifir de!; negations of charactor,
life-like conviT,«atioii.=i, flashes of wit, con-
HtaiUly varying scenes, and deeply inter-
esting plotii, cotubiiio to placo
their author in the very
first rank of Modern
Kovelists."

All published nniform with this volamo. Prlco, $1.50
each, and sent free by mail on receipt of price,

G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers
New York.

Pride and Passion.

^ NoucL

MAY AGNES FLEMING,

AUTHOR or

GUY EARLSCOURt's WIFE," " A IF.RRIDLE SECRET,"

"A WOXnr.RFL'L WOMAN," " ONF- MGHT's MYSTERY,"

"silent and TRUE," "A MAD MARRIAGE,"

'* LOST FOR A WOMAN,"

ETC., ETC.

" I know not, I ask not
If ^-^uilt's in th}' heart ,"
I but know that I love thee.
Whatever thou art."

— Moore.

NEW YORK:

G, W, Carleton & Co., Publishers.

LONDON : S. LOW, SON & CO.
Mnccri.xxxiT.

Stereotyped by
Samukl Stodukr,

ELKCTnoTYI'EIt & StKUKOTVI'KR,

W) Ann (Street, N. V.

Trow

PniNTINO AND BOOK-BINDINO Co.

N. Y.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

PAOS

I. Tlie Mermaid ^

II. The Lone House 25

m. An Escape go

IV. Fontclle ^g

V. Jack De Vere qj

VI. The Secret 73

VII. The Midniglit Music 83

VIII. The Vendeita 95

IX. Jacinto , -.Qg

X. A IMystery J24

XI. Captain Disbrowe makes a Discovery l;59

Strange Meeting 15;}

iimasked jrjrQ

ide and Passion Igl

Queen Uncrowned 20)i

XIII.
XIV.

vi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGB

XVI. The Story in the Lone Inn 220

XVII. The End of the Story 233

XVIII. A Woman's Nature 248

XIX. Little Orrie 2G1

XX. A Proud Heart Crushed 267

XXL "He Giveth His Beloved Bleep " 285

XXIL The Lonely Grave 299

XXIIL Over the Sea. 314

XXIV. Norma 326

XXV. Oil with the Old Love 345

XXVI. A Secret Sorrow 354

XXVII. Resurgam 373

XXVIIL The Actress and the Earl 383

XXIX. An Old Foe 395

XXX. " All Things Hath an End " 406

PEIDE AND PASSIOK

CIIAPTEIl I.

THE MERMAID.

" Whoe'er has traveled life's dull round,
Where'er !iis stages may have been,
Maysigh to think he still lias found
His warmest welcome at an inn."

— SlIENSTONE.

HE time — late in the evening of a raw April
day, many a year, most probably, before you
were born, my dear sir or niadam. The
scene— a long, bleak strip of coast on the
Jersey shore, washed by the bright waters
of the Howinii: Hudson.

A low, black, rakish-looking schooner, with a sort
of suspicious look about it, strikingly suggestive to
nautical individuals skilled in reading the expressive
countenances of schooners in general, 1iad just come to
anchor out in the river, a sliort distance froin the shore ;
and a boat, a few minutes after, had put off from her,
and landed two persons, who sprang lightly out; while
two more, who had rowed them ashore, leaned on
their dripping oars, and waited, as if for further direc-
tions.

*' You can go back now. I don't want you to wait
for me. TU stop at the 'Mermaid' to-niglit. If I
want you, you know the signal ; and tell Sharp Bill to

(71

THE MEUMATI).

; I

keep ail nneommon sharp look-out. Come, my little
Spanish Jockey o' Norfolk; put 3'onr best lei( foi-einost,
lioist all sail, and let's be.'ii' down on that full-blown
craft. Bob Rowlie, of the Mermaid inn."

ic speaKer mive nis eoinnamon a

ow on

b'lck, at this passaiJi'e in liis discourse, that sent hiin
reeling, as well it iiiiij;ht; and then, with a coarse laugh,
sprang, with more agility than might have been ex-
pected from his looks, over the wet, shingly, slippery
beach, towards the high road.

lie was a man of some forty-five or fifty years of
age, short, brawny, and muscular, though not stout, M'itli
an extremely large head, set on an extremely short
neck, which made u]) in thickness what it wanted in
length. A complexion like unvarnished mahogany,
with a low, retreating forehead ; a pair of sharp, keen,
glittering, hawk-like eyes, gleaming from under thick,
scowling brows; a grim, resolute mouth, expressive of
the most unllinching do-or-die determination, made up
a face that would hardly be associated, in female minds,
with the idea of love at first sight. This eloquent
frontispiece was rendered still more attractive by a per-
fect forest of underbrush and red hair generally ; in-
deed, there was considerablv more hair about his coun-
tenance than there seemed any real necessity for ; and
his tarpaulin hat crowned a head adorned with a violent
mat of hair of the same striking color. The gentleman
was dressed in an eas}', off-hand style, that completely
set at deliance all established civilized modes, with
nothing about him, save his sailor's hat, to betoken he
was a seaman. Yet such he was, and a cajitain. too ;
Cajitain Nicholas Tempest, commander of the I'ly-by-
Kiglit, at your service, reatler.

A greater contrast to the gentleman just described
than his companion, could hardly have been found,
search the wide world over. lie was a slender lad, of
not more than sixteen or seventeen apparently', with a
face that would have been feminine in its exquisite
beauty, but for the extreme darkness of the complex-

rilE MERMAID.

f
la

ion. Every feature was perfect, as faultlessly chiseled
as if modeled after some anti(]ue statue. His eyes were
lar<i:e, black, and lustrous as diamonds; liis short, crisp,
curliup^ hair, of jetty blackness; while his comj)lexioii
was darker than that of a Creole. His form was sli^j^ht,
rrracefu!, and elegant ; his dress, odd, picturesque, and
foreig.i-Iooking, and strikingly becoming to tlio dark,
rich style of his beauty. A crimson sash was knotted
carelessly round his waist; and a cap of the same color,
with a gold band and tassel, and a single black plume,
was set jauntily on his dark curls, and gave him alto-
gether the look of a handsome little brigand, just
dressed for the stage.

The burly commander of the Fly-by-Kight sprang
fleetly up the rocks, followed by the bo3% until they
left the beach, and struck out on the straggling, unfre-
quented, lonely-looking road, with only one house iu
sight, as far as the eye could j'cach, and that one a low,
dingy -looking place, with a black, smoky chimney lean-
ing pensively to one side, and two vacant-eyed windows,
that stared straight before them with an idiotic, help-
less-looking gape, and a melancholy old door, tjiat
creaked and moaned dismally whenever it M'as touched.
Over this door was a flapping sign, with an uncomfort-
able-looking female painted on it, who held a condj in
one hand, and a small pocket mirror in the other, into
which she was gazing with an expression of the most
violent astonishment, evidently lost in wonder as to how
on earth she had ever got there — as she very well might,
indeed ; for it was an uncomfortable, not to say distress-
ing, place for anybody to be, much less a mermaid. A
striking trait about this lady was, that after beginning
like any other reasonable Christian, she suddenly and
impetuously, and without the smallest provocation, saw
lit to branch olf into a startling tail, which turned up so
that the tip stood on a level with her head, and left her
precisely in the shape of the letter IF. Under this ex-
traordinary female was |)ainted, in glaring, yellow
capitals, '' The Mermaid," and there was a popular

Tiir: MiniMAiD.

legend extant, to the eflect tluit the picture above was
a strikinjx likeness of one of those iishy individuals
tliat had been captured by a fiji-nier proprietor of the
inn, Vv-liiie she was combinp^ her sea-green tresses dov.'u
on the sh(jre. For the truth of the narrative I am not,
however, prepared to vouch in this authentic history, as
I have only popular tradition for it.

Tov/ard this invitingdooking dwelling our two
"solitaiy travelers" were betaking themselves, at a
leisurely pace, each seemingly absorbed in his own
thoughts. Captain xsicholas Tempest, having insinu-
ated about half a yard of twisted tobacco into his
mouth, was discharging right and left, with that benign
expression of 'ountenance men always wear when chew-
ing the weed; and with i)oth hands thrust in his trou-
sers pockets, he niar(;hcd along M'ith an independent
swagger, tiiat said, as plainly as words, "I'm Captain
Nick Tempest, sir, and I don't care a curse for any
man !" liis handsome companion kept by his side,
stepping carefully to avoid the mud, lest it sliould sully
the shining brightness of his Spanish leather boots, and
smiling sliglitly as he caught the contemptuous glances
Captain Tempest cast toward him, as he observed the
action. And thus, the one chewing tobacco and plow-
ing his way straightforwardly along, in free and easy
scorn of mud and dirt, and the other stepping daintily,
and sj^ringing over holes and puddles, they marched
along in silence for a season.

Captain Nicholas Tempest, transferring his quid,
with an adroit roll of the tongue that besiioke long and
accomplished practice, to the other cheek, and having
discharged a startling lire of tobacco-juice, gave his
pantaloons a hoist, and glancing toward ids companion,
at length lifted up his voice and spake.

" Well, my little shaver, you've got to America,
at last, you see, all safe in wind and limb ; though, by
George, we did come pretty near going to Davy's
locker once or twice during the passage. And now
what do you think of it, eh ? Hardly equal to tho

t. k

Tin-J Mi:iiMAlD.

lid,
lid

)ii,
lea,

's
pw
ho

*vin2clad hills of sunny Spain,' you sec, my lad.
Iwuthcr a dreary and desolate prospect, just at present,
ain't it r'

'' Yes, somewhat so," said the lad, as he measui-cd
intently with his eye a pool of water in his path, and
then leaped lightly over it. His voice was soft and
n)usical in the extreme, and was rendered still more
so by his foreign accent, though he spoke in excellent
English.

"And now- that you've got here. Master Jacinto,
what do you mean to do with yourself, if it's a fair
question V

'' i\n-fectly fair, Captain Tempest. I mean to
take exc(^llent care of myself," said the lad, carelessly.

"Humph! you do — do you ^ Uoys have queer
notions about taking care of themselves. J suppose
your next move will be for Kew York city."

" That depends."

" Depends on wdiat?"

"Av'ell, ona good many things, generally, and on
one thing in particular."

" And what is that one tiling? Don't be so cursed
secretive, you little ja('kanapes I 1 tell 3'OU what,
my young cove, you had better keep on the right side
of me ; for it will be the tallest feather in your cap,
if you have the friendship of Captain iS'ick Tempest.
Mind that!"

" I am much obliged to Captain Nick Temi)est,
and would not offend him for any earthly considera-
tion," said the young Spaniard, in a tone of provoking
indilferencc, as he tightened his sash; "but, at the
same time, he must allow mo to decline making him
my conhdant, more 'especially as it is totally out of lii.i
power to aid me in the slightest degree."

Captain JSick Tempest came to a sndd(!n halt,
and with his hands still in his pt)ckets, faced round
in the middle of the road, his swarthy face liushed, and
his browns contracting with rising anger ; but as his
eyes fell on the slight, boyisli form of the other, he

*«?

THE MERMAID.

it '

checked lihiiself, and said, in a tone of withering scoiii,
as lie moved on :

'•\Vliy, wliat an independent yonni:; gentleman we
have here, so selt-eonseious and wise that he deelines
all Jielp, and is going to hegin life in a land he never
e^et lout in before, on the 2)rinciple of letting every tub
stand on its own bottom. If you were a dozen years
older, i would twist your neck for yon, for your inso-
lence. A !S])aniard more or less is no great loss in the
world; and 1 have settled the hash of many abetter
man than you will ever be, for less than that I''

"1 have not the slightest doubt of it, sir," said the
lad, with so ready an acquiescence as to sound like llat-
tery, while a slight and almost imperceptible smile
broke for an instant over his handsome face.

"Oh, you haven't!" growled Captain Kick, slightly
molliliet!, "'well, then, let me give you a jiiece of
friendly advice : Don't attempt to provoke Captain
Tempest. Yon had a passage over in my bark, and
we've broken bread together, and been good friends
all along, and 1 don't know but what I kinder liked
you; but still, J tell you, as a friend, don't provoke
me, J\J aster Jacinto."

"Itcally, Captain Tempest, I had no intention of
oft'ending you, and regret exceedingly having done so,"
said the youth, bowing de])recatingly ; " but the fact is,
I could not, it' 1 would, tell you my plans; for I do not
know myself, having formed none as yet. Most likely
1 shall do as 1 have always done — trust to luck, and
let to-morrow take care of itself."

"A mighty profitable maxim, and a beautiful way
of passing through life," said the captain, with a sneer.
"'Trust to luck, indeed, the slippery jade! No, sir, 1
wouldn't trust her the length of my nose, and that's
none of the lon2:est either."

'" Providence, then, if yon like that better. Don't
you trust in Providencje f ' said the boy.

'* Providence !" said Ca])tain Nick, jerking out his
tobacco, with a look of utter contempt, "" paugh ! don't

THE MERMAID.

make me Bick. I tliink I see myself trnHtiiic: in Prov-
idcnce ! Ko, sir. Since 1 was kiiee-liig-li to a cluck,
I've put my trust in somotliini!^ that lias uevcr deceived
me yet, and ncjver will while one timber of this (jueer
craft of a world hangs together; and I'd advise you,
my little Spanish friend, to do the same."

"Indeed! perhaps I may. AVhat is this wonder-
ful sheet-anchor called'!!"

" Captain Kick Tempest, sir," said that individual,
drawing himself up, and fixing his Ihuiiing eyes on
his companion's face. " I've trusted in him, sii", and
I'll back him against luck and Providence, and all the
other sheet-anchors in the world. Luck! ugh !" said
the captain, with a look of disgust, as he let Uy a last
volley of tobacco-juice.

The boy would have smiled, but there was a warning
gleam in the lierce eyes of the captain that forbade it;
60 he said nothing, and again they walked on for a
short distance in silence, autl sulkiness on the part of
the gallant commander of the Ply-by-JS'ight.

"Is that the inn we are to stop at f at length
inquired the boy, Jacinto.

" Yes," said the cai)tain, with a sullen growl,
" that's the inn I'm to stop at. I don't know any-
thing about yours ; and what's more, I don't cure. You
may go where you please."

Again that slight and seemingly irrepressible smile
flickered for a moment round the lad's handsome
mouth ; l)Ut it was gone directly, and he was standing
u'ith his hand on the captaiiTs arm, and his dark bright
eyes iixed on his grull', surly face, saying, in his soft,
musical accents :

"C'ome, Captain Tempest, forget and forgive; it is
hardly worth your while to be angry with me. We
have been good friends since the day we left Merrie
England until this; and as there is no telling how soon
we may ])art now, it will never do to cpiarrel at the last
moment."

"Quarrel!" said C'aptain Kick, contemptuously.

THE MERMAID.

ili

'' Quarrel with a little pinch of down like you ! Why,
I'd as soon quarrc;! with a woman ! Not much fear of
you and I quarrcliiru^, my yoiinii; shaver!"

" Well, let us t)0 friends then, as we were heforc.
Come, captain, shake hands on it — if I spoke imperti-
uently that time, 1 am sorry for it. Will that do V

lie held out his hand — a small, fair, delicate haiid,
that no lady need have bc^n ashamed of — and looked
up, \\'ith a pleading face that was quite irresistible, in
the i>Tufi (captain's face. Captam IS ick, with a stilled
growl, took the boy's hand in his own huge digits, and
gave it a crushing shake.

" There! don't coino it over me with your soft-saw-
der. Master Jacinto, if you please," he said, as if half
angry with himself for the hking lie could not help
feeling for the handsome boy. " You've got a sweet
tongue of yom* own ; and tliongh it can sting pretty
shari)ly at times, you are always ready to plaster tlie
wound over again with some of tliat same honeyed bal-
sam. ^'(Ui see yon can't take me in, my lad. You'll
have to cut a few more of your eye-teeth before you
can manage that. Here we are at the Mermaid, and
there she swings herself, the same picture of ugliness
she has always been since I first had th(> pleasure of her
acquaintance. Wonder if old Kowlie has thought
pro]")er to die of apoplexy yet f

As he spoke he ptissed through the low doorway,
and entered the house, closely followed l)y Jacinto.
The dooi" opened straighr into the bar-room — a low,
dirty, smoke-hegrimed place, with a strong odor of
ardent s])irits and sawdust pervading it. Numerous
casks were ranged round the walls; and on the shelves
behind the counter were arrayed bottles, decanters, and
glasses, and all the other paraphernalia common in such
places. Leaning over the counter, with his back to the
door, and busily engaged in turning over the greasy
leaves of a dirty little account-book, "'as a fat, round-
about little man, with a rosy face indicative of an uulim-
itod amount of solemn good-nature.

■i/ ■

THE MERMAID.

(1
h

"I say, old J>ob llowUc ! wliat elicer, my hearty V
called Captain Nick, <xiviiin; tlio little nuiii a blap in tiic
back that nearly knocked him into a j"lly. "Alivo
aid kicking yet, I sec! What a }n-eciou3 long time
the old boy is of claiminir his own, to be sure!"

" Captain Nick Tempest," said the little man,
slowly, as he laid down his pencil and book, and looked
solemnly in the face of his boisterons guest, " and so
you've come back again, have you ^ I might jiave
known it was you, for nobody ever knocks the breath
out of my body till you come. AVho is this ?" said Mr.
Kowh'e, looking v.dth his slow, grave gaze toward the
young Spaniard, wdio was leaning carelessly against the
door-j)Ost.

" Oh, a customer Tve brought you — a young
chap from beyond the seas," said the captain, flinging
himself into a chair; "come in, Jacinto, and make
yourself at liome. How's the old woman, Bob?"

" J\[rs, Uowi;,! i ; por-fec ly well," slowly articulated
^[r. Itowlie, taking a prolonged look at Jacinto, " per-
t'ec-ly well, thaidvv. Is the men coming up to-night ?"

"Not to night. I'm going to swing my hannnock
here myself, to-night. How's trade these times, old
bulfcr i Many customers at the Merhiaid V

"■ Yc-es," said Mr. liowlie, deliberately — " yc-es,
sometimes there is, and then, again, ronu'times there
ain't. Vessels, principally, bring customers, but tiiey
don" I stay long, mostly the reverse. Generally, it's
fjuicu here. (Jnconnnon so."

" Well, it's likely to be brisk enough while I stay
- -my men arc the very dickens for spending their
money. And now, my fat friend, just let me have
soniednng to eat, will you. I feel hungry enough to eat
yourself, b(Hiesand all, if you were properly stulfed and
roasted. Come, hurry u[)!'"

Ml
fee

>}• WAV O

f eon

iDlvuu

with this re^picst Mr. TlowHe
waddled leisuri^ly to a door at the other end of the
room, and opening it, he called, in a husky falsetto,
'• Mrs. Uowlie-e-e I"

rilE Mh:iiMAID.

I
I

What do joii want j" called a brisk voice from
within, as a incny-lookin:i; little woman, like her hus-
band, sonieuhat of the dumpling order, came to the

doo

r aT)(

peep

1 out.

some

Captain JS'ick Tempest has arrived, and wants

4',...,l '>

food

1, marcy sakes

Caj^t

am, Jiow

?" c

Mrs. Kowlie, bustling out, and holding out her hand
to the burly captain. " How unexpected people keeps
a turning up! I'm raillj glad to see you. I railly
am, now."

"Thankee, Mrs. Rowlie — thankee!" said the cap-
tain, as he sprung up, and gave the buxom dame a
rousing salute on the cheek, while Mr. liowlie looked on
in solemn dismay; "and lh)W do you lind yourself, old
lady i JJlooming like a hollyhock, as usual C

"Lor', ca})t;iin, behave yourself, can't ye?" said
Mrs. Rowlie, jerking hersell; away, and wiping the
olfended cheek with her check apron, " please goodness,
you've no more manners nor a })ig. lley ! who's this •;
Lor' 1)1{ ss me ! where did this uncommon hanilsomo
young gentleman come from C she exclaimed, suddenly,
catching sight of Jacinto, who was still leaning care-
lessly against the door.

The boy doifed his cap, and bowed with a smile to
the old lady, who gazed at him with unconcealed admi-
ration.

"From S[)ain, Dame Quic^kly, if you ever heard
of such a ])lace," said the ca])tain. " Rut never nund
liis beauty now, while there is more important mat-
ters to attend to. Do you know I've had nothing to
cat siiice early noon, and now it's almost night!!
Come, be spry. I hear soniething iizzling in tliere,
and, il" my nasal organ does not deceive me, something
good, too. What is it ^"

" iS tewed rabbit," said the old ladv, whisking the
dust olf a chair with her a])ron, and bringing it over to
Jacinto. "Do sit down, sir, and make yourself comfor-
table. Yes, Captain Nick, yes ; everything will bo

TUE .,:EliMAlD.

1(1
It-
to

rciidy directly. Lur'' bless me ! how excessive liaiidsonie
that young gent is, to be sure !" said Mrs. Kowiie,
cotto 'VOCCj as she hurried into tlio inner room.

"Yes, that's womankind, all over," said Captain
Tempest, bitterly. "Let them sec a liandsome face,
and old loves and old friendships are alike forgotten.
Curse them all ! every mothers daughter ot* them, I
say! Old and young, rich and poor, they are all alike.
Even this old fool, now, the moment she sees the liand-
some face of this young Spaniard, she is read}' to forget
and nei^lect me — me, who has done more for lier than
he ever will or can do in his life. And these are the
things that men love — that men every day stoop to
love, and make fools of themselves for. Talk of cher-
ishing vipers — there never was born a woman yet who
would not be a viper if she had it in her power."

It was evidently some inward feeling, in which
good little ]\[rs, Kowlie had no share, that sent Cap-
tain Nick Tempest so excitedly from his seat, and
caused him to pace with such an angry, ringing tread
up and down the little room, his face full of such
furious, repressed passion. Mr. Rowlie gazed at him,
for a moment, in stolid surprise, and then busied him-
self in lining a black, stumpy pipe with tobacco ; and
Jacinto, sitting toying with a little gray kitten, cast
furtive glances at him from under his long eyelashes.

" Smoke V said Mr. li(jwlie, sententiously, holding
out the black, stumpy pipe to Jacinto.

"jNo, thank you; 1 never do," said the boy, with
a half-laugh, as ho declined the civility.

Mr. Kowlie said nothing, but immediately clapj)ed
it in his own mouth, and was soon pulHng away until
he could be just faintly observed, looming up dindy,
through a cloud of smoke.

" Come, captain," called the voice of Mrs. Kowlie
at this juncture; "come, young gentleman — I don't
know your name," she said to him, apologetically, as
he followed the captain into the inner room, " or I'd
call you it, r?ii sure."

TEE MERMAID.

I '

I'*

" I wouldn't advise jou to try it, if yon liuve any
regard for your teeth," yaid Captain Nick. " Call him
Mr. Jacinto, if you like. 1 fori^et his second name
now; but it's a stuimer, and would knock you over
stiff as a jnackerel if you attempted to say it. Di'aw
in, my young hearty. One vv^ord's as good 'a^ ten — eat
away. Amen. There's a grace ! Xow fall to."

And, following precept by example, Captain Tem-
pest immediately '' fell to," with an appetite six hours
old, and sharpened by the sea-breeze to a terrifying ex-
tent. Jacinto partook lightly of Mrs. llowlie's dainties,
and looked on between laughter and dismay, as she
heaped up liis plate for him. .

"I say, old woman," said Captain Nick, when busi-
ness in the supper department began to slacken a little,
"when did you see that old witch of Hades — Grizzle
Ilowlet ?"

"Let me see," said Mrs. Kowlie, leaning me'lita-
tively on her l)room. " She ain't l)in here, I don't
believe, sincje the night you left. No, she ain't —not
since then."

"Humph!" said the captain, thoughtfully, as he
resumed his knife and fork, but in a far different man-
ner than before.

At this moment, a sudden bustle in the bar arrested
their attention ; a sharp, harsh voice was heard address-
ing some (piestion to Mr. Uowlie — evidently the voice
of a woman. Mrs. Kowlie looked at the captain and
uttered an ejaculation, and that worthy mariner
dropped his knife and fork, pushed back his chair, and
half arose.

" Marcy sakes !" exclaimed the little woman, "did
you ever 'i Why, I do declare ! if that ain't her, her
own blessed self !"

"Her own blessed self!" said the captain, in an
undertone, and with a grim smile. '' Her own cnrsvd
self, you mean — the old hag! How did she know f
was here? I believe there's something of the vulture
in that old beldame, and that she scents her prey afar

TUE MEIUIAID.

i<l

off. By the pricking of my tlimnbs, some one wicked
this wuy conies! Is here P'' lie cried, as the door
opened, and the object of his eulogiurn stood boit
iij)ri!j,ht before tliem.

Jacinto tui-ned, in some cnriopity, to look at the
new-comer, and saw what looked like an old woman,
but ought to have been a man, if judged by size. Ex-
tremely tall, she towered up in liie apartment as
straight as a cedar of Lebanon, and fully a head over
Captain Nick Tempest. She was dressed in gray —
all in gray, from head to foot. A coarse gray dress,
a gray woolen cloak, with a gray hood tied under her
chin, and might have passed for a Capuchin friar, or
a " Monk of the Order Gray," only no holy monk or
friar ever wore such a hard, bitter, evil, un[)itying
face, such a stern, remorseless mouth, and such u
stony, dead, unfeeling eye, as that woman wore. Up-
right in the door she stood, and scanned Captain Tem-
pest, with folded arms, for full live minutes.

" Well, Grizzle, my old friend," said that gentle-
man with a sneer, " vou'll know me the next time,
won't you '^ Can't I prevail on you to come in, and
sit down, and make yourself as miserable as possible
while you stay. How have you been since I saw you
last, my dear^ You can't think how I have been
pining for you ever since, my love,"

The woman took not the slightest notice of his
jibing tone; not a muscle of her iron face moved, as
she loomed up like a ligurc in granite, and looked
down upon the contemptuous face of the captain of
the Fly-l)y-Night.

"Oh! so my politeness is all thrown away upon
you, is it 1^'' he said, after a pause, "and you won't
speak. Very well, my darling ; just as you like, you
know, and I'll let you. Mrs. Kowlie, will you have
the goodness to step out to the bar and hringme a pipe i
Draw up to the lire, Jacinto; it's cold comfort this
raw evening, and the entrance of that tall blast of north
wind yonder has given me the chills. My dearest

I '

I 1

:i ,'

II '■

i'\

i'l

1 1. t

I t

TUt: MERMAID.

Grizzle, do come to the lire — there's a duck. You're
cold — (loii't say no — I'm sure you are!" And strctch-
ini^ out his arm, stage-fashion, and looking toward ho-,
Captain Tempest began declaring, distractedly :

*' * Content thyself, my dearest love,
Tliy rest iit lionie shall be
In Uo\vli(!'s sweet and pleasuut iun,
For travel tits not thee.'

There's the old ballad for you, altered and improved ;
and here's our charming hostess with the pipe.
Jacinto, my hearty, won't you have a draw? "

Jacinto, who was completely puzzled by the caj)-
tain's eccentric manner, declined ; and glancing towai'd
the tall woman, was sliijrhilv disconcerted to lind licr
needle-like eyes tixed on liis face with a gaze of pierc-
ing scrutiny.

" Who is this l)oy you have with you, Nick Tem-
pest?" she exclaimed, in a harsh, discordant voice, as
she came up, and bending down, seemed piercing the
boy through and througli with her gleaming eyes.

" Oh ! so you have found your tongue, my sweet
pet?" said Captain Tempest. "Iwas afraid you had
lost it altogether, which would be an unspeakable pity,
you know; for, as the Irish song says, 'you've got an
illigant tongue, and easily set agoing.' As to who he
is, his na!ne is Jacintc Mandetti, or something about
the size of that, and ne comes from old !Seville — j)lace
where they laise sweet oranges ; and he is a good-look-
ing youth, as you perceive, though somewhat ot" the
tawniest. And so, no more at present."

Even throui2:h his brown skin, the Hush that cov-
ered the boy's face, under her pitiless gaze, couhl be
seen, as, with a sudden, sharp Hash of his black eyes,
he rose indignantly, and turned away.

With something that might have been intended for
a smile, but whicli looked more like a distortion of
the features, she gazed after him a moment, and then,

THE MERMAID.

slowly removing her scrutinizing stare, fixed her eyes
again on Captain Tempest.

"' Well, I'm glad you've got through looking at him
and admiring liis beauty, my dear," continued the
captain, in the same mocking strain. "1 was begin-
ning to feel a little jealous, you know, seeing the hearts
of young and tender females are so easily cajjtivated.
Come, sit down here beside me, and tell me how
the world has been using you for the last ten months."

"AVhat devil's deed brings you back now, Caj)-
tain Tempest?" said the woman, spurning the seat ho
placed for he: away with her foot, and leaning against
the mantel.

" lleally, my dear Grizzle, your manner of address
can hardly be called strictly polite ; but plainness was
always a failing of yours." And he glanced slightly at
her forbiddini;- contenance. "I catno here to see mv
friends generally, and to see Mrs. Grizzle llowlet ])ar-
ticularly — though that lady's welcome has been indif-
ferent, not to say cool. What nudicious fiend, my
dearest, has been poisoning your ears against me during
my absence V

" Pshaw, man ! don't be a fool I" said the woman
impatiently. ^^ Do you know why I have come here
to-night ?"■

"How should I know?" replied the captain.

"Then it was to warn you, Captain Tempest; for
there is danger at hand. Forewarned is forearmed,
they say ; so, beware."

" Don't plagiarize, my dear woman. That tragical
'beware!' I have heard once or twice before, if my
memory serves me right, when you and I used to tread
the hoards of Old Drury every night, and do the heavy
ti-;tgedy. Do you remember those happy days, my
charmer, when vou were Ladv Macbeth and I was
the murdered Duncan V

" Take care the old ti-agedy is not renewed in real
life!" said the woman, witli a sharp tl;ish of her eyes.
" I can act Ladv Macbeth as well to-dav, as I could

I, I

■It i '

.»•

f'l

«;

!■

; I
il

I ;

77//: MERMAID.

tlicTi ; and," she added, bringing; down her clenched
liaiid fiercely on the mantel, " I feel quite as ready to
do it !''^

" Xo doubt of it, my love ; no doubt of it. But
about this danger witli which I am threatened, and
which vour tender solicitude for my sake has made you
take this long and lonesome journey to avei't — a jour-
ney so full of danger, in these troublous times, to
a young and lovely female like yourself. Now don't
get into a passion, my dear. Where's the use 'i AVhat
wicked person or persons has designs on Captain ISick
Temj^est now f

With her gloomy eyes fixed on the blazing fire, and
lier heavy l)rows knotted together, the woman stood
silent for awhile, as if she had not heard the question.
Captain Nick Tempest looked at her with aquecrsmile,
and then went on smoking, casting a sidelong glance, as
he did so, toward Jacinto. The young 8{)aniai"(l stood
wath liis l)ack to them, gazing out into the dee])ening
gloom of the raw, chilly evening ; but the captain felt
sure not one word of the conversation was lost on him.

"Nick Tempest," said the woman, looking u]) at
length, " do you remember the prediction of that old
woman in Worcestershire, who was hunted to death for
a witch that night that you entered the vaults of Saint
Faith's church and stole the diamond rum off the lin-

gor ot —

"iJusli!" exclaimed the ca])tain, fiercely, and half-
sj)ringing from his seat, as he cast a quick, apprehen-
sive glance toward the boy.

Ihit still the lad stood motionless as a figure in mar-
ble ; and, as if reassured, he sank back and said, in his
* former tone of careless mockery :

" To be sure I remember it, my dear Grizzle. I
liave had an excellent memory through life, and it is
not likely 1 would forget that night ; more especially
as you, my charmer, accompanied me in the expedition.
Let's see. Didn't the prophecy run something like
this :

THE MERMAID.

* When thou 'rt two-score and ten,

Thy fortune turns then,
There is some one that night thou wilt see,

Tiie dead liest foe

Thiit thou ever wilt know —
For a life will be lost betwixt ye!'"

his

bn.
ke

" Yes," said the woman ; " and what night is this V

" Tliis 'i Why, this is the tentli of April— my birth-
day, as I'm a sinner ! Caj^jtain Nicliolas Lazarus Tem-
pest is fifty years old — just two-score and ten — this
minute, as I'm a sinner. Whew! tlicn this is tlic very
niglit."

As he spoke, the sharp clatter of liorses' hoofs rang
on the stony street without, and a high, clear voice was
heard calling:

"lialio! within there!''

"And here is the man himself!" cried the woman,
starting U]>, her eyes iilling vv'ith a dusky fire. " Cap-
tain Tempest, you have been warned. Look to your-
self !"

'• I intend to, my dear," said the captain, with a
sneer, as he, too, arose. "What a loss yon are to the
stage. Kemble could not have spoken that sentence
more tragically. Wliat, are yon going';"

Wrapping lier coarse cloak closer ahout lier, and
drawing her gray hood down over her face till nothing
was visible but a pair of fiery eyes, the woman waved
her arm with a gesture half-warning, half-menacing,
as she cast a last look at the captain.

That gallant mariner responded by a bow, as pro-
found as that of an old lady in a minuet, and kissed his
h;ind to her as she disappeared.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, eh, Jacinto?" ho
said, when she was gone, with a quick, sharj) glance
toward the boy. " Ugly as original sin, and with the
devil's own temper. 11a! the Mysterious Unknown
is calling again ! As I am likely to have an interest
in tlie gentleman, I think 1 will just step out and

j i

".I

^il

■ K

■JM

ii'i

'III!

ih!

if>

j(*

1 I

T//i27 MERMAID.

Bee liiin. What do you say to coming with me, my

lad V

Nearly a minute passed before the l)oy either an-
Rwered or turned round, and when he did so at last,
Captain Tejnpest saw a face from wliieli every trace of
<;ok)r liad tied — white even to the very H})S ; and with
a look ho stranfi;e and in(.'xi)licable in the depths of the
dark, hi^trous eyes that it fairly sta<^gered that worthy

mariner

"JIallo! what's the matter with you, my boy ^
he exclaimed with amazement.

'" Notliino^!" said the boy ; but even his voice was
changed so tliat tlie ca])tain hardly knew it.

Ca|)tain Tempest L(;ave him a piercing look, but
could not fathom the sudden emotion that had bhmched
the cheek and changed tlie voice of the Spanish boy ;
and at length he turned away with a long, wailing
whistle that told how com])letely lie was baliled, aud
followed l)y Jacinto, passed out of the room to behold
his uuknowu foe.

TUB LONE HOUSE.

me, my

tlicr an-
at last,
trace of
id with
3 of tlio
worthy

' boy^'

>ice was

ok, but
hmc'hed
.sh l)oy ;
wailing
ed, and
i behold

31,.

.HI.

CUAPTER II.

THE LONE HOUSE.

*' Away then hied the heir of Linne,

O'oi- liill, and holt, imd moor, and fen,
Until he came to a lonesome lodge
That stood so low in lonely glen."

— Pkkcy Keliques.

OTII Mr. and Mrs. Eowlic had deserted the
bar-room and stood in the doorway talking
to the stranger, who was on horseback, and
con Id be clearly discovered in tlie last rays
of the fading daylight.
Captain Tempest drew back a little behind the
ample person of the worthy host of the Mermaid, and
scrutinized the new-comer with more interest than one
usually examines complete strangers. And very well
worth looking at the stranger w;is, as ho sat on his su-
perb horse like a prince of the blood ; and the captain
could not help inwardly acknowledging that seldom
had his eyes fallen on a more gallant llgure. lie was
a young man, of not more than four or live-and-twenty,
tall and linely formed, with a certain bold, dashing
look that well became him, and a sort of undeiinable
grace about him at once careless and high-bred. His
dark, curling hair, his clear, bold blue eyes, his hand-
some moulh, shadowed by a thick, dark mustache,
with his handsome figure, made up what all nmst have
admitted to be a remarkably handsome young gentle-
man — for a gentleman he evidently was. llis dress
was travel-stained, his heavy top-boois splashed with
nuid, and his horse looked as if he had been ridden
long and hard.

1 1

1 ,

1 '

1 ■

:i:

!m ! ■ »

III!,'

!;
Ill,

ih»

' I

T'zz'^; zOiVA' no USB.

Holding the reins in one hand, the joung man was
pointing with iiis whip toward the north.

'"So that's tlie way to Fontche, is it^" lie was say-
ing, half-nuisiugly. " 1 thought it lay in the opposite
direction. Can 1 reach it to-night, do you think f ' he
said, turning to Mr. llowlie.

" Well, yes, sir ; you might, and then again you
mightn't," responded that worthy, scratching his bald
pate in perplexity.

"How many miles is it from here?" asked tiie
stranger, adjusting his horse's girths.

" Well, sometimes it's more, and then again some-
times it's less," replied Mr. Kowlie, sententiously.

The handsome stranger looked up and favored
mine host with a stare of so much surprise at this
announcement, that Mrs. Kowlie felt called u[)on to
strike in.

" He means, if you ploaso, sir," said that little wo-
man, dropping a smiling little courtesy, " that it's ac-
cording to the way you go. li you take the turnpike, it's
nigh onto forty n)ile ; but it' you go over the mountain,
it's ten miles less, sir, if you [)lea80."

"Oh " — said the stranger, enlightened, and touch-
ing his hat gallantly to the old lady in acknowledgment
— " I see ; but as 1 am a complete stranger here, I do
not know the way over the mountains ; and it would bo
rather inconvenien*", not to say unpleasant, to break my
neck just at ])resent. So, on the whole, I'll take tho
road for it ; my horse will do it in live hours, I think.
Is it going to storm before midnight, think you T' said
the stranger, glancing at Mr. Kowlie.

" Well, now, there ain't never no saying about the
weather hereabouts, 'cause it generally does wl.'at it
ain't expected to do. It might rain, you know, and
then again it miglitn'l," faid Mr. Kowlie, evidently de-
termined :»ot to commit himseli".

The stranger laughed.

"Oh 1 thank you ; quite enlightened. What an ac-
quisition you would be to an almanac-maker, my good

THE LONE no USE.

man was

was say-

opposlto

ink (" lie

L^ain you
his bald

sked tiie

lin some-
sly.

lavored
D at this

upon to

little wo-
nt it's ac-
pike, it's
louiitain,

d touch-
d_i;'nient
13 re, I do
ould bo
•oak my
ikc tho
I think.
II T said

)()ut the
wl.'at it
ow, and
utly de-

it an ae-
ly good

friend. Well, I thinlc I will try your road for it — and
an infernal road it is; my horse is lamed already.
Good-bye, my friend; p;uod-bye, madam," said the
voun"" man, gathering up tho reins preparatory to start-

ing,

Ml tliir^ time Captain Nick had been watching him,
ail. 1 listoiiimx intently; and now muttering : '' JSiot so
fa--t, my hue fellow. I'll lind out wnat you re made of
lir>t," he came out, and stood directly in his way.

" Vii^'^ pardon, sir — going to Fontelle, eh V

'• Yes, sir; have you any objection V said tho young
man, soothing his horse, startled by the captain's sudden
appearance.

"Not the least, my young friend. May I ask your
business there f

The young man raised his handsome eyes, and lixed
them full on the captain for a moment, and said quiet-

"Yes; you may ask, but whether I'll answer, or
not, is another (piestion."

" You'd like a guide over the mountains, wouldn't
you?" continued the unabashed captain. '"What would
you think of me, now^"

" Well," said the young man, carelessly, "after nui-
ture deliberation on the subject, 1 should say, if 1 want-
ed an impertinent scoundrel for a guide, i should take
you. Your face is anvthinj'' but a letter of reconnnen-
dation, my good friend."

"Then, by Heaven!" said the captain, his face
growing crimson with anger, ''■ my deeds shall not belie
my face. Out of this jou shall not stir until y(ju hayc
answered for that e])ithet !"

•"My dear sir, you really must (^xcuse me," said tho
young man, in his careless way; "1 never quarrel, saye
with gonthMnc!!."

With a tierce oath. Captain Tempest grasped the
stranger's bridle-rein so violently that the horse almost
fell back on his liaunches.

1 1

f i

! t

►

I ,t I

Ti/"^ LONE HOUSE.

" You violent young puppy ! do you know who you
are talking to?" he cried, in (i voice hoarse with passion.

'SSome rascally, lowd)red Yankee, 1 have no doubt !
Come, sir, let go my bridle-rein !" said the stranger,
caludy, but with a sudden rising light in his eyes that
might have warned. Captain Tempest of his danger.

But Captain Tempest, hearing only his calm, even
tone, laughed insolently in his face, and grasped it all
the tighter. As he did so, a hand was laid on his arm,
and the boy Jacinto stood beside him, his momentary
emotion all gone, and his face expressing only concern
{•.t the cpiarrel.

'' Do let go, captain. Why should you quarrel with
him, a perfect stranger?" said the boy, earnestly.

At the sound of his voice the stranger had given a
sudden start, and fixed his eyes on his face, with a half-
puzzled look, like one who tries to remendjcr something.
Jacinto did not meet his gaze — he was looking intently
at the ca})tain.

" Go to the d — 1 !" was his harsh response, as ho
shook olf the boy's hand and tightened his hold of the
bridle, never for a moment relaxing his insulting stare
of derisive triumph from the sti'anger's face.

The words recalled the youug man from the tran-
sient interest Jacinto had excited, and with a stern com-
pression of his handsome mouth, and. ;\ bright, angry
llasli of his handsome eye, he turned to the ca[)tain.

" Will you let go my bridle-rein, sir?" he said in a
hijifh, i-iuiiiuii: tone.

''No !" said the ca])tain, with a sneer.

"Then, by Jove ! I'll make you!" ho cried, and
quick as lightning he raised his whip and cut the cap-
tain a blinding slas-h in the face.

AVith a shriek of a beast of l)rey, Captain Tem])est,
bleeding and blinded, sprang back, and with a dei'isivu
shout, the young man struck spurs into his horse and
llew down the nxal, shouting back a- he vlid so:

"Good evening, my kind friend I — better luck next
tiniol" And, with a laugh, he was out of sight in a

TEE LONE HOUSE.

who you

passion,

doubt !
3ti'iui_ii:er,
?yes that
iiger.
hii, even
ud it ail
his arm,
mentary

concern

•rcl with

1 ii^ivcn a
li a lialf-
iiethini>:.
intently

3, as ho
il of the
ng stare

ic tran-
rn eoni-
t, angry
lain.
Aid in a

xl, and
lie cap-

t'nijx'st,
Icrisive
rse and

k next
it in a

■hi

moment. The last glimpse he had of Captain Tempest,
showing him livid and ioaniing at the mouth, in a per-
fect fivnzj of impot<jnt rage.

The young man rode on rapidly for nearly half an
hour, casting a glance back every now and then, as if
lie expected jmrsuit ; and wheii it became too dark to
FCC, halting at intervals to listen. Nothing met his ear,
however, l>ut the faint, distant liooming of the sea, and
the melancholv wailinii; of the wind, that M'as risinj::
each moment ; and his sharp pace gradually relaxed,
and loosening the reins on his horse's neck, he snllered
him to go at a more moderate pace.

Isight had fallen at last — fallen in more than Egyp-
tian darkness — with a "gloomy sky above, a gloomy
earth below." The wind came wailing np from the
sea, and over the distant hills, in long, lamcMitable blasts,
and a thin, drizzling, uncomfortable rain that pierced
the ski 1, began to fall M'ith it. The blast was I'aw, and
cold, too; and, with a shiver, the young man lifted a
folded cloak <)f black ch/th, lined with rich fur, that lay
over the saddle, and Hung it aroung his shoulders. In
vain he sti'ove to pierce throngh the Tartarian darkness
— the eyes of Arij;us himself would have :*^'ailed in such
a night ; so, put in.g his hat down over his face, to shade
it from the blinding rain, he allowed his wearied steed
to jog on after his own will.

"If 1 had 1' ju^ht the storm would have arisen so
soon, I Would have staid at that imi all night," he said
in a sort of 6olilo(piy; "but it's too late now, and I
must make the best of a bad I)argain. On, Salad in, my
l)oy, on! Tliere is rest and comfort in store for you,
once we reach Fontelle. I wonder if there is no house
along the way, where I could stay for the night ; or
have 1 lo.- 1 my way among the wilds of Jersey i What
a J)on Quix(jte I am, to be sure!" lie said, with a slight
laugh, "to leave !Men'ie England and ride over to
America in search ot" adventures, and begin l)y horse-
whi])ping one of the natives. What a remark;d)ly liand-
Bome boy that w^as, and how his \oice did remind nio

i;
ii'l

^'f

;!(i

l!t!

I 1 '

iHi

37/^ Z0.YJ5; HOUSE.

of — lux ! if tliat's not a liii^lit, hy all that's lucky ! Turn.
Sahulin ! tlicre's f^lielter at hand !''

Fill- in tlie dibtanc-e, dindv tM'inldlno; thronirh the
deep u'lodin, tlie tvuvek'r liad cautrht a faint, uiiftTtain
ray of lii^ht, and never did Ftorni-tosi^ed mariner Lnil
the weleDUie l>eacon more t^'ladely than did he. Siiladin
saw it, too, and priekiiii,^ u]) his ears, lie mended his de-
jected ])ace and struck otit' from the high-road in the
diicction whence it came.

Nearly an Imnr had elapsed since his leaving the
IMermnid, and the young man judged he had come
about six miles during that time. The light appeared,
as he went, to have been further off tlian at lirst he liad
supposed; and the house, if house it were, to be situ-
ated in a sort of marsh, or bog, into whicli his horse
suid< at every step, ^till, Saladin plowed his way
bravely on, sinking and rising again, until tlie light was
reached at last, and the traveler saw it issued from an
upper wind(jw of a solitary liouse — in very truth, a
*' lonesome lodge that stood so low in lonely glen."

'' Now, the saints alone know what sort of sav^ages
live here," said the young man, as he alighted, and
raising the handle of his heavy riding-whij), knocked
loudly and authoritatively at the door; "' but be they
goblins, kelpies, or earthly sinners, J '11 try them, sooner
than pass such a night as this is going to be, under the
cold canopy of a JS'ew Jersey sky." And again he
knocked as if he woidd have I eaten down tlie stout
oaken door.

A moment after, and the sound of bolts withdraw-
ing met his ear ; and the next, it swung partially back,
but as he attempted to enter he was held back by a
chain which prevented the door opening sulhciently for
that purpose. Not a ray of light could he see, l)ut only
a white fac<^ that shone through the deej") darkness.

"Who are you f said a harsh, uni)leasant voice,
that might have belonged either to a man or a
wonuui.

" A traveler caught in tho storm, wlio, seeing the

TUB LONE HOUSE.

ky\ Turn,

iroiigli the
, init'crtiiin
inriiiLM' liiiil
). Saladin
(led Ills de-
roud ill the

caving tlie

had come

: aj)]ioaiTd,

irst ho iiad

to be situ-

his hor.^e

d his way

e light was

id ironi an

•y truth, a

glen."

of savages

ghted, and

), knocked

t be they

em, sooner

under the

again he

tlie etout

withdraw-
ially back,
back by a
jicntly for
3, but only
kness.
int voice,
nan or a

seeing the

jio-ht, has sought shelter here," he answered, prom])t-

" Arc you alone?"

" Yes ; unless you call my horse company. Come,
mv friend, be hospitable enough to let me in. Iain
able to pay you, as it happens, for a night's lodging."

"Enter," said the invisible voice, withdrawing the
chiiin. "■ One has to be careful who they admit these
times; for since the war there have been mar.iuding
jiarties of soldiers knocking about the country, and it
makes it dangerous for a poor, lone woman to admit
every one. AValk in, sir ; Til see to your horse."

" Thank you ; I always make a point of doing that
myself. I'll accompany you, if you'll allow me."

''As you like. Uere, Orrie! Orrie!" called the
woman, suddenly throwing open a door and admitting
such a flood of light from a huge, blazing lire, that for
a moment the stranger^s eyes, accustomed so long to the
darkness, were half-blinded.

" Wluit^" said a childish voice, so close to his el-
bow that he started ; and looking down he saw a little
boy, apparently about twelve years of age — the most
eltish mite of childhood he had ever beheld — with a
small, thin, dark face, j)recocious beyond its years, and
lit up by a pair of the most wonderful black eyes that
evei' were seen. Its dress was an odd alfair — a short
red-llannel skirt under a boy's jacket, and a boy's cap
crushed down over a tangled mass of short, thick curls,
from beneath which gleamed its odd, wild, cunning,
little, eltish face.

"Take tiie lantern and show the gentleman the way
to the stable," said the woman — a remarkably tall, hard-
featured specimen of femaledom — as she passed into
the room and left liim.

The child darted away, and presently re-appeared
with a dark-lantern ; and springing out into the rain,
seizod his horse by the bridle, and led him oif, followed
by his master, who laughed to himself at the odd figure
the child cut.

i;*

i •

' It

I' 1

'It'll' 1
^'■l;i i

1. .11

Hi I

ii I

TUB LONE no USE.

'• What a spicy tiger tliat same little atom of man-
kind would iJialvo! and what a rii^ he has on, to be
sure ! llo woiiUl 1)0 worth a luiUioii in cash to ride
the favorite at the Dcrl)y."

Tiic child led the anitnal into the Ftal)le occupied
by another horse, and tied him up, and l)i>i::an un-
loosening Ids trap[)ings in a twinkling. The .young
man assisted him, and when Saladin had been properly
rubbed down and cared for, tliev both left the stable
together, and turned toward the house.

" You're quite used to this sort of thing, I see, my
lad," he said, glancing in ^ningled curiosity and amuse-
ment at the boy.

" Tying up horses ? — sliould think I was," said the
child, with something like a chuckle.

"Is this a regular tavern, sonny V

"No ; but folks stop here sometimes, though."

" Who lives here ? What's your name, my boy ?"

" I ain't your boy! I ain't a boy at all! I'm a
girl ! and my name's Oriole ; but for short they call
me Orrie," said the little one, sharply.

" Whew !" whistled the young man ; " here's a dis-
covery. I beg ten thousand pardons; but your dress
led me into error. What nudvcs you wear boy's
clothes ?"

" Oh ! she makes me wear whatever's handiest 1"

" AVho is ' she,' Miss Oriole V

" Why she, you know— her that let you in."

" Oh ! that tall old woman ! Is she your mother?"

"My mother f said the child, with a shrill, cllish
laugh ; " no, I ain't gt)t none — never iiad any. She's
only old Grizzle !"

They had reached the door by this time, and the
little one darted in, in her (piick way, held it open for
the stranger, and tiien closed and bolted it again in a
flash.

" Come along, right in here," said Oriole, wliose
fleet motion reminded liim of her namesake, as she
held open the door of what seemed to be the kitchen,

)f man-

n, to bo
to rido

ccnpied

ixnn iiii-

:/f

yoiino:
ropcrly
e stable

see, my
ainusG-

■'*

THE LONE HOUSE.

a.T

>aid the

boy ?"

I'm a
icy call

a dis-
drcss
boy's

bt!"

101- ?"
eliish
She's

id the

Ml for

in a

liose
she
3heii,

np the ample chimney of which roared and crackled a
huLCG tire — a welcome sight to our coL and weary
traveler.

'• Set a chair for the gentleman, Orrlc. Sit up to
tlu! lire, sir, and warm yourself," said the woman, as
slio whipped a large pot olf the lire, from which issued
a f-avory odor of boiled pork.

The young man looked at her, and thought that in
all his life he had never seen or heard a more villainous
and re})ul.>ive-looking specimen of the angelic sex. Jt
seemed to him that she imparted a sinister character
even to the peaceful and domestic occupation of pre-
paring supper.

" Woman, lovely woman !" thought the young man,
with a half-laugh, as he looked at her grisly face, almost
hideous in its ugliness, now that the hood of her cloak,
which she still wore, was thrown back. " What a
mouth for kissing! I wonder if by any possibility
anyb(»dy could ever have loved that woman, for in her
best days she must have been worse t!ian uglv — wicked !
AVonder what this queer little kelpie in the bare feet
is to her. Old Grizzle! a most appropriate name. A
'poor lone woman, indeed!' It's little she need fear
intruders, guarded by the three-headed dragon of Age,
Ugliness, and Poverty."

The young man arose, and turning his back to the
lliv, brought his coat-tails forward over his arms, and
with his legs in the form of a triangle, subsided into
that slate of tranquil liap])iness all true-born English-
men i'l'el in the above ])Osition, and saidc into a day-
dreaii!, from whieh a call to siqiper awoke him.

The hungiy traveler obeyed with alacrity, ])ull!ng
out his watch, an elegant gold one set with brilliants,
to see the liour. As he rej)laced it, he started slightly
to see the lierce gleaming eyes of the woman lixed upon
it, with a greedy, devouring gaze, that was instantly
removed the moment their eyes met.

That look was a revelation. lieplacing the watch,
ho sat dovm. in silence to supper, inwardly wondering

Kli

1 1'

It! f^

U.\

■I

,11

'■i i i'

y/Z^ LONE HOUSE.

Avlietlier he would not liave been quite as safe out in
the slonu us liere, and v^hether, as the old adau:e has it,
" he had not halluoed before lie was out of the woods."
Dui'iiiij: the meal, he was assiduously waited on bvthc
woman, wiio made various efforts to draw from him h*.->
name and business, which he completely battled by his
evasive axiswcrs.

"' Your room is all ready, sii', and you can go to it
whenever yon like," said the woman, as he arose from
the table.

" Very well, I will p;o now. But first," he said,
carelessly, "I will look lo my pistols, lest the priming

may have got wet with llu

ram

:■?

lie drew out from the brea^t-])Ockct of his great-coat,
as lie spoke, a pair of handsomely- mounted pistols, and
examined them carefully. As he suddenly looked up
from his occupation, he caught his hostess looking at
liiin with something like a sneer on her repulsive face.

"It is not safe to travel nnarmed these times," he
said, looking her full in the face, as he replaced them.
" A well-])rimed pistol is about the best thing a man
can have just at present."

" Quite right, sir," said the woman, lighting a cau-
dle. " This way, if yon please."

lie turned and followed her np a flight of stairs,
and into a large, dark, low-ceiHnged room, where a lire
was dimly burning. In one corner stood a bed, and in
another a table, and this, with a corij)le of chairs, com-
prised the sole furniture of the room. Setting the
candle on the table, the woman bade him good-night,
and left tiie room.

But somehow, tired as he was, the young stranger
could not make np his mind to go to bed.

There seemed something evil and sinister about the
woman, and the jdace altogether, that banished all de-
sire for sleep. This lonely house, far removed from
every other habitation, was just the place for deeds of
blood and darkness. All the old tales he had ever
heard or read of travelers robbed and murdered in

,ii'- €

-.5

THE LONE HOUSE.

3 out in
e has it,
wootb."
1 hvtIiG
lain l)!.i
. bj his

go to it
se from

lie said,
^riminrj

;at-coat,
ols, and
>ked up
•kini,^ lit
va face.
les," lie
[ tlieni.
a mail

a can-
stairs,

a lire
ii'l in

eoni-
i;' the
night,

rann'or

lit tllG

ill de-
i'roni

!d8 of
ever

ed in

lonesome old houses, and never heard of more, came
crowding through his mind, until he had worked him-
self into a waking nightmare. Placing his pistols on
the table, he raised the blind and tried to look out, but
ir was as dark as Erebus, and a ])crfect tempest of wind
and rain was raging. Preferring to risk the uncertain
danger of robbery and murder, rather tlian the more
certain one of a complete drenching, he flung himself
into a chair before the fire and fell into deep thought.
An hour passed, and then another, and all was perfectly
still. The lire began to burn low on the hearth, and
the candle llared and guttered on the table. Kising
with a yawn, the young man was about to throw him-
self, dressed and all, on the bed, when a sight caught
his eye that startled him almost as much as the ghost
of BaiKiuo did King Macbeth. At the head of the
bed, on the whitewashed wall, was the dark, clotted
mark of live lingers, as if a bloody hand had been sud-
denly dashed against it. There it was, glittering red,
and ghastly, and horrible, in the dyin<^ light of the fire
— that bleeding hand on the wall. It seemed so like
the realization of his fears, so like a ghost risen from
the dead to warn him, that he recoiled in horror from
the grisly sight, and gazed on it with pretty much the
same feelings as Itobinson Crusoe gazed on the solitary
footj^rint on the sand.

All thought of going to bed was now out of the
question, and approaching his door he opened it softly
and listened. The door at the foot of the sitairs, open-
ing into the kitchen, was ajar, and through it, plainly
audible to his ears, came the subdued hum of several
V(jice5 — men's voices too.

The young traveler had stood face to face with
death ami danger many a time before now, and had
plenty of physical courage ; and now as he saw his full
danger, his nerves seemed changed to steel, and his
handsome face grew set and stern.

Softly removing his heavy boots, he stole noiselessly
down the stairs, and through the crevice in the door he

TUB LONE no USE.

^ I

|:,jt

• ii 'li

could plainly see and hear all that passed in the room —
himself unobserved. Three men, one stout, middle-
aged and bhort, the other t^vo young, and of almost
gigantic stature, either of whom might have taken a
premium for villainous countenances, sat round the
tire, talking in low, earnest voices. The woman Griz-
zle, the most villainous-lookinii-of the lot, sat beside the
elder, and it was her voice he lirst heard.

" I tell you it's worth lifty pounds, if it's worth a
farthing !" she was saying. " It was set with gems —
real brilliants, too — none of your sham cheats ; and
he's a born aristocrat himself, if ever I saw one — noth-
ing of the swell or humbug about him. Of course, he
has more money with him than that, and you will iind
him the best bird you have plucked this m.any a day 1"

" But the pistols ?" said the short, stout man.

" Pooh ! he's asleep before this. The light's out
of his room, and even with his pistols, what can he do
in the dark — and against three ? He thinks Ave will
come in at the door, if he thinks of it at all, which is
not likely, though he is wide awake, I can tell you.
What does he know about the trap under the bed 'i I
tell you there's no danger, and it will be five hundred
pounds, if not more, in your pocket. What makes it
better, he's a stranger, too — I know he is, though he
was as close as an oyster, and dodged every qucsf ion I
asked him."

Some strange magnetic attraction made the young
man remove his eyes from the speaker's face, and he
was startled to encounter a pair of great, wild, glitter-
ing black orbs, fixed full upon him, riveted to his face.
It was the child, Oriole, crouched up in a corner, her
great black eyes l)earmg full upon him.

lie half raised his hand as if to warn her to be
silent, when the voice of one of the young men caught;
and fixed his attention.

" Of course, there's no danger ; and that fellow's as
safely done for as if his throat was sli^ from ear to car
this minute. When are we to settle him, mother ?"

*iiy

THE LONE HOUSE.

« I'll go lip to his door and listen first," said the
woman, rising, "and try to find ont whetlier lie's
asleep, or only shannning. I'll be back in a minute."

'' Jle'U soon sleep somid enough, I'll warrant him "
tuiid the other young man, stirring up the lire with'a
laugh.

At that moment the young stranger felt l hand
icy cold, grasp his wrist from behind with a grip of
iron; and with a half-repressed ejaculation he turned
round to see who had caught him.

^'^

AN ESCAPE.

CHAPTER III.

AN ESCAPE.

i/ac&<!«A.— "What do ye there ? "
Witches. — "A deed without a uame."-

-SnAKSPBARE.

n:>Vl

•1

USII ! " said a terrilied voice, " don't make
a noise — don't speak ! It's only me."

It was the voice of tlie child, Orrie.
The young man glanced in wonder to the
place where he had seen her last, but it
was empt}'- now.

" Come up stairs, quick ! Oh, hurry, hurry !'* ex-
claimed the child, in an agonized whisper, as her little
hand clenched his wrist for a moment, with almost
supernatural strength, and then she tlitted as lightly
and noiselessly as a shadow up the stairs.

There was no time to lose. The woman, who had
stood listening while they spoke, now started to cross
the room ; and the stranger, taking two or three steps
at a time, sprang lightly up the stairs and entered his
chamber.

Little Oriole was ther", before him ; and the mo-
ment he entered, she shv* back the bolt secured the
door.

"Ilush! Listen!" said the child, in the same
startled whisper. " Make a noise when she comes, so
she won't think you arc aslec}). If she hears you
awake she won't come in just yet."

The creaking sound stairs invariably persist in mak-
ing when one treads them on tip-ioe, warned them that
the lady of the house was at hand, and tlie young man,
acting on the child's hint, began to whistle, pausing

AN ESCAPE.

rhtlj

rao-

now and then, and moving throngli the room as tliougli
lie were preparing for bed. Oriole stood with hei- ear
glued to the key-hole, listening with all her might,
holding- up one little linger wariiingly, and now and
then giving iiim an approving nod. At last she raised
her head, and drew a long breath.

" IShe's gone," she said, coming over and looking
earnestly up in his face; " l^ut she'll come back, and so
will they— old Till, and Kit, and IJiaize."

'* J\ly dear little girl, how in tlie world came yon on
the stairs that time V^ said the young man, who at lirst
had been inclined to distrust her ; but the terror and
earnestness of her face was too real to be assumed.

" I saw you, and came round the back way — there's
another joair of stairs, at the end of the house, that we
come up sometimes, and 1 had to come round or old
Grizzle would have seen me. But oh ! what will you
<lo f she exclaimed, clasping her hands. " They'll all
come up by and by, and take all your money, and
then — " she j^auscd, with a violent shudder.

" AVell, and then ?" said the young man, looking at
the child with more curiosity than anything else.

" They- 11 put you down cellar!" said Oriole, in an
awe-stricken whisper, her large eyes dilating with hor-
ror.

" Will they ?" said the stranger. " I'm not so sure
about that. Ijiit, good heavens ! what an infernal den
this nuist be ! Do they often put people down cellar,
as you call it — which, being translated, means murder-
ing them, I suppose."

" Oh, no ! — not often. I only saw them put one
down ; and old Grizzle said — " and the child clung to
him as she spoke, and her great black eyes grew wild
and horror-stricken again — " that if 1 ever told she
would ])nt mo down with him. Oh ! don't you tell
her ! Oh, donH tell her !" she cried, clasping lier little

hand

s m any agony ot entreaty

" Tell her, my dear little savior !" said the young
man, sitting down on a chair, and lifting her up on his

•lii

AN ESCAPE.

^ Ml"

, I

'!'

I i|

i|i

knee. " Not I, indeed ! Wliat inakcs yon live in
6uch an accnrsod place V

Oriole lilted up iier lilack eyes, and and looked at
him with the i^roatest astonislnncnt at sueli a question.

" Why, because I've got to," she said decidedly.

" What relation is this old hag of Hades to you, my
child V'

" Hhe ain't nothin' to me as I knows of. I ain't
iiotliin' to nobody, J guess."

" Then how came you to live here with lier?"

"Lor,' how bhould I know f ' said the child, with an
impatient jerk of her shoulders. " Where's the good
of your askiui' about tiiat, when vou know wellenonii;h
they're coming up to kill you, by and by ^"

"That's true enouf^h, by dove!" said the young
man, starting up. " We must take measures to baltio
their kind intentions, my precocious little friend. I
heard them mention a trajj-door under the bed when 1
was listening on the stairs, and here goes <"o look for
it!"

Ho attempted to move (he bed as lie spoke, but it
resisted ail his elt'orts.

" Vou can't move it," said Oriole, "and there ain't
no use a trying. JJon't you see it's nailed downf'

" Well ; but what about tliis trap t i nuist see after
that, my little sjirite." And lie \\\{od the valance of
tlie bed, and stooped down to examine the lloor.

"Ligh!"' said Orrie, with a shudder; " that's the
way tiiey go down cellar, and tliat's the way they will
come up here. Don't yon lift it \\\) — 1 wouldn't go
near it for the world ! Oil, i torgot ! You can't any-

way,

'cause it's fastened underneath."

"So, then, thei'e is nothing to be done but to sit
licre and wait till they thinic |)roj)er to come and linisli
me," said the young man, rising and wafidiig' up and
down the room; "ainigiu.y |>leasant prospect, upon my
word! i might as well deliver my last will and testa-
ment, veritably at once, to this queer little damsel, and
then devote tljc remainder of the time to prej)aring for

AN ESCAPE.

lieaven, or — the other place ! I say, my little friend, I
wonder they are so itnprndent as to allow yon to know
about these blood-chillini^ things, or to be in the room
with them while they are plotting their hellish
schemes C

" Well, they wouldn't cither; only the last time the
man screamed out, and I heard him and came in. It
was in this room, too," said the child, sinking her voice
to a whisper, and casting a territied glance around ; " and
he was on that bed, and old Grizzle had him by the
hands, and J]hiize by the feet ; and they kept him
down, and his lace and neck was all covered with i)lood,
and he screamed out — oh, dreadfully ! — until Kit held
the pillow over his face, and when he took it away, ho
was as still — oh, as still as anytliing ! And then" — and
Oriole's voice sunk lower and lower, and she shivered
convulsively — *' they put him down cellar — and he's
been there ever since !"

A slight shudder passed through the form of the
young stranger, and a look of horror and loathing swept
over his line face.

" Heavens above ! what a siiJi-ht for a child ! What a
sight for any one in a Christian country ! What did
they say to you for coming in, my dear chihH"

"Oh! jhiiize would have killed me, only she
wouldn't let him ; but she beat me dreadfully," said
Oriole, wincing at the recollection. '' And she said, if
ever J told any one, she would put me down cellar along
with him. i never did tell any one either, till you
come ; and i shouldn't have told you, only they were
going to put you down cellar too. Don't you tell her,
mind — you said you wouldn't, you know I"

''Neither i shall — don't fear. And so, as you knew
of the other murder, they didn't mind your being in the
room and hearing of this ^"

" JSio," said Ofiole ; '' they thought I would not tell,
you know, 'cause it's a good long while since then, and
1 never did tell nobod)'."

^iV ESCAPE,

'.i

I 111-

'til

iiii< 'It

l| 1' IF

" And wjiy is it that I am to bo ' put down cellar,'
as you call it, sinco tlicy liavo let otliers escape ?"

'"Oh! 'cause you've got money — old Grizzle says so
— and a nice watch, and lots of things ; and she wants
'em. If 1 was you, I'd give them to her, and tell lier
I wouldn't tell i.nybody. They won't be any good to
you. you know, if you are killed !"

" That's true enough," said the young man, with a
momentary smile, ""liut supposing I neither let them
kill me, nor give them the watch — eh? How would
that be, Orric ? If it comes to killing, I rather fancy
they will find two can play at that game."

" liut there's four of then], and you can't kill four,"
said Orrie, with a pnzzled look.

" liarge odds ; but I've fought against as many be-
fore now. I didn't live in a certain green island of th«
west, as aid-de-camp to His Grace the Lord Lieutenant,
for three years, without getting into a shindj'^ now and
then — thank fortune !" said the young Englishman,
speaking more to himself than Orrie.

" And so you're going to kill them ?" said Orrie,
with simplicity.

"I shall make the attempt, my young friend; and
if I fail — why there will only be a scapegrace the less
in the world. But sec here, my good little girl," he said,
stopping before her, and lifting the tangled hair off her
small, gipsy ish face, " what will they say to you, wdien
they find you here 'i they will half kill you, won't they i"

" Oh, yes ! I forgot," said the child, starting np in
terror. '^ I nmst go. I can't stay, you know. Old
Grizzle, no doubt, thinks I have gone to bed ; and if
she were to catch me here, she — "

" Would put you down cellar," said the young man
with a smile.

" Yes," said Orrie, moving quickly toward the door.

But, at that instant, a sudden noise, startling enough,
arrested her steps, a id sent her young bloodcurdling to
licr lieart.

It was the liushcd sound of footsteps below, and a

:.|

I I

AN ESCAPE.

door.

LUg to

sudden noise, as if sonic one had stumbled, followed l)y
4| a iierce, suppressed oath ; and then there was an in-
stant's deatli-like silence.

As if frozen where she stood, the child Orrie paused,
\ her great bkujk eyes wikl and dilating, her lips spriiig-
\\\\X, white and quivering, apart, her small hands invol-
untarily clenching until the sharp nails saidv in the
quivering Hesli, her very breathing suspended, until it
became painful to listen for its return. Not the faintest
sound escaped lier ; she stood as if turned to stone.

Making a hasty motion for her to be silent, the
young man seized a pi^^tol in either hand, and iixed his
eyes steadily on the trap-door, his handsome face set
stern and resolute, his eye bright, bold and dauntless,
his ]")ulse calm and steady.

There seemed a motnentary pause below, in winch
nothiiinr was to be heard but the beatinir and dashini»:of
the storm without ; and then there came the near sound
of bolts cautiously withdrawing beneath.

Tlie young stranger grasped his pistol tighter, and
sighted it, with deadly accuracy, for the trap. One
moment more, and one at least of these midnight assas-
sins would have got his due; but Fate, or Providence,
or the brave young Englishman's guardian angel willed
it otherwise ; for, at that moment, in the very crisis of
all'airs, a most nnlooked-lor interruption occurred.
} A loud and violent knock — a knock that shook tho

wl'ole house from attic to cellar — resounded on the
front door.

There was a quick, startled ejaculation from below,
and the bolt was nurriedly shot back.
\ A faint, repressed cry bi'oke from tlie lips of Orrie ;

and the young man lowered his weapon, and looked at
her in wonder.

Again the knock was repeated, louder fuid longer
than before, until the iiouse echoed and reverberated
with the thundering noise.

The stranger bent his head, and listened intently ;
aud, with hearing sharpened by excitement, heard the

/1/Y ESCAPE.

ii'

li I

sound of retreating feet below ; aud tlien, for an instant
or two, all was perfectly still.

But only for an instant ; then the belated wayfarer
■without, whoever it miii^ht be, evidently determined to
be heard if tlie door lield out, raised another uproarious
knock, nccompimied by a shout that could be even
heard in that upper room, of

" llall(j ! within there ! Open the door — will you ? —
and don't keep a fellow here in the sto:-m all nii:;ht !''

^ "Oh,_it's Frank Do Vere— it's Frank De^^ere!"
said Orrie, sprini^inu^ forward with a joyful cry.
" That's him, 1 know. Noinxly else ever makes such a
noise as he does. Oli, you're all safe novr — just as safe
as can be! They won't touch you while Frank De
Yere ;'tays!"

" ^■v"ell, it's pleasant to know even that. But who is
Frank iJe Vere l Kut one of the De Yercs of Fon-
tellcr'^

" Yes; he comes from Fontelle — a beautiful place.
Oh, V\\\ so glad !" exclaimed Orrle.

" Upon my life, 1 have bad a night of it!" said the
young man, ilingii'g himself into a chair, and pushing
back carelessly his fair l)rown hair. " First horse-
whipping an insolent Yankee, and encountering a real
fairy prince for beauty; and then falling into the hands
of the Philistines; and lirst meeting a witch, and then
this little kelpie; and, when about to be assassinated
in cold blooU, Mr. Fraidc De Yere thinks proper to
come along at the eleventh hour and save my life.
'Pon my hcuior, it's exactly like a scene in a ])lay, where
everyboily is saved in the most unexpected way. just
wluMi the knife is at their throat, by everybody else.
Well, luck's everything — no mistake about it, as 1 have
abvmdantly proved by all my narrow 'scapes by ilood
and lield for the last four-aiul-twenty years. What,
Flibbertigibbet! olf, are you ^ Where away now f

" I'm going down to see Frank," said Oriole. " I
like him."

*' Oh, you do — do you ? What a beautiful virtue

AN ESCAPE.

m instant

"wayfarer
uiiied to
pi'oariou;,
be uveii

yon

ii^lit!''

I'lil cry.
.'s such a
t as safe
uiik JJe

fc wlio is
of Fon-

1 i^liice.

said tlie
^iiishiiicr

Jiorsc-
J^ a I'cal
i hands
id th'jn
sinalcd
>pcr to
ly life.

wlierc
y. j'nst
y else.
I liav'o
' Hood
Wliat,

* "I

virtue

frankness is, to be snrc, and how nicely <^irlri get over it,
once they are emancipated from pantalettes. I don't
know biit what it would be right for me to^-o and see
Frank, too. Solitude is a very line tiling in its way ;
hut there is such a possibility as having too much of a
o-ood thing ; and this is not exactly the place where one
Avould fancy their own thoughts for companions cither,
riiiht over the grave of a nmrdered man. AVho knows
laVt I may discover in Frank a cousin of mine, too ?
Il's worth going to see about, at all events. So here

goes :

lie rose, as he spoke, and passed from the room —
Orrie having already gone.

As he descended the stairs, he heard somebody
blustering in like the god of the wind ; and then a
cheery, boyisli voice exclaiming, as its owner stamped
and shook the rain off himself:

"Blow, ye wmds, and crack your cheeks! Poor
Frank's a-cold ! I say. Mother Grizzle, why didn't you
let me in when I knocked first, and not keep me here
in the rain till I'm a sight to see, not to hear of? AVhat
with mud and rain, I'm a picture to look at — ain't I ?
Talk about drowned rats ! If you want to see one, just
cast your eyes on me, my friends! Hallo, little black-
eyes ! llow d'ye do i No ; don't come near me ! I'm
a living cataract — worse than Undsnc's uncle, and he
was a cross between a num and a river ! l>ut I forgot ;
you don't know Gernum; so it's not likely you ever
heard of the gent. Get us something to eat. Grizzle.
Haven't had a blessed mouthful since early nujrning, as
I'm a sinner! Where's Kit, and Hlaize, and Old Till,
these times ?

t h

lome," sau

d the

voice o

f tl

ic woman

Grizzle, in surly tones, as she stillly moved through the
room. '' Orrie, wt out of that, and mj to bed. You

5 r>

ouirht to have been there loiii

aii'o.

" I'd rather sit

up, sanl Urrie, s

diarply

" Oh, lot little bright-eyes stay," said the new-

AN ESCAPE.

1 m-

m i

Hi: ,(

1^ .

)t't

comer. " I like to look ;it lier. Muify customers stop-
pad here lately, (irizzle^"

"^'o," .Slid (Irizzhs curtly. " WlioVl stop lierc
when they could v:o on V

" Ah, that's true euouij^h!" said the boy ; "it's not
the most cnchantinijj-lookiiiuf bower of n'j^ose [ ever saw,
and the ]iul)lic <»;enerally arc not likely to be ea])tivated
by it. Ihit a scormstayed traveler iiiiii;ht drop in now
and then — on :ho principle of half a loaf being better
than no bread."

" How di'.l you come to be caught in the storm at
this hour of the ni!j;ht, Master Frank '^" said the woman,
rattlinir dishes on the table.

" Well, I'm on my way home from New York; and
as I was in a hurry, I tliou'j:;ht the storm wouldn't
amount to much, and that I could ride throu«j:;h it until
I got to I'ontelle; but I found my mistake before long,
and would have stopped at the j\leruiaid all night, only
1 knew it would be impossible to awake old I>ob Row-
lie ; so I just rode on till I came here. And hero lam
— what's left of me, I mean ; for I got more than half-
washed away by the r.un !"

"What took y(Ui to New York now?" said the
woman. " There, sit up, and take your supper, if you
want it."

" Oh, Jack sent me, of course. I'm ordered about,
up there, as if I wasn't of the slightest consequence to
anybody. Deuce take .Faek, I say !" (exclaimed ]\Iastcr
Frank, with his nioulh full.

'' Amen !" said a voice that nuido the woman start,
and the youth jump up from his chair.

And the next moment the young stranger pushed
open the door at the foot of the stairs, and coolly walked
in.

The keen, piercing, hawk-liko eye of the woman
was bent upon him fv)r an instant; but his face ex-
pressed nothing but its usual careless mnq froUl as he
met her gaze, and then glanced, with easy indiiference,

AN ESCAPE.

lers stop-
top Jicro

" it's not
3V(.'i' saw,
il)tivate(l
;> ill ]i()w
li,^ better

storm at
woman,

)r]v ; and
von kin 't
it until
'I'e loni^,
lit, only
>I) Row-
ro I am
HI iialf'

uM the
if you

a I tout,
Mice to
i\ faster

1 start,

)nslie(l
valkecl

romau
ee ex-
' as lie
reuce.

at Master Frank — a brii^^lit-cyed, fair-baired, frcsli-faced
lad of f-ixteen or eiicbiocn.

" Tlio noise at llio door ai'oused me," lie said, as if
in (•xj)hination, "and not feelin-^ like sleeping":, and my
tire baviii^ c;one out, I thought I would come down
here. I hope I have not startled you."

" Startled me !" said the y(juth, slowly returninii' to
bis former oeeupation, " you've scared me out of a
year's growth — shattered my nervous system all to
smash !"

" Very sorry to hear it," said the stranger, in Iiis
careless way ; *' but your prayer for Jack, whoever ho
may be, seemed so heiu'tfelt that, as a pious Christian —
wlii<'h 1 Hatter myself 1 am — 1 could not help respond-
ing to it. 1 think 1 heard you mention Fontelle as
I came down stairs. Do you know the family there i"

" Well, I should think I did— rather!" said Frank,
with emphasis ; " more especially as I generally pitch
my tent there myself when Fm at home."

" What, are you a De Vere ';"

"Well, Fm connnonly called that, for want of a
better name, 1 suppose. But, what do you know about
the De Veres!!" continued Master Frank.

" Well, I believe I claim kindred with the family,"
said the careless stranger. " My name is Disbrowe, tho
Honorable AHVcmI Disbrowe, more connnonly known
as Captahi Disbrowe, of ILis Most Gracious Majesty's
Horse Guards."

"lley!" said Master Frank, dropping his knife and
fork, and starting at tho young and handsome guards-
man, "it ain't ])ossib]e, is it^"

The stranger smiled, and l)owed slightly.

"And you're the Honorable Alfred Disbrow^c,
brother of Lord Farneclilfe f ' exclaimed the boy.

" And nei)hew of Robert De Vere, Es(]., of Fon-
telle. Yes, 1 have that honor," said the stranger.

lip sj)rang Frank from his seat; and darting over,
he caught the young Englishman's hand and shook it
heartily, saying, with a delighted shout :

AN ESCAPE.

I i ;

" Hooray ! if tliis ain't an uncommon streak of good
luck, my name's not Frank ! Good gracious, just to
think of it ! Why, it's the most unexpected and
knock-down rencontre that ever anybody heard of since
they were born !'' said Frank, shaking the Honorable
Alfred's hand as if it had been a pump-handle, in liia
surprise and delight.

! I !

I'li

iff

>'"

c of good
s, just to
ted and
1 of since
onorable
le, in Ilia

'il

FONTELLE.

CHAPTER IV.

FONTELLE.

" It was a sandy level wherein stood

This old and lonesome house. Far as the eye
Could measure, on the green back of the wood
The smoke lay always low and lazily.

** But from the rock, rough-grained and icy-crowned,
Some little flowers from out some cleft will rise,
And in tliis quiet land my love I found,

With all their soft; light sleeping in her eyes."

Alice Gary.

HE young Englishman glanced toward his
slightly uncourteous hostess, to see what
elfect this announcement liad on her : and

saw
tire,

her statiding looking steadily into the
with the stranu'est expression of

strangest expression
mingled triiunph, delight, and exultation, added to an-
other inexplicable look — as if a demoniacal prospect of
some sort had suddenly been opened before her. Her
evil face had so strange a fascination for him at that
moment, that, unheeding Frank De Vere's boisterous
greeting, he kept his ey«3s on her, and asked :

" What picture do you see in the lire, my worthy
liostess, that seems so strongly to rivet your attention?

She looked up, and met his gaze with a dark and
most sinister smile.

'' One that you will see, I hope — I helleve^ some day,
in real life, young sir," she replied, transtixing him with
her basilisk eyes.

"• Indeed ! and what may it be, pray f

"I saw," said the wo!nan, pointing to the glowing
coals, " a pit there so black, so bottomless, that, if it
8

FONTELLE.

i! n

f>* m

opened visibly before you now, you would shrink and
recoil from it in lioi-ror."

"Pos.sil)lo !"' said tlic young mun, in his careless
tone. "Well, and what of it'^ Did you sec nothing
else r

" You — you were at the 1)ottoin of it !"

" Oh, was I ? And you hope that it may come
true, some daj' — do you ? Of course, I am mightily
obliged to you ; but at the same time, I'd rather be
excused."

" IJut you were not alone," persisted the woman, as
if he had not spoken.

" Indeed ? Well, it is pleasant to know even that.
Who had the atrocious taste to accompany me there,
my dear madam V

"I saw," said the old woman, folding her arms, and
looking full in his careless, handsome face with her
sinister smile, " I saw some one falling down, and
down, and down into that dark and loathsome gulf; and
lie, fallen and degraded in their scornful pride, in the
very slime at your feet, spurned alike by God and man,
and that one was — "

" Well V said the young man, startled a little from
his nonchalant manner by the suppressed passion that
throbbed like a risin^• tide in her luce and voice.

" Jack De Vere P'' she said, i-ai>ing her voice almost
to a shriek, as with a last malignant glance she turned
to leave the room.

" Don't mind her. Captain Disbrowe !" exclaimed
Frank, indignantly; "she's crazy one-half her time,
and not very sensible the rest. Nobody minds what
old Grizzle Ilowlet says."

" Who is this J ack De Vere, on whose destiny
I am to have so dismal an elfect C^ incpiired the soldier,
resuming his indifferent manner.

" Oh, a cousin of ours, of course ; one of the De
Veres of Fontelle."

" Is he at Fontelle now ?"

Frank nodded and laughed, and the laugh was

m 1

FONTELLE.

that.

man,

slirilly eclioed l\y tlic elfish sprite, Orrie, who still
crouc'lied in the chiiiinev corner.

"Then I .<hall see him to-morrow?"

"Yes; yon-ll see liim to-morrow," said Frank, still
laiiidiinii!:, and soeming-ly immensely tickled by some in-
ward feeling.

"What are yon langhing at?" said Captain Dis-
browe, with a pnzzled look.

Frank oj)ened his month to protest he never was
more serions in his life, but in the elTort another roar
escaped him.

" Well, this is rather droll," said the young English-
man, "lanij:;hing over such a solemn matter as the
extinguishing of Mr. Jack De Vere and Captain Alfred
Disbrowe, when — "

" Orrie !" called the harsh voice of j\Lother Grizzle,
at this moment, " get up and go to bed."

"I don't feel sleepy, and don't want to go," said
Orrie, settling herself closer into the corner.

With the ringing tread of a dragoon, the old woman
marched in and a})j)roached her; but seeing her in-
tention, Miss Oriole thought discretion the better part
of valor, and, springing u]), darted away, and was up
the stairs in a twinkiinii;.

" I should like to know if you two mean to go to
bed to-night ?" said the woman, sna])pishly. " 1 can't
sit up here till morning waiting till you get done
talking."

"Well, go to bed, then," said Frank. "Nobody
asked you to sit up."

Merely regarding Frank with a contemptuous
glance, the woman turned sternly to Captain Dis-
browe :

"Are you going to your room, sir, or are you going
to stay here ?"

" That's a question I can't take it upon myself to
answer on so short a notice, madam," said the young
man, running his lingers through his glossy dark locks;
"but don't put yourself out on my account, I beg.

1 1/

" I

1) 't

i , • '^ti

Iv-

UKi

:l
i !.■' '1'

■ it
I'

I •

FON TELLE.

Allow me to insinuate that you had better retire to
rest yuurself, as it is coiisiderublj late, and time all
honest folks were in he'l."

" Oh, well, she needn't hurry for that, as it don't
apply to her ease in the least," said Frank, ili|)j)antly.

A darker scowl even than usual settled on the
loweriiiuj brow of old (xrizzle ; but without a word, she
walked silenMy and sulkily from the room.

" She's a ])leasant hostess, she is," remarked Fraidc,
looking after her, '"and the sort of a woman a man would
like to marry, I dont think. J ho])e you won't judge
all our American ladies by the two s])ecimens you hiive
just seen. We have some tol'jrable good-looking
females among them, as I will show you when we
reach Fontelle."

" That child, Orric, might grow up a handsome
girl, yet," said Captain Disbrowe,

" She mvjld. The moon might be made of greeu
cheese, for all we know."

" She has handsome eyes."

" Yes ; so has a toad."

" Come, now, my cynical young friend," said the
young Englishman, laughing, "if she were pro[)erly
cared for, she might grow u]) a fine-lookiug girl."

"If — if 1" said Frank, contemptuously. "If the
sky falls we may catch larks. She'll have to be born
again before you can made anything of that little tawny
kelpie, but a weird, witch-like, old-fashioned little
goblin. 1 believe in my soul there is something un-
canny about that same little hornet ; and I never see
her black eyes shining on me in the dark, without feel-
ing inclined to take to my heels and run as if Old
Nick was after me."

" AVhat is she to that pleasant-spoken old lady, our
hostess? Her ij^randchild V

"Her grandchild I No; old Grizzle only has two
sons — Kit and l>laize — a prc^ji'^us pair of hang-dog
scoundrels, both of 'em! and neither of them are mar-
ried nor likely to be. I don't know what Orrie is to

FONTELLF.

retire to
time all

it don't
lantly.
on the
urd, she

Frank,
iMvonld
t jiidii^e
oil h;ive
lookiiii^
hen we

ndsome

f green

lid the

roperly

If the
e born

tawny
1 little

ni>- un-

ver see
it feel-
if Old

1 ^'"
ly, our

as two

iig-dog

e mar- i

ie is to 1

her; but she harf always lived with old Mother Ghast-
ly as loiiij; as 1 can remember, and always was the s;inie
queer little wasp she is to this day. 1 L'X])eer slie tuiind
lier under a toad-stool, or riding on a rush-blade over
from Scotland, or dancing in a fairy ring some bright
Hallow Eve night, and ca})tured her."

" Shouldn't wonder. I she Id like to know some-
thing more of her, though."

" Why, you haven't fallen in lov^ with her, have
you ?" said Frank.

" Not exactly," said Captain Disbrowe, with a
slight laugh. " I feel an interest in the child, though,
on account of a little service she did me this evening,
and because I think something might be made of her,
yet. AVell, let her go. And now, about Fontelle. I
suppose they received Earneclitfe's letter V

"Saying you were coming to pay us a visit — yes,"
said the boy. " 1 heard Jack and Gus talking about
it, and wondering what sort of an individual you would
turn out to be."

" Gus !"

" Why, yes — . Oh, I forgot you didn't know. I
mean cousin Augusta — Lady Augusta De Yere, if you
please."

" Lady Augusta ? I thought you had no titles
over here."

" Haven't we ? That's all you know about it, then.
Why, every second man you meet is a colonel, and a
general, and a squire, and lots of other things. Uncle
liob's a squire — Squire De Vere, you know. But they
used to call her Lady Augusta when she was a little
girl — she was such a proud, haughty little duchess ; and
so the name's stuck to her ever since."

" She wouldn't be a De Vere if she was not proud,"
said Disbrowe, quietly.

" Oh, wonhln't slie ! AVell, they call me a De
Vere, and anybody that says Fm j)roud — why, I say
they're mistaken, to draw it mild. To be sure, it's not

1i fc

li (?

II li

ill

HI {I

FONTELLE.

my name; but tliat's neither here, nor there, nor any-
where else, lor that matter.''

"Not your name i" said Disbrowe, with a stare.

" No, sir !" said Master Fnink, emphatically. " My
name's Stiibbs — but tell it not in Gatli. You see, the
way of it was, my mother and S([uire I)e Vei'e's wife
were sisters; and when father and mother died, and I
went to live at Funtelle, everybody took to calling
me De Vere. I was a little shav<M', then; and the
name's stuck to me ever since, until, sometimes, 1 don't
feel fjuite sure but what I afii a De Vere, afler all. It's
an awi'ul falling olf to come d(nvn from that pinnacle
of high-and-mightydom to plain, unroniantie, unvar-
nished Stubbs ; but it's the hard, substantial truth, and
there's no dodging it."

Captain Disbrowe stroked his nmstache, and
laughed at I'raidi's rueful face.

" ' Wlutt's in a name '^' as Juliet says. 'A rose,'
you know, ' by any other name would smell as sweet.' "

"1 don't believe it. (Jail it a cabbage, for instance,
and how would it sound '. Jf you read in a novel, now,
that a chap ])r(!sented his ladydove with a caljbage, as
an end)lem of his atfeetion, what would you say ?
AVhy, that he was a cabbage-head himself. Juliet be
hanged!" said Frank, in ii tone of disgust. "She was
in love, and couldn't be expected to be in her ])r()])er
senses. There's a great deal in a name, lier lover
was llomeo Montague. It' he liad been Komeo Stubbs,
I wonder how she would have liked it i"

" Well, as 1 never had the honor of the young lady's
ac(piaintaii(-,L', I <*anuot take it upon mysclt" to answer
that question. Aiid so Lady Augusta, ami Uncle Uob,
and Cousin Jack, constitule the family at Fontello

iiaiir;

" Yes," said Fraidc, slowly, and looking in the lire ;
" they do, rather, when I'm not there ; and I'ju a host iu
myself. I hope you intend making us a long visit,
Captain Disbrowe."

■m

FONTELLE,

■'J

"Perhaps — if you don't tire of me and turn mo
out."

" I'll risk that ! Jack will like jou, I know, and
Jack's word is law at Fontelle. By-the-way, though,
Couoin Alfred — I suppose I may call you that — wliat
first put it into your head to honor us with a visit, any-
way ?"

" 'Pon my honor, that's a puzzle, my young friend.
I don't even know how I ever discovered there was
sucli a place as America in existence. Oh, come to
think of it, Ned Howard, of the Guards, told me. lie
did a little lighting hero, once upon a time ; and as I
got tired of lounging about the Serpentine, jmd making
lovo to Lady Janes and Lady Mary;^, I thought I would
try the Hudson by way of a change. And so Larne-
cliifc informed me I had a half-uncle, or something,
here, and wrote to him to let him know wliat a nice
youth I was, and to warn him to treat me tenderly ;
and I obtained unlimited leave of absence, and came,
and saw, and — no— yes, I did, though ! — I con(piered
an insolent fellow I met at tlio Mermaid Inn."

"How was that ? Who was he P

"Not acquainted with the gentleman. He was a
short, stout, red-haired, red whiskered individual, with
an unpleasant, not to say ferocious, expression of coun-
tenance, and an air generally that looked like a cross
between a sailor and a hanguian."

"Why, it must have been Old Ni(-k. Oh, land of
hope and blessed promise*! if it was him, you had bet-
ter look out for sipialls.''

"All! He was ugly enough to be old Nick, or
anything else you like ; but i wasn't aware his ISatanic
Majesty took visible shape and sported a tarpaulin hat
here in these United States."

" Oh, I mean old Nick Tempest. What did you do
to liini f"

"(rave him a cut of my horsewhip in the face, by
way of a slight hint to be m<jre ])olite to etrangerd in
future."

I I

!:i

FONTELLE.

"Whew!" said Frank, tliriistint; his hands in his
pockets, and indulging in ak)ng, waihiig whistle. '' Well,
then, let me tell yon, you have made an inveterate aiicl
deadly enemy for life. That fellow's worse than a Cor-
sican — he never forgives an injury."

"Well, there's nut nuieh love lost, that's one com-
fort. Who is he, anyway ^"

" Oh, the captain of a schooner, and, they say, a
buccaneer," said the boy, lowering his voice. " lie
has been seen cruising round the coast, and it is moi'c
than suspected that his deeds are evil. But it won't do
to speak of that subject here."

"And why not ^"

" Oh, well, he's thick with old Grizzle, and hand-and-
glove with her two precious sons. ' Birds of a feather,'
you know, and so on. A sweet set, the whole of 'em !"

•' I wonder the authorities don't look after him."

" The authorities !" said Frank, contemptuouv.ly.
" With his fast-sailing clipper, he can, snap his lingers
in the faces of every mother's son of them, and lie's
wide-awake, I tell you. Catch a weasel asleep, indeed !
But I feel sleepy, and will seek a little virtuous repose
in the arms of Morpheus, if you have no objection."

" JSot in the least, and I'll copy the example of the
' wise virgins ' in the parable, and watch."

"Why don't you take a snooze yourself?" said
Frank, settling himself in his chair, thrustitig both
hands in his coat pockets, and putting on a resolute ex-
pression that bespoke his unliinching determinutiou to
go to sleep, in spite of all obstacles.

" For good reasons, that I will tell you to-morrow,
which, if 1 (l(»n't mit^fake, is already growing gray in
the cast. Ashn^p so soon^' said the young man, glanc-
ing at Frank, who had droj)ped olf almost instantly.
" 1 wonder if he knew as much as T do about this house,
whether W, would sleep so easily 'i Where has the old
Jezebel spirited oil the men to, I should like to know?"

Drawing closer to the lire, Ca])tain Disbrowo set
himself to watch until morning ; but, insensibly over-

F ON TELLE.

come by drowsiness and fatigue, he dropped fast asleep
in ten minutes, and slept suundly — so soundly tliat lie
did not, two hou^s later, hear the door opened, nor the
noiseless entrance of old Grizzle Ilowlut. Softlv she
crossed the room on tip-toe, and bent over him, and

f:;azed intently as he lay with his head resting easily on
lis arm, and his handsome face plainly re\'eakd in tluj
gray morning light. Lightly she lifted the clustering
waves of his bright l)rown hair from his foreheid, and
peered closer and closer in his face — the old .sinister
smile gradually breaking over her lips. Did she read in
that fine and aristocratic-looking countenance a tahj of
haughty pride, but slightly vailed under the careless
levity of his waking manner I — a tale of dauntless dar-
ing and high ambition, that would spurn every obstacle
as so many worms in his path, until the goal of his
hopes were won i Something of that slie must have
read, if she were skilled in reading tlie " human face
divine " — for all were legible in that handsome face in
its repose.

Suddenly he moved, restlessly, and murmured some-
thing in his sleep. The woman l)ent down to hear, but
she could only catch the words : " When I come back,
Norma."

" When yon come back, Norma !" said Grizzle, I'ising,
with her evil smile, and looking down upon the sleeper.
" Will you ever come back to Norma — whoever she
maybe? O Jack De Vere ! God grant the day may
soon come when I can see your high pride laid low, and
your haughty head under the lieel of this gay, i)roud
Englishman, with his fair young face, and scornful
heart! — and may Heaven send the day soon when 1 can
repay you a thousand-fold for all your taunts, and jibes,
and mockery !"

She struck her clenched hand on her breast, as if
she could have beaten down a lion, and her face wji^
livid with the raging passion throbbing in it, yet forci-
bly held back.

*' Ilallo I old Mother Hubbard I — what are you up

I* IS'

w y

•

iflf

"01 1

FONTELLE.

to now?" Sc-iid tlic voico of Fraiik, as lie got up, sudden-
ly, with Jl yawn, and shook himself. " llurry np
breakfast — will you? I shall have to nial^e tracks for
FontcUe in douhle-quiek-tiine tliis morning, or Jack
will be in my wool. Let's have a look at the weather,"
said he, going to the window and looking out, while old
Grizzle silently busied herself in kindling the lire.

'' Well, what is your opinion of the weather, my
good cousin?" said C'aptain Disbrowe, awakened by his
voice. " Is it snow, rain, hail, or lightning, or a mixture
of all ?"

" None of 'em," said Frank ; " going to bo a splen-
did day, after the storm. The weather here in New
Jersey, you see," continued Frank, with a touch of
philosophy, " is uncommonly like the female sex ; most-
ly always contrary, and doing what nobody ex])ects it
to — all smiles one minute, and all sulks the next. That's
the way with you lovely women, ain't it. Grizzle?" said
Master Frank, winking at Disbrowe, to intimate that the
latter part of his speech might be considered playfully
ironical.

Grizzle favored him with a glance of withering cou-
tem[)t, and went steadily and silently on, preparing
breakfast, which was soon ready, and sooner diT^patched.
Then little Orrie brought round their horses, while the
young Englishman settled his bill with the hostess.

'"And now, madam," he said,il\ing his eyes keeidy
and significantly on her face, '" before 1 bid you good-
morning, allow me to thank you for your and your
three friends' kind intentions toward me last night; and
to advise 3'ou, when you next hold a secret conference
round the lire, to he sure the door at the foot of the
stairs is shut. Good-morning, madam." And with a
slight and peculiarly-gi-aceful how and smile, he passed
from the house. Not a muscle of the woman s face
moved, not the slightest start or sign of guilt did she
betray, but with a nnittered " Humph !" she folded her
arms and looked after them until they were out of
bight.

FONTELLE.

""What did you mean by tliatf said Frank, as they
rode ra]:)id]y alon,i^.

" Never mind, now," said Disbrowe, " I shall tell
you all about it some other time, for talking at this
sharp pace I don't admire."

A ra])id ride of nearly five hours, through forest-
paths and nmddy roads — considerably different from
Avhat the same route is to-day — brought them, at last,
to their journey's end.

"AVhy didn't you take the shorter way over the
mountains?" Disbrowe asked.

"Oh, well, for various reasons: the first and chief
of which is, that I woukl rather not break my neck just
yet, if tiie public generally don't object. Mountain
gorges, and chasms, and torrents, and steep, slippery
paths, where a single false step would pitch you to
Kingdom Come in a twiidvling, are all very pleasant to
read about, but in real life I'd just as soon steer clear of
them. Jack always takes the moutitains, but I haven't
enough of the dare-devil in mo to try it, I must con-
fess ; and, what's more, I ain't at all ambitious to have,
either."

" This Jack appears to be quite a hero, in his way,
and T feel quite anxious to know him," said Disbrowe.

Again Frank laughed — a ])eculiar, meaning laugh.

" t)h, I rather guess you and Jack will pull pretty
well tog(!ther, if you are only moderately careful and
mind your eye ! But there's Fontelle, is it anything
like your English home?"

Disbrowe looked, and saw a large, irregnkir, cum-
brous-looking old mansion of gray stone, that seemed to
have been build at different periods, with two wings —
the one at the north heavy and gloomy, and fashioned
after some anti<jue style; while the southern one seemed
of more mod(M'n date and construction, lighter, airier,
and more elegant. Extensive and handsome grounds
srrrounded it, and a long, winding avenue of tall maples
led up to the front door. It was a lino old mansion,

•f

■>"!

I..

\
1

FONTELLE.

strongly resembling the old manors so common in Eng-
land.

" As he named it after Fontelle Park, in England,"
said Frank, " he had it built, you see, to resemble it as
much as possible. Does it really look like the old Eng-
lish house of the De Veres ?"

" Very much," said Captain Disbrowe, in evident
pleasure ; " very much, indeed. It only wants the
broad lawns, and glades, and the great park, and the
deer, and the ' silver star ' above the gate, and the gate-
keeper's lodge. Do you know the ' silver star,' Master
Frank ?"

" Don't I ?" said Frank. " Is there a day of my life
I don't hear of the ' silver star ' of the De Veres ?
Hasn't imcle Rob the family arms emblazoned in the
drawing-room ? — and doesn't the ' silver star ' shine there
from year's end to year's end, and never set ? But
look here ! if that ain't the very Jack you want to see !
Jack ! Jack ! I say !" he called, raising his voice.

He galloped on, followed by Disbrowe, until, sud-
denly reining up, he exclaimed, in a voice full of quiet
malice and delight :

"Jack, this is our English cousin. Captain Dis-
browe, allowed me to make you acquainted with Jack
De Vere."

Captain Disbrowe looked up, and sat for a moment
stock-still with surprise. Well he might ! he was not
the first who had been electrified by Jack De Vere I

JACK DE YE RE.

CHAPTER V.

JACK DE VERB.

" A thing all lightness. 'Ife, and glee —

One of the &liaj.'es we seem
To see in visions of the night,
And shouU they greet our waking sight

Imagine that wc dream." — Hill.

APT A IN ALFRED DISBROWE had raised
his handsome eyes, expecting to see a tall,
dashing, whiskered, devil-may-care six-
footer; but looking up he saw nothing,
until he lowered his eyes, and lowered them
again, and at last they alighted on a coquettish little
riding-hat, perched jauntily on one side of a little head,
some four feet or so from the ground.

Captain Disbrowe started and stared ; and his stare
was returned by the brightest and clearest pair of eyes
that ever were set in a human head — returned with com-
pound interest, too. Jack De Yere was fl girl — a small,
slight, delicate-looking girl, of seemingly not more than
sixteen, and most elegantly and becomingly dressed,
who, after lier iirst brief scrutiny, bowed and smiled,
and held out her hand, and gracefully welcomed her
English cousin to Fontelle Hall.

It was seldom the self-possessed, courteous Captain
Disbrowe was at a loss ; but for a moment he was
really so now, and as he mechanicallv took the hand
she offered, ho gazed Iirst at her and then at Frank,
80 evidently nonplussed, that Frank, who happened to
be blessed with a lively eense of the ludicrous, laughed
uproariously.

JACK DE VERE.

" Jack Dc Verc," lie repeated, like one in a dream.

Tlie young lady witlidi-ew her ]i:ni(l and smiled.

"This is some of your work, Master Frank, with
your Jaf'k I)e Vere ! My name is Jacquetta," said she,
turning to Disbrowe, " whiel) they have the barI)arous
taste to transform into Jaek — thinking, I suppose, a
boy's name suits me best. -Whether they are right or
not, I must leave it to time and your good sense to de-
cide."

" Oil ! beg pardon ! I see it all now," said Dis-
brow-e ; and the next instant he had sprung from his
horse, and stood with his hat off before her ; "I fear I
have appeared rather rude ; but I was so surprised !
Allows me to redeem my error, and salute my fair
cousin now."

And taking her hand he would liave suited the
action of the word ; but Miss Jack drew back, and
interposed the other hand as a shield.

" i^dm to })alm is holy ])almer''s kiss," she said,
coolly. " And 1, as a stanch Yankee girl and patriot,
have ' vowed a vow,' ever since the war, of eternal en-
mity against all Englishmen. So, my very dear cousin,
you will have to admire me at a distance, until better
acquainted."

" Then permit me." And he raised her hand gal-
lantly to his lips. " 1 shall try to induce you to break
that cruel vow before we part. The sins of a whole
nation should not be visited on one iiidivitiual head."

Though he had bent over the hand he held whilst
speaking, he luid l)een looking intently in her face, and
trying to decide, strange as it may seem, whether she
were pretty or plain.

It w^as a (juestion that had puzzled others before
him, and countless were the dilferent decisions that had
been pronounced on the matter. Jle saw a small,
bright, aniniiited face, full of energy, daring, and de-
termination, yet fair and delicate as a tinted rose-leaf
in complexion. iler eyes were large and intensely
bright and of the deepest, darkest gray, sparkling and

JACK DE VERB.

flasliing when she M'as excited, until they seemed of
nii(hiiii;ht bliiekness. ller round, wliite, ]')olished forc-
lieud, iind small, erect head, were beautifully shaped,
and bespoke a strong, energetic, far-seeing brain with-
in.

Iler small, rosy mouth would liave been perfect,
but for the half-mocking, half-sarcastic curl of the short
n]iper lip, whose haughty curve bespoke a pride as
high and strong as liis own — in a different way. But
til look of half-nH)ckery seemed the prevailing ex-
pression of the piquant, sparkling little face, whose
irregular features owed their chief beauty to their con-
stant' animation. Iler look of miniijled seriousness and
ino(;kery it was that so puzzled and half annoyed Dis-
browe, and left him, as it did every one else, at a loss
to tell whether she was in jest or earnest, Iler hair
was soft, silky, and beautiful, and hung in clustering,
dancing curls around her bewitching little face; but —
it was red, unconipromising, deliant red, and no fiction
of friends or lovers could make it auburn. A.nd now
it flashed and scintillated like wings of flame in the
radiant sunshine.

There was something else about Jack De Vere that
puzzled and perplexed Disbrowe not a little ; and that
was, her strong and undetinable resemblance to some
one he had met before — who at that moment he could
not remember. There she stood before him, cool,
bright, breezy, airy, and nnmistaka1)ly fair, reminding
liim of a saucy boy — a very saucy boy — yet with the
air and grace of a lady withal.

From all he liad heard of her. Captain Disbrowo
judged she must be an Amazon, a romp, a hoyden —
the horror antl abomination of the I'elined, fastidious
Englishman. Accustomed to the cold hauteur and
high-bred elegance of the ladies and peeresses of his
native land, he shrank in horror from anything like
hoydcnism ; and an Amazon would have been looked
n])on by him in about the same way as he would havo
looked upon a grizzly bear or the gi'eat sea-serpent — as

JACK 1)E VEUE.

soinethin^ to jjjaze and sliudder at, at ii distance. Tho
light, fragile ligure, and fair, delicate face of this young
girl, seemed, though, to contradict the idea that she could
be one of these monsters; hut from all lie had heard of
her from I'Vank, it left him to infer that she was, and
that he must not judge by appearances. Then, too,
she had red hair, which he detested as betokening
vulgarity and a fiery temper — two revolting things,
according to his high and spirituelle notions of the
adorable sex ; and she bore a boy's name, which was
another shock to his particular and fastidious taste.
And so altogether, in the very few minutes that he
stood watching her, he made up his mind, quite to his
own satisfaction, to dislike Jack De Vere, and only
think of her as something to smile at and pity.

But if he thought to mortify the young girl before
him by such a course, never was self-complacent man
more wofully doomed to disappointment. Cool as a
Lapland icicle, self-possessed and self-conscious as a
crowned queen on her throne, indifferent and careless
as the breeze that toyed with her fair clustering hair,
she stood before him, with a pride and case of numner
that, in its very depth of quietude, arose and over-
topped his own, and gave the Honorable Alfred Dis-
browe, brother of an earl and a peer in prospective, to
understand that, if he intended to despise her he must
do it at a remarkably safe distance. And he, the flat-
tered, courted, and caressed in all the gilded salons of
brilliant London, who had danced with princesses,
flirted with regal duchesses, and made love to Lady
Georgianas without number — at whose coming cheeks
had flushed, and bright eyes had fallen, and hearts had
beat faster — under the cool gaze of whose handsome
eyes many a pidse under a diamond bracelet had
bounded, found himself now calmly waved back, and
told to kcej) his i)lace ; and by the bright clear glance
of those gray eyes made to understand ho must remem-
ber it, too, until she chose to descend from her pin-
nacle. For once in his life, the dashing Guardsman

JACK DE VEIiE.

•I

was made to understand that a handsome face, and fine
figure, and gallant bearing, and aristocratic name, were
not perfectly irresistible.

" Well, sir," said a quick, imperative voice, in tones
of mingled amusement and sarcasm, " what is the decis-
ion ? I see you have come to one. I have undergone
a keen scrutiny for the last two or three minutes ; and
now for your verdict, my lord judge ?"

She had faced round so 8ud Jenly and unexpectedly,
and looked up in his face so keenly, with her peculiar
mocking smile, that a slight flush tinged, for an instant,
the fine face of Disbrowe in his conscious guilt.

"Ah, you needn't speak. I can read my sentence
in that guilty look ; and you have pronounced me a
second edition of the bottle-imp — a natural curiosity
like the ourang-outang, or any other outlandish animal,
and you are just thinking what a fortune some enterpris-
ing showman might make by putting me into a cage,
and taking me over to London, and exhibiting me as a
real live specimen of that terrific creature — the Ameri-
can female. Come, confess — isn't that sof

'' Is it possible you can wrong me by such a thought,
my dear cousin?" he said, recovering himself. '* w hat
can I think of you but that you are the most charming
little fairy in existence, and the most enchanting of
cousins."

" Do you really ?" said the young lady, casting a
critical eye to where one of the servants was about to
lead off the horses, " I say, AVilliam, mind what you're
at there ! Would you take those horses, reeking hot,
into the stables? Walk them gently up and down for
a while, can't you ? And so that's your opinion, is it ?
hum!" she said, with her provoking smile. "Well,
what else do you tliink about me ? It didn't take y(ju
all that time to conclude I was charming, and wliat else
was it ? — oh, enciianting ! did it ?"

" By no means, how could I help thinking you
were very beautiful ?"

"Dazzlingly beautiful is the term my admirers

JACK I)E VERB.

generally use, and 1 like it better," amended the young

"Dazzlingly beautiful, then be it ; the term is most
upproj)riate, and shows the good taste of your admirers,
Miss De Vere."

A sudden, hot flush, like a rising flame, leaped into
the eheeks of the young girl at the words.

" Miss De Vere/' she said, vehemently, " don't call
me that ! I hate the name ! I do hate it !" she said,
almost passionately.

lie looked at her in amazement, to see her cheeks
hot, and her eyes flashing for an instant; and then, the
next, as she met his gaze, as if by magic her face
cleared again, and she looked up at him and laughed.

"Don't be sho(dved ! I hate formality, I mean;
and it rather startles me to be called anything so stately
as ' Miss Do Vere,' " and she mimicked his tone to per-
fection. "■ I'm not used to it, you see ; and it doesn't
agree with my constitution and by-laws, either. Call
me Jacquetta, or Jack, or I'll come without calling at
all, if you prefer it. 'Just whistle, and I'll come to
yuu, my lad,' rather that style of thing, you know."

" With all my heart, Miss Jacquetta, and may I
also hope to hear my Christian name in music from
your lips."

" To be sure — yon didn't expect I intended calling
you anything else — did you 'i and you my own cousin,
too," and she laughed, and gave him a glance so full of
hidden, mocking meaning, that he was more puzzled
what to make of her than ever. " And pray what is
it^ John, Peter, Barnabas, Tom, Dick, or Harry, or
what ?"

" Neither ; it happens to be Alfred De Vere Dis-
browe."

'' Phew ! All that for a name. Suppose we make
it Alt', for short, eh i Aj)/'opos of long names, there
is an old Puritan womar. who has lived at Fontelle, as
a sort of privileged servant, ever since I can remember,

JACK DE VElti:.

and her name is Tribulation Fear the Lord Rawbones
— there's a name for you !"
Disbrowe hiuii-hed.

'' Yes ; rather an inconvenient name for every-day
use, isn't it?"

" Oh, we call her Tribby, except on festivals, and
then she gets her name in full. JJut now. Cousin Al-
fred, are we to go up to the house ; c", rs you have ex-
hausted the subject of my innumerable ; ^rfections, am I
to begin and say pretty things to you i — which !■"

" J. propose that we adjourn to the house, and I will
take all the pretty things for granted. I wish to see
my uncle and my other cousins, as soon as possible."

" Well, come along then ; Iney are l)oth in, as it hap-
pens, and will be delighted to see you, of course."

Both walked aloni:: together, and ascended a broad
flight of marble steps thftt led U]) to the massive hall-
door, in the center part of the building. This opened
into a vast hall, high, dark, and silent, and flanked on
cither side by doors, and with a staircase of pohshed
oak at the farthei* end, leading to the upper rooms.
Opening a door to the right, Jacquetta ushered him in-
to a spacious drawing-room, very high, very dark, very
grand, and silent, and bearing over the high marble
mantel the escutcheon of the house of De Vere, with
its brilliant silver star. The furniture was carved and
massive, and evidently belonged to a former genera-
tion ; and a few rare old pictures, masterpieces of
master jDainters, hung around the walls. The immense
windows, reaching almost from floor to ceiling, were
hung with dark purple damask, lined with corn-colored
silk ; and the thick, dark carpet was no dainty Brussels
or Turkey alfaii*, but one that had evidently been used
for half a century, and was likely to stand half a cen-
tury more. The chairs, and tables, and sofas, were all
of the .-ame nui&sivo, carved, antique pattern ; and the
eyes of the young Englishman lit up witii pleasure, as
he looked around and half-audibly murmured : " A flt

JACK 1)E VEUE.

li.i '

<\ \

liorae for a (Icscoiuliint of the old l)c Ycrcs. I Late
now furniture and new lioubcs.''

Jacquetta had left liini upon his entrance ; and for a
time lie was left alone to wonder a little at the profound
silence of the house, and wonder more what maimer of
girl this odd cousin of his might be. Before he could
come to any satisfactory conclusion, the massive oaken
door swung open, and a tall, hale old man, of stately
presence and digniHed mien, "kindly but frosty," stood
on the threshold, with a lady on his arm.

" ]\ly dear boy, I'm delighted to sec you," he ex-
claimed in a voice of cordial welcome, as he came for-
ward, aiid grasping both JJisbrovre's hands, shook them
heartily. " AV' hat an unexi)ected pleasure this is, to bo
sure ! Jjless me ! how like you are to your mother, my
poor sister Clara, my dear boy ! You look like a Do
Vcre, every inch of you. Allow me to make you ac-
quainted with your cousins — this is my daughter
Augusta, and this is my daughter Jacquetta, hut you
know her already, it appears.'^

"I have that pleasure, sir," said Disbrowe, bowing
to " my daughter Augusta," a tall, haughty, dark-e^'cd,
dark-haired, pale-faced beauty, cold and stately as a
duchess, with the tine, proud, aristocratic face of the
De Veres — as dillerent from her sister as day IVom
uigh.t.

"Ah, is it a pleasure?" said Miss Jacquetta, airily,
" I didn't know. Perhaps, before you are acquainted
with ni«3 long, you will have another notion about
that."

" Tut, tut, sauce-box !" said her father, chucking
her uiuler the chin. " Little girls should be seen and
not heard, my dear. You musn'tmind our little Jacky,
my boy ; she's a s[)oiled ciiild, and nothing else, and
thinks herself i)rivileged to say whatever she thiidvs."

" A rare virtue in this insincere world," said Dis-
browe, politely.

" Is it always a virtue?" said Ihe fair, proud Augus-
ta, lying languidly back in her chair, and lifting her

JACK BE VERE.

eyes slowl3', as though it was too much trouble to raise
their lieavy Hds.

" In Miss Jacquetta it doubtless is, and cannot be
sufficiently admired, more particularly, as the charming
grace with which — "

" Tiicre, Cousin Alf !*' broke in Jacquetta, Hinging
herself into a chair, and holding up one tiny foot, and
looking at it critically, '' don't \n\i yourself out to turn
a compliment. I'll inuigine the rest, as you did a while
ago, you know. As to his not minding me, papa, I
wouldn't advise him, as a friend, to try it, for — did
you ever see an enraged American female, Captain
IJisbrowe i"

*' Kot as I am aware of."

" "Well, then, don't — as long as you can help it ; for
the forty horse-power essence of wild-cats is nothing to
it ! It's something terriiic, I tell you, and lias to be
seen to be aj^preciated. You cold-blooded English,
over there, can't begin to have the first idea of what
it's like."

"Come, Jacquetta, come! this won't do," said
" papa," fidgeting, and taking a juncli of snulf.

'• Why, 1 hope you consider yourself English, Miss
Jacquetta," t^aid Di.<browe.

"Me! not J ! J scoi'n the idea! Tm Yankee to
the core of my heart! A regular Jersey true-blue!
Me English, indeed ! I look as if 1 had much of Hic
])lodding, sobev-g<jing John Ijull about me ! — don'c I V

"^«o\v, ,Iac(piettii, my dear, how car. you f" said
papa, deprccatingly, while a faint smile dawned on the
nK)onlight face of J^ady Augusta, and an angry light
lea])ed to the dark eyes of the haughty young English-
man. Eortunately, at that moment a bell rang.

" The lirst boll," said tho master of the liouse,
rising, ''dinner will be served in half an hour; and 1
presume you will wish a few moments' rest after your
long ride."

"I certainly recjuire it,'" said J)isbrowt . running his
lingers through the diaheveled lucks of his rich brown

I''l'

JACK DE VERB.

■I

hair ; " and I am rather travel -stained just at present,
no doubt."

lie held open the duor for the young ladies to pass
out, us he spoke. Tlie queenly Augusta ac^knowlcdged
the eourtesy by the slightest beat of her proud head ;
but Jaetjuctta looked cunningly up in his face, and
hiughed, and kissed her hand to iiini, and danced after
her stately sister like an incarnate sunbeam.

Then Mr. De Vere rang the bell, and a spruce
chambermaid escorted Captain Disbrowe up stairs to a
Ion ; gallery, tlanked, like the hall below, with doors,
and ushered hiin into what his host had called the
"Star Chamber" — a superbly litted-up apartment, with
the walls and ceiling genuned with stars in an azure
ground, and the cornices fretted with gold net-work.
A Large, square, old-fashioned bed, lumg with heavy
drapery of blue and silver, stood (>})posite the door, and
the large oriel windows were dra])ed \vith curtains of
the same, la the immense llr(!-])lace roai d and iilazed
a huge wood-llro, that warmed ujid lit up the whole
room, and si;emed to make the starry car])et on the
floor literally sparkle. An immense mirror, reaching to
the coiling, rellected back the room; and on a large
oak table beside it lay books and drawings, and numer-
ous elegant toilet tritlch iJut none of these 'jbjects at-
tracted the eye of Disl)rowe- -something else had (laught
his attention the moment he entered, and held it chained
still. Over the bronze mantel hung a picture in an
oval frame, heavily carved ; a portrait of a small, mock-
ing, tantalizing, Ixiwitching face, with short, waving
curls, and sj)arkling. Hashing, gray eyes, scintill.ttiiig
with mirth and mischief, and hidden powei". It Wu*< a,
portrait of dacquetta De Verc ; ajid the red lips seemed
wreathed inb) a mocking smile, and thf^ flashing -'yes
seemed to di>ride him, as they met his own. 'J'he hnad
was half turned, as if she were looking back — justasiie
had seen her when siie left the room a nioii*ent b«'f<>r»",
with the same wicked, half-deliant, half luug:-H>"- niMcr.

Leaning his arm on the mantel, ani. qnilL . 'rgetful

JACJK DE VERE,

of the flight of time, he stood there and looked at it.
What thoughts were thronging througli In's iiiind at
that moment? Did he think of the prediction of the
weird witch of the lone inn~uf the dark, loathgome
pit, at the bottom of which, her iiigh pride laid low, she
was to lie at his feet? Did he think of it aft-rward in
the dark days that were to come, when he knew a doom
worse than death was hers— that fair, high-spirited
young girl, whose bright face smiled on him from the
wall now.

%■

THE SECRET.

CHAPTER VI.

THE SECRET.

'* She said, aud raised her skinny iiand,
As in defiance, to high heaven.
And stretched her long, lean linger forth,
Aud sjioke aloud the words of power."

— TnALABA.

HE dinner bell had run«i^, and a long interval
had succeeded, but still tlie Honorable Al-
fred Disbrowe stirred not ; still he stood
gazing on that j)icture, charmed, fascinated,
as a bird is charniod nnd fascinated by a
serpent. Not that the knowinjr, dashing, young
Guardsman, the gay nuni of fashion, had much of the
innocence and simplicity of a bird about him, and
neitlier would I insinuate that Miss Jacquetta Do Vere
had anything of the dark and dreadful subtlety of a
6er])ent ; but certainly it was some sensation akin to
snake-charming that invited his eyes to that ])i(j[uant,
entrancing, yet anything but beaulil'ul face. It was not
love — on the contrary, it was more like positive dis-
like; but still he stood and gazed, quite forgetful that
he was to arrange his dress, and that the bell had rung
ten minutes before, and that, in all jirobability, the
original was waiting down stairs, and in no very sweet
humor at that sanu^ wailing.

A sharp knock at the door startku] him at last from
his reverie, and in answer b> his '' Come in,'' the door
oi)ened, and hVaiik entered.

" What ! not ready yet, and the dinner waiting for
the last ten minutes, and Uncle liob the most ])articular
old gentleman that ever wore a wig! Whew !" said

THE SECRET.

Master Fr.ink, thrusting his hands into liis pockets, and
beginning to whistle.

"Js it possible?" said Disbrowc, starting uj),
shocked at his want of thought. " I deserve the bas-
tinado I'or my neglect, I can't tell what I was think-
ing of, to forget myself so," he said, as he hurriedly
bci^au to arrange his toilet.

" Well, hurry up, and I'll wait for you," said Frank,
seating himself. " Jack advised uncle to send up one
of the kitchen-maids to help you to make yourself fas-
cinating — it took you so long. So they've put you in
the Star Chamber, have they I There's Jack's picture.
J remember the day she Jiung it there, and called it the
brightest star of the lot. Do you think her good-look-

iiif,' V

" Certainly — you know there is no such thing as a
bad-looking woman," said Disbrowe, politely.

"Oh, isn't there? — what a blessed beaut}' Mother
Grizzle is, for instance ! Gusty's good-looking though
— ain't she ?"

" Very beautiful," said Disbrowe, in all sincerity
this time ; " she is a true De Yore."

" "Which would you take to bo the oldest now —
Jack or Gus?" said Frank.

"• Miss Augusta, of course," said Disbrowe, sur-
jirised at such a cpiestion.

" 1 knew it," said Frank, with a chuckle, " but she
ain't, though. Jack's two or three ycms older."

'^ Is it possible?" exclaimed Disbrowe, in astonish-
ment. " 1 can scarcely credit it !"

" Well, you may, then. Gusty's only eighteen, and
Jack's twenty, and more, for all I know. She looks
younger — don't she? Dut that's because ^-h '\s so small
and fair — fair people always look younger than they
i\!ally are, you know."

" Younger I 1 hardly took her to be sixteen," said
Disbrowe, "she certainly does not look that."

" She is, then, and she makes no bones of telling it,
cither ; and then it makes her look like a I'ttU^ girl,

m ' i

Mi,'

4''

THE SECRET.

J 1

wearing her hair flying about her face in curls, instead
of braiding it, and lixing it up like Gusty does. Do
you like red hair ?"

" No ; but then Mks Jacquetta's is aubura, is it
not?" said Disbrowe, with another polite fiction.

" Auburn !" said Frank, contemptuously, " it won't
be well for you to tell Jack that, anyway ! She's proud
of her leonine locks, I can tell you, and calls it her
crowning glory, and wouldn't change it, she says, for
any other color under the sun. I remember Will lled-
fern called her a young lioness once, with her red mane,
after she horsewdiipped him, one day, in the street."

Disbrowe shuddered.

" Ilorsewhipped him ! Good heavens ! what did
she do that for i It can't be possible, surely."

" Yes, it is i)ossible, and served him just right, I
say ; and what's more, she wouldn't mind doing it
over again. lie insulted a girl, and she told Jacquetta,
and as tlie girl had no father or brother to take her
part. Jack gave him particular fits with her horsewhip
the next time she met him. Oh ! she's a spunky, 1
promise you! Take care you don't anger her some
day," said Frank, laughing, "or she'll be after you with
a sharp stick."

" Heaven forbid !" exclaimed Disbrowe, in horror.
" AVhat an Amazon she is I Who would ever think a
Do Vere could do such an atrocious thing !"

" I know another De Yere who did such an atro-
cious thing, and it wasn't to avenge distressed inno-
cence, either," said Fmnk, maiicdously.

" You mean me, I suppose," said Disbrowe, laugh-
ing, "but I'm not a girl. Perhaps, though, it's the
fashion for young girls to act so here, in America."

" Oh, every one's independent here — do just as they
like, and don't care a snap for their neighbors ; and our
Jack's the pluckiest one of tiie lot. ' Although she's Ijut
little, she's made of good mettle,' as the old song says."

"Do you know," said Disbrowe, brushing his tan-
gled locks, "she reminds me so much of some one else

THE SECRET.

1?
n-

I have seen, I can't think who — a shadowy resembhmce
in every iiiotioji."

*' 1 think she looks like little Orrio Ilowlet, at the
inn, if that's what yoa mean," said Frank, " ahhongli
Orrie's a regular little sqiiaw for darkness, and Jack's
fair as she well can be. I know they always remind
me of one another ; and others say so, too."

" Yes, now I think of it, she does," said Disbrowe,
meditatively, " but somehow she's not the one I mean.
13y Jove ! 1 have it, now," he cried, with a start, " she
looks like the fellow I horsewhipped — a pocket-edition
of that same old coon, revised and improved, with tlio
very same inso — the very same look iu her eyes that he
iias."

" Good gracious !" said Frank, laughing, " here's a
discovery! Our Jack like old ISlick Tempest ! Wiiat
would Jack say if she hoard that. X(jt but what I 1)0-
lieve she would take it as a compliment ; for she faii-ly
dotes on dare-devils like him, and would make a tip-top
wife for a salt-sea rover or an Italian bi-igand."

" Speaking of brigands," said Disbrowe, " reminds
me that I saw with old Nick Tempest, as you call him,
a most enchanting little specimen of that article, in a
real brigandish rig. Now, then," he added, giving a
few finishing touches, " I am at your service."

Both descended to the dining-room, where they found
Mr. De Vere and his two daughters awaiting them.
Disbrowe's apology for detaining them was smilingly
accej)te(l, and all were soon seated round the ample
board of the master of Fontelle Ilall.

During the meal, Disbrowe made some iufjuiries
about the society of tlic neighborhood and the gi^ntry.

''(gentry," said Lady Augusta, with her languid
smile, " we have no such thing here, captain. ' All nu3ii
are born free and equal,' isn't that what the Declaration
of Independence says, papa?"

" How do you, iliss Do Y* re, believe in such hum-
bug as that?" said Disbrowe, with a curling lip.

" I think," said the young lady, steadily, and with

\ 1

THE SECRET.

uTlV

I ill

a rising flush tinging, for a moment, her pale cheek,
" tliat })ri(le of birth is carried to an absurd excess in
England. Will it redeem a mean or dishonorable
character that lie can boast his forefathers entered with
the Conquest, and can display a coat-of-arms that
readies back for a score of generations. 1 think," she
said, with increasing warmth, and an unusual light in
her dark eye, and an unusual ilush on her pale (jlieek,
" that a man of the people, who rises by his own unaid-
ed elfcjrts in the battle ot" Jit'e, to power and distinction,
deserves a thousand-fold more esteem and respect, and
should be a prouder man, than he avIio can trace his
descent back to the days of William theOonrpieror, and
can boast of nothing else. The great Earl of Oxford,
from whom we Do Veres boast we have descended, was
a great man, doui)tless, in his day, and would hav^e
ppurned the people, as the dust under his feet; but
whether will ho or Washington, the Man of the People,
be lonixest j'cmembered? Which is the i^reater, let
posterity decide. (,)ne was forgotten many and many
a year ago; but while the world lasts, will the other
ever cease to be remembered and revered."

" Ih'avo ! encore ! I say," shouted Frank, de-
lighted.

" Keally, Augusta," said her father, laying down his
knife and fork, and looking at her, " a change has
come o'er the spirit of your dream lately. Two years
ago, my dear Alfred, there never was a greater aris-
tocrat than the young lady Vvho has just made that
republican speech ; she would have trodden on the
necks of the people as remorselessly as your haughty
brother, Eaiaeclilfe, himself, and thought them honored
by the condescension ; when, lo and behold ! she sud-
denly faces about, and becomes a red-hot rebel and
republican — staiuls up for the people, aiul advocates
c(pial I'ights, and liberty, fraternity, and equality, and
all the rest of it, as furiously as if she were one of a
French mob. What has changed her tactics, [ don't
know ; but changed they are, with a vengeance, and I

TUE SECRET.

expect her to crown it all by marrying a Smith, Jones,
or Robinson, one day shortly ! I shan't be at all sur-
prised, if she docs."

lie laughed, as , he spoke; but at the last words a
di.-adly paleness swept over the beautiful face of his
daughter, leaving her, even to her lips, cold and white
as marble. Disbrowe lifted his eyes, and looked at
her, as if a sndden light had dawned npon him, and
slightly smiled.

'' Miss Augusta is too siaunch a De Yere ever to
marry beneath her,*' he said, significantly.

'* Be assui'ed of that, sir I'' she said, haughtily. " I
never shall 1"

" That's my proud Lady Augusta !" said her father,
laughing. " But what's got into my little Jack-o'-
lantern here, that she sits so still ?"

" It's so seldom I hear sensible people talk, papa,"
said Jacquetta, demurely, "that 1 like to listen in
silent awe, when they do — that's all."

"1 am afraid Miss Jacquetta is inclined to be scar-
castic," said Disbrowe, coloring slightly at her covert
smile.

" Me !" said Jacquetta, raising her eye brows in in-
nocent surprise. " Oh, no ! 1 hope you don't suspect
me of anything so L^hocking."

" Tell him about our gentry, puss," said Mr. De
Vere, \vith a sly chuckle. " You know every one with-
in forty miles rouiid."

" Yes ; and farther, too," said Jacquetta. " And I
shall be only too happy to take Cousin Alfred around
and introduce him. First, there's the Brontes — their
real name is Brown, but that's no matter — and there
are six girls, the oldest of whom has been eighteen for
the last live years, and intends to be for live more; and
the rest of whom, likewise, have come to a stand-still,
and are Hrmly resolved to set Time at deliance, and not
grow a day older until Seraphina Clementina is married.
Their father will give theiutivc hundred dollars apiece

• 1

Ill

THE SECRET.

fortune, and tlieir husbands a share in the pork and
tallow business; and it would be an excellent thini; for
Cousin Alfred, if he was to ^"et one of them. Then
there\s Miss Arethusa Desmond, a limp young lady, on
the bean-pole pattern, with white hair and eyes, who
never pronounces the letter ' r,' and who informed me
the other day she had ' just wead Kin*^ Leali, a play by
one Mistah Shakspeah, and she liked it so vewy much
that she intended making her pu buy her the vewy next
he wrote.' Then there's Mrs. Flartie, a 'fuiTinner,'
whose name in the original Greek is O'Flaherty, and
who snubs her husband — worthy little soul ! — till ho
dar'n't sneeze in her presence, without asking permis-
sion first, and who is madly jealous of me because I pet
the poor, dear, innocent little man, and look after him
generally, and who calls mo an ' irapident little red-
headed rip,' when I'm not listening. Then there is
Miss Betsy Boggs and her two sisters, all of whom will
make a dead set at our handsome cousin " — and Jac-
quetta bowed and smiled across the table, in the old
malicious way — "'and capture him or die in the at-
tempt. Think how it would look when Lord Earne-
clilie would read it in the papers : Married — By the
Reverend Jedi'diah Spinitout, Captain Alfred JJe Vere,
late of Her Majesty's Guards, to Miss Betsy Boggs,
eldest daughter of Simon Peter Boggs, of Boggs' llole,
Jersey."

Here a roar of laughter from ITrank interrupted
Jacfpictta.

'• What a malicious little imp !" thought Disbrowe,
inwardly wishing the wicked fairy ten feet deep in
Thames' nmd at that minute.

'' That's all, I think," said Jaequetta, I'cflectively.
" Oh, no ! there's Mrs. Grizzle llowlet, an estimable
old lady, and mighty pretty to look at, who lives over
there among the frogs in the swamps somewhere. It's
not likely you would fall in love with her, though, as
she's a widow, and you might object to a second-hand
wife."

TIIE SECRET.

7ft

" Oil, T am not particuliir !" said Disbrowc, careless-
ly : " hut I have seen the lady in question, and I rather
tliink, if J did, she would soon he a widow a^ain. As
it is, she (!anie pretty near hringing my earthly career
to an end ; and only for the providential interposition
of my young friend, Frank there, you would hardly
have seen me at Fontelle to-day, I fancy."

Ail looked at him in curiosity, and the young
Guardsman promptly related iiis nocturnal adventure at
the old house. ]\Ir. De Vere and Augusta listened in
silent horror, Frank uttered an ejaculation of dismay,
and Jacquetta puckered up her rosy mouth and —
whistled !

"The atrocious old hag!" exclaimed Mr. De Vere.
" Good lieavens ! that such a den should so long have
existed in a peaceable connnunity! I renjember, now,
that about eight months ago there was a rumor of a
missing Frenchman — a stranger here — and of whom no
tidings could ever be discovered. lie must have been
the one the little girl spoke to you of. 1 shall have the
old witch and her two rascally sons arrested before
another sun sets."

" I often did hear," said Jacquetta, " that any one
born to be hanged will never be drowned; and now I
shall rhink it applies to other cases besides drowning."

" AVhich implies, you think, an elevated destiny for
me," said Disbrowe.

" What do you say to riding over with me to-mor-
60W, Alfred V said Mr. De Vere. " We will go to
Green Creek, a town about a <juarter of a mile from
this, and get tiiree or four men to accompany us. The
accujsed crew ! they ought to be lynched !"

" I am quite at your service, my dear sir," said Dis-
browe. ''It w^ill be a good deed to rid the world of
6uch a gang."

" To morrow, then, we'll see the secrets of that old
fe'iik of iniquity brought to light, and Grizzle IJowlet
and her sons and worthy brother in chains," said Mr.
De Vere.

t't

^ Vi

, I'M

% '

•}i i1

THE SECRET.

r«,

II j

Ik!

I ,j J

'.'.^

"Not quite so fiist, niy good sir, I will luivc to be
consulted ubout tliiit!" suid a loud, liar.^li voice, as tlic
door was lluii^>; violently open, and (irizzle lloulet her-
self stood beloro *heni. All s])riing to (heir feet in
amazement. A frightened servant eamc behind her
and said, in alarm, to J\Ir. De Vcre :

"If you please, sir, 1 couldn't stop her! — she would
come. 1 didn't intend to let her in — "'

" Leave the room !" interrupted Mr. De Vere, wav-
ing his hand.

The man vanished, glad to get the door between
him and the fierce intruder; and Grizzle, folding her
arms over her breast, regarded them with her dark, evil
sneer.

" ' Well, most potent, grave and reverend seignors,'
and ladies, too," she said ; " so you had it all settled to
arrest old Grizzle Ilowlet and her sons, and clap them
into prison, and then hang them for robbery and mur-
der? What a pity so elaborate a scheme should end in
smoke, as so many other scheme-^ have done before !"

" Is the woman mad i" said Mr. De Vei*e, astounded,
" to come here like this, knowing her guilt ; for such
an act is certainly the very climax of madness !"

*' ' No ; I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak
the words of sober reason,' as you shall soon 11 nd to
your cost. What would you say to me, if 1 were to
tell you that you will not only let me go forth free, but
safe from your interference from henceforth^'"

" You will soon luive my ansu'er,'' said Mr. De Vere,
seizing the bell-ro])e and ringing a violent peal,

" Call your servants as fast as you like," said the
woman, with a look of contempt ; " l)ut before they, or
you, lay a iinger on me, I must and will have a word
with that young lady there !" And she jwinted to Au-
mista, who stood remirdiuff her with minii;led horror and
loathing.

" We will see about that," said Mr. Vere, calmly.

"I tell you," said the woman, raising her arm and
speaknigwith a sort of passionate earnestness, "it will

TUE SECRET.

be better for yoii if yon do! — until the very Hay of
your death you, and all who bear your])roud name, will
rue it if you do not! Listen to nie,la(ly — you who
stand thei'e so queenly in your haui:;hiy pride and 8i oru
— it will be better for you to hear what I have to say ;
for I have your secret and another besides, that you
ought to have known long before this."

A frightl'ul paleness overspread the haughty face of
Augusta, and, with a faint cry, she caught and steadied
herself by a chair. As she did so, the door opened and
a servant a})peared.

" Papa, let me hear her ! Send the man away ! I
must hear her, papa 1" she said, wildly, taking a step to-
wards her.

"Nonsense, Augusta!" said her father, sharply.
" Hear her, indeed ! the old inij)ostor! Keyuolds, go
and bring William and James here."

The servant disai)i)eared, and old Grizzle, folding her
cloak closer about her, sat down, with lier evil, sneering
smile.

"Very well — be it so, then. I will go to prison;
and the very day 1 do, your secret, Augusta Do Vere,
shall be blown by the four winds of lleaven over all
the land! — and, what's more, another secret that 1
came here to-day to tell you — one that you would give
the broad lands of Fontelle to hear. Itememberthat!"

"Oh, I must hear her! 1 must, papa!" cried
Augusta, gasping for breath, and looking ready to
faint.

It was strange to see the calm, the stately, the
liaughty Augusta Dc Vere moved like this. In all
liis lite her father had never seen anything like it
before ; and now he gazed upon her thunderstruck.

" In Heaven's name what is the meaning of this,
Augusta? What secret id this wretched old woman
talking about ?"

"Oh, I cannot tell you! I dare not tell you! but
I must hear her!" exclaimed Augusta, distractedly, as
she went over and stood close beside the woman.

■1

J :

TUE SECRET.

li\

l.'i'K

" I must tell you in private," said (xrizzle, looking
around.

'' You nnisf not leave the room !" said Mr. De
Verc, sternly. '' Jaetjuel ta, tell the servants to wait,
and turn the key in the door and let this farce end !"'

JacMjuetta, looking astonished and bewildered,
obeyed.

"Don't listen, then! Stand oft'!"' said Grizzle,
with an ani;;ry wave of her hand. " A De Vere
shoidd not be an eavesdropper. (.'onie over here,
young lady," she said, taking Augusta by the arm, and
leadiiig her over to the remotest corner. Captain
Disbrowe walked to the window and looked out.
Jac(]uett:i bent over the table, with her back toward
thijm, and Mr. De Vere, looking iingry, astonished, and
Iialf-alarmed, stood, with a frowning brow, regarding
them.

So nearly ten minutes passed — dnring which (Irizzlc
talked in a lierce, rajiid, hissing whisper, without once
stopping, and grasping Lady Augusta's arm in a vise-
like gri]>. As she went on a frightful change |iassed
over t'le young girl. One arm was half-raised, her
l>lanc]ied lips sprung, quivering, apart, her eyes strained
and staring, an awful darknijss, as if she were stran-
gling, setthng on her face, and witli it a look of horror
— of wildest, most unspeakable horror — fcH.

Suddenly there was the souuil of a heavy fall, fol-
lowed by a cry from (irizzle — a sharp, <juick cry uf
alarm, echoed by one longer and more passionate tVom
]\rr. De Verc. Disbrowe and Jacquetta faced I'ound
in terror to behold Augusta lying on the lloor, with
her father and (irizzle bending over her, and a dark
Btre!im of blood sljwly oozing from her mouth.

THE MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

CUAPTEK VII.

THE MIDNIGHT MUS«e.

■■• t 'I

** The midnight hour will soon be here —
That ivwful hour".
When graves yawn wide, aiid the dead occupaiiA*
Minyle with eurtldy life."

((

IFT her up," said tlie loud, Iwrsh voice of
Grizzle; ".she has rupture'i an artery
-—that iri all."

t?he attempted to lift her ii* rself, as
she s})()ke, but Hhe was furiously liurled
back by Mr. Do Yere.

" Woman, begone ! touch her not !" he cried, in .a
voice of mingled rage and anguish. " You have elaiu
my child !"

" She is not dead, I tell you," said Grizzle, coolly.
" Rupturing an artery is a small affair."

"Peace, you old hag!" said Disbrowe, fiercely.
'' You have done mischief enough now. \\o\i dare
you speak, after what you have dune (^"

"Dare!" said Grizzli', with a short laugh; "I
would dari' as nnu'h as aiiy De Vere among you, and
verily yni come of a daring race. If haughty ladies,"
she said, ])ointing to tiie still insensible Augusta, " will
commit ctimes— yes, crimes ! I repeat it; so never start
and look iierce, my young soldier — crimes tliat even I,
murd(M'ess and all, as I. am, siiudder to think of, tlu^y
must suifer the eonsecpumces."'

" You shall sull'er the consequences, you old mur-
deress !" shouted Mr. De Vere, furiously, as he laid
AugUbta on the sola, and turned towai'd the door. '' Py

THE MIDNIOUT MUSIC.

\ k

'■'"^

tlic lieavons above us, you shall never go free another
hour for tliLs !"

But the tall tonn of Grizzle interposed between
lihn and the door, and her long, commanding arm
waved him back.

'*No," she said, resolutely, lixing her eyes stendy
on his face; ''yvui shall not go — lor your own sake,
you shall not go. Il is not that 1 bear any r 'gard for
you — it is not that I bear any love lor one of your
proud name — it is not that I (h) not hate, from the very
depths of my soul, o/Jc^ who bears it*' — mrI her lierce
eyes seemed, for an instant, to blaze with a red, lui'id
tire, as they tixed tiuMnselves on Jac(juetta, who knelt
beside her sister — '' but for a reason of my own, you
shall not bring disgi'ace on yourself, disgrace on your
house, disgrace on all the name of i)e Verc, as yet.
For I tell you, Robert l)e Vcre, uncle of an Engl if h
peer, as you are — the haughtiest among England';-i
luiughty sons — if this were known, the whole world
would spurn your daughter — spurn her in loathing and
horror; the very childrciu in the street would shrink in
terror and alfright from her wherever she would ap-
j)ear. Ivecoil as you will, grow white as you listen, yet
1 tell you, man, as God hears me, I speak the truth.''

There was an almost j>assionate solemnity in her
tones; and there was something awe-ins})iring and ter-
riiiein the weird gesture with which she raised her arm
and ])ointed ui)ward, as if calling Jlim she had named
to witness the truth cd" her words. JMr. Do Vere reeled
as if he had been struck a blow, for an instant ; then, as
his eyes fell on the high, noble face (»f his j)ror(l daugh-
ter — on the pure, stainless, marble-like brow, and sweet,
beautiful li])s, the conviction that she was merely l)h>y-
ing uiH)n his fears returned; for the idea of any crime
in connection with that noble-minded, staiidess girl, was
an utter and most revolting im[)ossibility.

" It is false, you miserable hag! — you second Jeze-
ltd!" he s;iid, furi(Hisly. " Dare to mention my d;iii;.';Ii-
tor's name in absociaiiou wilh any crime again, and by

—IP

wtfRHwHimi^.

THE MrDNWIlT MUSIC.

all tlic naints! I will bo tempted to forget you are a
woman, and stranpjle you on the spot !''

'' That is casior said than done," said Grizzle, fold-
ing l»er arms, with a short laugh. "Two could play at
that game ; and, as a friend, i wouldn't advise you to
try it with me."

"My dear sir,'' interposed Dishrowe, laying his
hand on his arm, as he saw the storm of })assion rising
in his uncle's face, " I e calm. J)o not heed her words.
Let nothing be done until Augusta recovers, and then
let lis learn from her what mysterious j)ower this \voiuau
lias over her, and act accordingly."'

" FI'i ha !'' said (Jrizzle, mockingly. "You think
she will tell 'fou — don't you i Don't you hopt; she nuiy i
Yes, I will wait till she recovers. I have no other in-
tention, my handsome young friend, and you will 'act
accordingly.* ( )li, no doubt of it !" And she sat down,
with a short lauij:h.

"Shan't f g(? for a doctor, uiuile?" said Frank, look-
ing daggers at Grizzle. " And I can bring a constable
up from Green (hvek, at the same time, and fix this
old witch's Hint for her."

" No, wait, Frank ; don't go," said the voice of Jac-
quetta. " Don't go yet. Augusta is recovering. Wo
must hear what she says before you go for any one."

Her words banished everything from the minds of
all but anxiety for Augusta. All gathered around her
sofa as she slowly opened her hea\y, dark eyes, and
looked dindy around.

" Augusta, darling— -my precious child ! are you bet-
ter?" said her father, in a (ihoking voice, as he knelt
down beside her and took her hand.

She passed her hand in a vague, lost sort of way
across her forehead, as if trying to recall something that
had escaped her memory.

" I thought — I thought — something happened, papa,
didn't it^" she said, confusedly,

"Do not talk— lie still. You have hurt yourbelf,

i ., '

•ii:

< (

■i

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r>»

TUE MWNiailT MUSIC.

(le;irest. Sliall wv hi-ikI lor Ji doctor if'' said Juequetta,
solrly kissinji; tlu' palo lips.

Tiio wandt'iiiii:: eyes still roved confusedly around,
and the ])ale iinL;;ers still passed wistfully over the pale
brow. Grizzle llowlet arose noiselessly from her seat,
and her tall form lowerinL^ upward like a ^rini, gray,
stoiu! statue, at last arrested the lost, vacant gaze.

Slowly over ihe beautiful face again settled that
look of utter, voiceless, awful horror. The small hands
closed an<l eleneluHi until the nails pierced the delicate
j)alms, the slight form grew rigid and deathdike, ami a
grayness like that of approaching dissolution crept over
every feature. Once or twice, she essayed to speak,
hut oidy a choking, dying sound came forth from her
blanched lips ; and in the glazing eyes and colorless
face, over every other feeling, still came that dreadful
look of unutterable horror.

" Augusta, dearest ! O heavens! Augusta, what is
the meaning of this f gasped Jacquetta, in terror.

''() my (iod ! what have I done!" came in a low,
wailing, passionate* cry of utter despair, from the white
lips of Lady Augusta.

'"() my sister! my darling sister !" cried Jacquetta,
wringing her ]>ale lingers, while the others seemed
unable to speak, ''what is this^ O Augusta! what
does this mean r

"What it would strike vou dead with horror to
hear! What I would soonei' be burnetl at the stake
than ri'veal ! ^Vhat will blight my life, lose my soul,
consume my heart, make every moment of my life a
torture such as you cannot even conceive of ! May
God grant me a speedy death !'' she cried, passionately ;
and then, dropping her upraised arms, she saidc back,
death-like and collapsed.

"Oh, Heaven helj) u^ ! she has gone crazy!" said
Jac<pietta, still wringing her ]>ale fingers in the first
paroxysm of her tei-ror and alarm; while her father
knelt, with his face hidden in hi;- hands, ill speechless

iV' *

THE MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

rrricf ; and Disbrowc and Frank looked on in con-
sternation.

" ISho is not crazy," interrni)tcd tlio liarsli, im-
]>aticnt voice of Gri/zle ; ''she is as sane as yon, and
speaks the truth. Peace !'' slie said, impetuously, as
they would have interru])ted her. ''I laill speak to
lier, and end this scene. Miss Auijjusta De Vcre, listen
tome! Ah! I see yoi.' are doini;' it,'- she said, with
her customary sneer, as she hchehl the wild, dark eves
riveted, with a straniije, stony j^lare, to her face. " Your
father wants to ini]U'ison me on suspicion of robhery
and murder, aiid if he does, f/oit, Inoio the alternative !
One word from yt)U will ellect my release — and — I
await that woi'd !"

8he folded lier mantle closer around her tall, ejannt
form, an<l stood stiff and statue like in her usual holt-
uprii^ht fashion, waitinu^as calmly as thou<4h it were the
simplest matter in the world.

" Fa])a ! ])apa ! let her <]jo ! let licr go at once ! TNFy
eyes loathe the si«i;ht of her!" cried AuiL!;usta, clas])ing
her hands over her eye, with a shudder that shook her
whole frame.

*'Let licr f!;o ! Never! the accursed hag!" cried
lier father, starting up. " She shall swing fo" what she
has done, as sure as tliere is law or justice in the
land !"

"Pa])a!" almost shrieked yViigusta, half-springing to
her feet, ''you do not know what yon are saying!
Papa! would you kill nu^ '^ Oh! let her go at once — ■
for my sake — for your own sake — for (iod'ssakr! let
her go !" she cried, falling from her scat prostrate on
the noor at his feet.

"Augusta, ijoitAvt not know what you are saying,"
said lier father, almost steridy, as he raiised her wr^.
''This woman is a nnird(;ress !"

"And your daughter is wnrsr /"' she ]">nssi()nately
cried, Hinging herself on the sofa and then starting up
agai!i, 08 if deranged hy sonu^ inward, gnawing, un-
utterable pain. " O saints in Heaven ! wliat will be-

f'An

» 1? '

THE MIDNIGHT MU8IC.

,(1 '

come of me? Papa! papa! let her go, if you would
nut see me de;ul at your feet !"

She was terrilb to look at, as she ];ca<" her clciiehed
hand on her l)reast, and tore at it as if she would have
plucked out the unendurahle agony i!;nawing there ; her
eyes starting from their very sockets ; her face as aw-
fully wdiite as that of a galvanized corpse. Even
Jacquetta shrank a step or two from her, in momentary
horror.

"Mr. De Yere, and you all," cried Grizzle, with one
of her slow, majestic waves of the arm, and in the
measured, commanding tones she had formerly nsed on
the stage, " listen to me. You see the ])ower I have
over this haughty girl — ^ real powcv, for, mark you,
it is no imaginary crime she a(!cuses herself of, hut one
Jiat would curdle your heart's hlood witli horror to
hear — one so awful tiiat it is nameless! Yes; so sel-
dom is it heard of, that no name has ever heen given
to it. And now, Kobeft De V^ei'c, ])r(>ud son of a
proud sire, as sure as heaven is ahove us, if you do not
let me go forth free, this secivt sin shall he blown over
the length and breadth of llie land, to your everlasting
disgrace, and that of all who bear your name. Jiefuse,
and vour daughter will either go mad or die at your
feet ! Look at her, and sec if she is not on the verge
of madness now 1 Consent, and I will give you my
word — and, what is more, will keep it too — never to
molest any traveler or wayfarer who may stop at my
liouse again — never! I confess tJiere was one — but
only one — we robbed and — silenced: and it is true that
this nephew of yours might have shared the same fate,
but for something like a ])rovidential interposition — if
one believed in such, things. But let me go free, and
1 faithfully promise to keep your daughter's secret, and
never to molest any one again. Refuse me, and it will
bo at your i)erii !''

*' Let her go, for heaven's sake !" exclaimed Dis-
browe, " before you drive your daughter insane. What

,!' I

THE MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

is her life, or tliat of a dozen miserable wretelics like
lier, compared to tluit of my cousin ?"

Grizzle turned her eyes on him with lier sneerinej
smile, and seemed about to reply, but, whether intimi-
dated by the bright, iieree lii^ht ni the young soldii'rs
eye, or unwilling to irritate them farther, she prudently
thought better of it, ami discreetly held her tongue.

" Go, then," said Mr. Do Verc, trembling with rage
and anguish ; " and may Heaven's worst curses go with
yon !" ^

Grizzle smiled slightly and bowed, and met Jac-

?uetta''s Hashing eye with a look of exultant triumph.
Returning it with one of nn"ngled d'jtiance and disgust,
the young girl made her a stern motion to go, and, un-
locking the door, held it open for her to pass.

'' 1 ou wear you?' chains so gracefully, niy pretty
little dear," said Grizzle, as she went out, '4hat I don't
know any one better qualilied to teach your sister the
virtue ot" resignation. Whoever would imagine you to
be — ichat ymi are /"

'^ liegoue !" exclaimed Jacquetta, stamping her foot
passionately.

AVith one of her short, scornful laughs, so galling
to listen to, the woman passed out; and Jac(|uetta,
turning suddenly round, nu^t the eyes of Disbrowo
Hxed full upon her, as if in wonder at the last words.
To his surprise, her bold, bright glance fell, and her
face, a moment before deadly pale, grew deepest ci-Im-
son — crimson to the verv I'dues ot" her hair — as sho
turned away and avertevl her head.

Augusta had thrown iierself on her face, on the
sofa, as the woman went out ; and now lay as still as if
the speedy death she had prayed for had already niei'ci-
fully settled her agonized hciirt-throbs.

Tenderly Jacquetta bent over her, and essayed to
raise her up.

" Augusta, dearest, what is it? Oh, tell me — tell
your father ! Do not look so dreadfully I" she said, im-
ploringly.

[.:

^\A

•'. .' «i

f !
'I

1 1"-"

THE MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

■'ff,/ ■,

" Oh, let mc go to my room ! Do not speak to me,
or I sliiill die !'' she cried out, rising up, and holding
out her hands before her, like one blind.

" Come, then ; let me help you," said Jacquetta,
passing her arm round her waist.

As she turned to obey, lier eye fell on her father,
sitting bowed down in a chair, his face hidden in his
liands. Tlie next instant, she was kneeling at his feet,
clas])ing his knees.

"Papa, dearest papa, speak to me, your own Au-
gusta ! Oh, papa, do not say you curse mo for what I
have done !"

" Curse you, my darling child ?" lie said, looking
sorrowfully up. Oh, Augusta, what have you done ?
What is this you have done '^"

"Oh, papa, do not ask me!" she exclaimed, in a
dying, despairing voice. " It would kill you to know !
Only say that, if ever you do hear, if ever it is known,
you will not curse the memory of your miserable child,
who will not live long to grieve you now."

" Oh, Augusta, hush ! What are you saying !"
whis])ered Jacquetta, raising her up. " Conic with me
— come to your room."

" Only say that, papa ! dearest, kindest papa ! only
say that you will never curse the memory of your
wretched daughter!" pleaded Augusta, sinking lower
and lower at his feet.

"My dear child, I never will. God bless you!
Go," he said, putting one trembling hand up before
his face.

Slie arose, slowly and heavily, and suffered Jac-
quetta to lead her from the room.

And Mr. De Yere, with his face averted and hidden
by his hand, sat perfectly still, his drooping head and
the heaving of his strong chest alone betokening his
emotion. Disbrowe, lost in wonder, stood looking out
of the window on the deepening night; and Frank,
though he would have been inclined to knock any one
down who would have ventured to insinuate sucli a

THE MIDHIGHT MUSIC.

tiling, stood winking both eyes at onee, very hard, and
tlie trees before the window looked crooked, as if seen
thronu::!! tears.

Presently Jaoquctta returned, and coming over to
Disbrowe, touched him lightly on the arm. lie looked
down in her pale, grave face — so diHerent from the
sparkling, animated countenance of the morning — and
waited to hear what she had to say.

" You will pardon me, 1 am sure. Captain Dis-
browe," she said, hurriedly, '' after what you have seen
and heard, if I suggest the propriety of your retiring
at once. You will not Und any of ns, I am afraid,
very entertaining companions to-night ; and, besides,
you must be tired after your journey."

" Most certainly," said iDisbrowe, cordially. " I
was about to ask permission to retire, as a favor. T
hope Miss Augusta will be better tomorrow. No ;
don't ring. I can lind my room myself. Good-night."

And lie was gone.

Very cheerful did his pleasant room, with its bright
fire, look that evening, chill with the raw, wintry Ijlasts
of early April. The dark, oaken wainscotting sparkled
and shone in the ruddy light of the lire, and the stars
O'l the walls and ceiling were fairly blinding in their
glancing brightness. Ihit, brightest of all still, was the
pictured face that smiled down on him from over the
mantel — that bright, piquant, coquettish little face, so
dilTerent from tlie dark, grave one he had seen it a
moment before.

He drew an arm-chair close up to the fire, and sat
down ; and, with his boots elevated on the fender, a
cigar between his lips, his handsome head leaning
against the cushions, and his lu'ight, bold, dark eyes
fixed intently ujioii it, he Vvj and watched. Fittully
that witching little face smiletl u])on him from betwee!i
the blue curling wreaths of scented vapor, and, as ho
watched it, a curious sinde broke over his face, as if in
answer. A curious, musing smile, that seemed to say :
*' 1 wonder if I could make the original smile on mo

■ u

1 ' .

1 1

1 ^

' 1

THE MlDNIGJir MUSTC.

liko tliat, if I were to try.'" lie i^lanced with tliat same
inexplicable look in the full-length mirror, and the tall,
graeefiil ligure, the bold, liandsome face, with its cluster-
ing locks of rich brown hair, and dark, bright, hand-
some eyes, were certainly not likely to contradict the
idea. There was nothing of the fop in that look, how-
ever ; and the next moment the smile was gone, the
cigar in the lire, and, with his hands in his pockets, he
was pacing up and down the room, and whistling '* Hear
me, Norma."

Then he thought of this other proud, stately cousin
of liis, this haughty Lady Augusta, this " true l)e
Vere," and ev^ry other i'eeling was merged and lost in
wonder ; and the Honorable Alfred Disbrowe began to
cogitate whether he had not got among a lot of escaped
lunatics by s(jme mistake or other. Then he thought
of old Grizzle ilowlet, and her strange power ; and of
this mysterious secret and hidden crime; and became
shocked, and revolted, and unbelieving at the thought
of crime with this ju-oud, noble-looking girl. Then ho
thought of the singularly beautiful Spanish boy he had
seen, the "little brigand," as he inwardly termed him,
and became puzzled once more — for something about
him was strangely yet unaccountably familiar. Then
he tliought ot Captain Nick Tempest, and of his singu-
lar and undetinable resemblance to Jacquetta ; and that
brought his thoughts ba(;k to where they had started
from. And resuming his seat and his former position,
he lit another cigar, leaned backhand, for over an hour,
Si'tthere and watched that portrait without once remov-
ing his eyes.

At last he awoke to the consciousness that it was
beginning to grow late, and that he was both tired and
sleepy ; and rising with a yawn, he bade a sort of men-
tal good-night to his silent companion, prepared for
bed, protested in confidence to himself that the said bed
was like some old tomb, threw himself upon it, and in
ten iTiinutes was sound asleep.

Hours passed ; the night wore on ; the lire flickered

THE MIDNIGUT MUSIC.

and smoldered fitfully ; and still he slept. All was
silent as the ^rave through the vast iiiansiuii, when su<l-
denly, with a strange; start and a slioek, and a feeling as
if a strong hand was on his throat, he sprang up in bed
— awake !

There was a sound in the air ; the sound of music,
soft, sweet, and far oil". He awoke hewihlered, and
](toked around, at a loss to know wliere he was. The
lire sent out a sudden jet of red tiame, and it fell
bright and livi(l on the pi'jtured face; and it seemed to
liim, as lie lookc! \ip, that the eyes were alive, and
glan.'d fiercfly and redly down u])()Ji him, with a weird
unearthly look. The sight restored memory; but still
— was lie waking or dreaming? — the air was full of
music yet.

He sat up and listened breathlessly. Such music as
it was, in the dead silence of the lonesome midnight!
Soft, low, and inexpressibly sweet ; now dying away
in a faint, wailing cry, like a voice in pain ; now rising
softly and sweetly as an angel voice ; and anon swelling
out high, grand, and sublime, like the notes ot" a tri-
umphal march, till the listener's heart bounded in time,
and every pulse leaped as if he had been a Frenchman,
listening to the Marvseillaise. Still he heard it, now
high, now low, now wild and agonized, now soft, j)lain-
tive, and sweet, now swelling high and grand, with one
vast thundering crash, and again dying away in a low,
sobbing sound— '^s of a strong heart in strong agony.
Oh, never was e. idy music like that! Kntranced, en-
raptured, he sat and listened, dindy wondering if the
heavens had opened, and those were angel voices ho
heard, chanting once again the old, sublime strains :
'' Peace on cartli, and good-will to men."

It died away at last — died away in along, shuddering
echo — its faint burden shivering with })ain ; and then
the silence of the grave reignc^d. For hours he sat
listening, straining his hearing to catch the faintest
Bound ; but nothing met the ear but the melancholy

ii. <

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Sciences

Corporation

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33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 873-4503

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THE MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

'1^

6i<^hing of tlie ni^lit-wliid around the old house, with a
sound inexpressil)!;/ dreary,

Wliere had that stran^jje music come from? Not
from tlie inhabited part of tlie house — for that was to
liis ri^jfht. And when tlic excitement liad (Ued away,
and he ccuhl caiudy reliect up<jn it, he felt positive
this liad issued from the leftwini;' — the old, liall'-ruini'd,
deserted, noi'thern part of the huildinn;. Of all the
strange and unaccountable thiiii^s that had puzzled him
within the last four-a!id-twenty hours, this seemed the
Btran<^est and most unaccountable of all.

A^ain a red lambent llame shot out from the dying
fire, luid liovered like a glory around the pictured face
on the wall; and it seemed, to his excited fancy, that
there was exultation in the eyes, and derision in the
smile, as though */w held the secret and scolfed at his
ignoi'ancc. Tired out !it last with watching, he again
Jay down, and dreamed undisturbed of music, and
Jac(pietta, and handsome ISpanirth boys, and little ellish
girls, and old witches twenty feet high, until the lirst
morning sunbeam pee])ed through the star-curtained
oriel window, and fell lovingly and warmly as a
mother's kiss on the closed lids of the young English-
man's dark eyes.

TMm

THE VENDETTA.

CHAPTER VIU.

THE V E N I) E T T A.

■I

U (

Then surely,' said tlio lady's knight,
' On eartli I may not be,
Sincu never was there mortal wight
Heard such sweet melody.' "—Old Ballad.

HE 8U11 was liigli in the licaveiis ere Captain
-Djsbrowc awoke; and sprin^iiiip nj), he
lei&nrely ben^an to dress, rnniiiiatii?^ still on
the unaeconntahle incidents of the preeed-
. i'li,' night. Jjnt all his ruminations ended
by leaving luni more ])erplexed than ever; aiid the
face on the wall, at which he glanced at intervals
smiled serenly, and snggested nothing to help him out
o± his diliicnlty.

"Upon iny sonl, I believe 1 have got into an en-
chanted castle " he muttered, tying his cravat criti-
cally. ' Ihe Castle of ( )tranto couldn't Jiold a candle
toit, and It beats the 'Mysteries of Udolpho' all to
sticks ! How remarkably fond of music any one nnist
be who will get out of their comfortable bed in the
dead waste and middle of the night' to serenade the
bats and owls in that old tower, or whatever they call
It! U el , every one to their taste; and that ivmiiids
nie that i should feel obliged to any one who would
mtorin me whether that face is ])retty or not— for
n]>on my word and honor, 1 can't decide." '

«o saying, the Honorable Alfred left his room*
and, lininmmg the fag-end of a tune, ran down stairs'
passed through the hall, and out of the front-door
which lay open to admit the breezy morning air and
bright Bunshine.

THE VENDETTA.

ii,.

^' n

It was a pleasant prospect wliieli met liis eye tliat
jocund spriniij morning. Away out before liini spread
the broad, windini^ av(?nne of shadowy maples, jnst
bci^inniiig to don their bright spring dress ; and, fartlier
still, lay the road, with a dense primeval pine forest
bovmding tlic view. On either side lay the broad lields
and smooth meadows of Fontelle, and away behind
stretched out the faint outline of blue, shadowy hills,
dying out in the bluer sky. The air was balmy with
the faint odor fioni the pine-forest, and rang and re-
sounded with the blithe voices of numberless birds, up
and hard at work for the day.

AVhile the young guardsman stood leaning negli-
gently against the vast stuccoed pillars that supported
the massive doorway, he heard a footstep behind him,
and the next moment Frank a])peared, bright and
cheery.

"llallo! Up already ?" was his salutation. "Nice
morning, ain't it'^"

Captain Disbrowe glanced at the bright sky and
brighter sun ; and not being able, consistently with
truth, to deny the fact, admitted that it was rather a
nice morning.

"IJeats your English climate slightly — don't it?"
Baid Frank. " Kain, and drizzle, and mud ; and then
mud, and drizzle, and rain, by way of a change. Ugh !
1 wouldn't be paid to live in such a place at any price!"

" Which is England's loss, if she only knew it,"
said Disbrowe, lazily; " but we have a glimpse of sun-
shine there occasionally, my young friend — on the
kin*»:'s birthdav, and the festival of ISt. Geortj-e and the
JJragon, and other national feasts; so it's not altogether
so overwheh.ninij: and knock-down a siii"ht t^:- me to see
the sun as you might supj)ose. Where arc the rest?
Everything was so still, 1 thought none of you were
up."

"Up!" said Frank, like an echo. "Doesn't Jack
always beat the sun, and be up and doing an hour be-
fore he has the faintest idea of ronsiuff himself for his

THE VEXDETTA.

day's labor i I guess so ! And now slic's ofT over tlie
hills on horseback, and has most likely cljarcd fomic
dozen miles bel'ore this. As I'or jndging l)y the still-
ness, this house always goes considerably ahead of the
Palace of Silence, or the iJead ISca, or any other mnto
and solemn old tonib, J Ihitter myself, in that arti(;le."

"Indeed! By the way,"' said iJisbrowc, carelessly,
"is all the building inhabited — I mean do the family
occupy the whole of it C

"Oh, no I — not near. That old north wing over
there — isn't it dismaldooking^ — hasn't been ocicupied
for the last twenty years or more. You see, it was
built us near like iM^ntelle Park iss possible, but it wasn't
convenient in the old style; and though it suited J'^ng-
land well en'jugh, it didn't pay in America, 'i'he
swallows built their nests in the chimneys, and they
smoked like fury, and the roof leaked in wet weather,
and the windows were small and dark, and the rooms
were large and gloomy, with oak wainscottings ; and,
altogether, it was a dismal old l)arn as ever was. So
Uncle Jiob had the southern wing l)uilt ; and that, with
the right half of this middle part, is all we occupy."

"Ah ! " said Disbrowe, thoughtiully, " and you are
quite sure — "

" I'm quite sure that's Jack," cut in Fraidv suddenly.
"There she goes ! Ain't she a ti[)-top rider ^ J^ook
at that — now watch her clear that fence I"

A high fence, with a sharp, spiked top, was right
in the way of the lider, as she came sweeping down,
mounted on a splendivl black Arabian — a Iciice that
would have made even the hnished rider, Captain Dis-
browe, mounted on his su[)erb Saladin, pause ; but it
stopped not the course of the spirited little equestrian,
who came dashing" alonu-. iJackinu' her horse for the
leap, over it she dashed, in splenditl style;; and then
rela.xing into a trot, she and)led up, and lifting her
eyes, saw the two spectators.

"Good morning, Ca])tain Disbrowe," she said,
touching her plumed riding-hat, gallantly. "Why

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H i

THE VENDETTA

didn't you get up and take a gallop witli^ me over the
liills this bright morning for the heneiit of jour health
and appetite, instead of lying lazily in bed ^ Oli, I
forgot !'' she added, ^vith a chancy glance and a light,
breezy laugh, as she sprang olf. '' Vou are a true-
born Englishman, and fond of ereature-eomforts and
taking your ease. Here, Williaui, lake my horse."

" Not so fond of either, j\lis3 Jacrpietta,'' he said,
piqued at her look and tone, '' but that J would gladly
have given both up for a ride with my charming little
cousin, if 1 had known it in time."

" Well, mind for the future ; for I don't intend to
take compliments, or any small coin of the sort, in
return for a want of gallantry. 1 hope you're a })retty
good rider, Cousin Alfred, and won't mind risking
your neck now and then over the mountains — or else
it will never do for you to ride with me,"

" Who would not I'isk his neck, my fairy s})rite, for
the sake of attendini!; you ^ NVho could wish for a
fairer death than meetino: it in the sei-vice of so bewitch-
ing a mountain queen 'i Ah I wouldn't i risk my neck
joyfully, it 1 thought it would draw one tear from
you," said Disbrowe, in a tnock-heroic strain.

" Upon my word, then, 1 don't think it would,"
said Jaccpietta, conq)osedly. '* I'm not given to crying
much myself, as a genei'al thing ; and when 1 do, it's
only for sensible ])e(>})le ; and 1 consider that any one
who would 'risk liis neck joyfully' just to make one
drop a tear would be (to draw it mild) an unmitigated
donkey. Islow, there !"

!She sprang up beside him as she spoke ; and snatch-
ing olf her iiat, began swinging it by the strings. D'ib-
browe met her briglit, saucy, deliant glance, and at last
decided that she was pretty. Ves, Jac(pietta De Vere
was undeniahly pretty, and looked her very best at that
moment. The snudi, .straight, lithe tiguro was set otf to
perfection by the close-litting, dark- blue riding-habit:
the gray eyes were Hashing and sparkling like twin
Btars ; the Bliort, red, silky curls danced and glittered

?r'

THE VEX [) ETTA.

in spiral riii»ys around the wliito, polii^lietl, ])oyisli fore-
head ; tlie elieeks were like spritii; roses, and the iiiirth-
fnl ghmce and nioeking smile were the livin/i; reality (»f
tlic picture. Ureezj' and brio;ht she stood there, every
saucy, pieplant feature of her piquant little face spark-
ling with youth, life, beauty, and an exultant sense of
freedom, reminding him of some half-tamed thing —
some shy, wild, tierce, young (\iglet. dangerous to touch
too closely; the least-dignilieii De \'ere he had ever
seen, perhaps; but cei'talnly the most bewitching.
Not a trace of last night's grave trouble remained ; and
Disbrowe scarcely knew whether the whole thing was
not part of a di*eam.

" ]^y the way," said Jaccpietta, slapping her gaiter
with her riding-whip, and giving him a merry glance.
" I made a conquest this morning."

" Well, that is nothing wonderful — is it," said Dis-
browe, " for you, who have only to see to conquer?"

"Ah, to be sure ! 1 never thought of that. See
what it is to have a long head. l>ut this was something
unusual — something to be proud of. Oh, gracious!
wasn't he a darling !"

" AVhat was it V said Disbrowe. " A grizzly bear,
or a catamount, or a man-monkey 'i 1 don't see what
else you could very well meet in these savage regions."

" No, sir," said Jacquetta, indignantly. " J t was the
most splendid-looking little foreigner— oh my ! ())i !
such eyes, such features, such a superb little form, such
dainty hands and feet, such linir!" — and Jacquetta
shook her own curly head till its red I'inglets glanced
again — "and such a dress ! Good gracious ! And then
the way he dotfed his plumed cap and made mc such a
courtly bow, was a sight to see, not to hear of. Oh,
the little darling !" said Jacquetta, going oil into a small
rapture.

" Why, it must have been the little brigandish for-
eigner 1 met at the ]\lermaid inn," said" Disbrowe.
"Where did you see him C

"Taking a stroll over the hills, and I have not the

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rilK VENDETTA.

M T

fiiintcst symptom of a lioart loft ever since," said Jac-
qiictta.

'• How I wish 1 were liim !" said Di^•browe, siirliinjij.

'• Well, you're not him, you see! Oh! 1 forgot to
ask you how did you rest last night — pretty liostess,
ain't' ir

" Very," said DIsbrowe, emphatically, and looking
unutterable things; but Jacquetta only laughed; '"and
1 rested very well, thank you ; but there was rather a
singular thing happened about midnight."

'^' Indeed ! what was it i" said Jacquetta, with a
start, and fixing her bright eyes full npon him.

"A very pleasant incident, but rather unaccount-
able — the sou^d of music, the strangest, sweetest,
wildest strains 1 ever heard, and seemingly issuing from
yonder deserted part of the building. What! good
heavens ! have I frightened you, my dear cousin i Vou
arc fainting."

" JS'o, 1 am not ; it is nothing,'' she gasped ; but, as
if by magic, the light had been stricken from lier eye,
the rose from her cheek, the brightness from her face,
and a look, so white, so haggard, so shuddering, c;une
over her, that faint and sick she grasj)ed the pillar for
support, and pressed her hand hard on her heart, whos^e
tunniltuous throbbing could almost be iieard.

(So appalling, so ten'ifying, so instantaneous was the
change, that JJisbrowe was thunderstruck. Then, as
she still stood holding on to the pillar, deathly white,
and shivering thi'ough all her frame, he caught her in
his arms, fearing she would faint and fall.

The action seemed to galvani;:o her into spasmodic
life. With a wild, jarring ci-y, that awoke the erhoes,
she sprang from his restraining arms, and held out her
own blindly, as if to keep him olf.

" Oil', oil" !" she cried passionately. " Touch i.ie
not I"

" Why, Jack ! Good gracious, Jack ! what sets you
oH iu this gale V' said Frank, in astonishmer t, as he re-
turned after a moment's absence.

THE VENDETTA.

101

" Nothing ! Hush !" Slie grasped Disl)i-o\vc's arm
with a convulsive pressure, and made a motion for him
not to speak. At tiiat instant he saw lier face white,
and terrilied ; tlie next, as she turned it to Frank, it
was, though pale, perfectly calm and composed. '• I.
wisli jou v.'ould go to the stable, Frank, and see that
AVilliam attends properly to Lightning. lie has had
a hiird ride this morning, and needs looking after.
Tliat's a good boy."

Frank darted oil, and Jacquetta's face was averted
for a moment, as she gazed after him. When she
turned it again to Disbrowe, it was, though slightly
pale, cool and composed as ever; and as she met his
astonished glance, she laughed in his face.

" I rather think tlie case is reversed, and I have
frightened you, my good cousin. AVhy, Captain Dis-
browe, I would not liave Frank hear the story of that
ghostly music for any earthly consideration. It would
be all over the country, in a jiify, that the house is
haunted. Are you quite sure you were not dreaming,
Cousin Alf V

" Quite," said Disbrowe, brusquely.

" Ah ! well, it may have been an ^olian harp, or
eomething — most likely it was. And then the wind
blew pretty hard last night. Or it may have been cats
— our Tliomas is musically given, and entertains a
select party of friends every night in the corridors of
the noi'th wing. Are you sure it was not the cats,
cousin ?" said Jacquetta, cutting the air with her whip,
and again laughing.

" Perfectly sure. Miss Jacquetta. Neither my hear-
ing nor ray eyesight deceive me often," he replied,
pointedly.

" Oh ! don't they ? Then you are wider awake, then,
than the generality of your countrymen. Perhaps
there are ghosts there, then, and you heard the music of
the Dance of Death. Ugh ! it's enough to give one
the horrors to think of it ! This ctjnies of building
houses in the old EngUsh style, instead of any decent

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102

THE VENDETTA.

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111

Christian fasliion. I always heard that ghosts and rats
were particularly fond of old houses ; but 1 never knew
of my own knowledn^e before. It's lucky you told mo,
instead of any weak-minded person with a belief in the
HU[)ernaturaL I>e siu'e you don't mention it to any out
else — above all, to uncle or Frank!''

The last words were accompanied by a brief, briicht
flash of her eye, that stiid, as plain as words : '"'If you
do tell, it won't be well for you." Captain Disbrowe
understood it, and re))lied l)y a slight bow and sli^'hter
smile ; and then said, to turn the conversation, which
annoyed him somehow, though he could scarcely tell
why :

''How is jVIiss Aumista this morning '^"

o en

"Better, 1 believe. I am going to see her now; and
aurevo'd' i\\\ breakfast-time," and humming a Venetian
barcarole, and still sudnging her jaunty ridingdiat by
the strings, she tripped lightly away.

Disbrowe stood and watched the light, small, fairy
figure until it disa])i)eared, more thoroughly puzzled
than he had ever been before in his life.

" Strange, inexplicable girl I" he mused ; " who can
understand her ^ She is an enigma, a riddle, a puzzle, a
Gordian knot of tangles and inconsistencies. I wonder
if it would be worth the time and trouble unraveling
said knot, or if it would be altogether safe V

The same curious smile that had dawned on his face
the m'ght before, whilst watching her picture, broke
over ir again, and once more ho began whistling the air
of " Hear me, Norma," as on that occasion, with the
look of one who would give himself a reminder.

To the surprise of Disl)rowe, Lady Augusta ap-
peared at breakfast ; and save that her face was cold and
lifeless as marble, and her eves had a dead, iixed, set-
tied look of hopeless desj)air, no trace remained of the
preceding evening's terrible agitation. Mr. De Vero
looked i)ale, and grave, and troubled ; but Jacquetta
appeared, thongh a little- subdued, in excellent spirits,
and kept up an unllagging How of words.

THE VEyVL'TTA.

103

After breakfast, acoinpaiiied by jNIr. De Vere, ho
went over the grounds admired the scenery and the
houses, though inwardly chaiing at the occupation,
when lie would much rather have been in the parlor
with Jacquetta. Jjiit he was not doomed to see much
of that young lady that day ; for, immediately after
dinner, Frank informed him that she had ridden olf
somewhere alone, to visit a sick widow who lived in a
cottage among the hills. And he furtheriiujre leai-ned
that Miss Jacxpietta had quite a long list of protafafi of
one kind and another, from ill-used dogs up to (with
reverence be it said) sick widows and friendless or-
phans.

For some canse or another, the Honorable Alfred
Disbrowe felt extremely dissatisiied about something.
This was a pretty way to entertain him after coming all
the way from England, riding oif and leaving him
alone, as if he was of no more conse(]uence than Wil-
liam the hostler. He felt irritated and chagrined; and
if the truth must be told, his vanity was more than
slightly wounded by her high supreme indiiference to
the handsome ladydviller who hitherto had found him-
self so irresistible.

Having worked himself into a pretty severe state of
misanthropy, he took advantage of a short absence on
the part of Frank, and resolved to have a ride over the
hills on his own account. There was a remote possi-
bility — ^judging from all he had heard — that he might
break his neck ; but in his present humor the idea
rather pleased him than otherwise, as it would leave
Jaccpietta a victim to remorse and black bombazine all
the rest of her days ; so off he rode, halfdioping ho
might meet v/ith some direful accident that would
awaken that liintydiearted piece of femininity to the
error of her ways.

Gradually, as he rode on, lie fell into dee]) thought,
and suilered his horse to go as he pleased. The events
of the last few days gave him enough to think about ;
but in all his dreams and cogitations, the image of

]''

104

THE yiJMJL'TTA.

•■'.!■

<■ n!!l

Jacqiiettiv ever rose u})peiTnost, liaunting liim like a
wakin^jj Jiiu^litinare. ISometiines ho saw the little face
in its chisterii g red curls; and the more he thou^-ht of
lier red hair, tluMiiore he dc^tcsted it — niockinu^, tannt-
inp^, spai-kllnij, detiant : sonu'tinies he Faw it pale, grave,
and trouMed ; and now he beheld it white, shuddering,
and wild, as when lie had told her of the mysterious
inusic. Hut in whatever mood, it was the same face,
franuMl in red hair ; and it blotted out everything else.

Suddenly he was aroused from his dreams and
visions in a startling way. A hand clutehed his bridle-
rein, and the cold muzzle ol' a pistol pointed directly
at his head.

llii looked up, as well he mi_;ht, and found himself
in a lonely valley, lying between two high hills — a
wild, desolatedooking s[)ot, without a single human
habitation, save one little hut on the brow of the far-
thest hill. The man who clutched his bridle-rein was
Capt:ain JS'ick Tempest, and his upturned face was the
face of a demon.

" So we have met again, my voung friend," said the
captain. "And this time 1 may show you tlie way —
mayn't I ? And by the Lord Harry ! I will, too, show
you the way to the infernal regions in double-quick
time !"

The young Englishman was unarmed, and the full
danger of his situation rushed upon him at once. Alone
in this lonely place, unarmed, and in the power of this
savage cut-throat, whom lie had made his mortal enemy !
Yet it only had the effect of doing, what it once did be-
fore, making his handsouie face set and stern, and his
nerves like steel.

" Do you know what the Corsican vendetta means,
my haughty English friend C said the captain, with a dia-
cal sneer. "If you do, then learn that no Corsican
ever vowed a more deadly cendetia than did I when
you struck me, or will keep it in a more deadly way.
Look at that !" — he almost shrieked, while his face grew
livid and distorted with passion, as he pointed to a raw,

THE VEND ETTA.

105

red, quivering cut across his face—"' that is your handi-
work, and if 1 was dyiiif]^, and could win Heaven by
doing it, I would never forgive you ! Never ! by — ''
And he uttered a fearful oath.

" I have not asked you to," said Disbrowe, meeting
his ferocious glare steadily.

'' No !" lie shouted ; '' for it would be useless ! Out
of this you will never stir alive! You are here, be-
yond all human help, completely in my power, and
your doom is sealed !''

He raised the pistol as he spoke, but dropped it
again at a sound that startled both him and the young
Englislmian : and both turned to behold an unlooked-
for apparition.

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106

JA t'INTO.

if.

CHAPTER IX.

JACINTO.

'* By night the hcivvy floors ure drawn,
The castle stands alone;
But in the chanibeis, till tlie dawn,
Unquiet spirits move."

T was a wild crv — a woman's shrill shriek,
tiiat had startled them ; but looking round
they saw no wumiui — only the y})anish boy
^^ I Jacinto, who came Hying toward them, ut-
tering cry alter cry, as no boy ever did be-
fore. It was an apparition so unlooked-for, so unex-
pected, that both forgot, for an instant, what was to fol-
low — tlie one, his imminent danger, and the other, his
demoniac veniieance ; and before either had recoN'ered.
tlie boy was standing bchide Disbrowe, liolding out lu's
arms before liini, as it' he would have interposed that
frail bai'rier to siiield his life.

'' Spare him — spare him !" cried the boy, in pierc-
ing accents. "Oli, Captain Tempest 1 for the love of
Heaven, spare his life!"

The young Englishman, taking adv\'mtagc of the
momentary confusion, made an attempt to wrest the
pistol from his enemy's grasp ; but the hawk-like eye
of Captain Tempest detected the motion, and quick as
lightning he sprang back, took deliberate aim, and
fired.

With a mighty shriek of more than mortal anguish,
Jacinto had ilimg his ai'ms around the young Guards-
man ; and witli the momentary start the cry gave tb.e
rulKau, the bull sped from its aim. and the uext instant

JACINTO.

107

the right arm of the young Spaniard dropped lifeless
by his side, and with a groan lie sank senseless on the
ground.

" Villain ! demon !" shouted the young man, mad-
dened by the sight. " You have killed him !" And
in an instant he had sprung oft' his horse, and grasped
CajDtain Niek by the throat ere he could draw a second,
pistol from his l)clt.

With a fearful oath of mingled rage and disappoint-
ment at missing his aim, the captain closed with his
advei*sary, and a deadly struggle ensued. It was a
struggle that w^ould not have lasted long, for — though
Disbrowe had the advantage of youth and agility —
Captain Tempest was a perfe<.'t giant in strength, and he
had grasped the young man in an iron grasj) with one
hand, whilst with the other he tugged at a huge glisten-
ing knife, when he unexpect-edly found hiiiiself seized
from behind l)y some huge monster, that held him as
if he was in a vise, and obliged him to relax his hold.

"Hold him, Lion! hold him, my boy I"" exclaimed
a spirited voice at the san,ic njoment. " That's a good
dog! Now, then — what's all this about T'

Disbrowe I(X)ked up, and saw, to his astoni.shment,
no other tlian JMi.ss Jacquetta De Vere sitting on her
liorse, and looking on the scene as coolly and com-
posedJy as though it w'cre a little tableau got up for
lier express amusement. Her horse's hoofs on the soft
turf had been noiseless; so they had not heard her
approach.. Stepping back, Disbrowe took olf his hat,
and shook back his clustei-inij;: hair oft his ftushed face,
and glanced around before speaking- iSaladin stood
snorting and })awing the ground with terror, at a little
distance; Jacinto lay on his face senseless at his feet,
]iis coat-sleeve saturated with blood; and <Ja|ttain iSiek
Tempest, foaming at the mouth, was struggling furi-
ously in the gras]) of a huge, iierce-looking dog — who,
with one eye on his mistress, was evidently grimly re-
solved to l.iold him while he had a tooth in his head.

" Well," sjiid Jac(juetta, after a pause, during which

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108

JA CTNTO.

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15 ■»:

M mi

lier eye liad followed Disbrowe's, "• you've been getting
yourself into a senipe, 1 see, my j^^ood cousin. You
bhould not liave ridden out, you perceive, until I was
ready to go along and take care ot you. Gussie, easy,
my dear sir" — to Captain }\\(:k Tempest, who was
writliinij and cursinc: at an awful rate — "'don't swear
60, and don't struggle in that way ; for if the broad-
cloth gives way, j>erliaps you won't lind Lion's teeth
very comfortable, and perhaps I shan't be able to keep
him from cheating the hangman, and perha])s I won't
try, either! What is the matter. Cousin Alfred, and
who is this lying on the ground '( Why, he's wounded !
Good heavens ! has he l)een shot i"

She leaped oil" her horse as she spoke, and bent
over Jacinto, as IHsbr-'we knelt down and raised hini
in his v.rms. The l)eautiful face was cold and still as
marble, and the lips were blanched to a deadly white-
ness. The wounded arm hung heavy and lifeless by
liis side, and his head fell over Disbrowe's arm as
though he were in reality dead.

'' Oh, cousin ! is he dead ^'' cried elacquetta, falling
on her knees beside him.

"iS'ot dead," said Disbrowe, laying his hand on his
head, which still lluttered faintly ; '' not dead, but in a
Bwoon ; and his arm is shattered, 1 greatly fear."

" Oh, poor boy — poor boy !" said Jaccpietta, sorrow-
fully. '' Oh, cousin ! who had the heart to do thisf

'* That monster there ! May Heaven's worst curses
lighten him!" exclaimed Disbrowe, tiercely. "Where
oral Ave bring xiim, Jac(pietta'^ Something must be
done innnediately."

"Bring him to Fontelle — there is no other place
where he can be brought, and it is not more than two
miles from this. J^il't him before you on your horse,
and ride fast. Bur tell me how it hap])ened. Did this
man intend nnirdering him i"

" No — no. lie intended to murder me ; and this
poor boy, in his eil'ort to save my life, received the

J A ciyro.

109

ball meant for me," said Dishi'owc, as lie raised the
almost lifeless and litril)er form in his arms.

"What a beautiful face!" exclaimed Jacquetta,
involuntarily — forgetting:, lor an instant, everything but
the wondrous beauty of the hid.

As she spoke, the boy opened his eyes, and they
fell full upon tlie liandsome, troubled face bendini'
over him, and, with a faint exclamation, he attempted
to rise; but at the motion a spasm of intense pain shot
across his pale face, and shuddering through all his
frame, his head dropped heavily on Disbrowe's breast.

"My poor boy!" said Disbrowe, C()mi)assionately,
" do not attempt to rise. Your arm is broken, I fear;
but I will take you where you will be carefully nursed."

"No. Let me go; put me down — 1 must go," said
the boy, wildly, making another attenij)t to free him,
self; but his voice was faint and sharp with agony,
and his face twitclied convulsively with the almost un-
endurable xiin, and once more he sank back, white and
fainting.

Disbrow ^'s only reply was to place him upon his
horse, and then leap into the saddle ; while, with a
<XVQiii\ that all his clforts could not repress, the poor
boy's head dropped heavily on his shoulder.

"What is to be done with this scoundrel who as-
saulted you^" said Jacquetta. "Shall 1 order Lion to
keep hin'i here till we can return with men to arrest
him i Eh i"

Captain Tempest's reply to this proposition was an
appalling volley of oaths, as his livid face grew a shade
more ghostly, and he shook his clenched list furiously at
Jacquetta in impotent passion.

"No, let him go; let Captain Tem])est go," said
.lacinto, faintly, lifting his head foran instant, and then
drop])ing it again.

" Let him go, since the lad desires it," said Disbrowe,
after a moment's hesitation. " I shall be on my guard
for the future, and will not be taken at a disadvantage
again."

d U

1 .,

I, *•

110

JA CINTO.

" VtM-y well," said Jacquotta, as she fearlessly ap-
proached the ravin<r 8;ivai2:e ; '• but first, my dear sir, I
M'ill trouble you for that pistol. Jiefore Lion lets you
olf the limits, you must ' stand and deliver.' "

Captain Nick furiously hurled the pistol at her feet.

" Thank you," said Jacquetta, coolly, as she })ieked
up the weiipon and examined it. " Loaded, I see — all
right ! Here, Lion — here, my boy ; let him go!"

AVitli a sullen ^^rowl like his angry namesake, that
showe<l how much against his better judgment he com-
plied, Lion oI)eyed, and trotted over to the side of his
young mistress, still displaying a formidable array of
teeth.

" Now, be off at once," shouted Jacquetta, in a high,
ringing tone of command, as she raised the pistol and
kept her bright eye fixed on the outwitted captain.
" Vanish, before 1 am tempted to give you a dose of
cold lead, which I would just as lief do, only I don't
want to rob the gallows of its due. Be off!"

Gnashing his teeth with impotent passion, the cap-
tain obeyed — not knowing how soon the dangerous-
looking little des[)erado might be tempted to tire; and
a mocking laugh from Jacquetta came wafted after him
on the evening breeze, and was the last sound he heard,
as he vanished round the brow of the hill.

" The youth has fainted again," said Disbrowe,
anxiously, as Jacquetta, whistling to Lion, stuck the
pistol in the belt she wore, and vaulted lightly on her
Jiorsc.

"So much the bettor," said Jacquetta. " You can
ride rapidly now without fear of hurting him — poor
feMow ! Come, oi avantP^

J>oth spirited horses darted off simultaneously, and
in less than fifteen minutes the peaked gables and
quaint turrets of Fontelle came in sight.

" Don't alarm the house, but bring him up here,"
said Jaccjuctta, as she entered the hall, followed by Dis-
browe carrying his insensible burden, " into the room
next mine— in hero."

■

,Li CINTO.

Ill

She led tlie way down the long hall, up a ilight of
stairs, and throuu-h another hall leading to tjie south
M'ing of the building ; and throwing open a door,
ushered Disbrowe into a pleasant little room, elegantly
furnished in tasteful, modern style.

Disbrowe laid Jacitito on a low Frencli bed Jiung
with white, scarcely whiter now than his death-like
face. Again, as he looked at him, that same unac-
countable conviction that he had seen him somewhere
before, flashed across his mind.

But Jacquetta, with her usual energetic prompti-
tude, left him little time to ruminate, for no sooner
had he laid him down, than she said :

" There ! go now and hunt up Frank, and send him
off to Green Creek for a doctor. Tell him to be quick,
for the sooner this arm is set, the better. Go !''

In spite of himself, Disbrowe could not re])ress a
smile at the young lady's prompt, off-liand, decided
way of doing business, but without waiting even to re-
ply, he darted oil", leaving Jack De Vere alone with
her patient.

He found Fraidc yawning dreamily over a novel in
the parlor; and in a fev/ words told him wliat had
happened, and dispatched him for a physician. Frank's
astonishment was unbounded, but he took ]xu!is to re-
press it, and beyond the ejaculation " Whew!" jerked
out of him by the exigency of the case, he said nothing,
but clapping his hat on his head, disappeared instanter.

Just as Disbrowe was about to return to the room
where he had left Jacinto and his pretty, spirited, little
nurse, Mr. De Vere came along the hall, and to the
great chagrin of his dutiful nej)liew, called hitn oil" to
see some im])rovements he was about to make in the
grounds. He made desperate clforts to listen to the
questions asked him by his uncle, but answered so much
at random, that Mr. JJe Vere |>ushed up his s]iectacles,
and looked at him, to see if he had taken leave of his
senses. In a few moments the clatter of horses' hoofs,
coining up the avenue in front, warned him tliat Frank

'■: -If!

■I

.1 ITt'. f

•II

113

JACINTO.

]r>-

■was returning, and Disbrowo, iiiuil)lo to roinain longer,
abruptly turned and walked oil", to the utter amazement
of Mr. l)e Vere.

Frank was not alone ; a little pauneliy old gentle-
man, with a bald head and a jolly I'aee, accompanied
him, whom Frank introduced as Doctor Simonds.

" Bad case this broken arm," said the little doctor,
rubbing his hands joyfully, ''rather unpleasant thing.
Go ahead, my son, and show me the way. Have a
pinch, sir^" said the little man, taking a huge pinch of
snulf himself, and handing the box to Disbrowe.

''No, thank you," said Disbrowe, politely. "I'll
guide you, doc^tor."

" Ilow did this mishap occur?" said the doctor.
" Frank couldn't tell me."

" An accident," said Disbrowe, briefly, as he knocked
at the door.

It was opened i)y Jacquetta, looking strangely pale
and aii-itatcd.

" (Jh, walk in, Doctor Simonds," she said hurriedly ;
"but 3"ou must not enter. Captain Disbrowe, at least,
not yet."

" I may v;ant some one to help me," said the
doctor.

" Then I will help you," she said, still keeping her
hand on Disbrowe's arm, as if to keep him out. '• My
dear cousin, oblige me by not coming in just at pres-
ent."

Disbrowe bowed, and walked olT, scarcely knowing
whether to be irritated or not at this cavalier mode of
treatment, lie flung himself into a chair in the front
hall, and determined to rejiiain there and waylay the
doctor as he came out, and learn from him at least
something conceriung the patient. Gradually, as he
thought of her brusque, independent ways and tones,
and cool, determined manner, a smile broke over his
handsome face ; and he could not help owning that
this resolute, careless iudependence, and the easy grace

JACINTO.

113

with which she invested it, became her w^onderfully
well, as nothing else could have done.

" What a queen she would make!" he thoug'.it, as
he leaned his head on his hand, and fell into thought.
" She would be a second Elizabeth, in all but "the
cruelty. What a gii'l it is, to be sure! I wish she
were a duchess, I would then be tempted to fall in love
with her ! If she ha(hi't red hair — ah, there's the rub !
as JIandet says. I detest red liair, yet it is not abso-
lutely hidf'ous in her, it is soft and glossy as lioss silk,
and would be beautiful only for th'.; confounded eolor.
I wonder what Earueclilfe and Lady Margjiret would
think of her. By Jove! iiow- she would horrify her
ladyship." And Disbrowe laughed at the thoui2:ht.

" A penny tor your thoughts, monsieur," said a
musical voice at his ell)OW, and looking up he saw
Jacquetta herself with her piercing eyes lixed on his
face, and the strangest smile on her lips. "Are they
worth it ?"

" Yes, ma heUe., for they were of — you !"

" Oh, then they nuist have been invaluable. But I
tell you what, Cousin All"," said the young lady, ad-
justing her bracelet, and then holding'out lier arm to
look at the ell'ect, '■ it's all a waste of ammunition think-
ing of me, and I wouldn't advise you to continue it!
Why don't you ask about our handsome patient V

" I fancied, perhaps, his exacting mn-so would not
allow it," said Disbrowe, in a tone of slight picpie.

"Oh, I don't mind your inquiring after him,
as long as you oidy do that," said Jacquetta, smiling
provokingly, "so I will relieve your mind at once, by
saying liis arm is safely set, and Doctor Simonds says he
will do nicely."

" Where is the doctor?"

" i I'^h him out by a side-door, for I knew you wanted
to lay violent hands on him, and would drive the
worthy little soul to the verge of distraction with all
your questions."

'f m

'J. r

i-f

114

JACINTO.

Well, can

I see

" How very thoughtful of you !
yoar patient V

"Most certainly not! I wonder at your askinj^
Buch a question, Cousin Alfred," said Jacquetta, arch-
ing her eyebrows, and givini^ her bracelet a twist.

" But 1 wa7it to thank him for saving my life."

" Well, so you can, when l)e gets better. The doc-
tor commands quiet for him."

"Wlien can I see him, tiien ? "

" Well, I'll think about it, and it may be soon, and
then again, it mightn't, as old Kowlie of the Mermaid
says. You must have patience, my dear cousin."

"And what will he think of me," said Disbrowe,
pacing up and down vehemently, " after saving my life,
if I do not even give him the poor reward of thanks. I
tell you 1 must see him !"

" Patience, Cousin Alfred ! it's a beautiful virtue,
and I would reconnnend it to you while you are young
and — innocent !" said Jacquetta, after a ])ause, drawing
down the corners of her rosy mouth.

Disbrowe snatched up his hat, in a lit of angry im-
patience, and was about to leave her, when Jacquetta
laughingly caught him and held him back.

" There now ! Don't be vexed. Where's the use
of getting cross," she said in a soothing tone, as if
speaking to a spoiled child. " I give you my word of
honor, as a lady and a De Vere, that you. will see him as
Boon as it is prudent, and you may then go down on
your knees, and thank him till all's blue. Meantime,
I'll faithfully report to him the terrihc pitch of grati-
tudie you've worked yourself up to. There's my hand
on it ! And now sit down and behave yourself. That
pleasant-spoken gentleman who tried to send you to a
better world is Captain Nick Tempest — is it not ? ' Old
]Nick,' as they call him f

" Yes," said Disbrowe, taking a seat beside her.

" AVell, who do you think he reminded me of."

" Can't say — but I know who he reminds me of."

" Well r

JACINTO.

115

" lie reminds me of — inyselt'!"

" By Jove ! my idea to a fraction," said Disbrowe,
delightedly ; ''not that vou look alike, but somehow — "

" Yes, but we do look alike, thoiiii^h — I'm certain
of it — except that I'm rather better looking, I Hatter
myself. JLiven't we got hair alike, now?"

" Oh ! but his is red," said Disbrowe, hesitatingly,
'' and yours — "

" Is red, too," said Jaequetta.

" Indeed ! I thought it was auburn — beautiful au-
burn," said Disl)rowe, in the lazy tone in which he was
accustomed to issue little ords'of fiction.

" Oh, von did! did you ;" said Jacquetta ; "but
then youh-e only an Englishman, and can't bo expected
to sec till it's "far in the day, and then you're not half
wide-awake. Why, I wouldn't have my hair any other
color, on any account. It's a good, high-mettled, spir-
ited color, and shows people have a decided will of their
ov/n ; and then it's nice and showy — none of your dis-
nial blacks, nor fady, sickly yellows, iKjr neutral" browns.
Xo, sir, my hair's i-ed, and I'm proud of it I" said Jac-
quetta, shaking her Hashing curls from her eyes.

" Well, one thing is ceri:ain,"' said Disbrowe, "you
are the lirst I)e Vere that ever had red hair, witliin the
memory of man."

" And that's another reason why I'm ])roud of it.
It's time there was a change in the family — they have
been going on in the old way long enough, goodness
knows ! The followers of the Silver Star have been
keeping u]) their obsolete notions long enough, and need
ti little variety."

" And a more bewitching variety they could not
have than Miss Jacquetta i)e Vere," said Disbrowe,
softly.

"Humph!" said Jacquetta, with a peculiar smile.
"Let's change the subje(;t. Are you fond of singing.
Cousin Alfred I I wish you would sing ' Hear me,
Norma.' It is a pretty song."

He half sprang from his seat, and fixed his eyes on

118

JACINTO.

I- K '•■ 1*

I Til

her, as if lie would read her very heart. She met his
gaze unllinehingly, and a^aiu her hmghinf^ S^'^y <^JG3
reminded liini ut' the picture, there wai sucJi an iin-
ineasural)le depth of mockery shining tlu'ough, and
baiilinn; liim.

'' I heard you whistling it yesterday," she said, care-
lessly ; '• and as it is a favorite of mine, I thought per-
haps you might favor me now."

"iS^:»; I never sing," he said, half curtly, as he
arose a/i^ain, an.l began walking up and down.

'' Well, 1 must leave you, then, and return to my
patient," she said, rising. '* I will see you at the tea-
table, and report ]M*ogress." And, with a smiling wave
of her hand, she was gone.

Disbrowe paced up and down the long hall in deep
thought, until the bell rang for the evening meal.
There was a half -puzzled, half -angry look on his face ;
yet now and then, as if in spite of him, his features
would relax into a smile, and his last word;: were, as ho
turned to join the family : " It's of no use, I cannot
read the riddle."

" 1 have a message for you, cousin," said Jacquetta,
in a low voice, approaching him when supper was over.

" Well ; I am all attention," said Disbrowe.

" It is from him — you know. lie says, 7iot to dis-
tress yourself over-much with gratitude, as he merely
acted as he would have done for any one ; and as for
your thanks, they will keep, and, like gooseberry wine,
be all the better for keeping. So make yourself easy,
cousin mine."

" I intend to," said Disbruwe, throwing himself into
a chair. " Capital advice, that, and I intend to follow
it. Do you know, when I marry I expect to repose on
a couch of rose-leaves all

'^^y

'O'

fan me and sing-

" Hear nie, Xorma !" broke in Jacquetta, with a
wicked laugh ; and Disbrowe colored, and instantly

gl-

ow SI

lent.

That evening he heard Jacquetta sing for the first

JACINTO.

time, and a superb vc»ieo she had. Aiij:^usta, too, swept
over tlie keys of the piano witii :i iiiustLa'-haiid, at her
father's desire ; but aa autoinatoii would Jiave done it
with as much life. If she had been made of marhle
she could not have sat more white, and cold, and Blill,
than she sat before them there.

Later that evening, Jaequetta sang an old English
ballad, at the earnest solicitation of JDisbrowe — an old
song with a sweet, plaintive air — and, lying lazily back,
he w^atclied her with half -closed eyes, and listened to
the words :

i-i!

»';,

** Atul wlien the Christmas talc goes round,
By many a peat jirosidc,
Tlie children list and shrink to hear
IIow Childe of Phymstoke died."

And then the song goes on to say how the " Old Tor "
went a hunting, and how he lost his w\ay on the moor,
and of his despair.

"For far and wide the highland lay
One pathless waste of snow.
He paused — the angry lieavens above,

The faithless bog below,

" lie paused, and soon through all Ms veins

Life's current feebly ran ;
■ And heavily a mortal sleep

Came o'er the dying man.

"Yet one dear wish, one tender thought
Came o'er that hunter brave " —

Jaequetta paused, and rose w^lh a laugh.

"Well, that's very pretty ! Vv^hy don't you go on,
and let us know what that ' tender thought' was^"
said Disbrowe.

" I w^as just thinking of your getting lost," she
replied ; " and was afraid y»>u might think the song

118

JACINTO.

personal — ])e>iiles, you have lieard enough of old songs,
without mo Bingiiig them to you."

" Tiicre are no songs like them," said Disbrowe.
"I would rather hear one old ballad than all the Italian
songs that ever a i)ruiia donna trilled and quavered."

"You thiidv too much of old things !" said Jac-
quetta, half-ix'ttishly. '"Old names, and old families,
and old houses, and old songs, all alike. For my part,
I believe in modern improvements and new sensations,
altogether."

" And yet I am certain you would rather bear the
old name of I)e Vere than any otlun* under the sun,"
said Disbrowe.

With a gesture that was abiiost fierce in its passionate
impatience, Jacquetta arose and moved to the other
side of the room.

" You are a De Yei'e, my dear boy, if there ever
was one," said his uncle, with a smile ; " and will marry
a countess, I'll l)e bound !"

" I don't believe there is a countess living I would
marry," said Disbrowe, carelessly.

" And why not, pray % A duchess, then," laughed
Mr. De V^ere.

" Nor a duchess — unless I was in love with her,
and she would have me."

" Two very important considerations," said his
uncle. ''Then you mean to marry for love?"

'• I hope so; if 1 ever do come to that."

"It's an old-fashioned notion. Is that tlie reason?"
said Jacquetta, with a curling lip.

"Partly. If ever I sec a woman, my equal in every
way, and we hap])en to love one another in a decent,
quiet, gentlemanly and lady-like sort of fashion, it is
prol)ab!e we will get married, as well as the rest of the
world."

" What a fortunate woman she will be!" said Jac-
quetta, sarcastically. " Have you ever seen her yet.

Captain Disbrowe

"Can't say, positively," he said, carelessly.

JACINTO.

119

may, and tlieii apjaiii I mayn't, to quote the authority
you ineutioiied some time au^o/'

" Kather an nn?ati.-;t'ac'toiy answer," said Mr. De
Yere. ''Now snpj^ose, my dear Alfred, you fell in
love with a girl — handsome, accom})lislied, and lady-
like — and the danghterot" a i)eddler, or tailor — and that
she loved vou : would you marrv her f

'* No, sir !" said Disbrowe — and his tine face looked
cold and proud in tlie clear light — "no, sir; I never
would."

" yimply because she was not your ecpial in birth V

" Yes; for that reason alon.e, even if 1 did not fear
the scoffs and jeers of the world, or the just indignation
of Earneclilfe, the proudest peer in England. No,
sir," said the young man, resuming his customary cai-e-
less tone ; " I never would nuu'ry any one below me in
birth, for any consideration."

" Oh, bother your loftiness !" muttered Frank, in-
dignantly. " I wish you had been born in a barn !"

Jacquetta arose, suddenly ; and, with a fierce, flash-
ing fire in her eyes, lifted up one arm as if to speak,
but a cold, white hand was laid beseechingly on it, and
the marble-like face of Lady Augusta interposed :

"Not now, Jacquetta! Oh, Jacquetta, dearest, not
now !"

Jacquetta stooped and kissed her, with a softening
brow ; but the fire was in her eye, and a hot, crimson
spot on either cheek, as, with the tread and step of an
empress, she passed from the room.

Disbrowe sat confoun'*(>d. VvHiat had he said ?—
what had he done 1 A sudden gravity had fallen on
all. Augusta sat like a figure of ice, Mr. De Vere
looked serious, and Frank was scowling indignantly at
him from under his brows.

" My dear uncle," he said, after a ])ause, " 1 hope
I have not offended Miss De V^ere. 1 most certainly
had not the remotest intention of doing so, and am yet
ignorant of my fault ; for, assuredly, nothing 1 said

120

JA CINTO.

'.k\-

\rA

can, iu tlie most distant way, apply to lier — my equal
ill every sense of tlie word."

" You forij::ot that yon will he a peer of tlie realm
one of these days, when the })resent Lord Earnecliife
kicks the bncket,'' sneered Frank, " and she will only
be Jack De Vere, and ' our American cousin,' and a
poor relation."

"Silence, sir!" ^aid ]\rr. I)e Yere, sternly, as Dis-
biowe's face flashed indiii;nant scarlet. '" Do not mind
Frank, my dear boy; be has caunht J acquetta's fashion
of saying whatever he ])]eases, and consequently thinks
a little too loud, sometimes."

"A fashion, it seems, no one else is to have,"
thought Disbrowe. Then, aloud: " And is it really
possible my cousin is so red-hot a republican as to be
ollended at my thoughtless words 'i 1 imagined she
would have syni])athized with me."

"Jacquetta does not believe in true merit being
overlooked, because it happened to be born in a hovel ;
and she has a quick temper, and takes no jiains to con-
ceal her feelings on any subject," said ]\Ir. De Vere.
" Dut as for her momentary irritation, she will quickly
get over that, and meet you to-morrow as blithely as
ever. One thing, though, I wish you to remember,"
added the speaker, with a slight smile: " avoid this
subject in her ])rescnce. It is like applying a match to
a ])(>wder-niagazine. Augusta, my love, you are not
looking well ; perhaps you had better retire."

Augusta arose in her slow, lifeless way, and with a
slight bend of the head, left the room, followed by
Frank. And the Honorable Alfred Disbrowe, dissatis-
fied with himself and Jaccpietta, soon after did the
same thing, and felt half-inclined to wish Miss Jac-
(pu'tta was liku her picture, and that the same old
smiling look would never change.

"It is such a vulgar thing to see a young girl in
a passion! \'iilgar— revolting — hiileous!" he said,
testily, " and for nothing, too. I believe in my soul

the girl is not a De Vere at all.

Got changed in the

JACINTO.

121

■It ^

cradle, or sometliinnj ; only I'm perfectly sure, as it
happens, that neither nncle llobert, nor my lady consiii
Aii^^n.sta, are the sort ol' folks who believe in adoptiiiui:
other ])eople's children. To he sure, there is tlu^t
flippant Frank; hut then luj's one of the family, an-l
lias the De Yero face, sllt^htly modified with that oi
Stul)hs — bless the nnirki — but Miss Jaccpietta — riu^htly
named Jack — has not a sin_i>:le iota of resemblance t;»
any De Yero ever I saw. She is an oriLnual — a little
Hash of li^^htnini]; in gaiters — a snapdragon — a liule
llame of fire, remarkably apt to burn the lingers of any
one who attempts to handle her. "Well, peace to her
memory ! J must g<:» to sleep."

Ihit Captain Disbrowe did not fall asleep as soon as
he thought, but lay awake, tossing restk'ssly, looking
at the picture, thinking of Jacquetta, of his evening
adventure, and of last night's mysteri(»us nnisie.
"Would it be repeated to-night ?" lie halfdioped it
might, for never did mortal listen to such delicious
strains as had then greeted his ear.

lie slept at last, and sleeping he dreamed. Again
he was in the lonesome gorge between the hills, and
again Captain Kick Tempest and Jacquetta were there.
Gradually, the air became tilled with softest, sweuti.'st
melody ; from what quarter no man could tell ; and
as it rose and fell in ravishing cadences, he saw, and
saw without surprise, too (he rememi)ered Hidt wIkmi
he awoke), the fair face and graceful form of riacquetta
undergo a fnghtful transformation. She dro])ped on
her hands, long black hair waved around her, and, in a
moment, she stood changed into the dotj J Jon ! And,
at the same inst^mt, Captain Kick Tenq)est was trans-
formed into the image of a lovely lady ; and stretching
out his arms, with a great cry of "Korma!'' he awoke
• — awoke to find it not all a dream! The night was
far advanced; and the air was tilled, as in his dream,
M'ith divinest nuisic. Such celestial harmony, that it
held bin) entranced, spell-bound, charmed beyond the
power of motion, for a time. Then, as it changed and

123

JACINTO.

m '.

broke into wild, weird, qiiiverini^ strains, like cries of
pain from liniuan lips, lie spraiii!; out of bed, dressed
rapidly, and, with a desperate impulse upon him to
find out whence it came, he descended the stairs and
crossed the hall.

The massive hall-door was locked, but the key was
inside; and tnrninjjj it, he stood, the next instant, alone
in the solenni beauty of the starlit ni«i;ht. There was a
faint youni;- moon that shone in the sky like a broken
rinii; of silver, and by its lii;-ht, and by tliat of the hi^h,
l)ri<2;ht, solemn st;u's, he rapidly took his way toward
the deserted north wini^ of tne buildin<2;.

A dark, gloomy, dismal ]>ile it looked, as if it wore,
in very truth, as [)oor Hood has since sung :

" lliulcr somu pro(li<rious ban
Of uxcoinmuiiicutioii."

The old English ivy grew thick and rank aronnd the
narrov/ windows, wrapj)ingit, even when the snn shone,
in funeral gloom. All was dark and lonely there, hut
the strains of music were close at hand, and there no
longer remained a douht bnt that it came from the in-
terior.

Suddenly, while he watched, a faint trembling ray
of light passed one of the windows. A sudden sus-
picion shot through his mind of burglars and house-
breakers, and a sort of conviction that Captain Tempest
or Old Grizzle was in there, liashed upon him. In a
twinkling, he had grasped a stent ivy stalk, and holding
on to the projecting still, held himself n[) and looked
in.

It was a female carrying a lamp ; but was it Grizzle
llowlet ^ Yes — if she had a small, neat, airy figure ; a
iieet, noiseless footstep ; a small, delicate face, and wav-
ing, curling hair; if she ever wore a dainty white
wrapper, and had a small, snowy hand, sparkling with
rich rings. For one instant, the light of the lamp
Hashed full on the face of her who here it, and never

JACINTO.

128

fell mortal eye on a face so white, so rigid, with such
wild, glistening eyes, and worried, terrified look.

She passed'on — all was darkness again; aixl the in-
stant she disappeared, the ninsic ceased, lie held on
until his hands were cold ; and then he sprang down
and jxiced up and down, restlessly, waiting for the i-e-
appearance of that light, till the stars died, one l)y one,
out of the sky, and the chill gray dawn came hliio and
cold over the' distant hills ; and still it appeared not.
And then he re-entered the house, returned to his bed-
room, and threw himself, cold and chilled, in bed — not
to sleep, but to wonder what this midnight visit meant.
From its place above him, the pictured face smiled upon
him still, but with a meaning in its mcxikery lie had
never felt before, and with— oh ! such a world of dei-is-
ion in its laughing eyes ! Sleeping or waking, would he
ever forget the look'that white face wore'^ — that look
of mingled horror, loathing, and repulsion, that made
it, despite its young beauty, ghastly to look upon — that
look on the faco, of — Jacquetta De Yere I

• I

I'H

124

A MTSTEB7.

CHAPTER X.

A MYSTERY.

*' Since then, ut an uncertuin hour,
This agony relurns;
And till my ghastly tale is told
This heart within me burns."

— Ye Ancient MAniNEit,

LL the next day, Jaecjiictta did not make her
appearance; she was in the room with their
wounded gnest, and had her meals hron^rht
np. ]\ir. De Vere and Augusta had not
been told of Disbrowe's adventure with
Captain Tem])est, and they sim])ly knew that a young
stranger had broken his arm, and had been brought to
Fontelle by Jaequetta, and that she had constituted
herself his inirse. Once, Mr. De Vere had paid a visit
to the sick-room, and had returned to tell Disbrowe ho
found him sitting up talking to Jacquetta, and to mar-
vel at his singular and extniordinary beauty — whleh was
the lirst thing to strike a beholder, always, on seeing
Jacinto. Disbrowe's lip curled as his uncle spoke of
the tender care and undenying attention of his daugh-
ter to the Spanish boy.

"I wonder, if this young stranger were humpbacked
and pock-marked, if Miss Jacquetta would be so de-
voted 'i I wonder how much his handsome face has to
do with all this tender watching and alTectionate care'i"
lie said, inwardly. " Take care, Miss Jacquetta I Young
hidies have fallen in love with young strangers before
now^ and with less handsome ones than this dark-eyed
lad, too, I'll swear! I wonder if the girl ever was in

.1 r

A MYSTERY.

125

love ?" he tlionglit, as lie took np a book to while away
tlie tedious hours.

It was the loucrest clay that he ever reniembered in
his life. He tried to read, and ])itelied the book from
him ill disgust; he plajedcliesswitli his micle, yawned
ill liis face, and lost every game. Augusta played for
him. but when she was done he coukl not, to save his
life, have told whether it was " GUI Hundred " or an
overture from "II Trovatore ;" and the only thing he
could lind to divert his attention for a moment was a
portfolio of drawings, by Jaequetta. They were like
herself — bold, free, and spirited, and sketched with a
dashing hand. Wild scenes they were, too : dismal
mountain-gorges yawning darkly between frowning
hills, with a hjwering sky above, and fuzzy grass below ;
glimpses of a troubled, glassy, heaving sea, the black
sky frowning on the blacker waters, and on a single
lone rock that reared its white, ghastly head far out, a
wild, ravenous-looking vulture perched, with hcrce,
flaming eyes, and blood-tinted beak. There was a ship
going down, and the blanched faces of drowning men
flashed above the inky ocean, their wild eyes glaring in
the death-agony, their faces frightfully convulsed, until
Disbrowe turned away and replaced them with a shud-
der, half-expecting to hear their rejiressed shrieks Inirst
from their quivering lips. Storms of lightning and
thunder on the mountains, and purple, livid moon ; gib-
bering ghosts in long winding-sheets, rising from yawn-
ing graves — all that was dismal, and eerie, and un-
earthly, was there, and all bearing tokens of a skillful
hand.

" Ugh !" said Disbrowe, replacing them hastily, " it's
enoui»:h to give me the nightmare for a month to look
at those ghastly, weird things. Upon my honor, I be-
lieve that girl is uncanny, as the IScotch say ; no reason-
able Christian, unless suffering agonies of remorse or
dyspepsia, could ever fancy such goblin sights. I Tow
well she does it, too! \Vhat doesn't she do well,
though? She rides like an Amazon; she plays and

^iii

120

A MYSTERY.

■ ;V:

Bings like an Italian prima donna', she draws like
ISalvator Kosa ; she iinrscs like — like licrself ; and she
loves and hates — well, I can't sav about tliat, hut I
should think she could do both in stunniiiij: fasliion. 1
shall begin to i'eel half-afraid of the witch, she is so
clever. Ileigho ! tliis is iin awful slow piece of busi-
ness, loitering about hei'e. I have a good mind to
break niy arm, aiid see if she would nurse me like this.
Ten to one she would never come near me, but le;i.e
me to the tender mercies of that frigid icebei-g, Lady
Augusta ; for she's as full of streaks as a tulip." And
yawning drearily, he sauntered oil".

Toward evem'ng, he rode out with Frank for a
couple of hours, admired tlie scenery, took a random,
shot or two at a bird, and returned to tea, hoping and
wishing that he might see Jaccpietta. JJut Jacquetta
did not appear; and more disaj^jtointed than he would
have been willing to acknowledge, he retired at last.
lie feared he had angei-ed her, and he wanted a recon-
ciliation. IJe wondered how she would meet hin) next
— whether with her pi(piant, saucy smile, or with iiery
eyes and burning cheeks, as he had seen lier last. Uut
he could not answer the question ; for never was an
April day half so fickle as she.

That night, he lay awake listening and hoping for
a repetition of the mysterious music; but he listened
and hoped in vain. The silence was undisturbed and
unbroken all night long.

" 1 wonder if 1 will see her to-day ?" was his first
thought on awakening ; and tlien he laughed at him-
self for the restless anxiety he felt for her return.
" Certcs, Alfred Disbrowe ! Take care this red-haired
damsel does not captivate you, after all ! What is she
to you that you should care whether you ever see her
again or not ^ What can she ever be to you more than
slie is now ? Take care, my boy, or you may lind your-
self in a fix before you know it."

As he entered the breakfast }>arlor, he looked eagerly
around, but no Jacquetta was to be seen. Mr. Do

A MYSTERY.

127

Vcre was there, reading some English papers , and
Frank sat pulling the ears of his favorite terrier
tlirongli liis lingers. Augusta entered, pale, and cold,
and stately, as ever, a lew moments alter, and ac-
knowledged their sahitations hy a slight bend of her
haughty head, and silently took her place at the head
of the table.

''Is Jacquetta not coming down!" said Mr. De
Vere, as he took his seat ; and, strange to say, ])is-
browe's heart gave a sudden bound at the mention of
her name.

"No," said Frank, sipping his coffee; "I don't
think she will be down at all, to-day. She and that
good-looking chap with the broken arm are keeping
each other company. She let me in the room yester-
day, and I was surprised to see how happy they were
together."

A sickening feeling of disappointment came over
Disbrowe. Had he seen Jacquetta every day, and
every time he chose, it is proba!)le he would liave felt
l)erfectly indifferent about it — careless when she came,
and whither she went ; but now she had spirited her-
self away, totally neglected him, and devoted herself
assiduously to this provokingly handsome stranger.
Captain Disbrowe's vanity was wounded ; he felt
irritated to liear she could laugh and enjoy herself
while he was wandering about so lonely and ennuled ;
and more irritated still that she admitted Frank, and
kept him out ; and so, a little angrv, and a good deal
jealous, he arose in a decidedly ferocious mood, and
lialf resolved to leave his ungrateful little cousin to her
own devices and Spanish lovers, and post back full
speed to England again, where young ladies know how
to treat their guests in a Christian fashion. There is
many a Disbrowe in the world, quite as inconsistent
as he.

He thought better of going to England, however,
and ordered his horse, instead, for a gallop across the
country, to exorcise the demons of ennui and chagrin.

128

A MYSTERY.

■AM

This tiiriG liG did not fail to take his pistole, and keep
liis eye about liiiii, and felt, in liis present tierce mood,
as if would l)e i-ather a relief ^'Iian otherwise to have a
fracas with " Old jS^ick," to put his stai^natiii*^ blood in
circulation, if for nothing else; and indeed, in his state
of mind at that moment, he would have fou>id it rather
pleasant than otherwise to shoot somebody.

So he rode on, at an exceedingly leisurely pace,
looking around him now and then, and trying to make
up his mind to hate, detest, and abhor this uncivilized
cousin of his, and contrasting her in his own mind with
the dijg^nilied, languid, high-bred Lady Gertrudes and
Lady Margai-ets of his acfpiaintance, and drawing con-
clusions anything but Mattering to her by the contrast,
wdien the thunderinijc sound of horses' hoofs dashing
down the rocks behind him made him turn round, and
he beheld the object of his thoughts, mounted on her
spirited little black Arabian, sweeping on toward him.
How bright, how charming, how ahnost beautiful she
looked at that moment, all alire with life and health,
and bounding spirits. It Hashed across him in an in-
stant, and cwQYy pulse gave an electric throb and leap at
the sight, as though she had imparted some of her own
exultant, joyous life to his languid self.

" A race ! a race ! a steeplechase ! Come on, cousin
Alfred!" she shouted; and as she swept thundering
past she raised her whip and gave his mettled horse a
cut that sent him oif like an arrow from a bow.

With the ringing '' Taily-ho V of a fox-hunter she
urged both horses .on, a!i<l away they sped at a dizzy
j^ace. Disbrowe's blood rose, ids eye kindled with ex-
citement, and pressing his hat down over his brows, he
gathered up the loose reins, and forgot everything but
the maddening excitement of the race. On and on
they liew, passing rocks, and valleys, and marshes, and
moors, and over roads, keeping neck for neck, both
ursjing their liorses to the utmost in their elforts to
conquer. Away and away, as if winging over moun-
tain gorges, and chasms, and fences, and ditches

.1 MYSTHHY.

129

takinjT everythiiii^ before tlieiii I A look of detcrniiiUMl
resolution sottlo<l on the fiuics of both, as they spcl on,
timt showed they would never give u}) while their
liorses could stand, and with whip and spur, and voiee,
they dashed madly on, heedless of everything in their
furious career.

Suddeidy, Disbrowe checked his liorse so quickly
and shnrply that he almost fell back on his haun(dies,
conlident that the mad " steeple-chase '" was then and
there brought to an end.

An immense gorge, an awful precipice, yawned be-
fore them, fnll titty feet deep, and liued with sharp,
projectiug rocks, at tlie bottom of which roared a mad,
foaming torrent, swollcjn and resistless by the late
spriug rains. It was a, leap — with all Jiis boldness — he
would not take, for a single false step would have
hurled him to certain death. He had managed to get a
few yards in advance of Jacquetta, and now he looked
round to shout his victory, when, to his horror and as-
tonishment, he saw her rein back her hoi-se for the
fearful leap, and the next moment, with a high, deiiant
cry, she had vaulted over the terrible gorge !

''Beat!" she shouted, as she took oif her plumed
riding-hat and waving it exultinglv above lier head,
"beat! hnrrah !"

Disbrowe had sat frozen with horror to Ids seat, at
the mad leap, and saw with a shudder her horse's hind
feet graze the very edge of the frightful chasm. But at
]»er victorious shout, the danger was forgotten, and the
blood rushed in a torrent to his very temples.

"11a! ha! A I)e Vere against a Disbrowe, any
day," laughed Jacquetta, on the other side, as she reined
np her panting steed. "It's the old story of America
against Eng»"and again, and America is victorious ! Hur-
rah for the Stars and Stripes ! I say, Cousin Al fred, how
do you liiul yourself^" And she leaned back and
laughed innnoderately at his mortilied face.

"" Conquered," said Disbrowe;, taking off his hat and
bowing with courtly grace ; " but I only imitate the

6»

130

A MTSTKRY

i^:..'l

I '■

' ' \ m.'

example of all the rest of iiuiiikind, in being conquered
by you."

" Thiit's very pretty, indeed," said Jacquetta ; " but
fctill it doesn't cover the disi^raee of beinj^ beaten — and.
by a girl too. Oli, Cousin Alfred ! 1 thought better
things of you than this. It i.s well for you your lady-
love is not here, to witness your defeat."

"I wish I could induce you to bear that title, my
dauntless little cousin," said J3isbrowe, gallantly.

"^o, thank you. 1 had rather be excused. I
shouldn't admire being the lady-love of any one I could
beat so easily," said Jacquetta.

" As you are strong, be merciful," said Disbrowe,
riding slowly up to where t!ie chasm narrowed, and
leaping across ; '• but you don't call that an easy victory,
do you ^ One inch further, and where would you bo
now ?"

" In heaven, very likely," said Jacquetta, measuring
the distance with her eye. " To tell the truth, it's a
leap I wouldn't attempt in my cooler moments ; but I
forgot everj'thing in the excitement of the race, and
would have taken it even had 1 been sure of being
dashed to the bottom. Who wouldn't prefer death to
defeat f she said, with a Hashing eye.

" Well, I, for one," said Disbrowe, in his customary
careless tone. " I have an unlimited amount of faith in
the old maxim —

1' ' I

*' 'lie that fights and runs away,
May live to tight another day.' "

" Your countrymen seem to believe unanimously
in that," said Jacquetta, with one of her sly, provoking
glances; ''they ought to have it inscribed under the
lion and unicorn, and on all their banners ; for it was
their motto constantly, until they got their walking
papers from these American shores."

" There was some pretty hard fighting too," said
Disbrowe, nettled. " Your American friends didn't

A MYSTpniY.

ini

have tiling's all their own way, and liad a pretty long
reekoning to pay at the end. A set of i-ai^^aninthns,
fresh from the ])low — one-half of them — who hardly
knew even what they were liuhtini!: for."

"Didn't they," Faid Jaeljnetta. "That's all yuu
know about it. Thtu foiiuht fi»r God and their
country ; you)' friends for — a shilJiuL^ a day !"

An angry cry I'ose to Disbrowe's lips, and then re-
membering he was speaking to a lady, he cheeked him-
self, and gave his horse a cut with his whip, that sent
him on some yards in advance before he could stop
himself. Jac(]uctta looked after him ; and the old
tantalizing, malicious smile he had learned to know so
well now, curled her pretty ii[)s.

" You'll spoil that line gray if you use him like
that," she said, as she again joined him ; " what did
the ])Oor thing do to merit that i You ought to have
laid it over my shoulders instead."

"1 beg your pardon, Miss Jacquetta; but really, I
forget myself sometimes ; and you are — if you'll excuse
my saying it — giv^cn to saying things not calculated to
soothe sensitive minds, and — "

" You're proud, and got a shocking bad temper, and
are not used to be talked to in that fashion," inter-
rupted Jacquetta. " Well, Cousin Alt", I've seen
people when they had a pain in one place, applying a
blister to another, as a counter-irritant; and so, if you
will look upon me as a human blister, sent on earth for
your especial use and benefit, you will be apt sooner to
obtain the virtue of resignation, which, together with
patience and modesty, are beautiful things in young
men. And now, to change the subject, why don't you
ask after our young hero of the wounded arm ?"

" Because 1 had given up all hopes of ever liearing
or seeing anything of him again ; and knowing he was
in good hands, 1 thought inquiry unnecessary and im-
pertinent," said Disbrowe.

" Ah, well, then I shan't tell you anything about
hiui. How did you pass the time yesterday ?"

•i !

1 "O

A MTSTFAIY.

"Mirs Augusta played f(»r ino ; I ]i;ul a _i;:iir.;' of
cliL'SS, ami rode out in the atteriioou, and ]);issed it alto-
gether ])leasantly eii(»ui;li. Vou enjoyed yourself very
niueh, too, "with your h;indsonie patient, Frank s;iys.
AVhat a fortunate fellow he is, to he sure !"

The meaning tone in which the last words Avero
uttered, inndc; Jaccpietta look up, and her faee Hushed
isearlet iis she met his knowinu: eyes. For one instant
her eyes Hashed lire, and there was a })assionate motion
of her arm ; but the next, as if another thought had
struek her, she eheekcd herself, and laughed aloud.

"What a far-seeinuc, elear-sii/hted thinijc man is I"
she said seornfully. "O wise young judge ! And bo
you woiikl iniply that Jaek Dc Vere has found u
patient and lost her heart both together. ]\lafol!
what a thing it is to see through a mill-stone !"

It was Disbrovre's turn to feel embarrassed for a
moment; but that young gentleman's sang f raid and
admirable nonchalance seldom deserted him for many
seconds at a time, so the next he replied, iu his cus-
tomary tone of easy coniidence.

"i^Iot exactly, Miss Jae(pietta; for the very serious
I'easou that 1 very much doubt whether you have a
heart at all."

'' liccausc I am insensible to the manifold attractions
and fascinations of the Honorable Alfred Disbrowe,
and have not fallen down at his feet and worshiped,
as so many of my sensible and lovable sex have already
done '^ Is that the reason i" shcsaid, with r short laugh.

"■ Not at all," said Disbrowe; but it was so near the
truth that he had to laugh, too. " You do notsuj)pose
I have such an inordiuiite share of vanity as toinuiginc
I could ever touch your heart i"

" Well, there's no saying. I think it very likely
you could stretch your faith even to a pinnacle so ab-
surdly high as that. Men are such a set, composed
of vanity and whiskers, every mother's son of 'em 1"
said Jacquetta.

)

1- ,

.1 MYHTERT.

\'.\\\

" A swooping assortlon, tliat. And ;iin I set down
in tlKit eatalo_L!;u(j f ' said Di.shi'owe.

"Yt>»i^ Oil, well, I don't know. [ luivon't taU.Mi
tlio trouble to {lii-.ik al);»ut it yot," said Jacqiiotta, in :i
tone of prov(;kinL!; in(.iiilvrcn('o. '' It i.s probable that \i
ever 1 do, such will bo iny decision. l>iit look tlien;''
— and she pointed with her whip — "there is the very
Qae<ni of the Kelpies, takini,^ an aii'inj:; !''

Disbrowe looked, and saw, to his ^.urprisc, tlic little
girl Orrie, of the hjiie house, b(»uiidiiig, llying, leaping
with the agility of a mountain kid, over the rocks —
lier long, eliisli locks unbound, and streaming around
her little ellish face, with its superuaturally large, bright,
glittering black eves.

" Hallo! little'Oriolc, by all that's startling. Where
did that little Witch of Endorstai-t frou] { 1 say, Orrie,
Orrie! Come here."

The little girl heard his shout; and, turning round,
shaded her eyes with her liand from the sun, and
peered at him; then, with a glad cry of recognition,
she darted over the rocks, and in an instant had seized
the stirrup, swung herself up before him on his horse,
flung her arms around his neck, and gave the astonished
and laughing young Englishman a crushing hug.

" Upon my ward," said Jaccpietta, '"an enthusiastic
welcome."

Orrie turned round and peered at Jacrpietta, and
laughed, and nodded, and clung closer to Disbrowe.

'"And so you are glad to see me, Orrie C said Dis-
browe, still laughing.' " Where in the world did you
drop from on these bare rocks ^ Not from the sky f

" Lor', no !" said Orrie, in contempt at the idea.
" Old Grizzle whii)ped me, and I ran olf— I always do,
when she whips me, the ugly old thing. I shan't go
back, either, till it's dark."

" AVell, wou't she whip you again, then ?" said Dis-
browo.

"No; Uuclo Till won't let her. He'll be there;

,1'

I ■

134

A MYSTERY.

and he likes mo. 1 wisli you would give mc a ride on
your lior.se. Will your'

"' Certainly," said Disbrowe, moving on. " AVIiy,
Orric, 1 thought you liad forgotten all about me ere
this."

"1 guess I hairrt," said Orrie, soberly, turning
round to give him another kiss, and then elapping her
hands to make the horse go faster. " Tve been tiiink-
ing about you ever since. Oh ! what a nice horse to go
this is !"

" And have you no kindly greeting for me, Orrie '^"
said flacquetta. ''Is he to receive all your attention T

" Oil," siiid Orrie, '' everyl)ody says you don't care
for anybody, and don't want kisses or nothiu'."

"And so, i^ecause 1 don't care for anybody, no one
is to love me C said Jacquetta, in something so like a
sorrowful tone that Disbrowe looked at her, surprised
at her heediii<»' tlie little elfs words.

lie spoke to her, but she replied brietly ; and for
nearly halt' an hour she rode l)eside them in silence,
and with a sortoi' dark gloom shadowing her face.

Little Orrie prattled continually, giving Disbrowe
occasional embraces to lill up the pauses, until Jac-
quetta almost coldly suggested their return.

"There now, Orrie, will you be able to lind your
way back, do you think ^" said Disbrowe, as she sprang
down in a llying leap.

" Be sure 1 will," siid Orrie. " Good-bye. I'll come
to see you, some day."

" Thank you," said tlie young gentleman, laughing.

And tlie next instant she was bounding and hopping
like a black bird from rock to rock.

The same look of dark gloom still lay on the bright
face of Jac(pietta, as they turned toward Fontelle; and
until half the way was over, she never spoke, save to
brielly answer his questions. At last he said :

" Vou seem strangely out of spirits, my dear cousin.
May 1 ask what is the matter C

" I am thinking of that child and her words," said

A MYSTERY.

135

Jacqnctta. " Soiiieliow, the siglit of that little girl
always allects me slraugely ; soiuething in those eerie
black eyes of hers almost frightens me. A strange
feeling, is it not '( I wish you could tell me what it
means."'

" 1 wish I could," said Disbrowe. " Perhaps she is
your si)i ritual affinity, wJiatever that is. Frank says
she looks like you."

'• Who don't 1 look like 'i" said Jacquetta, looking
up and breaking into a laugh. " I am the image of
Captain Nick Tempest and little Orrie llowlet, and,
consetpiently, a cross between a ilemon and a goblin.
I won't think of it, thougli ; and now, that being gone,
I am myself again. 1*11 race you home, Cousin Altred ;
or have vou had enouii-h of racini:: for one while C

'"No; 1 must have my revenge, and retrieve my
wounded honor. ISo lead oJf.''

With a laugh and a cheer, Jacquetta started, and
both galloped on over '' brake, brush, ;ind scaur " at a
reckless, headlong ])ace, keeping neck and neck until
Fontelle was reached.

" Unrevenged yet !" exclaimed Disbrowe, striking
an attitude, as Jac(pietta, declining his aid, leaped
lightly oif her horse, and ran up the steps and entered
the house.

With a sau(;y nod of her curly head, Jacouetta dis-
appeared, and passed on until she reached Augusta's
room, and there she paused and knocked softly.

There was no res])onse, and she knocked again,
more loudly. IStill there was no reply ; andJacquetta
turned the handle and entered.

And there a terrible sight met her i^yo^^.

On the floor lay Augusta, i)rone on her face, her
whole form writhing like one in unenduralde agony,
her lonir, wild, black hair streaming unbound around
her, her hands clenched till her delicate veins stood out
like whip-cord, every motion (puvering with unbear-
able torture. Startled and alarmed — all^eit both to her

ahJlaiSi^9ta^^Sb<

136

A MYSTERT.

wero minsi.ial — J;icqnctta went over, and catching her
arm, exehiinicd :

" Au/,ni8ta !"

With a fearful shriek and maddened bonnd, she was
Oil her feet, confrontini^ her — lier beautiful face difs-
torted witli anu^ui.^li and remorse — her whole counte-
nance so altered and terrible, that Jacquetta involuntarily
recoiled a step as she beheld her.

" Auiijnsta ! Anirusta ! Good heavens ! what is the
mcaninji; of this V^ cried Jacquetta.

Uut Aui^nsta, with a wild, moaniiig cry, sank down
on a seat, and with a convulsive shudder hid her face in
her hands.

" Auiijusta, my sister ! tell me what has wronc^ht this
frightful change in you — once so cold, so calm, so
proud, so fpieenly."

"Ctuilt!'' cried Augusta, dashing away Jacquetta's
clinging hand; "guilt so black, so foul, so horrible,
that tlie very fiends themselves would shudder at it ;
guilt that it would curdle your biciod, freeze your heart,
blight your soul, to hear; guilt, the very name of
which, if name it have, it would blister and blacken
my lips to utter! (ro ; leave me! I. ask nothing; I
want nothing but to be alone — and die !''

And with a cry of despair she sank down again,
shuddering, and collapsed.

Jac(pietta stepped back, and calmly regarded her.

" You arc insane, Augusta, or in the delirium of a
brain fev^er. I shall send for a doctor."

" Oh, leave me ! leave me ! leave mo !" moaned
Angus a, in a dying voice.

" Ki)t in this state. I should bo as nuid as you if I
did. 1 will stay up with you until you come to your
senses," said Jacquetta, sitting down.

The invincible determination in her voice seemed
to pierce through every other feel'ig in the reeling
brain of Augusta. She lifted up her face, and, witli a
buddenucbs that was more startlinir than her former

A MYSTERY.

187

paroxysms of anguish and despair, rose calm and
liauii,liti!j to her feet.

'• Will you leave me, Jacquetta? I wisli to be alone.
Go !"

" Augusta, let me stay ! indeed, your mind is wander-
ing ; let me stay !"

Witliout a word, and with a look of one petrified .
to stone, Augusta swept across the room, and laid her
hand on the door.

." Nay, then, if you will not remain with me, I will
not send you from your room," said Jacquetta, in a
troubled voice, as she, too, started up. " Do not go,
Augusta. I will leave you. Hut, Oh, my dearest sister,
is there nothing I can do for you r' she said, beseech-
ingly, clasping her hands.

" Nothing, but leave me."

AVitli a sigh, Jacquetta left the room, and sho
heard the key turned behind her in the lock.

The proud h(>art of Augusta I)e Vere might bleed
and break, ])ut it could do both alone.

She turned away, and passed on to the room of her
patient, where she found that handsome youth fast
asleep; and, seeing her presence was not required theio
cither, she iinally sought her own room.

It was rather dull down stairs that evening, for
neither Augusta nor Jacquetta appeared at all, J\lr. Do
Vere and Frank both retired early ; and so Captain
Disbrowe was left alone, in no very angelic frame of
mind, to wander throunjh the lower rooms and amuse
himself as l)est he might, and wish Jacquetta would
join him ; but no Jacciuetta came. At length, putting
on '•'- hat, he set olf for a stroll, with his own thouglus
for company.

It was a clear, starlit night, mild and warm as June ;
and tempted by its quiet beauty, he walked on and on,
returning, at last, by the north wing, that, in its gloomy
silencA', liad a stranim fascination for him. While ho
stood leaning against a broken pillar, hxtking up at it,
ho became conscious of voices near him ; and a moment

I' I

"•IP

138

A MYSTERY.

! I'

i:hi

after two dai-k forms appeared from within the shelter
of a low, ruined wall, overrun with ivy. One was tho
tall form of a man, muffled in a eloak, and wearing a
slouched hat drawn down over his face,completelj hiding
it from view, and the other was — could lie believe his
ejes ? — the stately form of his proud Cousin Augusta !

Even in his surprise — and it was intense — he saw
that they seemed to shrink from each other with a sort
of dread, or horror, or fear ; and that both were ex-
tremely agitated. Once he saw his cousin stop and
make a frantic, passionate gesture, as if she would have
hurled herself madly ujjon the stones at her feet, and
the man put out his arm as if to catch her, and then
draw it back, and recoil still farther from her. Then
they turned an angle of the wall, and disappeared ; and
he was alone in the light of the bright, beautiful stars,
that looked serenely down on that stra.ige meeting, as
they have looked upon many others since the world be-
gun.

With an irresistible impulse, he turned to follow
them ; but both were gone — vanislied like phantoms of
the night ; and he turned to retrace his steps, wonder-
ing inwardly whe^e the secrets of this strange old house
were to end.

A DI6C0VEUT.

139

CHAPTER XL

CAPTAIN DISBROAVE MAKES A DISCOVERY.

. f

-I.

** All ! did we take for Heaven above
I>ut li!ilf sucli pains as we
Take, day and night, for woman's love,
What angels we should be." — MooitE.

•1^

TIE top of the morniu' to yc, captain, dar-
liii' !" said II voice, in ii sliij^litly foreign
accent. And the next nionicnt, Master
Frank, with a wlioop that spoke well for
the strength of his hmgs, sprung up tlie
front steps, and stood beside Disbrowe, wlio was loung-
ing indolently against one of the quaint okl pillars sup-
porting the doorway, looking at the north wing, and
thinking of the little incident of the previous night.

" The same to yourself, my sprig of shillelah," said
Disbrowe, lifting his eyes, but without moving from
his lazy position.

" I say, Frank," he added suddenly, " do you know
anything about that mysterious old tower or wing over
there? I think there's something wrong about it."

"Why?" asked Frank, casting an uneasy look, first
on the speaker, and then on the place indicated.

" Well, from nothing that 1 know of my own knowl-
edge, of course," replied Disl)r()we ; " but it has a con-
foundedly suspicious ghostly look about it for one thing,
and I saw something strange there a few nights ago."

"You did!" said Frank, with a start. "What
was it ?"

" A light!" — said Disbrowe, taking out a cigar, aiul
biting the end off—" a light passing the front window,

'1||

•' ■'i

140

CAPTAIN DISBROWE

;! ><

; I

and sliiniiifi^ tliroiii^li the ivy leaves. It was late — about
niltlni^.;ht, 1 think — and, not feeling sleepy, I had turned
out to admire the l)eauties of Nature, and look at the
moon, and all that sort of thing, when, to my sur})rise,
I saw a light Hashing through the windows, and then
disappe;iring."

"(Jh, ])ooh !— a will-o'-the-Av'isp — an ignis fatuus —
a jaek-o'-lantern," said Frauk, giving himself an uneasy
twist.

"It was a jaek-o'-lantcru with a vengeance !" said
Dishrowe, laughing.

'' Kh f said Trunk, lookii.g sharply up.

"My dear young friend," said Captain Disl)rowe,
lighting his cigar, and drawing a few whilfs, " allow me
to say that hreaking yo'jrself of that nasty habit of
speaking in abrupt jjrks would be a good thing to do.
Ir gives me a sensation akin to a galvanic shock, or a
twinge of toothache, to listen to you, \ was informing
you, 1 believe, that I saw a light in that old deserted
place there, if 1 don't mistake, which piece of informa-
tion allow me to repeat now, if yon did not clearly com-
jrehend it the lirst time."

" It must have been one of the servants," said Frank,
taking out a knil'e, and comniencnig to whittle.

" Perha[)S," said Captain Disljrowe, with a dubious
smile, as he meditatively watched the wreaths of smoke
curling upward.

" Yon don't believe nie V said Frank, looking at
him.

" i\ly dear boy," said the young officer, in his cool,
careless way, "■ you don't suppose 1 could possibly be
BO impolite as to doubt your word? At the same time,
my amiable young friend, allow me to ask you if your
servants are in the habit of taking nocturnal excursions
through those deserted rooms, or what possible reason
— since they have been deserted for the last twenty
years — they can have at all for going there '^"

Frank looked cautiously over his shoulder for a
moment, to see that do one was listening, and then

MAKES A DISCOVERY.

141

comini^ clopor to DisTjrowc, and sinking liis voice to a'
cautious wliispcr, ho said :

"'I tell jou what. Cousin Alfn^d, tlierc vi something
queer about tliat old ])lace. I've always thought so,
and I've seen lots of little things, now and then, to
conlirni the belief. I doi/h know what it is; and
what's mon^, they all take precious good eare I shan't
know either ; but Til find out one of these days, as
sure as my name's Frank I)e Vere — wliicli it ain'r, for
that matter. Jack's j)osted, I know, and I'm sure she
Las something to do with it. Did you ever hear
strange sort of nnisic there of nights^*'

"Why?" said Disbrowe evasively, remembering his
promise to Jacquetta.

"Because I have, and more than once. "VVlien I
get into bed I flatter myself I can beat any one to
death in the sleeping line; Ijut there have been times
when I ^oke up. and J have heard the queerest,
solcmnest sort of far-off music at the dead of night,
and 1 am quite sure it came from some place around
here. I asked uncle about it tlie first time I heard it,
and I wish you had seen the look he gave me, and
the terrific way lie thundered : ' I]egone, sir! and hold
your tongue, and never speak of such a thing again at
youi" peril !' It beat a stern father in a melodrama all
to nothing; so I bothered him no more after that."

" I wonder you never asked Jack."

"Well, I don't know; there's a sort of touch-me-
not flash in Jack's eyes now and then when you tread
on forbidden ground, and somehow I've always felt
that she's more concerned in this affair than any of tho
rest. Of course, I don't know — I only guess; and, as
it happens, I generally guess pretty accurately. ' 'Tis
the evening of life gives me mystical ^ore.' "

"And coming events cast their shadows before,"
said Disbrowe, pointing to an approachitig sluidow ;
and, even as 1

5pok

•que

steps, and stood bright and smiling before the

••1

;fli

Bon matin, messieurs! Hope I don't intrude 1"

142

CAPTAm DISBROWE

vl, ,.'•

il' I

if .

' »

"Angels can never be intruders !" snid Dlsbrowe,
ilinij^ini^ Jiway liis ciu'ar, and tonehiii!^ his hat. " A
tliousaTid welcomes, my bright Aurora!"

"Now don't!"' said Jac(]U(!tta, with a sHght grimace.
"1 can't stand too umch of that, you know. It's like
burnt brandy — a very little of it goes along way, and is
very Hlling at the ])rice. What momentous aifairs were
you discussing so learnedly just now, as I came up f

" We were discussing JMiss Jacquetta \)ii Verel"

"Well, I don't know as you could have found a
better subject, at once edifying and instructive. But
what say you to breakfast now. as a change of sub-
ject V

" A most agreeable change," said Disbrowe ; "and
though, perhaps, not so delightful as the other, a good
deal more substantial. 1 move an inmiediate adjourn-
ment."

" I second the motion," said Frank, shutting up
his knife, and putting it in his pocket.

" AVhat is the programme for to-day ?" said Jac-
quetta, as they uioved toward the breakfast-parlor.

" Haven't* decided yet," said Disbrowe. "Must
likciy you will devote yourself solely to our haiulsome
patient, in which case, by the time evening comes, you
will very probably lind my melancholy remains sus-
pended from the nearest tree — a victim to the blue-
devils and the most hard-hearted of cousins."

"A consummati<.)n devoutly to l)e wished!" said
Jacquetta, with a laugh. " JUit, having some regard
for the feelings of the family, allow me to suggest an
alternative to so direful a catastrophe. I am going to
visit one of my pensioners this afternoon, about a
mile from this ; and, if you will promise to be good, and
not pay me too many compliments, you uuiy come. I
have spoken."

" A hundred thousand thanks, most angelic of thy
sex 1" said Disbrowe, laying his hand on his heart, and
bowing after the manner of gentlemen on the stage, who
go down head foremost, until nothing is to be seen but

and

MAKf:S A DISCOVFAIY,

143

the tails of tlieir coat. " I am ready to swear by ' all the
vows tiiat ever men have broke,' as my friend Shaks-
pere has it, to talk ti) order on any snl)jeet, from love
and murder down to tlie latest style of ' i^'eut's superior
vests,' for so delectable a prlvilei^e. I'm ready to vow
the severest obedience to all and every command that
issue

from lips so beautiful ; and what's more, as
my friend Shakspere further ri'm;irks, am ready to
'seal the bar:i;;iin with a holy kiss.' "

" And I'll witness the transaction," said Frank, with
a chuckle. " But here comes Gusty."

As he spoke, Augusta swept i)ast, with one of her
slight, haughty courtesies, and took her place at the
table, followed by the others. Disbrowe thought of
the mysterious interview of the night before, and looked
at her curiously ; but the cold, pale face was high and
immovable, and marble-like in its lofty pride and re-
pelling hauteur, ^'ot the faintest trace of emotion was
visible in that coldlyd)eautiful face; the long, dark
lashes swept the white cheeks, and vailed the dusky,
brooding ciyes ; the pale li[)S were compressed — scorn-
ing, in tlieir curved pride, all help and sympathy ; the
shiny, jetty hair was combed down either side of the
high, noble, queenly brow — like alabaster in its i)urity
— and simply knotted behind the haughty head. Had
she been of steel or stone, she would have looked iis
human as she did then ; and yet this was the girl he
had seen ready to dash herself on the pitiless rocks the
night before, in her intolerable agony of woe and
despair. She scarcely spoke, or moved, or lifted her
eyes wdiile she sat with them — there in body, but oh,
so immeasurably distant in spirit! Uut once, in an-
swering some cpiestion of his, she had for a second or
two looked up, and then he saw the dark, settled night
of anguish in those large, melancholy eyes.

Jacquetta was, as usual, the life and soul of thein
all — keeping up a constant war of woi'ds, and a steady
fire of short, sharp, stinging repartees o itli the company
generally — sometimes ])r(jvoki ng Disbrowe to laughter,

», ■ .

I I

C^l P 7V1AY DISBR WE

and sometimes to ann;er, and appean'nu^ most dcliglit-
fully indilierent to both. Tlicu she undertook to give
an account of his escapade with Captain Nick Temjiest
to his nnclo, brirlesquin<:^ tlie wliolc; affair, and hold in^^
him especially np in so ridicnlous a h\^ht, that she had
the old cjentlenian and I'rank lauirhinic most heartily,
and hiid Dis])ro\ve su indignant and niortilied, that he
conld have shakciii her then and there with a right good
will. But thinking it beneath his dignity as a man, he
joined in the laugh against himself.

After breakfast, the young lady went off to see
Jacinto — as she took the ti'ouble of informing our gal-
lant young officer before starting; and he, with Frank,
sauntered out to a trout-stream the latter knew of,
where they could pass the morning. As usual, their
theme was Jack ; and an inexliaustible theme they
found it, and miglity interesting to both.

" 8he spoke of going to see one of her pensioners,"
said Disbrowe. '" ILrw many has she got ?"

" Oh, lots ! And a precious lot, too. There's one
of them, now," said Frank, pointing to a hump-backed,
idioticdooking boy who aj^proached them, holding a
brace of partridges. " Hallo, Dickie ! Where are you
bound for ^"

"• There," said the lad, pointing with a nod and a
grin toward Fontclle.

" AVho are the birds for ?" said Frank, attempting
to look at them.

" You let 'cm alone !" said Dickie, dodging back
and assuming a belligerent attitude. " They're for her
— Miss Jack ; you let them alone— will you ?"

" All right !" said Frank, laughing. " Go on,
Dickie. Give my compliments to the town-pump the
next time you see it."

" And that's one of her proiorjeei^ .^" said Disbrowe,
glancing carelessly after him. " /Vn interesting one,
upon my word ! If ever I do that sort of a thing, I
shall only adopt pretty little girls."

" And marry them when they grow up ; not a bad

rht-

and a

MAKES A DISCOVERT.

145

notion tliat," langliod Frank. " And as pretty little
girls are to be liad for tlie asking, you will soon have a
liouset'ul. Suppose you begin with little Orrie How-
let f'

" Faith, 1 shouldn't mind. She came next door to
jiroposing the last time I saw her. But how came
Miss Jack to adopt that picture of ugliness'^" ■^'

'' Well, ' thereby hangs a tale.' It was one day,
about two years ago, Jack was down to Green Creek ;
and passing by a tavern, she saw a lot of rowdies
and loaiers crowding round poor, silly Dickie, laughing,
taunting, jeering, and kicking, and pulling, and haul-
ing the poor fellow until they iiad him half maddened.
A sit»;ht like that was enough to make Jack's hot blood
blaze : and in a moment she had darted nerceiv
through them, and stood defending Dick, stamping
her foot, and blowing them up right and left as only
she can — calling them a set of cowards and rascals, the
whole of them. I expect they were rather startled to
see such a little fury, for all fell back but one half-
tipsy fellow, who seized her by the arm in a threaten-
ing manner. With a perfect shriek of passion. Jack
spi'ang back, and dashed her hand in his face with
such force, that, big as he was, he reeled back and saw
more stars, 1 reckon, than he ever saw before. Dick
liad taken to his heels the moment he found himself
free ; so Jacquetta, having stopped to assure them on(;e
more that they were a set of low, mean, cowardly
knave sto so abuse Dickie, took her departure, while
the rest forcibly held back the drunken scoundrel, who
seemed very anxious to pommel her."

" And has he never attempted to injure her since?"
said Disbrowe.

"No," said Frank. " A very remarkable circum-
stance caused him to change his mind. Shortly after
the adventure I have just related, news came that
Goose Creek was rising, and was likely to carry away
the bridge. Jack mounted Liditning and rode down ;
and tliere, sure enough, an immense crowd was gathered

146

CAPTAIN DISBROWE

li' \

on the banks, watching tlie creek roaring, and foaming,
and dashing along ; and there was the Ijridge all
broken — and shaking planks that every second might
be carried away. Just as Jack reached the place, there
was a great cry that a man had been carried olf the
bank, and directly they heard his screams for help,
and there he was clini'in'i: to a hirge rock in the middle
uf the creek, and shrieking out to them for God s sake
not to let him drown.

" A lot of men got a rope ?nd tried to throw it to
him, but it was impossible for him to reach it, unless
some one ventured out on the plank and risked their
own lives for him. No one would, however, for he
was a miserable, drunken wretch ; and in another min-
ute he would have been swept away, if Jacquetta had
not sprung oU her horse, seized the rope, and while the
crowd stood speechless with horror, darted out on the
plank. I tell you, cousin Alfred, as they saw her stand-
ing there, that young girl, on that frail plank, over that
foaming torrent, so bravely risking her life to save Jin-
other's, every man, woman, and child there dropped on
their knees, and the silence of death reigned. Shov
reached the middle of the plank, she flung him the
rope ; but before she could turn, tlie plank was swept
from under her, and she was hurled headlong into the
foaming torrent."

" Heavens !" gasped Disbrowe, with a paling cheek,
as though he saw it before him.

" There was a cry as of one miglity voice from that
crowd," contimied Frank, "as they saw her fall; but
clear and high above all arose her ringing voice : ' Pull,
men — pull ! Don't let me drown !' She held on
tirmly, and the next minute the i>air of them stood high
— and drij I was going to say, only it wouldn't be true
—on dry land. And a hearty cheer from the specta-
tors greeted them."

Il rank's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were
glisteninij at the recollection.

"And there she stood — God bless her! — dripping

MAKES A DISCOVERY.

147

nng,
) all
liglit
:here
; the
help,
liddle
sake

T it to
unless

their
for ho
r min-
ta had
ilethe
on the

stand-
er that
tive an-
ped oil
She^
Hin the

swept
uto the

: cheek,

om that
all; but

; ' ruii,

icld ou
)od higli
be true
3 specta-

res were

dripping

like a water-goddess, and listening to their shouts as
coolly and composedly as tliougli they were so many
French dulls. 1 stood there, hugging her, I believe,
and crying, and laughing, and shouting all together —
to all of which her sole rejily was, as siie jerked herself
away : ' Frank, don't squeeze me so ; don't you see my
wet clothes are spoiling your new pants?'"

This winding up was so characteristic of Jacquetta,
that Disbrowc beii-an to lani::li.

" And the man — what of him ?"

" Oh, he was the same fellow that she struck for
taking hold of her when she interfered in behalf of
Dick — and a worthless scamp he was ; but from that
day he reformed ; got sober and industrious, and is a
lirst-rate old fellow now; and would die gladly, I be-
lieve in my soul, for Jack. So, there's the history of
two of hor 2n'ote(/ee-'i"

It was strange the effect these and similar stoi-ies
of Jacquetta's daring and kindness of heart had on Dis-
browe. Softened and tender his thoughts of her grew,
until his cheek flushed, and his eyelired, and his pulses
bounded, and he drew a long, quivering breath, and
wished from the very depths of liis soul she were a!i
heiress, with a rent-roll of twenty thousand a year, thtit
be might dare to love her. As it was, he might as well
venture to fall in love with the moon, for all hope he
ever could have of marryino- her.

" That's the worst of it with poor devils of younger
brothers like me, without a rap to bless themselves
with ! They can't fall in love like decent Christians,
and marry whom they please ; but whew! Alfred Dis-
bi'owe, my boy, do you know what yuu are talking
about ? What have yoio to do with falling in love — you
who are signed, sealed, and delivered, as good as mar-
ried, already ? I wish I had never seen Jack De V'^ere !"
he exclaimed, almost passionately. " That girl can be-
devil with her wild, witching ways whoever t^lm j)leases ;
and I'll be sure to go and make a fool of myself before
I have done ! Oh, Jack De Vere ! you compound of

•'!,

148

CAPTAIN DISDROWE

»,-v.

ID I

inoonsistcncics ! was there ever one like you before in
tJie world r'

8ittin«i: there, lie tlionii'lit of her in all her chann^inf]:
moods, until the momentary f^loom that had overspread
his lin(>. face passed away, and ai^ain he lanij;lied.

" What a sensation she would make among the titled
dames who crowd l^ontelle Park, to he sure— this wild
Yankee i-irl ! I think I see l-^ady JMaru^aret's look of
horror and consternation, KarneclillVs hau_ii;hty dismay,
and the wonder and amazement, not to say terror, of
the rest. Ilow Tom Vane, and Lord Austrey, and all
the rest of the fast bloods, would rave about her; and
liow she would be toasted and talked of — the lionnc of
the day ! Ilei^■ho ! what a ])ity it is a man dare not do
as he ])leases! It some kind fairy would ,i!;ive me tifty
thousand pounds ' liis moment, J believe in my soul I
M'ould mnrry the L-irl, if she would have me, in spite of
fate and — Norma Macdonald !''

In a more! thonu'litful nu)od than was customarv
with the _i:;;iy. can'less, ?io/?r/!^^A/;//youn<ji;^'uardsnum, he
walked back to I'^ontelk', and watchcid ,lac(]uetta dui'ing
dinner, with a strangi; mingling of pain and i)leasure.
80 gay. so blight, so bewitching she was — this spark-
linii; fav of the moonlight — this briixht-winwd little bird
of Paradise — this daring, dauutless-heartedJoan of Are
— that he would luu^e given ^^■orl(ls, at that moment,
could he for one instant have called her his. With a
thrill that tingled through every vein in his heart.
Captain Alfred Disbrowe — the brother of an earl, a
peer of the realm in ])rospectivc — made the discovery
that he was falling in love, and with this penniless, red-
luiired " Vnidvee •••irl."

An hour after dinner, she came flyiunj in her light,
breezy way, down stairs, e(pn'])ped for her walk, and
looking more beautiful, he thought, than ho had ever
seen her before. Jler dark-hlue dress and black velvet
shawl set off the e\(piisite fairness of her i)early com-
plexion, lier cheeks were HusIkhI, her gray eyes shone
and sparkled like stars, her smiling mouth looked more

MAKES A LVSCOVERY.

149

like a rose-lmd tlian over, uiKllievsliort, briujlit, dancing
ciii'Ls flashed around her snow-white, polisiied, lanii:;hing
forehead, with a careless grace of their own, that al-
most surprised Disbrowe into an inward conviction that
there ^cas a possibility of red hair looking pretty. 13ut,
then, the honorable captain was falling in love with
their fairy owner, and could not be expected to be an
impartial judge.

"Do you know what I was doing this morning,"
said Jacquetta, as they walked along.

"Well," said Disbrowe, "I don't pretend to divina-
tion ; l)ut I tbiidv 1 can guess. You were most prob-
ably sitting beside your handsome ])atient."

"■Exactly! You are as smart at guessing as a
YViikee. But I was doing something more. I was
reading."

" Ah ! were you ? Your prayer-book, I suppose ?"

" Dear me ! how sarcastic we are ! No ; it was a
novel — an old story — so old and simple that the fastidi-
ous, reflned Captain Disbrowe would pitch it away
with a contemptuous ' pshaw !' as unworthy his im-
perial notice ; yet 1 liked it."

" Captain Disbrowe would have liked anything you
did, my dear child."

" Oh, would he ? Leaping over the Demon's Gorge,
for instance, lie didn't seem to like that !"

"Most malicious of fairies! am I never to hear the
last of that f

" Don't pay compliments, then. But about this
story — I was reading it to Jacinto, and he liked it, too ;
and he's a judge of good things, »lacinto is. Knows so
much, too — is a heap too clever for a foreigner, in
fact."

" No doubt you think so," said Disbrowe, bitterly ;
"ho is perfection in your eyes — a young jackanapes!"

"Come, Captain Disbrowe, be civil. 1 can't stand
this, you know. But in this old story I was telling
you of, when you were so im})()lite as to put me out,
there was a young nobleman who fell in love with a

150

CAPTAIN DISDROWE

^ I

r ' \i

peasant girl — one of his father's tenants — and she fell
in love with him."

"A pcusaiit girl! What a precious fool he must
have been !" said JJisbrowe, sotto voce.

"AVell, his father heard it, and raised no end of a
row. Tn vain the lover pleaded ; the old gentleman
was inexorable — wouldn't be brought to view matters
in their proper light at all, and ended by banishing his
son from home; and, wdien he got him away, com-
pelling the girl to marry somebody else."

" VV^ell, 1 daresay she was willing enough," said
Disbrowe ; " girls generally are, to get married. What
did the unfortunate young gentleman do, when he
heard it ? Married some Lady Seraphina Ann, I sup-
pose."

"No, sir! he died of a broken lieart ! What do
you think of that ?" said Jacquetta, triumphantly.

Disbrowe laughed. " What a paragon he was !
Ought to be labeled and sent to the British Museum,
as the eighth, last, and greatest wonder of the world. A
man with a broken heart ! Ye gods !" And Captain
Disbrowe laughed immoderately.

" (31i, you may laugh," said Jacquetta ; " but my be-
lief is that there are some men who have hearts to
break, in this llinty world, if one could only find them.
Now, what would you do, cousin Alf, for a woman you
loved ?"

" Something better than break my heart, I should
hope."

" Are you quite sure yon have one to break ? Would
you risk your life for her i"

" No ; something better."

" Die, then V

"Die?— not I! Better still."

" What, then ? I give it up."

"Make her Mrs. D."

"That would be a climax of happiness, certainly !
Oh, the self-conceit of man ! And so that is all the
extent to which your gallantry would carry you, is it ?"

MAKES A DISC OVERT.

151

" All, ma belle, what would I not risk for joii !"
said Disbrowe, softly, with liis handsome eyes lixad on
her face.

Ja(-'qiietta laughed. " Dreadfully obli.iijcd, Vm sure.
And here goes to test that declaration. Climb up there
and briui' me those llowers."

A huge, steep bowlder, almost perpendicular, re: red
up near them, and at a dizzy height from the g.'ouu 1 a
cluster of pretty pink flowers grew in a cleft. J.k;-
(pietta pointed to these, and said, imperatively,
''Clhnb!"

Had she told liim to spring into the seething crater
of Mount Vesuvius iu that tone, he would have obeyed.
Before the word had well passed her lips, he was al-
rea<.ly on his way up the giddy steep.

It was a dangerous place to venture, only suited to
cats and sailors, and other wild animals, accustomed to
walk on air ; but Captain Disbrowe wns young, lithe,
;md active, and went up with marvelous speed, clinging
to loose pieces of rock, and hardy, projecting plants.
Jacquetta stood below watching him with a queer smile
on her pretty face.

lie reached the cleft at last, seized the llowers, and'
prepared to descend ; but — alas for his knight-errantry !
— the treacherous stone on which he stood gave way,
and the next instant he lay stunned and motionless on
the ground.

With a great cry, Jacquetta sprang forward and
bent over him. Without sign of life ho lay, and kneel-
ing beside him, she raised his head, crying out in tones
of passionate grief :

" O Alfred ! cousin Alfred ! look up — speak to me !
— say you arc not hurt ! Oh, lie is dead ! and I have
killed him!"

She bent over him as ho lay, cold and still, and her
lips touched his cheek. The next instant, she recoiled
in terror at the hot rush of blood that followed that
slight caress.

But that was enough. As a slight dent with a

153

A DISC0VEU7.

"i f

])oy's foot once overflowed tlie dam, and changed it to
a foaming torrent, so everything was swept witli resist-
less force from liis mind at tlie touch of those rosy
lips, save the one thrilling, tumultuous thought that
lie loved her, with all his heart aud soul. The next
moment she was in his arms, held there almost liercely,
while he stooped over her, with a strange lire burning
in his dark eyes, and !i strange flush on his handsome
face, (trying out flercely, passionately :
" Jacquetta ! Jacquetta! 1 love you !"
Witli a cry that he never forgot — a cry fiercer,
wilder, more passionate than his own — she dashed liis
retaining arms awaj', wrenched herself from his grasp,
and clasping her hands over her ears, as if to shut out
the sound, fled — fled for more than life — away.

W M I

A STRANGE MEETING.

153

CHAPTER XII.

A STRANGE MEETING.

"Dare you linger bore at midniglit,
Alone wiien tlic nind is about ?
And the bat, and tlie newt, and the viper,

And the (Mccping things come out.
Beware of these ghostly chambers,

Search not -whiit my heart halli been,
Lest you tind a phantom sitting
Where once there sat a queen."

— Owen Meredith.

T was in rather a peculiar mood, to use a mild
phrase, that the llonorahlo Alfred Disbrowe
walked hoine ; there were a ^reat many
conilictiiiG: fccliiiGrs siiri>:in<j: throuurh his
mind, and chief among them were astonisli-
mcnt and mortiiicatioTi. Did ever a man in this workl
make a proposal, and have it answered in such fashion
as this? Did ev^er any livinfi; beinpj behold such a
provoking little minx as this fierce, um'eadablo little
enigma — this s;ivage little wild-cat, who imslieathed
her claws and scratched, the moment he came too near
— this young tornado — this small flash of lightning —
this little grenade, all jets, and tire, and sparkles? It
would have been a comfort to i>;et hold of her —
to shake her — to pull her ears — and then love her a
thouand-fold more than ever. Captain Disbrowe was just
in the mood to do both. Jle could have boxed her
ears with all his heart, and yet never had that heart
thrilled in all his life as it was thrilling at that moment
to the sound of her name. How his pulses le;ipcd,
and his blood bounded at the recollection ot" Ikm' small,
iuvoluutary, cousinly caress. O Jacijiietta! Jaciptetta!

'\.

154

A STRANGE MEETfNG.

— you littlo inflammiition of tlic heart I — you little
thunderclap! how much you had to answer for, for
throwing:: the indolent, nonchalant, careless Captain
Alfred Dishrowc into such a state of mind as that !

lie reached home, at last — half-hoping, half-dread-
inf^, to meet Jacquetta. The drawing-room door lay
open, and a clear, sweet voice he knew only too well.

was smgmg :

" Oh, the Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud and he's great,
His mind's tiilceu up \vi' iiio things o' the state."

!i y

Hif'i '

" There ! there is a hole in the ballad ! Where's
papa, Frank?"

" Up stairs, in the liljrary," said Frank, sauntering
out, encountering Disbrowe in the hall.

Disbrowe went in — half-afraid to do it, too, for he
could not tell how Jacquetta would meet him. She
was lying back, lialf-buried in the downy cushion of a
lounge, caressing lier huge, savage dog, Lion, who
crouched at her feet, licking her hand and watching
her with his eyes of llame. As Disbrowe entered, he
started up, with a growl like distant thunder.

" Now, Lion, be quiet! — have manners, can't you?
It's only your Cousin Alfred, you know. Come in, my
dear sir; I'm alone here, and feel awfully blue." And
a dreary yawn attested the truth of her words.

As Captain Disbrowe, angry and provoked at this
unlooked-for sort of greeting, obeyed, and Hung himself,
half-sullenly, into an arm-chair, her eyes fell on the
dearly-bought flowers which, almost unknown to hini-
solf, he still carried in his hand.

" Oh, what pretty flowers ! Hand them here,
Cousin Alfred. Lion, go after them."

Lion dutifully got up and trotted over, took the
flowers in his mouth and brouo-ht them to his mistress.

" How sweet they are — how ])retty — almost as deli-
cious as the giver !" And the wicked fairy looked up,
and laughed in his face.

A STRANGE MEETING.

155

Wlien a suppressed oath, Captain Disbrowe sprang
to his feet aud bcii^aii paciiiLT, with passionate strides, up
and down. Of all her vvillful moods, he had not sup-
posed she would meet him like this: seorn and anger
— blushing and avoidance — silence and hauteur, he
could have borne and managed ; l)ut this — this sublime
forgetfulness of the whole thing — this audacious cool-
ness and unconcern ! Had she been trying for years,
she could not have hit on a way so likely to enrage him ;
and I am afraid, as he ground his teeth, more than^ne
naughty word escaped.

Jacquetta arched her eyebrows, and pursed up her
lips.

" Why, Cousin Alfred ! Good gracious ! I wonder
you ain't ashamed ! Do you know what you said, sir?"

"Jacquetta, you will drive me mad!" he exclaimed,
passionately.

" Dear me ! you said it a^^ain ! Now, Lion, behave
yourself! Don't eat all my flowers that way !"

" Jacquetta, will you listen to me?" he cried, step-
ping before lier in his excited walk.

" Well — proceed."

" Jacquetta, I love you."

" Well, I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure. It shows a
good deal of good sense on your part. Now, Lion, will
you stop eating my flowers ?"

" Oh, saints and angels, grant me patience ! Jac-
quetta, you will drive me mad !"

" Well, you told me that before, if I don't mistake.
What's the good of repeating it 'i (to on."

With a tierce imprecation, he was up again, striding
up and down as if he really was mad. Jacquetta rose
on her elbow, adjusted her pillow, so that she could lie
and watch him comfortably.

"Cruel ! — heartless! — unwomanly!" burst passion-
ately from his lips, as he strode on without heedmg her.

She looked at him with a strange, mocking smile on
her face, and drew the ears of her savage pet through
her Angers.

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156

A STRANGE MEETING.

" Not tired yet," she Scaid, when he ce:i8ed. " Per-
haps you are going into training for a pedestrian V

" Insulting ! — unfeeling coquette !" he bitterly
cried.

Slie arose, liauglitily.

" You forget yourself, sir ! Another word like that,
and I leave the room !"

" Oh, Jacquetta ! you are enough to drive a man
crazy ! but forgive me, I hardly knew what 1 was say-
mg."

" So I think. Captain Disbrowe ! Had you not bet-
ter come to your senses as soon as }>ossible ?"

" Jacquetta, are you merciless 'i I have asked for
bread — shall I get a stone ?"

" You deserve a vi])er, sir ! Sit down, I tell you !"
she said, imperiously.

He obeyed, with something like a groan.

" Now, then, Captain Disbrowe, wduit do you want?"

" You, Jacquetta ! — my love ! my darling !"

Oh, the infinite depth of mockery in her eyes and
smile !

" Indeed ! And what do you ^vant of me, pray ?"

" Oh, Jacquetta ! what a question !"

" Is it ! I see nothing extraordinary in it. If you
came and asked me for Lion, here, I should probably ask
you what you wanted of him, as well. And I rather
fancy you would find it an easier question to answer
than tiiis."

He was silent, and bit his lip. The look of intense
mockery on Jacquetta's face was mingled now with un-
utterable scorn.

" Oh, the wisdom of these men ! Oh, this wonder-
ful love of theirs ! Oh, this unspeakable depth of re-
linement and delicacy ! Lion, my boy, thank God you
love me, and have not a man's heart !"

" Jacquetta !" he said with a haughty flush, " what
do you mean ?"

" Oh, to be sure !" siie said, " you do not know.
If I had been one of your Lady Marys, or Lady Junes,

A STRANGE MEETING.

157

would yoii have dared to t;dk tome like this? lleeansc
vol! found me u wild Yankee ^nrl, who rode steej)le-
chases, ])la}'ed with d(>a:s instead of iJerlin wool and
French novels, you thought you were free to insult nie,
and to talk io me as you would to a eoal-hcaver's
daui;-hter in Eni^land. Don't interrupt me, sir, and
don't attempt to deny it ; for, knowin<^ what we both
know, such a declaration from you is nothing more
nor less than an insult !"'

He ^aced round, and the light of his dark, bright,
handsome eyes shone full upoji her face.

" What wo both know," he said, slowly. "May I
ask what you mean hy that. Miss Ja('(pietta?"

Her face flushed to the very temples, and for a
second or two, her eyes fell.

" I won't tell you !" she said, defiantly. " But I
know more than I ever learned from you !"

Her tone, hot at Urst, fell into its customary saucy
cadence as she went on ; and she broke into a short
laugh, and fell to caressing Lion ngain as she ceased.

" And this is my answer i" he said, bitterly.

"Your answer? Yes, sir! I hope it pleases you !"

" And this is Jacquetta ?"

" At your service, sir. How do you like her ?"

" Have you a woman's heart, Jacquetta, or is there
a stone in its place."

" Perhaps there is." And she laughed wickedly.
" If so, you ought to be satislied ; for you said, away
back there in your first chapter, tliat I had given you
a stone."

" Have you no mercy ?"

" None for my foes. The motto of a true De Yero

18, * War to the knife !' "

" tigerdicart !" cried Disbrowe. " Am I to get
no reply but this '^"

" Hcply to what ? Begin at the beginning of the
catechism again, and see how I will answer you. Ask
away, and never fear but you will get your auswer."

" I told you I loved you."

158

A STRANG/': MF.ETING.

V m

" Yes — I ]i;ivo :i faint recollection of the fact. But
you don't call that a question, 1 hope?"

"Nevertheless, I expected an answer."

" Ah ! What was it to be ?"

'* That you loved me in return."

Jacquetta laughed ; and springing up, began de-
claiming, stage fashion :

■" ' Wlion in tlmt moment, so it came to pass,

Titauia wukcd, and straightway loved an — ass.'

" You see, I can quote Shakspere as well as you,
Cousin Alfred."

He ground his teeth with rage.

" Oh, Heavens above ! And this is what 1 have
loved ?"

" Don't get excited, my good Alfred — my dear
Alfred ! ICeep cool ; and if you find the air of this
room heating, would you mind my insinuating a walk
up and down the maple avenue, out there? The air,
this cool spring day, will be a good thing to take."

"Heart of Hint! — heart of steel! A tigress would
have more pity than you !"

"Pity!" she said, in a tone that made him start.
She had arisen to her feet, with one arm upraised, with
her cheek's aiire, and her eyes aflame. " Pity ! Yes ;
I pity myself from the very depths of my soul, that I
should ever have fallen low enough to listen to this!"

She swept across the room like a tragic queen, with
the ringing tread of an outraged empress. That light
in her eye, that fire in her cheek — all unusual there —
what did it forbode ?

" What have I said — what have I done, that you
should dare to utter words like these? I am a wild,
willful, thoughtless girl, too fearless and masculine, it
may be, for my sex ; but is it my fault that God gave
me a man's heart, to do, aiid dare, and brave? I was
frank and open with you, because I thought you an
honorable man — because I thought you would under-

A STRANGE MEETING.

159

stand mc ; and I could liavc lovod yon as a brotlior.
And you have returned it like this ! (.)h, Ca|)taiii Dis-
browe ! it is v/or so. than ''AY iu, Unite f You know,
and I know, now that the scales Jiave fallen from my
eyes, how you rc^^ard me. Would you marry me i
would you take me to Enj^land'^ would you show me
to y(nir friends — me, the mad, uncivilized, North
American savaijje — as your honored wife, and the
future Lady Earneclille, of Disbrowo Park? No, sir!
You never would! Y'ou never intended to! And
even if you would, could you, as a man of honor, have
done so? Ask your own heart — if you have one — and
let it reply."

It was her turn to pace up and down now, and she
was doino; it with a venn^eance. lie had leaned his
elbow on the table and dropped his forehead on it, and
his face v/as white and cold as marble.

"The name I bore miijjht have saved me from
insult; but it has not done so. Never, in .ill my life,
have I fallen so low in my own eyes, as I have done
this day! It may 1)0 that I hnve deserved it; but
coming from you — Oh, Cousin Alfred! iv/iat have I
done tliat you should liave shai'pened this arrow f(jr
my heart?"

There was such ]xissionate sorrow in her voice, that
it moved him as nothing else had ever done ; and lift-
ing his head, he would have spoken, but she motioned
him to silence with a wave of her hand.

" No — say nothing. It is too late ! If I were the
only one injured to-day, you might be foi'given ; but
that other — that other, to whom you are bound by vows
death alone can ever break. O Alfred Disbrowe ! who
shall forojive you for the wrong vou have done her ?"

Impetuously he started to his feet, and dashed back
the clustering locks of his fair, brown hair.

" Jacquetta, this is not the first time you have in-
sinuated something which must be explained — I repeat
it, must be ! What do you mean ?"

She paused before him, and met his excited gaze,

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160

.1 ST RAN UK MEETING.

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witli eyes from wliicli the fierce, anpy Uglit liad died
out ; and u fuhit, a scarcely perceptible smile, llickered
around her mouth.

'•IShall 1 really tell you ?"

" Yes."

" And you mean to say you do not understand rae ?"

" I say notliin^\ 1 want you to explain."

" Then," she said, with a trium])liant flash of her
eye, "you shall have it ! What of jVo?'i/ia ?"

" JacMpietta !"

" Alfred !" she said, with a mocking smile.

" Who told you ? — how came you — "

"There, that is enough ! Go — leave me!" And she
opened the door and pointed out.

" First tell nie— "

" I will not I — leave me !" slie said, with an imperi-
ous stamp of her foot. " And take this parting piece of
advice with you. Forget what has passed this evening,
as I will endeavor, also, to do. Forget there is such a
person as the girl Jaccpietta, and think of me only as
the boy Jack Ue Vere. There — go!"

She held out her arm toward the door, and kept it
in that position until he was gone, angrily and haugh-
tily. And for an hour after that, she paced to and
fro, up and down the room, without stopping once, with
eyes so full of dark, bitter gloom, that you would hardly
have known her for the gay, laughing fairy of Fontelle
Hall. kSho went over, at last, and leaned wearily against
the mantel, and looked in the Are burning on the
marble hearth. Long and intently she gazed in the
glowing coals, as though some dark picture had arisen
tliere before her. Was that vision anything like that
of old Grizzle Ilowlet's of the inn ? Did she see the
foul gulf and the prostrate form lying in the slime at
the bottom — lying at his feet too 'i Something dark it
must have been, for she drew a long, shivering breath,
as she turned away, with a weary step and a paling
cheek.

The sound of pleasant voices and gay laughter

A STUANOE MEETING.

IGl

greeted the ears of Disbrowc an hour or so later when
he ascended to the parhjr for the eveiiinii^ meal, and fell
on liis angry lieart like vinegar npon niter. All the
family were assembled there. Mr. De Vere sat in his
arm-chair beside a couch, on which reclined the boy
Jacinto, with whom lie was gayly chatting. Somewl:;it
l)aler and thinner than when he had ?-iivn him last was
.laeinto, but as handsome as ever, and looking wonder-
fully interesting, with his arm in a sling. On the
hearth-rug beside him sat Jacqiietta, laughing as mer-
rily as though care or anger were to her wortls without
meaning. Frank was leaning over the back of the
couch, enjoying the fun, and Lady Augusta — the
very image of a marble Niobe — sat near, with her pale
face bent on her hand.

Bisbrowe at once advanced to where the boy lay,
and hurriedly began some words oi thanks tor what he
termed his '' brave conduct " and " generous heroism "
in risking his life for a stranger, until the boy's full
face Hushed with endjarrassment, and he sln-ank away,
as if in avoidance of the subject. Jacquetta saw his
natural confusion, and came to his relief.

" There, thera. Cousin Alfred! that will do; he'll
imagine the rest, and it will s])are your eloquence and
his blushes. Here comes Tribula with the tea-U'^i; so
come, Master Jacinto, and sit here beside me, and if
you are as hungry as 1 am, you will do justice to those
delic-ious rice-waiHes and oyster patties 1 see there."

Disbrowe bowed coldly, and took his place. All
the evening Jacquetta was in the highest possible
spirits, and best possible looks. There was a streaming
brilliancy in her eyes, a feverish liusli on her cheeks,
and her round, white, polished forehead looked pure and
marble-like by the contrast. Her short, red curls
Hashed and shone like rings of flame, and there was a
buoyant lightness in her step, a clear, joyous ring in
her voice, that angered one there present, until for the
moment he felt as if he hated her for it. A^ever had
her hands flown so easily or so brilliantly over the pol-

■Ji I"

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't( .:iiii

A STRANGE MEETING.

i.-licd keys of the piano, cntraaciiii^ one and all ; and
ni.'ver had her voice rani^ out so eiear and sweet as it
(lid tliat ni^'ht. Soniij after sonpj ilowed from her lips
as tliou^h she was ins])ii'ed. And, willful, wayward,
unaccountable girl that she was, she Rang, without be-
ing aoked, all the old English songs she knew Disbrowe
liked, as he had never heard them sung before. There
was a depth of ])athos and a passionate tenderness in her
voice, as she sai.g " Come back to me Douglas, tend^-F
and true," that made the song a very wail of despair —
a cry of anguish from a broken heart, so full of hope-
less love, strong as death ; and Disbrowe sat with his
face averted, still, dark, voiceless and motionless. A
8ob l)roke the deep silence before she ceased, from the
Spanish boy Jacinto.

" What I has that old Scotch sonir brought tears to

your eyes ^" said Jaccpietta, with a laugh. "What a
thing it is to have a tender heart ! JMo doubt the
Scotch lassie forgot her darling Dougl.is a week after,
and took up with the iirst Sandie that came along!"

" What an opinion you have of your sex, Flibberti-
gibbet," said Hv. De Vere. " Wait until you get a
' Dougla:j ' of your own, and see if you will not he as
silly and love-sick as any Scotch hissie that ever tripped
the heather."

" How do you know I have not got one now, papa?"
said J acqnetta, with a careless laugh. "There never
yet was a girl who reached the age of twenty without
losing her heart a score of times."

" Well, whoever got yours, Jack, I wish him joy of

it," said Frank, with a shrug.

" So you may ! lle'il need all your good wishes,
poor fellow 1 It's a sort of a bottle-imp, dangerous alike
to buyer and owner. Why, what on earth is that V

The sound of an altercation in the hall reached their
ears, and then a shrill, childish, imperious voice was
heard :

" I will go in — T tell you ! I'll go in, in spite of
you. Let go — will you ?"

A STRANGE MEETING.

163

Jaequctta ilnng open the door ; and, to the amaze-
ment of ail, the Uttlc elf, Orric llowlet, ran in — lier
black hair streaming abont her — lier black eyes bright
with an angry light. She gave a quick glance round
the room, until she beheld Disbrowe, and then, with a
cry of delight, she darted over and sprang into his arms.

" I knew vou were lierc : hut that liorridokl woman
didn't want to let me in. Don't you let her get me."

'• If jou please, 'm," said Tribulation, a hard-visaged,
stern-looking, elderly woman, " she would come in, yon
know."

'• There ! never mind. It's all right, Tribulation,"
said Jacquetta, closing the door.

" Who, in the name of all the kelpies, is this?" ex-
claimed Mr. De Vere, while Augusta and Jacinto
looked the wonder they did not speak.

The child, who had clasped Disbrowe round the
neck, glanced over her shoulder, and composedly said :

" Oh, Orrie llowlet ! you know ! Old Grizzle's
little girl. You needn't be scared !"

Jacquetta and Disbrowe laughed, partly at the little
one's impertnrbable gravity, and partly at Mr. Do
Vere's consternation.

"What in the world brought you here to-night,
0]Tic V said Disbrowe, who was half-amused and half-
allectcd by the little one's strange love for himself.

" Why, to see you ! I said I would come, you
know ! You won't send me away — will you V she
said, looking up earnestly in his handsome, smiling
face.

" Not if Mr. Do Yere will let you stay. And so
you came all the way from the inn to see me — did you,
"Orrie ?"

"Oh, yef]!" said Orrie, clinging closer to him.

" Docs old Grizzle know ?"

"No; I guess slie don't," said Orrie, with one of
her sh(M't, shrill laughs. " Oh ! won't she bo mad when
she linds out ^"

" Will she beat you ?"

r:p^'=^^^="'^B^^^^sm^^mBStsm

164

A STRANGE MI':ETING.

" Bg sure she will !" said Orrie, coniplaoently.
" Oil I won't slio, tliOiii:^li ! J>iit I don't care. I liavu
seon you, you Icnow, and she can't I)c;at that away i "

" My dear ciiihl," said Di^browe, touched l>y her
look and tone, "if I had known you cared so much for
seein<^ inc, 1 sliould iiave ridden over to the inn. I
wouhi not iiave you get punished for nie."

" Would you be sorry V said the little one, opening
her eyes.

" Yes, very."

*' And you like mc, too?"

" Very much, my dear little girl. It is something
to be k)ved in this world as you love me !"

There was such sorr(.)wful bitterness in his tone,
that Orrie's black eyes oj)ened wider ihan ever. A
small, white hand fell softly ou his, and with it fell a
bright droj).

" Why, I declare," said Orrie, in the utmost sur-
prise, ''if Miss Jack ain't a cryin' !"

Jac(iuetta stooped down, and impulsively touched
her lips to those that had so lately kisssed Disbrowe, with
the involuntary cry :

" O Orrie ! love me, too ! Dear little Orrie, love
rae, too !"

Orrie gave her one of her impulsive hugs and
kisses, scanning her curiously meanwhile, and then she
asked :

" But you were cry in', weren't you ? What ma4e
you cry T'

"Me! iS'onsensc, Oi'rie ! 1 wasn't crying!" said
Jac(pietta, with a gay laugh.

" Oh, I thought you were,'' tfai<3 Orrie, ap])arently
relieved. "1 hate to sec })i'oi)l»' cry (Hi! .here's
Frank! — [ must go and see him."' said the elf, spriug-
iiig from Disbrowe's arms, and naming over to iM'ank.

Looking down at the same moment, flaccjuetUi
caught the dark, bright, handsome eyes of Di*(l>roWft
fixed full upon her, and colored to the temples. With

A STRANGE MEETING.'

165

an impatont <j^esturc, she turned a\vay, and seated her-
eelf on a low ottoman, at Jacinto's iVet.

Orrio had s])ninij;' into Frank's arms, and was cling-
ing to him in her cat-like fashion, while Frank's coun-
tenance maintained an expression of liauglity dignity.

"iSo; you needn't kiss me, Miss llowlet. (Vnd
you had better get down oil' my knee, and go hack to
that big monster over there. If you like him ao nuich
better than me, yon ought to stay with him."

'■' Why, you ain't mad — are you 'C said Orrie, giving
him a shake.

''Yes, I am mad, ]\[iss Ilowletl and a good deal
jealous too. I'efore he came bothering along, and cut-
ting me out, I used to come in for all your kissing and
loving; an<l n<nv 1 have to phiy seconddiddle, and
hardly get noticed at that. It's a shame, i\liss llowlet;
it's a confounded shame; yes, an abominable shame,
Miss llowlet ; and 1 wonder how you (.'an look me in
the face. • I never expected such treatnuMit from you
— and I never coidd have believed it, so I couldn't !"

And Frank wiped away an imaginary tear, with
his uncle's handkerchief, of which he had just picked
his pocket.

" Well, there! — don't cry!" said Orrie, giving him
a penitent scpieeze. "1 didn't do it — 1 mea.. J didn't go
for io do it ; and 1 do like you ever so nnu-h ; but then
you kn(AV he's real luce, and 1 have to like him too.
Don't you like him <"

"I^o; 1 don't! I hate liim — an un feeling blood-
thirsty monster!" said Frank, with a ferocious howl.
" I'll shoot him. I'll assassinate him. I'll blow his
brains out with the lirst loaded crowbar 1 can iind —
eo J wil' "

histan^^^ly Orrie was oil his knee; her black eyes
flashing, and her small list clenched.

''lie ain't a tnonster, you great big Btory-teller,
you ! You're a monster yourself! .Vnd if you shoot him,
I'll shoot you — mind if I don't!''

"Hallo! What's all this ^" said Mr. I )(" Vere, looking

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166

A STRANGE MEETING.

V ^

<•' n

lip. " Quarreling already ? What a little spitfire it
is?"

" It ain't me — it's him ! Calling people names as he
has no husiness to! 1 wish you would speak to him,
and make him stop."

" Now, Frank, don't tease the child. WLy can't
you let her alone ?"

" Well, I am letting her alone. I never touched
her," said Frank.

'" Why, Augusta," said Jacquetta, suddenly, " what
do you see so wonderful about the child ? You have
been looking at her so intently for the last five minutes."

"Don't you see it?" said Augusta, with a look of
transient interest in her heavy eyes.

" See wdiat {"

" The resemblance to — "

" I see it ! 1 noticed it from the first !" said Jacinto,
eagerly.

" To whom f said Mr. Do Vere, while a slight pale-
ness overspread the face of Jacquetta.

"To Jacquetta," replied both togetlier.

" Tc Jacquetta 'I Bless my soul !" said Mr. l)e Yere.
"Come here, liitle girl, until 1 see you."

Orrie walked over with imperturbable composure,
and stood gravely before him. Mr. \}^, Vere put liis
finger under her chin, tipped u[) hor face, and looked
at her; while the black eyes met his, unflinchingly.

"Pooh! she doe^^n't look like Jack," said Mr. Do
Vere; "she has black eyes and black hair."

" While 1 am i2:ra\-eyed and red-haired !" broke in
Jaccpietta, with a langli.

" And she is as dark as a gipsy, while Jack is fair.
Pooh ! pooh ! Where are y(tnr eyes, all of you ^ Do
you think she looks like you, Jack V

" J (ionfess I cannot see the resemblance, papa."

" The likeness is not so much in features as in ex-
pression," said Augusta. " I did not notice it until
Frank angered her, and then the look was exactly the

Bame.

A Sr RANGE MEETINO.

107

" So it was," said Frank. " Como to tliiiik of it, elie
did look like Jack that time, in one of her tantrums!"

" 1 have observed it, too !" said Dishrowe. " It is
one of those accidental likenesses we sometimes see in
strangers, and that ])iizzles us so. I have known similar
cases several times."

^' It appears Miss Orrie is not the only one I look
like, according to yon, Captain Dis])rowe!" laughed
Jacquetta, "since I am a miniature edition of Captain
Nick Tempest, too. Now I can understand how I look
like him ; but I confess I am it a loss to trace a resem-
blance between myself and this dark little fairy here."

" Is she going to stay here all night f said Mr. De
Vere.

" Yes ; I suppose so. Come here, Orrie, will you
sleep with me to-night V said Jacquetta.

Orrie nodded assent, and yawned.

" That's one go-to-bed," said Frank. " She'll be
asleep presently, if you don't take her off. I rather
think 1 will turn in myself, too," he added, getting
up.

As it was already late, this was a signal for all to
disperse; and Orrie having given Disbrowe a parting
embrace, and informed him he was to see her home the
next day, was led olf by Jacquetta to her own room.

Disbrowe reached his pleasant chamber; drew np a
chair before the tire ; lit his cigar, and with his soul in
slippers, prepared to take life easy. Lost in thought,
hours passed unheeded, until he was suddenly brought
to his feet with a bound, by a sound familiar enough now.
It was a strange, far-olf, eerie music, rising and falling
faintly and sweetly on the midnight air.

Instantly a determination t,) get at the bottom of
this mystery entered the head of Captain Disbrowe.
Curiosity was strong within him ; but that was not the
chief impulse that sent him olf. It was Jaccjuetta's
connection with the singular alfair. Anything cou-
ccrning her concerned him now; and determined to
discover what lii<ldeu skeleton, what \\\\w Iicsard't]

A STRANOE MEETING.

& * i\

hi-
ll li

^' 1

' 1

1 1

U 1

cliamber Fontelle Hall contained, lie was down stairs,
througli tlio liall, and standing alone in the clear moon-
light almost in an instant.

That there was some other enti-ance to this north
wing he was convinced ; and find it he was determined,

if he had to search until morning.

The night was

almost as clear as day ; the moon rose clear and full in
the heavens, and cast fantastic shadows around the
stately pile. He glanced \\]), and saw the whole house
enveloped in darkness, save a light that streamed redly
from one window — from Augusta's window, he knew.
She, then, was up yet. AVhat was she doing? Could
it really be sleepless remorse for some " unacted crime "
tliat preyed on her mind, wearing her to a skeleton, and
making her the living petrifaction she was? She her-
self had acknowledged that it was; but that very
acknowledgment, if nothing else, would have made
Disbrowe doubt it.

Tiiere were several massive doors in this north wing,
and little d'Hiculty in disct)vering them ; but the thing
was to open them. Stiif with rain and storm, and
long neglect, they were almost as solid as the wall
itself, and he soon gave up all hope of effecting an
entrance by means of tlieiu. lie fancied that down
amid the ivy there might be some aperture in the
ruined walls, large enough to jieriiiit his entrance.
And in this hope he was not disappointed. Hidden
among the clustering vines v,'as what had once been
an outer entrance into a sort of cellar, the door of
which was now com])letely broken oif. Wrenching
away the ivv, Disbrowe i)assed in, and discovered a
flight of stone steps at one end, leading evidently to the
u])per room, lie ascended, and found himself in a
large, echoing, desolate-looking apartment, with oak
wainscotting, and niches in the wall that had once held
statues, but were hung with cobwebs now. Through
the high, narrow, diamond paiied windows, with their
leaden casements, tlie j)ale moonlight shone brightly,
casting a sort of ghostly glare around the dark, desolate

W <

A STRANGE MEETING.

169

room. And still tlic music rose and fell, and swelled
and died away in litful gusts, seemini^ly near at hand.
Following the sound, lie was about to pass through the
room into the next, when an unexpected sound struck
his car, and caused him to fall back with a guilty start,
as if he had been caught in some unworthy act.

It was a sound of voices in the room he was about
to enter — familiar voices, too, speaking in suppressed
but passionate tones. Both voices were recognized in
an instant as those of Jacquetta and old Grizzle ilowlet.

It was rather a startling interruption to his noctur-
nal search. Hitherto he had scarcely thought of it ;
but now it struck him as a base return of his uncle's
hospitality, this attempting to pry into the secrets of
his household. He turned hastily to descend the stairs
• and escape ; ^ but before he could reach them, the
sound of their rapidly-advancing footsteps made him
turn round iind seek some nearer place of concealment.
The door of a small closet stood ajar and stepping in there,
lie softly closed it, just as Jacqiietta and old Grizzle
entered the room.

CHAPTER XIII.

UNMASKED.

"Break, break, brenk !

At the foot of tliy craj^s, O sea;
But the teiiucr <s;\-avc of u clay tliat is dead
Will uevor come buck lo me!"

— Tennyson.

Ill

ik 1

II ll

NE moniont later, and the Honorable Cap-
tain Di.sbrowc would have been discovered;
and the very tliou^Iit made his heart throb
and a sudden heat llush into his face in the
shelter of his retreat. He could fancy tiiC
mingled scorn and ani^ry surprise in the clear, bright
eyes of Jaecjuetta, at beholding him there; and he
would sooner have encountered a legion of ghosts,
single-handed, at that moment, than the little gray-eyed
girl he could lift with one hand. Even now he was
liardly safe — for the door stood ajar, and he dared not
touch it lest it shouKl creak: he scarcely ventured to
breathe, as he stood there waiting for them to pass on.

But pass on they did net. To his dismay and conster-
nation, Jac(juetta came over jmuI stood beside the win-
dow, looking out. The wir.dow w'as within a yard of
his hiding-place, and her face v/as turned directly to-
M'ards him — that face so changed again, that he hardly
knew it. Scorn, hatred, j)assion, and loathing strug-
gled for mastery there, and her eyes looked tierce and
glittering in the serene moonlight. One snuUl hand
was tightly clenched, and her lips were compressed with
a look of liard, bitter endurance.

Old Grizzle was speaking, as they entered, in a tone
of jibing mockery.

tliC

UNMASKED.

171

"So you come lion) often, do you, Jtu'Cjuctta f she
was sayiui:;. " It must l)o very j)leasaut fur you all to
be Perenadod uii^ht after iiii;lit In this way. Listen!
a bweet strain tiiat — was it not, .laequetta ^''

'' .May it deali'U you forever as vou liear it !'' said
Jae(]uetta, liercely.

"^.'ay, Jac'(|uetta; that is hanlly courteous. Let
me see — how lon^* is it since you and 1 stood here be-
fore, listeniuii; to this same weird music, in this sumo
gohHn n^om c '

Jac(|U(?tta made a passionate gesture, as if to sileuce
her, but spoke not.

" You iiavenot forgotten, my little dear,. liavc you V
sneered Griz/le.

" Forgotten !'' exclaimed Ja('<pietta, witli passionate
solemnity. "() my God! is there a moment, sleeping
or waking, in'ght or day, that J can forget. Oh ! for
the watei's of Lethe to wash from niy memory the
crimson stain of that day in my lo>t, darkened, ruined
childhood. Oil! my blighted life ! my seared heart!
my crazed brain ! forgotten !''

81ie struck her clenched hand on her l)rcast, and the
dark, ])assionate solemnity of her face was awe-striking
in the cold, pale n)oon-rays.

'• Have 1 not striven to forget? Have I not tried
night and day? Have 1 not resolutely ste led my
lieart, closed my brain, to ev(M'ything that could recall
the terrible wrong done me in my childhood. Child-
hood ! Why do 1 P])eak of it '^ J, who know not the
meaning of the word — who never was a child — who,
at the age of fourteen, when oth(!r children are
thinking of their dolls and picture hooks, was — ''

" Whutf said Grizzle, with a bitter sneer. "Why
do you pause f '

" Lelore I knew the meaning of the word Memory,"
continued ,)ac(pietta, her face while even to the li[>s,
'' I was ha})i)y. I'o^^ know the sort of child 1 was —
the hapjnest, merriest, giddiest fairy that (!ver diinced
in the moonlight. Oh, Grizzle liowlet ! O woman with

UNMASKED.

iJ!

. -i

a fiend's heart ! wliat had I done to yon that this living
death was to be mine V^

"Come, come, .lacqnctta! tliis is c:oini]j too far.
Indeed, I think you ought to be grateful to me and
your — "

" Name her not !" cried Jacquetta, fiercely, " if
yon do not want to arouse the demon that is within nie
— that yon have seen aroused before now ! Since I have
learned what it is to remember, my whole life has been
one continued elfort to forget ! I am not made of steel
or stone, and 1 tell you to take care! for, as sure as
Heaven hears us this night, a day of retribution will
come, and I will be avenged !"

" Let it come !'' said Grizzle, scornfully. " It is not
Buch as you, JackDe Yere, will ever make me blanch.''

" You know," said Jacquetua with passionate ve-
hemence, "the living lie 1 am ! You know the mask
I have to wear that others forged for me, and that I
vfiiist wear till death releases me! Am I to be held ac-
countable for the sins of others — for your crime and
hers^ whose name, if 1 mentioned, I should be tempted
to curse? Will God judge me for what others have
done? Woman, I tell yow, No! At the great day,
when lie will come to judge the qnick and the dead, I
will stand before His throne to accuse you !"

" And your — "

" Dare to name her !" almost screamed Jacquetta,
with a tierce stamp of her foot, " and I will hunt the
very dogs of Fontelle on you, to tear you limb from
limb !"

" Come, my young madam !" said Grizzle, nowise
intimidated, " enough of this ranting ! [ came for my little
girl, and I. nnist have her. You refused to give her to
me out there, and I followed you here. Refuse to ^\\q
her to me here, and I will follow you to your room and
take her by force !"

" Your little girl !" said Jacquetta, scornfully; "as
well might a dove call a wolf mother. That child Is
nothing to you I"

UNMASKED.

178^

((

-4%

"T?n'tslie?" paid Grizzle, with a peculiar laugh.
" Who do you suj)i)ose slic is, then '\ I should hope she
is ari much to me as to you."

'' I do not know who she is ; if I did, she would not
remain loni; witli vou. But I will discover, and free
liei* from your fangs."

'' Tiy, if you dare !" said Grizzle, defiantly ; " try
it at your peril ! It will be the darkest day that will
ever dawn for y<»n, dacquetta De Vere, the day you
discover who that child is !"

" For me T said Jacqnetta, bitterly. " Does a day
ever rise for me that is not dark? Don't think I am
afraid of you, Grizzle — that day has gone by. You
have done your worst !"

"Have I ^" said Grizzle. "That remains to be
seen. I have not forgiven you for your jibes and taunts
yet, nor for the scornful contempt with whi('h 3'ou
treated my son Christojdier, when he did you the honor,
and made a fool of himself, by loving you. Don't
think I either forgive or forget so easily, my little lady.
Did 1 not tell you once, a day would come when your own
flinty heart would melt to quivering llesli ? llave you
ever read, in a certain nameless book, what it is to
'seethe a kid in its mother's milk' 'I Well, my fierce
little eaglet, such a fate is in reserve for you."

" What a pity you ever left the stage. Grizzle !"
said Jacquetta, M'ith a smile of withering contempt.
" Yon wouM be an honor to the profession yet. A
speech like that would make yrtur fortune !"

" 1 am on as tragic a stage jnst now, in real life, as
ever I was in mimic one !" said Grizzle ; "and as dark a
trag( dy is enacting. Do you think I am blind, dumb,
and besotted? Do you suppose I do not know what
young girls are i I say, Jrcquetta," she said, with a
short, hai'd laugh, " what a pleasant thing it is to have
a handsome, dashing young otlicer in lonesome old
Fontelle!"

A streak of dark red flashed across the face of

174

UNMASKED.

J.icqucttn, and flicn faded o^if, leavinj;^ her, even to the
lips, of a more ashy ]):ilefie^s tliaii ])efure.

"Oh, the vanity of tliesc ])Ui'|)('t>, wlio think tli(»y
can outwit me!" said (Jrizzle. "J, M'lio can read
Iniman liearts like open hooks. I tell y^>n, Jaek J)e
Vere, f thanked (lod, for the llrst time in a score of
years, wJien I heard wiio this y('un<^ ollicer was, and
wlierc lie was goiiii^. 1 left you to him from that
moment; I left his hand to send t]»e holt that was to
pierce your iiani:;lity heart ! And that holt has heeii
Bped ; and you, in whom it is a crime to love, l(no
him — the man who desj)Iscs you! For — T tell you
again — that proud yoniii^ Knidishman would not marry
you to-mori'ow, if you would consetit and he were free
— which he is not. You know it; and now let you
learn, in darkest despair, the lesson you taught my son
— what it is to love in vain !"

" Vour son V said Jacquetta, with passionate scorn.
" You do well to mention his name and love in the
same hreath. A. ureat, stuj)i(l hoor — a savage, remorse-
less cut-throat, a lit com})anion for the pirate, and
slaver, an<l outlaw, Ca])tain Nick Tempest. Oh, yes !
wonderful love M'as his!"

" Take care how you talk of Ca])tain Tempest, my
dear," said Grizzle, with a sneer. '• Don't say anything
against him until y(.)U know who he is. Did you ever
hear any one say you looked like him, my reddiaired
beauty V

"We did not come here to t;dk of Captain Tempest,
did waC said .Jac([netta, with a gesture of an^-ry im-
patience. " What do 1 care for him or 3'ou either f

" Well, the day is at hand when you will care for
hoth of us. That is one consolation. The day wlien
this dashing soldier — this haughtiest of haughty De
Veres, will learn who it is he has stoo])ed to love —
what it is who hears his proud nanie. liis cousin, for-
sooth !"

And she laughed mockingly.

UNMASKED.

I"" ft

The white face of Jacquctta £rrow a shade whiter,
and she drew a louii;, hard, (|uiverin<j^ l)reath.

" Ah ! yuii erni feel — you can suller ! Good ! Do
yon not fear 1 will tell this seornful lover of yourri?
For he does love you, Jacquetta, with all his heart (uid
soul, and, what is more, believes in you — this man
whom you arc ninht and day deeeiviuij^!"

kShe did not .^peak. IShe elasped both hands over
her heart as thoiiiih it were bri^akintj;.

"Think how he would des{)i>e you — think how ho
would scorn you — thiidv how he would loathe you if he
knew all ! Oh, this <;lorious revenge of nunc! Did I
not do well to wait, jiicquetta i And my waiting will
soon be over, and tlie day will soon he here now."

Jaecjuetta turned from the window with a hard,
mockinii; lauirh.

" What if I forestall your communication, Griz-
zle? What if I tell him m'ysclf 'i"

"You would not dare to."

" Would I not i Wait till to-morrow, and you will
see."

'•You would not dare to. I repeat it! Bold as
you ai"e, you have not courage for that !"

" Courage ! You are the first who ever accused
me of a lack of that article. I have courage enough to
face ;i hungry li(»n just now, or a more ferocious animal
still, Grizzle llowlet!"

"Oh! 1 don't call you a coward ! You would not
be your father's daughter if you were that. And mind,
I am not speaking of Mr. Robert Do Yere now. But
the courage that would make you face a raging lion is
not strong enough to make you debase yourself in the
eyes of the man you love !"

" You jump at eonelusions too fast. Grizzle. In the
first place, you have only your own surnuse that I have
been idiot enough to fall In love — and with liim ; and,
secondly, it would not del)ase me in his eyes if he knew
all this instant. There is no crime or disgrace con-

I' I

176

UNMASKED.

]\ 'I

h !

% i

nccted witli — none, at lonst, for me. The sin rests on
your slioulders. i am only the suH'crer."

" Wli,y, tlic'U, is it so clost'ly t'oiicciilcd ? "Wliy is it
so completely liiddcn from Iiim? Does not that very
secrecy betoken ^nilt? Doubtless lie lias heard this
same music tli:it at present is charmin<^ us, and won-
dered at it. Perhaps he has even inquired what it
meant."

"lie has."

"And what did you tell him?"

" AVliat do you think 1 told him ? "What was there
for me to tell 'i 1 lauijliLMl at the notion !"

" And left the secret for me. Thank you, Jacquetta.
Oh ! for the day when all shall be revealed, and ho
will know the thi'i<2j he has been lovinij;!"

" Let it come !" said .lacquetta, strikiu2^ her clenched
hand on the window-sill. '-What do 1 care ^ One
thing is, you had better look to yourself if you do, lest
Mr. Do Vere should suddenly remember he is a magis-
trate, a!id you are a nnu'deress!"

"1 tioii'i: fear him, thanks to his haughty daughter,
Augusta. I iiave her head under my heel, and can
crush it when 1 please."

"You hold her by some imagiriary power. Augusta
Do Vere would not stoop to commit a crime to save
her lite."

" Thal;\s as may l)e. My ])()Wor over her is strong
enough to kee)"» me from all fears on that score ; and
' owever imaginary it may be, it is a terrible reality in
your case."

"How do you know I will not turn informer?
There are cells and chains enoui!:h in Green (hvek to
bind (Jriz/le I[<'\vlet, and rope enough to silence her
poisonous t(.)ngue."

" 1 defy you ! Before the rope could silence me,
Augusta De Vere would be a cor[)sc. Mind ! 1 make
no idle threat ; but her secret once breathed, and she
would n.ot survive an hour."

" Better a speedy release from your tyranny than

UNMASKED.

177

this slow eating' away of life, yon liideous vampire !
She is fadinu away now jikr tiie waning moon ; and be-
fon; an<»th('r year,' will be in her ^rave, and you will
have a socfMu! murder to answer 1<»r !""

'' That is my own look-out. It is notlfing to you !
And, ill s})ite of all your vauntin;r, you have no more
inteiition of doing it, 'than 1 liave of strangling you this
instant ^\hcl•e you stand !"

" J>etter tor nu; you wouhl — oh. 1>ettrr. bettor for
me you would I" cried Jae^ue^ta, wringing iu»r hands.

''1 know that ; but 1 am not idiot enoii-gh to f'wego
my revenge in such fashion ! AV hen the fi'Wives ofnes,
you will fall from your shaking pedestal — iix^' liurleJ
l)ack to the slin e whence you emerged — a jriark for the
linger (»f scorn to j)oint at. AVhat will liigli-s lirited,
bold-hearted Jack JJe Vere do then f' said Grizzle, with
J', sardonic sneer.

''!She can, like Caesar, cover lier face, and die with
diirnitv, if need be. You m;iv alienate one — him o{
whom you sj)e;d< ; but I will still liave an hoU'^red
I'onu^ in Fontelle ilall."

'" Will you i Tiiat remains to be se(>n ! Wliat
would you sav if J should tell you vou would i)e cast
out witii scorn and contumely from their gates, despised
and abhorred i»y all, from the master of Kontelle to the
lowest menial in the kitchen^"

"I should call it wl'.at it is— a lie!"

'' It is the ti'uth, as you M'ill lind when the day
comes. Oil, for that day ! I will never see the fiuii
rise till it dawns — that blessed day that will lind you a
beggared, disgraced, homeless outcast !"

" Do yonr worst. 1 defy you !"

" Vou A\ ill change your tunc; before long. Oh ! you
don't know (Irizdc; 1 1 owlet vet, I set'. ;)r tJie doom that
18 gathering over your head. Wait !''

" I intend to, and will brave you to your face when
it comes !" said Jacquetta, \vith a short, mocking laugh.

" Ye:?, you may laugh now ; but, in the end, let
those laugh who win. Y^ou thiidv now you could bear

■■

178

UNMASKED.

\^-

tliG disgrace ; and pcrha[)s, if Mr. De Yere and Augusta
alone were concerned, yuii mi^lit ; but this tine young
stranger (ali, mention hi/n^ and 30U wince), how will
yo.i bear Jiis .scorn, jind (ionteiiipt, and iiatred i — no, not
hatred; lor ]ie will loathe you too much to stoop to
hate !"

"Let him! JFeis nothiui' tome !"

" Very true — he is another's; yet you have given
him your whole heart. And wluit has he given you in
return C

"His love;' said Jac(pietta, with a bright, iierco
tlash of her ayQ^.

"Ah! he has told you so, and you believe him.
Perlia])s he believes it himself now; and if so, it is all
the better, for it will make him loathe you all the moro
by-andby."

" Speak no more of him. I w ill not listen," said
Jacquetta, clasping both hands, with the same invol-
untary motion, over her heart.

" Oblige me by doing so a moment longer. AYliat
will Mr. De Vere say when he linds his i)retty daughter,
Jactpietta, has listened to this illicit love, and returned
it ; she the-—''

"iVace!" shrieked Jac(pietta, with a frenzie^l
stam]) of her loot. " Do you want to drive me mad C

" l]y no means ! [ should be very sorry i'or such
a catastro})lie, as it would defeat all my ])lans. And
now, as you wish it, to change the subject, what i\o
you think of this handsome Spanish boy, brought over
by Captain Xit'k Tempest C

" What I please."

" And what do you please to thiidc, my dear young
lady 'i Do b(! alittle morecomnumicativel Extremely
handsome — is he not,/!;/' a boy f

" So you sav."

" Ihit [ want vour oi)ini(m."

" Von (r'lll want it, then."

" There is no danger of your falling in lovo with
him, 1 trust," sneered Grizzle.

UNMASKED.

179

-a

"Isliall, if I choose."

"Not iiiucli daniijer of your clioosing to do so,
I fancy," said (xrizzle. M'ith a contcinptiions laugh.
"*\Vhat ducri your haudsoiiie Euglish cousin thiuk
of liim r

" A8k him."

" Perhaps I f-;halh I want to consult him also
about XoiT.ia. IJave you ever heard the name before,
Jac(|U('tta i"

'' What would you give to know?"

"And be nothing the wiser," added Grizzle, with
another low, sardoiJc laugli. "Siiort and sweet! I
thouglit, |»erha2)8, Captaiii Disbrowe nn"ght have men-
tioned the nan>e in his declaration of love. It is rather
an unusual one.''

"isitr

"Ask Master Jacinto what he thinks of it?"

" I shall leave that for you to do along with the
rest."

" Very well. I am equal to a Spanish boy, or any
other en.crgcncy. Singular, is it not, that he should
risk his lilo for a complete stranger he never saw
before C

" Vou say so,"

" And more singular still, that the Tlonorablo Al-
fred I)isl)rowe should l)e stone-blind. AVliat says tho
old song. Jac(]U(ftta i ' What will not woman when she
loves!' Take care (Japtain Disbrowe is not jealous."

"Did you follow me here to moralize on love?
IIow much longer am I to be kej)t here listening to
this trash 'i Are you near done r'

" J am done for the present ! I will go when you
give me the child."

''Can you not wait until to-morrow? Ir she to be
taken from her bed at this hour of the niglit to start on
such a cold, weaiT jom-ney C

"_ Yes. It will teach her a lesson, the young imj)!
I will learn her what it is to run away fronV homo
when 1 get hold of her."

180

UNMASKED.

" Dare to touch lier — lay but one finger ronglil;/ on
her, and as Heaven liears nie, I will go to Green Creek
that very hour, and tell the W(.)rld what }ou are, even
if 1 should swing beside yon !"

The was something so appallingly lierce in the
young girPs tone, in her bright, glittering eyes, and
eolorless faee, that it cowed for the iirst time the she-
tiend l>c{"ore her ; and muttering an inaudible some-
thing, she was silent,

" You know what I came here for — you know the
errand I have so often to perform — that 1 must per-
form before I can return with you. AVill you stay
here, or do you choose to accompany me and look on
your work '("'

"Xo," said the woman, in a hoarse whisper. "Not
in there — 1 cannot go ! 1 will "tay here till you come
back ; but be quick."

With a look of scornful contempt, Jacrpietta turned
and left the room — passing in the direction whence the
weird music still came. An instant after, it ceased —
not a sound was to be heard; the silence of the grave
reigned through the lonely room.

Old Grizzle came over to the window where Jacquet-
ta had stood and looked out, glancing now and then in
something like fear in tlie direction the other had gone,
and tlicni slirinkinii; closer toward the liirht. Jjefore t(m
imnwtes had elapsed, Jaccpietta's light, quick footstep
was heard, and her voice broke the deep stillness, say-
ing, coidly :

'' 1 am ready — come, now."

Grizzle followed her ac;ross the room. There wa8
the sound of a key turning in a rusty lock, then the
door was closed and locked again, and the next instant
Capti'.iu Alfred Disbrowe was alone in the desolate
room.

PRIDE AND PASSION.

181

CHAPTER Xiy.

PRIDE AND PASSION.

*' I know not — I ask not
If ^mill's in tliy heart ;
I but know that I love thee,
Wluituvcr thou art." — MoORE.

HAT Captain Di^browe's feelings were whilst
listeninuj to the t^inj^nlar conversation in his
hi(lin<;-})lace, may Ih', to use the handy old
plu'ase, "easier inia_<z;ine(l than described."
As he stepped out from his retreat, his
face might have rivaled .Jaccpietta's own in its extreme
pallor. And eertaijily he had heard cnoun-h to make
Iiim even as eold and marble-like as lie was now.

To love Jack De V^ere was ba 1 enough ; to love her
whilst engaged to another, was worse; to love her
knowing her envelojicd in some dark mystery of guilt
or disgrace, worst of all."

And yet, strange perversity of j)assion, never had he
loved her as be did at that moment. k>tanding there
alone, his iM'ms folded (»ver his cbet-t, motioidess as a
statue, her image rose before him "a dancing shape, an
image gay," radiant with yontli, and healtb, aiul hap-
])iness, and beauty; bewildering, entrancing, intoxicat-
ing. Tbere are sonu; who never appear in full beauty
until some strong ]>assion of love, (»r hat nid, or anger
rouses them to new lif(\ aiid flac(juetta was one of
them. lie had seen her in a new plias(^ to-iiigbt, as she
stood there; with blazing eyes and scoriifid li[>s, her
snudl, delicate figure di'awn up to its full height, a little
living Hume of lire, and never had she looked so really

I i'

I'.

V ■

183

PRIDE AND PASSION.

beautiful. ITc liad seen lier often inlier gay, pparlvling
moods, and in lier ,u:;nivc and angry ones, too ; but this
— tliis was soniethini;- new.

So, nearly an Jionr lie stood thereto lost in tlior.glit,
that lie heeded not the ilight of time. Jaeqnetta ! Jac-
([uetta ! Jae(}nctta! was the cry of liis heart still ; and
in that moment, ho felt as if he eouM have taken ]ier
in his arms and shielded her against all the woild. One
truth was thrilling through his whole being in iiereo
shocks of joy. IJe loved Jaeqnetta — Jacquetta loved
him !

From his trance — a trance axcYy unfortunate lover
has fallen into more than once — he awoke, at last, to the
hard reality of beini»: verv cold ; and an uni'omantic vision
of fevers, and agues, and rheumatic chills rising sud-
denly and unpleasantly Itefore him, he turned to leave
the uncomfortable tild room. lie. ])auscd a moment to
contemplate, with intense feelings of interest and curi-
osity, the doors, one at either end of the room — that
toward the left l)eing the one into which dacquetta l»ad
passed toslillthe weird music; the other to the right
being that which they had both entered la>t, and which
he conjectured led to the inhabit(>(.l pai-ts (d' the house.
Even had he desired to enter, he knew he could not,
for Jac(]uetta had securely locked both ; so giving tlieni
a ])arting glance, he ran d()wn the stone stairs and
puhsiMl out <if the apei'ture by which he had entered.

The hall-door ivniained as he had left it — proof
positive that neither JacMpietta nor her companion had
enteHMl the house bv its means. lie softly locked it
after him, and then asceiuling the stairs, sought his
room— not to sleep, but to pace up and down until
niorninix shoiild dawn.

Another sensation of wonder besides that relatin

to .hic(pietta tilled his mind. Ilt^ had heard them
mention .Norma— -what knew he of lu-r^ Thar, both
knew she had been his liegedady whilst in England
was evident ; and that, he felt convinced, was the reason
why Jacquctta had so scornfully and indignantly re-

PRIDE AND PASSION.

183

I'oof

Ilia

Hiiitil

jeeted liim. Wlmt if he slioiild \r^\'c up tliis liii:j]i-l)om
/zVm<w of his? — wliat if lie sli(»iild oiler to Fiuiviider

wealth and rank, to brave the han,nhty_ anger of Ids
relative.^, and the scofVs and siieei-.s of his aristocratic
friends, all for her and love ^ Surely sueh a })roof of
devotion nmst awaken sonic return in her Hinlj breast ;
surely, then, he could conquer the con(iueress, mako
the Merce yoinig lioness crouch, cowed and tame, at his
feet. Ihit had he courage for such a saci-iiice — was
she worth it i Sonie day, and most probably t-oon, ho
would be Earl of Karneelille and JJaron of Ciuwlford ;
and did not he (nv(^ something to the world and his
high position? And more, did he not owe a great
deal to this lady betrothed of liis at home? True, lio
remend)ered the engagement had been uone of his
making, but that of KarnecHIVe and the lady's fatln r,
who wished to see the families united; the former,
because the lady was unexceptionable in beauty and
family, and would have an immense dowry; and tho
Intter, because he wished his daughter, who, with all
her wealth, was simply Miss Macdoiiald, to have a title
and be a countess. But he himself had gi.enata<'it
consent. ile had ac(puesced nonchalantly enough,
when his lu'other informed him of it, and proceeded to
woo the young lady, Ihen a romantic school-girl, in
true orthodox, g(Mitlemanly fashion. He was, as he
said himself, a poor devil of a younger brother, with
expensive tastes and habits, and slightly extravagant if
the truth niust be told; and the income he derived
from the earl was far inadecjuate to his ex])enses.
True, he would be an earl himself some day, and ono
of the wealthiest i)eers of the realm ; but as he eotdd
not live on that hope, and as EarnecliU'e, though sulVer-
ing from a disease liable to carry him olf at any mo-
ment, might still see tit to live a dozen years, he must
liave sonn'thing to live on in the meantime. And
Norma JMacdonald's fortune v.-as just the thing — her
ten thousand a year would suj>i)ly him with spending
money comfortably, i)ay his debts, keep him in palu

184

PItlDE AND PASSION.

¥ 1

itt;:

ale and kid gloves, l)iiy lilm a yaclit at Cowes, let him
ow.i a liorse at the DorI)v, and kcoj) a dashing four-in-
hand in town. It was ju.-^t tiie thing for him — couldn't
i\o hotter it" he was to try; whieli he was a great deal
too indolent to do. So ho elosed with the olter and
the lady at onee.

It was ratiier a bore to he ohliged to make love to
her, to be sure — to fan her, ;uid attend her to the o]>era,
and turn over her mnsie when she pla^'cd ; but these
were neeessary evils that every man had to suffer
through, some time or otiier in his life, and he sup-
posed he nn'ght as well make nj) his mind to be re-
signed, and begin at onee. !So he yawned, made him-
self faseinatiug, and set olf to eaptivate Miss Norma
Maedonald. And he succeeded to perfection. Mis3
ISorma fell violently in love with him, then and there,
and he came pretty near doing the same with her, too.
Snrpas>ingly beautiful she was — the most su|»erb speci-
men of the superb sex lie had ever seen, even then, al-
though she was not more than iifteen years of age. ller
beauty was of a rare and singular sort, with large, dark,
lustrous eyes anil golden hair, a snowy compK'xion, and
the most perfect of hands and i'eet. Kuiuantic and im-

))ulsive she was m the extreme

had

reaa no en

d of

novels, and was quite ready to love the lirst tolerably
handsome young man who came in her way, from a
duke to Jeames the footman. And Captain JJisbrowe,
the dashing, handsome, gallant young guardsman, was
just the one to caj)rivate a su.-ceptible heart of lit'teen.
IShe had hear^l stories ol* his [)rincely extravagance, of
his wild deeds, and tlxe thousand an.d one scrapes he was
constantly getting into; but few yoimg ladies are dis-
posed to like a man the less for sucli a rej)utation.
Norma Macd»^nald certainly was not. And never was
scapegrace better loved than was the handsome young
otlicer by her. His feelings towards her were an odd
mixture. He was pioiul ot' her, th;it was certain ; ho
knew she would one dav be a star of the lirtit niagnitudo
in the world of beauty and fashion j that he would bo

PRIDE AND r ASSIGN.

185

envied by every man of liis aoqiialntaTiec when sho
would enter society ; that she would make a sensation
when j)reseuted at court; and would he an unrivaled
Latlv Karneclilfe, and do the honors of Disbrowe Park
entranciuiiily. And was nc»t that enouich ( lie liked
her well enouu'h ; he mu.'it marry somebody, and she
was just the thing, in every re.^^pect. yiie loved him,
too, which was another consideration, although he
knew very well she would liave loved Tom Vane or
l.oi-d Anstrey, his fast frien<ls, just the same if they
had enteral rlie lists iirst. As it was, she loved him
with her whole heart, and him only : and being a little
grateful, and a good deal proud, he felt, on the whole,
perfectly satislied with the arrangement.

Jle did not love her, to be sun; ; but though he had
llirted from the ago of eighteen, when he had taken moon-
liirht rambles throuii'h old Fontelle with the daughter of
liis father's steward, he had never entertained a yrande
pas.sio)i for anybody, and did not believe he was capa-
ble of it — did not desire any such thing, in fact: it
would Ije such a bore to be violently in love ! And so
things wei-e in this satisfactory state, and the course of
true love was running as smooth as a mill-dam, when
the young guardsuian got a conmiis.-.ion in a regiment
ordered to Ireland, aud led a gay life of it, for two or
three years, altei'uately in that " beantiful city called
Cork," and the capital of the iMuerald Isle, while Miss
Is'orina was ins[)iring her mind and kissing tlie minia-
ture of her dashing lover within the consecrated walls
of a fashionable l)oar<ling-sc-hool. Then he returned
to Kngland, to avoid the (tonM.M^uonces of some tremen-
dous scrape he had got into in Dublin, saw his ehere-
amie, who had grown a thousand times more beantiful
than ever, and twice as mudi in love, from constantly
thinkingof her absent truant. MissNorma's papa and the
Honorable Alfred's brother wished the marriage to take
place on the young lady's nineteenth birthday; and the
young lady and gentleman being v/illing enough, settle-
ments were made, and everything got ready for the im-

•i

'I!

rniDE AND PASSION.

t oppasion. And nioantiiiic, by \\nyof a clianixe,

Dl.sbrowo t()(*k it into liis LTnitic. 1i(m<I tli:it a
;iy id kill tiino wuuld Ix) to visit America, and

[) his ni')tlu'r's relatives, the I)e V^jivs — whicii 1

his co.-t, as tlie reader already knows.

these tliini,rs were |)assinii; in review tlironuli In's

i(»w. IFciiad coMie, \\(\ had seen, and intended

jtier, and had heen eoiKjiiered instead, a; :d by a

ray-eyed, r(Ml-haired i;'ii'!, ten deicrecs less heatiti-

n ^^(I'nia ^laedonald, who loved hiin, and whom

not love — thouii'h that alone niii^ht account for

! had heen so Ioiil; aeeustonied to easy conquests,

s deiiant, free-and-easy Jersey witch ])r<n'oked,

, and interested him. J>etween heini^ interested

uni;; lady and fallinu^ in lovt* with her, there is

te[) ; and before the Honorable Alfred knew he

ucun, he was already ])ast prayiniz; for. That he

could antvA'Uun II (//'(uu/e j)assio/h he found to his cost

— that life without Jack J)e \'ore would be a miserable

affair, not worth havini^, he found, too. l>ut whether

she took the same view of the ease v/iih re:Li::ard to him,

he was at a loss to know. Jle would have^iven worlds

to know how she discovered the secret of his en^a^c-

luent to Norma; for he was positive Karneeliife had

never told tluMn, and he was equally positive that both

she and old drizzle Ilowhit knew of it. There was no

accountini]^ for it, (except by the fact that one or both

was a witch ; and lookini;' up at the smiliuir, niockini^

face on the wall, he felt half inclined to b's^lieve that

Jacquetta was one.

What between paciu'i; up and down his room for
three mortal hours, and tliiidcini^ with all his might.
Captain Disbrowe succeeded in workinij; himself up to
a pretty hii;h state of excitement, at last, lie was be-
tween the horns of a dilemma ; he cotdd not tell what
to do. One moment, he resolved to cast windth, and
rank, and the world's o[)inion, to the winds, and ij^ive up
all for Jacquetta. The next, the terrible thought of
*' what will Mrs. Grundy say i" staggered him ; for

PRIDE AND PASSION.

187

mp:©,

thonpjli, in all probability, Cnptain Dis])rowc bad never
lieanl of the huly, bo dreaded lier quite as nmeb as yoii
do, my dearest reader. How could be brave tbe aii'-i'er
of Lord Karneelillc. and tbe banirbty amaze and dixlain
of bis wi!;e, Lady Marij::aret, one of tbei)n>ndest wouieii
be bad ever known ^ Jf .sbo were really a De VcM-e,
wbieb ber looks and tbe strani^e conversation be liad
overbeiu'd seemed to contradict, sbo was bis equal, at
IciLst, in birtb; but bow dare be — one of tbose nustakes
of Aaiiire, u yi»un<2;er brotber — poor as aclunvb-niouse,
tliink for a moii. lit of indulu:in;iz; in tbe luxury of
marrvinij a penniless <:;irl, simply bccaubo bo was
absuid <'iiouyli to love lier^ ^^ I'v, all London would
laui^b at bim ; and tbere is notbini;- a true-born Jjriton
cannot stand, except binni^ lauL;-bed at. And Norma — •
bow was be to face ber, wben tbere was even a remote
possibility ot" ber dyinui; of a bi'okeu lieart, and a still
greater ])(j.ssibility of lier fatber, a re_u-ular Scotcb lii'O-
cater, foUowin*^ bim over tbe world, from tbe Pyramids
of LL^vpt to tbe wilds of New .Jersey, to blow bis brains
out '. And at tliat moment be balf-wisbed some kind
friend — Captain Tempest, for instance — would ])(;rforni
tbat act of mercy, if oidy to kee[) bim from i;<»in<( dis-
tracted in bis dilennna. Tbere was anotber annovinif
little tbouii:bt tbat would ])ersist in intrudin*^ itself, too :
If Jacquetta was not a L)e \'ere, wbo was sbe i wbat
was sbe? JJke all tbe I'cst, it was a question easier
asked tban answM'ed. and, like tbe rest, intensely dis-
ai^reeable ; but ii be face of everytbinix, one conviction
was ever uppermost — tbat bo loved ,Jac(pietta as bo
never bad loved before — never could love a;i:ain.

" If 1 were IS'ed lirown, of tbo Guards, witb bis
ci^bt tbousand a year, I v/ould marry ber to-morrow,"
was bis concludinii^ exclamation. '• Wbat a deuce of a
Ibinijj it is for a man to be tied up band and foot, as I
am, and not able to l)udii;e an iticb to tbe )•i^•bt or left !
Confound all aristrocratic bii:^b and miij;lity relations, I
say! and may tbo demon lly away witb all nuitcb-mak-
ing friends, forevermore! Amen. O Jacquetta! Jac-

lii

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Jl ! )

188

PRIDE AND PASSION.

■ ' t

'I i!

i i

111

qnetta ! I wisli to Tlcaven I had tied a mill-stone to my
iicek and jinnped into the S'irpeiitine, tlie day I first
took a notion to eonio to America. And I wish Miss
Norma Maedonald and the noble Earl of Earneclille
were in — Coventry ! — I do !"

AV^ith this charitable apostrophe, Captain Dis-
hrowe, becomijiu; suddenly aware that the breakfast-
bell had ruiiLC^ went down stairs and encountered the
object of all his thonii;]its and perplexity crossing the
hall, lanii'hiiii^ merrily with Jacinto, and lookinii; bright,
san(*y, and ])i(piant as ever. Cayiy saluting him, she
lixed liei" eves on his face, and exclaimed :

" Why, Cousin Alt', what's the matter? Yon look
as if you l'a<l seen a ghost last night, or had an attack
of the m'ghtmare ! Just look at him, Jacinto. AVhat
has happened, my dear cousin?"

"■ IS'othini>: nnich. 1 have had bad dreams."

"And bad dreams have been powerful enough to
give that look to the face of the most high, puissant,
and illustrious Captain JJisbrowe i Whew ! What were
they about. Cousin Alfreds [ am a regular female
edition of Joseph for interpreting dreams."

'' W'ell, they were of — you."

"Indeed! Dear me, how flattered I feel! And
what did you dream of me, coz V

" That you and somebody else were plotting to be
the death of me."

" Possible ? I shouldn't wonder if it came true, too I
"Who was the other?"

He H\ed his eves keeidy on her face.

"Old Cirizzle Jlowlet^"

She started with a shock, and looked at him. He
had expected she would, and met her gaze carelessly.

"Indeed! 'indeed !'''' she said, sharply. " PerJiapa
yon also dreamed where this meeting took place ?"

"Certainly. W^ien I do dream, I always pay at-
tention to it, and omit no detail. It was somewhere in
an old, dciserted room, I believe."

" Ah ?" slie said, witli a paling cheek, and a rising

PRIDE AND passion:

189

to my

I first
li Miss
leclille

1 Dis-

; Ilk fast-
red the
,ng the
briglit,
in, she

»u look
attack
Wiiat

)iigh to
iiissant,
at were
female

And
to be

LOj too I

n. He

L'ssly.
V'rJiaps

pay at-
Jiere in

1 rising

fire in her eye. " Perhaps you can also tell me what
we raid ?''

There was somctliing so sliarp, suspicions, and an-
gry, in her tone, that Jacinto looked at her in extreme
burpriso.

"Why, Jaccpietta!" lie exclaimed.

Disbrowe's face ilushod, and his eye flashed witli a
jealous fire. To hear this handsome l)0y call her Jac-
quetta so familiarly, to watch her as she h^aiied on his
arm, as she had never consented to do on liis, was gall-
ing to the extreme.

"What did we say f ' repeated Jacquetta, im-
petiously.

" Really, Miss Jacquetta,'' he said, half coldly,
"one would think I was describing a reality instead of
a dream. How can I tell what you said i Who can
remember what is said in a dream T'

"Such a remarkable dream! you surely can," she
said — two red spots that only anger or deep excitement
could over call there, burning on either cheek.

"JS^o; I cannot. And i do not see anything re-
markable in your meeting the old lady," he said, in an
indifferent tone.

" Nor in our plotting to murder you — stranger things
have happened. Are you sure you locked your
chatnber-door last night on retiring. Captain Dis-
browe ?"

"A singular question; but yes, I rather think
I did."

" And you are not given to walk in your sleep,
occasionally ^"

" in my sleep ? No, never." And he looked at
her with a peculiar smile.

Jacinto lauiihed.

"Keally, Jacipietta, one would think you were
£ross-examining him as if he were on trial for shop-
lifting. 1 shall be careful how I tell you what I
dream."

Jacquetta, with her eyes fixed on Disbrowe's face,

\r " 'Jf^'

190

PRIDE AND PASSIOHr.

i i(?

fa '*:,

1 ii'

Hlf: «■

:' 'I

<«1

and a stranf^e p;littcr in their lustrous depths, drew a
h)n£>;, liard breatli, and said nothin^j^. l/is eyes were
Hxed curiously on .laeinto — t/uit latujh ! surely it was
not the lirst time he had heard it. .facinto noticed
his look, and colored slightly through his brown skin.

" Well," he said, half annoyed, half laughing, "is
it my turn next?"

"Do you know'," said Dishrowe, "I have the
strangest idea that I have seen you somewhere before.
P>ut I'oi- your foreign accent, and your dark hair and
comi)lexioii, 1 could sw^ear you were — "

" Whof' said Jacinto, as he paused.

"You will laugh, but a lady I knew in England.
You reminded me of her from the lirst, in some odd,
unaccouutable wa\, and your laugh — if 1 had not
looked at you that time I could swear it was — "

"Norma!" laughed Jacquetta.

"l>y Jove! you've hit it! Jhit what do }ou know
of Norma T'

"J had a dream," said elacquetta, with a malicious
tAvinklo of her eye. " I dreauied (Japtain Disbrowe
was to be married to a certain Miss Norma Macdonald
when she would attain her nineteenth birthday, and that
he only camo to America to kill time during the
tedious interval. Ahem! You see others can dream
besides you, my good cousin."

Disbrowc stood fairly dumb with amazement, and
his color came and went. Jacquetta's wicked eyes
sparkled with triumph.

'" 1 say !" called Frank, at this interesting juncture,
thrusting out his head through the parlor-door, "do
you mean to come to breakfast to-day, or are we all to
starve in here, while you three talk scandal out there?"

" We weren't talking scandal, Frank dear," said
Jacquetta. " C.q)tain Uisbrowe and I were merely re-
lating two singular drean)s we had last niglit."

" Oh ! you were — were you r' growled Frank. " A
pretty way that to spend the morning, and keep re-
Bpectablo Christians that don't believe iu such heathen-

PRIDE AND PASSION.

191

'' do

((

ish tliinc^s as dreaniF fasting in hero, till they foel
ravenous enou£;-h to eat a Quaker's i^rauduiotlier. I'lo
surprised at you, (Japtiiiu Dishrowe !" said Fraidv,
thrastini^ his hands in his poelvt'ts, and spuakinij^ in a
tone of g-rave rehuko, "a youiiii; person that's had your
brou'j;hten nj:), to helieve in sueli su|iei"stition, which
corrupts the mind, debases the constitution, iindeianines
the in(jrals, detiles the heart — there ! come to break-
fast !"

"Detiles the heart — conic to l)reakfast ! A pretty
brace of subjects to strinu^ toi^'ether," sai<i Jacquetta.
" Come, Coujin All", it won't do, you i)erceive, to keep
this hunirry cousin of ours waiting; any longer."

She j)assed her arm through Jacinto's and went in,
followed by Captain Disbrowe. If ever man was
"taken aback,-' whatever that means, the Honorable
Alfred was that man, at that jnoment ; and if ever a
man was in a fair way to be madly jealous, it was he
likewise. It would have been a comfort to have taken
this provokingly-hiindsome, dark eyed .young foreigner,
and pitched him lu^ck and crop ou^ of the front door;
but even that small consolation was denied him. And
in a frame of mind tho i-^verse of seraphic, he took his
place at the break fast-table.

"Why, Jack! — 1 say, Jack! where's little Orrie
Ilowlct C inipiired Fraid-c, in surprise.

"(rone,'' said Jac<[uetta, curtly.

" Gone !" cchocil llie young gentleman. " Where V

" Home — to the imi."

" Home ! Go away ! she couldn't go so early."

" lias she really gone, Jack f ' said Mr. De Vere, in
surprise.

" Yes, sir."

"Why, when did she go ?"

"Late last night— just before I retired. Old Grizzle
came after her. Was that i)art of your dream, cousin V

Disbrowe smiletl, and bowed slightly.

" Oh, she did— did she C said Vrank. " How did
Orrie like that 'C

}

jr r f*

a*.

Wii

ft,

192 Pii!/Z>^ ^iVi) PASSION.

"She didn't like it at all. She would liave pre-
ferred reinainini>; until moriiing, aii<l beiiif^ escort(M;l
home by Captain Dishrowo, for whom she has evidently
conceived a rash and inordinate attachment."

"Which I ho[)e you return, Alfred," said Mr. De
Vere, smiling:;.

"Certainly, sir. Yoii don't thiidc I could be uni^^'d-
lant enouii;h to refuse so slight a f avor to a youni^ lady."

"And so you make a j)()int of loving every girl
who chooses to take a fancy to you."

" Undoubtedly !"

" Really, now! hov/ excessively kind of you!" ex-
claimed Jacquetta. " And how many girls have the
good taste to love you annually, Captain Disbrowe?"

" J regret I cannot tell you — I never war a proficient
in comj)lex arithmetic."

" Poor little Orrie !" said Frank. " It was a shame
to take her oiL I wonder she went at all."

" Unfortunately she had no choice in the matter.
But don't distress yourself, Francis, my son, she wasn't
at all anxious abjut you; but was in the deepest dis-
tress at being forced away without seeing our lady-kill-
ing cousin here, in fact, we had some (liili(;ulty in
persuading her to go without paying a visit to his room,
to give him a parting embrace; but our combined elo-
quence prevailed on her at last."

" Why did you not allow her? I should have been
glad to see my little friend before she left," said Cap-
tain Disbrowe.

" You were dreaming al)out that time," said Jac-
quetta, dryly. "And I rather fancy, if she had entered,
she would have found an empty cage. Had you not
better ride over to-'lay and return her visit f

"Very likely I shall — if I can ])revail on you to be
my body-guard o!i that occasion. Uemember, you told
me once how dangerous it was for me to ride out un-
protected in these savage regions."

" i\)or child! so it is! Why, there is no telling but
some tremendous New Jersey female might spring out

■ii

PRIDE AND PASSION.

l'J3

avc pre-

cscortcd
vidently

:^Ir. De

cr lady."
Pery girl

ou!" ox-
liavc the

owe \'

n?"

n-oticient

, a sliame

e matter.

le wasn't

Miest dis-

huly-kiU-

unilty in

lis room,

incd elo-

ave been
laid Cap-
said Jac-
l entered,
I you not

you to be
you told
e out uii-

"lling but
ipring out

from behind a tree, and unable, like all the rest of licr
sex, to resist the irresistible Captain Disi)rowe, bear him
oil' in his lielpless innocence to — Oli, 1 tremble for
you, cousin ! Tiiink what your anxious brother would
say when he heard of it!''

'' Tiu;n, to ])reveiit such a terrihc climax, will you
consent to accompany and take care of me ^"

" Well, there it is. 1 am sorry to disappoint you,
but I should be a great deal more sorry to disappoint
myself, (Should be pleased to oblli^e you, Cousin Alf,
but you perceive 1 can't."

'' Why not f '

''AW'll, I've got a previous, and more pleasant, en-
gagement."

'*Can you not break it'^ Make an act of self-denial,
and come with me I"

"Oh, i couldn't think of such a thing — could I,
Jacinto f '

Jacinto smiled, and was silent.

" Oh, if your engagiMuent is with him — " began
Disbrowe, ccildly.

"That's it, you see ; it would be impossible to break
one made with him. And he has pi'omised to teach me
iSpanisli, and we have got already as tar as the verb to
hoe:'

" Witli such a teacher it cannot have taken you long
to reach that most interesting of all verbs," laughed Mr.
I)e Yere.

Disbrowe's face had as>^umed a look of cold hauteur,
and Jai-quetta's eyes sparkled maliciously. A wicked
reply was on her lips ; but before she could «peak, a
Budden and most unexpected sound froze the words she
would have uttered.

A low, soft strain of music, subdued and distant,
yet perfectly clear and sweet, fell on the ears of all —
that musit! Disbrowe so well knew.

In an instant Jaccpietta was on her feet, deathly
white, and with her hands clasped convulsively over
lier heart. Mr. De Vero, too, arose in consternation ;

!»:•,.

If'

li: i I

H' .

Ji'

194

PHIDE AND PASSION.

and even Augusta, wlio had hitherto sat silent and
Btony, stood np, in evident agitation. Ilad a grenade
suddenly exj)loded at their feet, it could not have pro-
duced a more instantaneous change than that low,
sweet, plaintive strain. And Disbrowe saw — himself
agitated, though he could scarcely tell why — that the
eyes of her father and sister turned on Jacquetta, in
mingled terror and pity, as if she were the one most
concerned.

There was an instant's silence, and then it arose
again in a long, wailing sort of cry, dying out faint and
sad. Without a word, Jacquetta started to leave the
room.

"Jact^iietta, my dear girl, do you think I had not
better acctompany you T' said Mr. i)e Yere, turning his
agitated face toward her.

"JSTo, no — 1 will go myself — remain where you are,"
she said, in a voice so like that of last night, that her
image rose again before Disbrowe, as he had seen her
then standing, white and stern, like a devouring llame,
in the cold moonlight.

8he was gone in an instant, and Mr, De Yere and
Augusta resumed their seats, sstill so strangely and
strongly agitated, aii<l listening iiitently to catch every
eound. Disbrowe looked resolutely in his plate to avoid
meeting the eye of Fraidv ; and the young Spaniard
looked the intense wonder he did not venture to
speak.

A long and embarrassing pause ensued — broken at
last by Mr, De Yere, who asked, with an apparent
etfort, some trivial question of Disbrowe. The young
guardsman responded; and seeing the evident distress
of his uncle, strove to sustain the conversation, in which
he was joined, for the llrst time, by Augusta, who
seemed roused from her petriiied state by the singular
sound,

it was a relief to all when the meal was over. Mr.
Do Vere and his daughter innnediaicly (piitted the
room, Jacinto sat on a low stool and be^an drawing the

PRTDE AND PASSION.

105

iilent and
a grenade
have pro-
that low,
— himself
—that the
;quetta, in
i one most

n it arose
faint and
leave the

I had not

urning his

3 you are,"
t, that her
d seen her
I'ing llame,

Yere and

igely and
tch every
to avoid
Spaniard
enture to

)roken at
apparent
le young

t distress
in which

1st a, who

3 singular

:■■ r*

Mr.

ttcd the
the

ver.

awmix

oars of Jacqnctta's fierce dog through his fingers.
Frank, with his hands in his pockets, and an uneasy
look in his eyes, went whistling up and down the
room ; and Di-hrowe stood like a tall, dark statue at
one of the windows — his arms folded over his breast,
and an unusual look of dark gloom on his handsome
lace. Jacinto and Frank cast furtive glances toward
liim, and at last tiie latter spoke :

" I say, Cousin Alfred."

^'WelH" was the brief response.

"What a siii<^nilar all'air that ? — wasn't it'^'

" What r

'•'Oh, bother! You know well enough! The
music."

There was no response.

"Never knew it to happen before, and I've been
here since I was the size of that." And Master Frank
held his hand about three inches from the ground.
" Very odd 1 — excessively so !"

" Where did it come from V asked Jacinto.

" Oh, from around somewhere," said Frank, giving
himself an unciusy shrug. "It wasn't anything, you
know 1"

Jacinto smilinl slightly, and returned to caressing
the dog. JJisbrowo turned round, and oven the sight
of the young 8j)ain*ard on sucli good terms with her
favorite dog brought an irritated Hush to his brow.

"I tiiink (jf I'iding out this morning," he said to
Frank. " What do you say to coming with mef

Frank, who had his own notions of hospitality,
hesitated a moment and irlanced at Jacinto. JJisbrowe
saw the look, and said, haughtily :

"I beg your pardon — I forgot. It will not be
necessary." And he turned to leave.

" If Jacinto would come with us," said Frank,
doubtfully.

"Oh! go ^\ith hiui. Don't mind me; 1 will do
very well," said Jacinto cordially.

" By no means," interposed Disbrowe, Imrricdly.

7T^^

I' "(

106

PWDE AND PASSIOy.

III'

1. 1 ri 4 I

4 'l

ft :•!'

!!*

" Frank slmll not commit such a breach of hospitality
on Hjy account. I will go alone."

Five minutes later, and he was in the saddle and
away. Thinking of Jacquetta, and trying in vain to
solve the riddle that perplexed him, he rode rapidly on,
resolved to see little Orrie before he returned.

It was three hours nearly before the inn caTnc in
Bight ; and he remembered, with a strange mingling of
feelings, the last night he had 8])ent there. It was a
gloomy-looking place — almost as foreboding in aspect
as its mistress.

"■1 wonder what the dear old lady will think of this
morning call from me ?" soliloquized Disbrowe. " I
fancy she wd II be surprised — rather! If anybody had
told me six months ago, wdien I thought it a bore to
trot through Kotten Iwow of a sunshiny jnorning, that
I would take, to-day, a gallop of over thirty miles, and
all to see a little elf from goblin's land — well, to draw
it mild, I should say it was a confounded lie ! It must
be something in the air, I think ; or some of the dread-
ful energy of the natives of this new land has been, by
some mysterious means, instilled into me. I wish Col-
umbus and all his men had been scalped and devoured
by the Indians the day he was so othcious as to begin
discovering continents, any way !"

And with this second charitable wish he sprang
from his horse, and had raised his whip to knock at the
door, when a scream of delight greeted his ear; and
the next instant a pair of arms were around his neck,
and little Orrie herself was kissing and clinging to him
like a human crab.

" Oh ! J knew you'd come ! I knew you w^onld !
And I'm so glad!" she exclaimed, intones of breath-
less delight. '' I've l)een waiting for you all the morn-
ing ! AVhy didn't you come earlier f

"Well, unless I had started in the middle of the
night, I don'.t see how I could !"

" I came in the middle of the night — did you know

it ?"

111!

Plil.^E AND PASSION.

1»7

ospitality

uldle and
[1 vain to
ipidly on,

came in

ni^lini^ of

It was a

in aspect

ik of this

)we. " I
body had
a 1^0 re to
linii;, that
lile.s, and
, to draw
It must
le dread-
been, by
^vish Col-
de von red
to begin

e sprang
ck at the

ear

and
his neciv,
g to him

1 would !
f breath-
le niorn-

le of the

ou know

" Yes."

" Oh, Miss Jack told yon. I wanted to see yon,
but Miss Jack wouldn't let me."

" What did she say T'

"AViiy, that you were asleep; and it would not look
well to i2:o and awaken von. And then she said she
would tell you to come and see me to-day. Were you
eorry when she said 1 was gone f

" Very."

Orrie lowered her voice, and pointed to the house.

" It wasn't my fault, you know ; she came for me,
and I didn't want to go. lint then, it's just like her —
she's a horrid ugly old thing, every way you can fix it !"

" You little virago ! did she nuike you walk ?"

" Walkf said Orrie, breaking into her short, shrill
laugh. " I guess not ! We rid a horseback — on old
Dobbin, you know. Are you going in '^"

"No, I think not. I am not particularly anxious to
Bee the dear old soul ! I came to see you."

"Did you? — that's so nice! And oh! I do love
you better tlian anybudy else in the world !" cried
Orrie, with another of her impulsive hugs and kisses.

"Thank you. I'm very much obliged ; but at the
Game time I had rather not be strangled outright with
these dreadful little arms of yours. Did she beat you
when she got you home?"

"No ; Old Nick was here, and he wouldn't let her
— only for him, I guess I'd have caught it !" said Orrie,
with a chuckle.

" Ah ! is he there now ?"

"No; he, and Kit, and Blaise went away this
morning. Do you know," said Orrie, lowering her
voice again, " they were talking about you when I
arrived i"

" Were they ? What did they say !"

" Well, you know, I couldn't hear very well —
I wasn't in the room, but listening at the door."

" Oh I a very commendable practice, which you
ought to cultivate whilst you are young, as I fancy you

198

PRIDE AND PASSION.

»f

Mil-

have a talent that wa}-. And they were taking my
name in vain — were they V

"Thev were tnlkinir ahout von!*' paid Orrie, lookinnr
a htth; puzzled ; for one-half c^f the young gentleman's
S])eeehes was Greek to her, f>r thereabouts; "and
Captain Kick said lie would kill you, if he was to
tiwiui^ Tor it the next moment. AVhat did he mean by
that r'

"Xever mind! You will iind out, probably, by
experienee, one of these days, if you live nmcli longer
with this amiable old lady of yours. What else did
they say V

" Why, old Grizzle lav:;^hed at him, and said she
despised his notions of revenge. That killing M-as no
good — or something like that; and that she knew a
way to fix you off a thousand times worse !"'

" Dear old soul !" said Disbrowe, apostrophizing her
in a low voice. "■ What a blessed old lady she is, to be
sure !"

'' Then I heard Old Nick ask her how ; and she
said to come to-morrow night — that's to-night, you
know," said Orrie — " and she would tell him. And he
wanted her to tell him then ; and she got cross, and
said she would not. And I heard her tell him another
thing, too !" added the little one, suddenly — " some-
thini!: about Miss Jack."

" You did, eh ? What was it, magpie ?"

" Why, that she was going to kill two birds with
one stone — you and her. So you and Miss Jack had
better look out !"

"Thank you. What particular virtue is there in
looking out 'f '

"Kow, don't be funny," said Orrie, impatiently.
" I should think you ought to be scared to death. I
should, I know."

" Well, 1 am, too. What else did you hear?"

" Well — nothing else," said Orrie, reluctantly. " Old
Grizzle jerked the door open before I knew it, and

PRIDE AND PASSION.

190

ing my

lookiiirir
'leinan's
; " and
3 was to
[lean by

l^ly, by
1 longer
else did

;aid slie
was no
knew a

ing lier
s, to bo

md she
it, you
A.nd he
ss, and
mother
sonie-

s with
k had

ere in

iently.
th. I

"Old

t, and

canirht me tlierc, and boxed my ears and sent me to
bed. And that's all/'

" And enough too, I tliink. T wisli yon could twist
yourself into some ('orner and liear what precious .ev-
elations tliey will make to-night."

"Eh;" said Orrie.

" Oh, nothing ! If you hear anything more, will you
let me know !•"

"Well, it's such a long piece to go to Fontelle,"
said Orrie, hesitatingly. " And old Grizzle does get
so mad — though I don't care for that nuich — that —

" Oh ! 1 do not wish you to travel to Fontelle, my
dear child," said Ca})tain Disbrowe, smiling at her
troubled little face. " Perhaps I may ride over again
to-morrow and see you."

" Will you ? Oh, how nice ! And ain't Fontelle a
beautiful place, with such lovely big rooms, and nice
pictures, and carpets, and splendid soft beds? Oh! I
wish I lived there!' said Orrie, with spirkling eyes.

" U]ion my honor I wish you did, Firclly ! Pei'haps
you may some day. Shall 1 tell you how ^"

" Yes!'' said Orrie, eagerly.

*'Then make Frank fall in love with you, and get
married to him !" laughed Disbrowe.

Orrie put her iini>:er on her hp, perched her head
on one side, bird fashion, and looked reflective.

" Do you think I could C she said, searchingly.

" Could what ?'' said Disbrowe.

" Go to live there if I got married to him ?" said
Orrie.

Disbrowe laughed and nodded,

"Then I will!" said Orrie, decidedly.

" Will marry him ?" said Disbrowe, still laughing.

" Yes !" said Orrie, soberly ; " I shall. I'll ask him
about it the next time I see him. Will you live there,

too r

" No ; I am afraid not. I must go home shortly."

" Where is your home ?"

" Oh I away over the sea — far away."

1100

PRIDE AND PASSION.

OiTic'.-J conntenancc fell.

" I r^lian't like it, then. I had rather go with you..
Coulihrt I marry yon, and ujo there too V

\)v\)V()\K(.i lauL;'hcd heartily.

"What arc y(»u laughing at r' said Orrie, sharply.
"I don't see anything to langh at. Perhaps you are
laughing at nie !'' she exclaimed, as the thought struck
her for the lirst time.

" Laughing at you ?" said Dishrowe, composing his
countenance. " I hope I have l)etter manners. No,
indeed, ]\[iss Orrie."

"Well, will you marry me, though?" said Orrie,
curiously.

"It's very likely I shall," said Dishrowe, maintain-
ing his gi'avity by an eifort, " though I must refer you
to papa ! Oh ! here comes the old Witch of Endor iier-
Belt. Good-bye, Orrie. Fll think of your proj)osal."

And kissing the small face, upturned in all gravity
for that pleasant operation, he set her down, sprang ou
Saladin, and galloped off just as old Grizzle, in angry
astonishment, came to the door.

Once out of sight, Dishrowe laughed until he could
laugh no longer, over Orrie's unoMpected ])roposal, and
the solemn countenance with which she niade it. Onco
or twice more unpleasant thoughts obtruded them-
selves; but with his hni^py, careless nature he set them
aside, and gallo])ed back in far better spirits and appe-
tite than when he had left.

It was some time in ^^hc afternoon when he reached
Fontelle. Wishing to see his uncle for a moment, to
discover if \\v: had any message to send to Lord Earne-
cliife, to whom ho was about to write, he in(piired after
luncheon where he was, and learned from Tribulation
* that he was in the Ubrary, according to his custom iu
the afternoon.

The library was at the end of the south hall ; and to
reach it he had to pass the room of Jacquetta, and Ja-
cinto, which were opposite to each other. Thinking of

PRIDE AND DASSTON.

201

with

you.

S sliarply.
ps joii Hj-e
i,^lit struck

posing liis
lers. Ko,

aid Orrie,

maintain-
refer you
!ndor jier-
oposal."
11 i^ravifcy
ipranir oq

iu angry

lie con Id
osal, and
t. Onco
I tlieni-
set them
id appe-

readied
nont, to
Earnu-
1 after
)iilation
atom iu

her with returning tenderness, he started on his errand,
humming a verse of the old song :

**I might liave harl a king's daughter,
Far,. far, beyonl the sea;
I niiglit have liad a king's daughter,
ilad it not been for love of thee."

. The door of Jacinto's room lay open as he passed,
and something caught liis eye, and he panscd.

Well he migiit ! Well might lie stand transfixed,
while the blood flushed in a crimson tide for one in-
stant to ills very temples, and then retreated, leaving
him white even to his li]>s.

On a sofa indolently reclined Jacinto — his head rest-
ing on one hand, the other toying with the silken curls
of Jacquetta, while ho gazed up in her face with eyes
full of love and joy. She bent above him ; lier arms
around him as she knelt beside his couch, talking in
softest whispers; and at last, as he stood there, he saw
her stoop down and press her lips warmly to his.

The sight maddened him. What he would Jjave
said — what he would have done in his first fierce out-
burst of rage and jealousy, it would be hard to say ;
but both had heard liim, and both were on their feet in
a moment. Face, and neck, and brow of Jacquetta
grew crimson for an instant — the next it vanished ; and
with a look on her face he had never seen there before,
she walked over and coufrouted him.

and to
md Ja-
wing of

203

A QUEEN UNCROWNED,

CHAPTER XV;

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

\^ ■■

4*.f»'vi:

'ijii'

'ii.

**I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which stiys I must not stay ;
I SCO a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away."

HERE was a pause, during which they stood
gazing at each other, one in scorn and the
other in defiance. Jacinto stood with his
face averted — silent too. J acquetta W2.S the
lirst to s|)eak.

" Well, sir," she said imperiously.

He bowed in mock humility.

" I beg your pardon, j\Us8 Jac(pietta. I was on my
way to the 1 i brary to see my uncle, and passing here — "

" You stoppeil to look in."

"■Not intentionally. The door being open, I gave
a passing jj^lance in, naturally ; not expecting the
interesting little tableau vivant tha"" met my eye. Ex-
cuse mo tor interrupting it ; i would not have done so
for the world."

bhe grew crimson at the insinuation his tone con-
veyed.

'' Insolent ! What do you mean, sir V^

*' Mean ! Oh, nothing, my dear cousin ! JJut would you
mind my advising you to shut the door in future, when
you indulge in such little endearments^ They are very
natural and harmless, no doubt, but some ot the serv-
ants may ciumce to see you ; and servants wiU taiiv,
you know ^"

" Our servants will not ; our guests appear to be

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

203

sy stood
and the
vitli his
L was the

3 on vcij
liere — "

1 gave
ng tlie
B. Ex-
ion e so

le con-

II Id you
), when
re vxry
le serv-

l tlUlC,

to be

more given to eavesdropping than they are. Be assured,
sir, we shall take the precaution of shutting the door,
in future. Have you anything else to advise f

" Nothing," said Disbrowe, pale with passion and
iealonsv, "but that midniii^ht interviews \\'it!i old hai-'S,
and afternoon interviews with young Spaniards, should
both be more discreetly managed, lest Miss J acq net ta
De Vere lind herself in trouble, some day."

"Miss Jacquetta De Vere is very much obliged to
you, but is quite capable of taking care of herself.
Anything else, my worthy cousin f '

" JS'othing else. Good afternoon, Miss De Vere."

" One moment ! Did you dream this pleasant little
scene was to happen'^" said Jacquetta with a curious
smile.

" Some faint vision like it may have passed through
my mind, of late, but nothing quite so enchanting as
the reality. 1 see, now, why i was refused. Allow
me to take tl o present opportunity of congratulating
you on your gcod fortune, lest another should not occur,
speedily."

" VVhere arc you going f

"To the library, just at present."

" Is papa there C

^'' My uncle is there — yes," said Disbrowe, with em-
phasis.

" What do you mean, sir f ' she demanded, with a
sharp liasli of her eye.

"JN'othing. Part of my dream merely crossed mv
mmd."

She looked at him as if she would have pierced hnn
with her sharp, angry eyes ; but liis face wore no ex-
pression, save (jne of contemptuous sai'casm. It stung
her to tlie(juick ; and again her j)ale face Hushed, and
her eye blazed with a dangei-ous light.

" 1 presume you are go^'^^ to tell him what you
have seen ^"
}Je bowed.
"Miss Jacquetta is at libeity to construe my con-

204

A Q UEEN Uy GR WNED.

i-li I

•i ■ 'i ■

duct as she pleases. At the same time, I would humbly
insiauate 1 am neither au eavesdropper nor a tale-
bearer."

"I confess, it looks like it," she said, with a curling
lip. " One thing is certain ; your conduct, since you
came here, has been very far removed from that of a
gentleman."

" Miss Do Yere !" he said haughtily.

" LLow has it been ?" she broke out, licrcely. " AYas
it the part of u gentleman, in the first place, after re-
ceiving the hospitality of this house, to insult the
daugiiter of your liost by an oiler of the love long ago
pledged to auother i Was it the part of a gentleman to
follow me into a quarter of this house you knew was
forbidden, to see, and hear, and spy on my actions 'i
Was it the part of a gentleman, I say, to stop looking
in doors and at scenes you had no business to look at —
at things never meant for your eye V

" 1 can believe that, Miss Jaccpietta," he said, in scorn-
ful anger ; " and 1 might retort, by saying : Was it tho
part of a lady to become an actor in such forbidden
scenes — a De Yere stooping to love a nameless foreign
adventurer'^ i thouixht better tiiinics ot" my cousin,"

" Who cares what you thought, sir !" she said, with
a passionate stamp of her foot. '* I will love whom 1
please, do what i please, stoop to what 1 please, and
defy you to your ta(;e."

"Allow me to claim the same privilege, then."

" You to come here to dictate to me !" continued Jac-
qnetta, conqiletely overcome by passion, and pacing
fiercely u]) and tlown, after her custom when excited.
"You, a coni[)lele stranger, who, because your nu^ther
chanced to bear our name, forsooth, think yourself
privileged to rule lord and master of ^ontelle liall and
Jacquetta De V'^ere. Who are }ou, sir^ What are you,
that vou should dare to talk like this to me?"

" Verily, a man of little account," said Disbrowe,
with a cold, calm smile, that fairly maddened her, "and
with uo authority either iu Fonteile or over Miss Jack

^'^.

■#^

A QUE EN UNCROWNED.

20j

I humbly
r a tale-

a curling
iiice you
hat of a

Was
after re-
isiilt tlie
ong ago
eman to
new was
actions ?
looking
3ok at — •

in scorn-
as it the
rbiddea
foreign
usin,"
id, with
vhoni I
and

LS'

n.'

led Jac-

pacing

3 X cited.

nic^ther

ourself

all and

re you,

>browe,
r, "and
SB Jack

De Verc ; but as slie bears my family name, and claims
kindred with me, I feel a friendly interest in her and
her good rcpulationr

If a bullet had struck her, she could not have paused
more suddwnly in her passionate tread, nor turned of a
more livid whiteness. Again, she clasped both hands
over her heart, as he had seen her do before, and reeled
as if she had got a blow.

" She is fainting !" cried Jacinto, springing forward
in terror.

Shocked and terrified at the effect of his words,
Bpokeu without thought in the white heat of his pas-
sion, Disbrowe advanced ; and alarmed, lest she were
really fainting, he would have caught her; but, with a
great cry, she held out her arms to keep him off.

''Go! go! Leave me!" she cried, huskily, point-
ing wiiii one llickering linger to the door.

" My dearest cousin !" he said, in sorrow and re-
morse. " what have I said ? Can you ever forgive
mer'

" Leave me !" she exclaimed, passionately.

" Forget my words, dear Jaccpetta ; forget what I
said."

" Never ! so help me Heaven !" she fiercely cried.
" Go, and never come back ! 1 never want to look on
your face again !"

There was no resisting that tone ! Sorrowfully, he
turned away, casting one last look behind liim — a' look
he never forgot till his dying day.

Ue saw her fling herself on the sofa, her hands still
tightly clasped on her breast, her face buried in the pil-
lows. He heard a passionate, anguished cry : " O my
heart ! my heart ! " And then the reproachful eyes of
Jacinto were raised to his ; the door was closed, and
the young, fearless mountain-queen lay uncrowned and
unthroned, unsceptred and disgraced, with the arrow
he liad sped quivering in her heart.

Ho had to stand for some moments himself to
regaia his calmness before he could knock at the library

t*i

30o

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

r. . !,

r '■;

Ir'f!!

f-i

.1*1'

irn

cleor. He turacd the handle, in answer to his uncle's
" Conic in," and stood before him with his customary
composure ; Ijnt with a face paler and sterner than that
wortiiy old gentleman had ever seen him wear before.

'' My dear boy," he exclaimed, pushing up his spec-
tacles, " what is the matter V

"Nothing," said Disbrowe, taking a chair — "at
least, nothing you need disturb yourself about. I have
come to thaidc you for the pleasant hours I have spent
beneath your roof, and to announce my departure."

" Your what V exclaimed Mr. De Vere, in con-
sternation.

Disl)rowe smiled.

" My departure. I leave to-morrow."

" To-morrow I God bless us !" said Mr. De Yere,
pushing back his chair, and looking at him. "Have
you gone crazy V

" No, sir, I hope not."

" Then what has put this ab^^urd notion into your
head ? And so suddenly, too ! Why, last night, when
you told me you were going to write to Earnecliffe to-
day, you had no idea — not the remotest — of leaving."

Disbrowe colored.

" Circumstances alter cases,
mind since then."

" Ah, pooh ! I won't hear
away to-morrow, indeed 1 Oh,

the notion is absurd," said Mr. De Vere, taking a huge
pinch of snuff, and blowing his nose furiously.

"My dear uncle, if you only knew — "

" Well, I don't know, and, what's more, I don't
want to know. I won't hear of such a thing ! I won't,
positively ! What will the girls say?"

Disbrowe smiled bitterly.

"They will hardly regret my departure, I fancy."

" Yes, they \vill, too ; you must not fancy any such
thing. Grusty's cold and utulcmonstrative, I know ;
and you have seen what a glamour that infern.d old
hag has cast over her. But she likes you none the

I have changed my

it — I won't!
pooh ! pooh ! pooh !

Going

1 :1 » I

tiis uncle's
3ii8toruary
than tliat
r before.
) bis spec-
hair — " at
;. I have
ave spent
ture."
J in con-

De Yere,
"Have

into your
4it, when
Bcliffe to-
having."

aged my

! Going

! pooli !

g a huge

I don't
I won't,

fancy."
any such
[ know;
rn<il old
lone the

A Q HE Elf UNCR WNED.

207

less. And Jack's wild and saucy. But it's her way ;
and I'm sure she will be outrageous when she learns it.
Oh, yon mustn't think of going at all. It won't do,
you see."

" Unfortunately, my dear sir, it is not a matter of
thought. I must go."

"■ Nonsense, you can stay if you like. Who is to
make you ? Who is to say must to you ?"

^'Ah! 'thereby hangs a tale!'" said Disbrowe,
smiling slightly. "There is one o'er the water a'
sighin' for me!"

'' Oh, I see !" said Mr. De Vere, a light breaking
in on him. "There is, as they say of the duels, 'a
Lidy in the case.'"

Disbrowe bowed ; and a faint red tinged his cheek.

" Indeed ! who is she, Alfred ?"

"Miss Norma Macdonald. You remember the
Macdonalds of Castle liiil, Inverness. Her father is of
that ilk."

" 1 knew them — yes. There were two brothers —
Angus and llandall. And a wild scapegrace Kandall
was — 'inordinately fond of ' women and wine.' Which
is her father^"

" llandall Macdonald. lie is a reformed character
now. His elder brother died, and all the property fell
to him. He was abroad at the time, and only returned
upon the death of his brother — a widower, then, with
his only daughter, at the time five years old."

"Does he live at Castle Hill f'

" No ; he bought a magnihcent estate in Derby-
shire, and has lived there ever since I can remember.
I fancy he found the old manor rather dull and gloomy,
and so preferred England."

" Aud so you are engaujed to be married to her."

'- ^es, si]', I believe 1 am," said Disbrowe, care-
lessly.

" Is she handsome ?"

"More — she is beautiful."

" Of course. Was there ever a lover thouerht other-

lii

208

A QUE Elf UNCROWNED.

•'.'I.

wise t Well, she comes of a good fivmily. Kone bet-
ter—good, old Scotch blood llowing in her vaiiis. Who
was her mother"^"

" Can't say. A foreign lady, I believe. Indeed, if
I am not greatly mistaken, she was an American. Mr.
Macdonald, 1 know, was in America for some time, and,
from several slight things, I more than once suspect
she was a native of this new country. IJo never al-
luded to the subject himself. I never heard him speak
of his wife in my life."

"Humph! that's odd. Perhaps — but no matter.
When are you to be married?"

" When Miss Macdonald attains lier nineteenth
bir'ili-day."

" And when will that blessed time be?"

" Sometime next November, I believe."

"You helieve! You're a pretty lover! Of course,
you are all iiupatience till the time comes !"

" Of course," was the dry answer.

Mr. De Vere looked at him with a queer smile.

" Is she rich ?"

" Very — worth ten thousand a year."

" Which, with the barony of Guilford, and the earl-
dom of Earneclilfe, will be nearer a hundred thousand.
Do you know 3'ou will be one of the richest peers in
England one of these days, Alfred V

" I need it. I am poor enough tiow."

" I suppose Earneclilfe gives ^ou a liberal allow-
ance."

" Does he ? Something like two thousand a year ;
and what is that to me — and witii the set I move among,
too ?" said Disbrowe, contemptuously.

"Many a man could subsist pretty easily on that
sum," said his uncle, dryly. " My yearly income does
not exceed it."

Disbrowe stared.

" My dear uncle, I thought you were rich."

" Well, I am, too — as rich as I want to be."

ll M

A qui: EN UNCROWNED.

209

None l)et-
iiis. Who

Indeed, if
can. Mr.
time, and,
ce suspect
never al-
liini speak

o matter.

ineteentli

)f course,

paile.

the earl-

housand.

peers in

al allow-

a year ;
3 among,

on that
nie doea

Captain Disbrowe felt a strong inclination to
whistle ; hut he didn't,

"Mv dear l)oy, w\\\ yon let your old uncle ask you a
question, without being oU'ended f

" Certainly, sir. Ask as many as yon please."

"Then, was it you or Lord Earnecliile brought
about this engagement V^

"Earnecliile."

" Ah ! indeed ! Do you love her, Alfred?"

" JSo, j^ir !" said the young man, coldly.

" My dear boy !"

" My dear uncle !"

And Disbiowe positively laughed in his uncle's
grave face.

"But, really, this is — O Alfred ! this marrying
without love is a wretched piece of business I 1 do not
approve of it at all."

" My dear uncle, who would expect to find you
sentimental ?"

" Sentimental !" said Mr. De Yere, almost angrily.
"I am not sentimental. Does she love you'^"

An expression almost like remorse crept over the
handsome young face.

" I think so — 1 believe so ! It is more than I de-
serve from her 1"

" Poor girl ! You will be good to her, Alfred ?"

" I will try to be, sir."

" I do not like these marriages de cotwenance —
they are obsolete in tins ai^e of improvement. I
wonder you should consent to such an arrangement,
Alfred."

" My dear sir, what would you have ? I can't do
better. She is everything I can desire. I like her
well enough ; she loves me, with all my faults ; and we
will get along very well together."

"Did you ever love any one, Alfred?"

"It is late to ask that question. Of course, like
every other young man, I have been in love scores of

.;iKi-

210

A Q VEEN Uy Cli WNED.

t ,' '

bki

'*: ^ ,i f

T I i

l,^i!

it'rT

I i:

: 'i

times. It is like the measles and wliooping-coiigli —
we mnst sullcr throiii:;]! sik;1i attneks."

" Jf you like no father woman better than licr, you
may do well enoui,di ; Imt if — do you like any one
better, my dear boy V

Uisbrowc was silent ; but his cheek Hushed.

"'Silence gives consent.' Will you not tell your
old uncle, Alfred V

" You had better not ask that question, sir."

"I am your friend, Disbrowe."

"i know it, sir; and for that reason 1 would DOt
tell you."

'"^Alfred!"

The young man sprang from his chair, and began
pacing violently up and down the room. Mr. De Yere
looked at him in something like dismay.

" Lord bless me ! It can't be possible, you know !"

''AVhat, sir^^"

" That you have gone and fallen in love with — ^"

" Weir^" said Disbrowe, almost liercely.

" Augusta !" exclaimed Mr. De Vere.

"No, sir!" said Disbrowe. "Make your mind
cas}'' on that ])oint. My cousin Augusta is up among
the stars — too high above my reach. It happens to be
Bome one nearer the earth,"

"Oh!" said Mr. De Vere, looking relieved. "I
thought, by your manner, it was some one here; and,
as Angusta is the only one — "

" The only one ! You forget you have another
daughter!"

" What ! Good heavens !" exclaimed his uncle, in
perfect horror. "It's not possible that you love — "

" Jucquetta Do Vere ! Yes, sir ; 1 ilo, with all my
heart and soul !" tiercely, passionately excliiimed Dis-
browe.

Ml*. De Yere fell back, perfectly speechless, in his
chair.

" Yes, I love her so well that I would marry her to-
morrow, if 1 could !"

■cough —

her, you
any one

tell your

ould not

another

mcle, in
e— "
1 all my
led l)is-

3, in his

T her to-

id began
De Vere

]''■

know !"

ith "

ur mind

■ -id

p among
ins to be

led. "I
re; and,

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

211

" Mv dcnr Alfred, this is — this is — horrible !"
gasped Mr. De Vere.

*' What ! is it such an unheard-of thing, that a man
being engaged to one, loves auotlier ?"

"No; it's not that. You do not know. Good
lieavens ! if you only did I" cried Mr. De Vere, per-
fectly aghast.

" Know what, sir f

"Oh, I ciiu't tell you— I can't tell you ! My dmr
bey, this is the most unheard of — the most shocking —
why, I thoiighi you coukhi't endure one another — you
were always quarreling."

"That could not prevent me from loving her."

" Bless my soul ! Did ever anybody hear anything
like this! AVHiy, it's dreadful — it's monstrous — it's —
it's — I'm astounded^ Captain Disbrowe! Love Jac-
quetta! Why, it's perfectly awful I''

Disbrowe slopped, and looked at him in amazement.

"1 never heard the like — I never did — in all my
life! I couldn't have helieved such a thing!" went on
Mr. De Veie, in a perfect ecstacy of dismay.

" Uncle, there is some mystery in this. What crime
have 1 committed in loving my cousin, beyond my
breach of faith to Norma ? Would it not have been as
bad had I loved Auo-usta f'

" Loved Augusta ! You're crazy, young man ! Of
course, it wouldn't ! Why, that would be nothing.
But to love Jack — oh, it's — it's terrific!''''

" Keally, uncle,'' said Disbrowe, coldly, " this is very
singular, to say the least. Miss Jacquetta appears to be
a sort of human Koh-i-noor — a female mysterious
princess, whom it is high treason to look at. /do not
eee anythinn^ at all territic about the business."

" Oh, you don't know — you don't know. Good
gracious ! if you did I Does Jacquetta know this V

" Yes, sir."

" She does ! My dear boy, what did she say ?"

" Say ? She said so much that I would find it dif-
ficult to tell you. I know she got into a towering

,3; ,

213

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

i-i

passion, and told me T had insulted her — which was far
enoui^li from my thoughts, Heaven knows ! One thing
you may set your mitid at rcbt about — she doesn't cai'o
two eo})pers for me."

" Heaven be praised for that !"

Disbrowe stopi)ed in his excited walk, and looked
at him, as well he might.

Mr. Do Vere had recovered from his first paroxysm
of horror and astonishment, and was growing calm.

" This is a most unfortunate affair — dreadfully un-
fortunate — the worst thing that could possibly happen !
and 1 am very sorry for you, my dear boy. Yes ; you
must go — there is no help for it ; but you must return
again, sometime — when you are married V

A strange sort of smile llickered around Disbrowe's
handsome mouth ; but his only reply was a slight bow.

" Does she — Jaccpietta, I mean — know you are going
to-morrow f

No, sir.

" Will you tell her ?"

" Most assuredly, sir !" said Disbrowe, haughtily.
"You do not suppose I am going to steal off without
bidding her good-bye. I shall see her to-morrow."

" My dear Alfred, I am very sorry, and I know
you feel this deeply ; but, believe me, Jacquetta feels
it just as much as you can possibly do."

Disbrowe thought of the scene in Jacinto's cham-
ber, and again that bitter, mocking smile came over his
face.

" You must try to forget her ; you must try to be
happy ; you must love your bride. Will you, Alfred ?"

" I will try."

" God bless you, ray dear boy ! I could find it in
my heart to keep you here forever, when you look at
me with your dead mother's eyes. And so you go to-
morrow f

" Yes, sir, I will leave here for New York, and from
there, in a day or two, will start for — "

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

213

bich was far

Olio thing

iocsn't cai'o

and looked

st paroxysm
ig calm,
siidfully un-
)\y happen !
Yes ; you
nust return

Disbrowe's
slight bow.
mare going

haughtily.
)ff without

ITOW."

nd I know
uetta feels

ito's cliam-
le over liis

it try to be
i, Alfred V

\ find it in
''ou look at
you go to-

, and from

" Merric England ! The dear old land that I long
to see again."

*' I hope to sec yon at Fontelle Park, sir — old Fon-
telle," s;ii(i DisI)rowc, with a smile.

"rcrhapsl may. When you arc married, I will
bring Augusta, and come over to see you."

"Do so, my dear niicle ; and, whether married or
single, you will always i)e welcomed with a true Jieart
to the old home of the De Veres."

'* I know it. Give my love to Earneclifle and Lady
Margaret. I suppose you will be busy for the rest of
the evening; so J will nut detain you."

Disbrowe left the library, and sought his own room,
to arrange his affairs before starting. It occupied him
until the supper-l)ell rang; and then he descended the
stairs with a small pain at his heart, as he thought it
was the last time, in all probability, he should ever hear
it.

Neither Jacinto nor Jaequetta appeared, and he
was ghid of it. He could not bear the sight of either
very well, just then, and yet he would not for worlds
liave gone away without seeing the latter. lie looked
forward to that last meetin;c with somethin^jr of the
same feelings wherowiih a criminal led to execution
might look his last at the bright sun, and beautiful sky,
and smiling earth, knowing he would never look upon
them in the world again.

Frank was loud in his lamentation, and Augusta
looked her regret at losing her cousin ; but Disbrowe
sat and listened wath a strange, restless feeling at his
heart, for

"Ever close and near
A lady's voice was in his ear."

And all the evening he watched the door with feverish
impatience for her coming, starting whenever it opened,
and sinking back with a sicken.! ng feeling of disap-
pointment when she came not.

The clock struck eleven before his uncle and cousin

I ♦

U J I'i

214

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

M. f

!* m

1 .ii

),!<

I!'t

left the drawii\i2;-room that oveniti2: ; and he found him-
self alone with his own thoui^hts — angry and disap-
pointed in spite of himself at her absence. Wliat if he
should not see her at all before lie left ? He strove to
persuade himself tliat lie did not care — that she was
nothini^ to him ; he thoui^lit of her as he had seen lier
last; but all would not do. The thought that it was
tlie very last time, perhaps, he should ever see )icr,
softened his feeliniijs. She rose before him bri<i;ht and
radiant, as he had ilrst seen her standing in the golden
glory of the bright morning sunshine ; and he could
remember nothing but that he loved her with all his
heart, and was about to lose her forever. With some-
thing like a groim, he sat down I)y the table, and drop-
f)ed his head on his arm, and for more than an hour
le sat there, as still and motionless as if death had stilled
forever that im[)ulsive heart. Proud he had been called,
and proud he was, too ; but he felt humble enough
now.

Dear reader, you may think him inconsistent ; and
perhaps he was. But just remember the time you
were in love yourself, and hud to bid Sarah Jane or
Mary Ann good-bye ; and, although you wei'e madly
"jealous of her and that ferociously good-looking whis-
kered jackanapes she had flirted with last, how dreadfully
bad you felt about it, and how ready you were to fur-
give her all, and lay your head on lu!r modt^Nellne de
la'uie bosom and groan out all vonr love and i'e[)entance.
And lovers and lunatics are not to be held account-
able for what they say or do, as sane people like you
and I are ; and so poor AUVed Uisbrowe thought, and
nobody contradicted him ; but, in si)ite of his prospect-
ive coronet and hundred t.'ioasand a year, he was the
most miserable, forlorn youi'.g llriton in existence.

lie took no heed of ])assing time as he lay there,
lie only remend)ered that it was the last night he was
to pass under the same roof with ,Iac(pietta, and that
thought bi'ought with it the bi(terne;-.s of death. So
he lay, ])erfectly motionless, and so dead to all outer

A QUEEN UNCROWNED.

215

onnd liim-
iiid disap-
»V]iat if he
! strove to
,t slie was
1 seen lier
;liat it was
r see licr,
jriij^ht and
he golden
he could
ith all his
nth some-
and drop-
i an hour
had stilled
een called,
le enough

itent; and
time you
h Jane or
i"e madly
iug whis-
1 read fully
!re to for-
s,seilne de
pentance.
account-
like you
gilt, and
prospect-
i was the
■ncc.

ay there,
\ lie was
and that
■;itli. So
all outer

.ft

things, that lie heard not the door softly open, nor saw
the light, delicate tlgure that stood in the doorway.

It was Jaccpictta, paler, perhaps, than usual, but
with a cold, ])roud look on her face, and the deliant
lire still smoldering in her dark eye, ready to blaze up
again at one haughty word or supercilious tone. There
was that in her look, half-shyness, half-detiance, such as
shines through the wild eyes of half-tamed animals,
but it softened as it fell on that i)rostrate iigu."e and
young, grief-bowed head. A pang smote her heart
at the sight. There was something so forlorn and
sorrowful in his attitude — so touching to see in one
80 proud. She could forget his taunts and bitter words,
and remember, with a still softening heart, that she
was the cause, and that on the morrow he was going
awtvy, never to come back. She came over, and one
little white hand fell softly and tenderly among the
neglected locks of his rich, brown hair.

^^ JJcar Alj'redr she said, gently.

lie looked uj), and the last trace of her anger faded
away at the sight of his grieved face and sad, reproach-
ful eyes.

" () Jacquetta ! have you come at last ?"

" Yes, to bid you good-l>ye."
, " You know, then, I am goijig away ?"

" Yes."

"■ And you are glad, no doubt," he said, witli sorao
of his old bitterness.

'' We will not (piarrel again, Cousin Alfred, if you

E lease. We have had enough of that for one wiiile.
et us part friends."

" Friends we never can be, Jacquetta P'
" I am sorry for it," she said, sadly.
"Somethifig far more or somiithing far less we must
be to one another. As cousins we may part — never as
iriends.

*' You will think dillercntly, by-and-by ; you are
angry now."

■»!.
k

,1 '•!

216

A q UEEN UNGR WNED. ,

l'-«ic«

J I

tl ilfj

I Hit

n ' 1

i ,:S

" O Jacqnctta ! 1 wisli to Jleaven I had never come
here I" lie cried, veliciiieiitly.

"It is useless wisliiiig' that now. It mio:ht have
been better for each of iis if you never had ; but what
will be will be."

" O flacquetta ! is it too late yet ? I will give up
everythini^ for you ! Perish wealth and rank, when put
in competition with this dear hand !"

" Enough, Cousin Alfred ! You are raving again.
You say we cannot part friends, we will go to the other
extreme and part enemies, if you keep on like this.
Between you and .Tacquetta De Vere lies a gulf as wide
as that between Lazarus and Dives, and just as impas-
sable. I will not see you to-morrow ; so I have come
tO bid you good-bye and God-speed to-night."

She held out her hand with a faint smile. He took
it, and dropped his hot forehead on the cool, wliite
palm .

" And it all ends here, Jacquetta ?"

" Yes. Is it not a better ending than that Grizzle
Ilowlet prophesied ?"

He started, and his face was crimson.

" I have lived in a trance since I came here — the
pleasantest one I ever knew, and it is very hard this
awaking. O Jacquetta! I never knew till now how
dear >ou were to me !"

" You will for<j^et me in a month."

"Never !" he almost fiercely exclaimed.

"You will laugh at this in three months, and won-
der you could ever have been such a — shall I say it? —
simpleton. See it" I am not a true prophet!"

He dashed her liand away, and sju'ang to his feet.

" Jacquetta, you are enough to drive a man mad!
Your heart is as hard as a nether millstone ! You have
no more feeling than a block of iron !"

She smiled slightly and looked at him with her
calm gray eyes.

" J )oirt look at me so ! You drive me frantic with
your cold, icy eyes ! Good Heavens 1 that with such a

A QCErX UNCUOWXED.

O 1 "•

Mi I

never come

mii>:ht liave
. ; but what

ill p;ive np
V, wlien put

/in a; ap^ain.
to tlic other
m like tliis.
!;ulf as wide
t as impas-
have come

:. He took
cool, wliite

lat Grizzle

here — the

y hard this

now how

and won-

say it ? —

his feet,
man mad 1
You have

n with her

•antic with
ith such a

fire in my heart, you can stand before me such an ice-

bcr-!"

'' Ice extinguishes lire, and one lunatic is enough at
a time. AViiuii you arc done raving, I may begin."

'• And this — this is what I havo'loved ! This dead
heart — this marble statue — this gh-l of ice — this — "

" rerlidious, unfeeling, abandoned female! There,
I have helped you out ! Now, stamp up and down, and
tear your hair, and swear till all's blue ! That the way
they do it in the l)lays."

" Did you come here to mock me ? Am I an idiot
in your eyes C he asked, passionately.

" Very like it, I nnist confess, at the present mo-
ment. I'came here to bid you farewell, as I am going
away to-morrow morning, and will not see you again ;
so, if you have no objection, 1 will sit down till you
have ranted yourself back to your sober senses, and
then we may part as decent Christians sliould.''
^, She drew an ell)ow-chair up to the lire, poked it up
until it burst out in a great sheet of llanie, and then
utting two little slipporcd feet up on the fender, she
c:ined her elbow on the arm of the chair, dropped her
cheek on her hand, yawned Vv-earily, and looked in the
lire.

There is nothing will drive one frantic sooner than
getting into a passion with another, and seeing them
sit as serene and unmovcHl as a wa\ doll before us,
Dis1)rowe was like one insane for a few moments, and
burst out in a lierce tirade, in which "cruel, heartless,
unwomanly, ■■ were among the mildest epithets ai)plied
toiler; but she listened to all as if he were a parrot
repeating a lesson. At last he g(jt exhausted, ami Hung
himself into a seat like a sulky lion.

'• \\'ell, lire you done ^" she said, looking up and
•awning behind her linger tips. "1 want" to go to
'ed."

" Go then !" he said bitterly.

" But won't you say good-bye lirst?"

218

A qUEEN UNCROWNED.

I 1

w\\^>

U \n

U«

'^ ill!

"With all my heart 1 I never said it to any one
more gladly !"

" Well, that's pleasant to hear, and very polite on
your part, too. I forgive you for all the names you
called mo, as I believe I gave you a blowlug-up the
other evening, and it is only tit for tat. So good-bye,
Cousin Alfred."

She got up and held out her hand.

" Good-bye," he said, coldly, just touching the tips
of her white jeweled lingers.

" Oh, this will never do ! Shake hands, cousin."

"I had rather be excused. I only sliake hands
with my friends."

"And lam never to be placed in that category ^
Well, I should not mind that much ; but 1 hate to part
in anger witli any one 1 may never see again. Come!
don't display such an unchristian feeling, my dear
Alfred ! Do as you would be done bv, \ on know : and
if that does not move you, remember that pathetic
little canticle of the excellent and prosy AVatts, begin-
ning: 'Let dogs delight to bark and bite,' and just
apply that touching passage : ' Your little hands were
never made to tear each other's eyes,' to our case, and
I am sure it will move you, since it might move Mount
Vesuvius, or any other liery excrescence."

"We are too civilized for anythin*^ of rhat sort, my
dear cousin," he said, bitterly. " We only tear each
other's heiirts."

"Well, being children of a larger growth, it is to
be expected that we shonld improve in the art of tor-
ture. But, Cousin Alfred, I am tired of this fencing ;
our swords may slip, and one of us get a hard blow.
Uesides, unronnmtic as the confession sounds, 1 am
dreadfully sleepy. Once more farewell, and Uod speed
you, my dear cousin 1"

Her voico faltered a little. It is hard to say gootl-
bye, even to an every-day accpiaintance whom we like ;
but oh! very, very hard to one we love! lie saw her
lip quiver, and it moved him as nothing else could have

A qUEEN UIfCIiO]7NED.

219

it to any one

very polite on

lie names you

lo\viiig-up the

So good-bye,

Lcliing the tips

ds, cousin."
sliake hands

;hat category i
1 hate to part

f^ain. Come !

ng, my dear

OR know ; and
that patlietic
Watts, begin-

»ite,' and just
1 hands were
our case, and
move Mount

rliiit sort, my
nly tear each

owth, it is to
he art of tor-
tliis fencing;
a liard blow.
)unds, 1 am
id God speed

I to say gooil-
loni we like ;
He saw her
so could have

done. His anger and bitterness all vanished, and he
was on his feet in an instant, holding both her hands in
his, and saying, passionately :

" Jacquetta, JaccpieUa! my first, my last, my only
love, good bye, and liod bless you ! I have been mad
to talk to you as I did. My dearest love, say you for-
give me before we part."

" I forgive you. J^et me go."

Still he held her. A lire was rising in his eye, a
llnsh was rising iu his face. She looked up, and quailed
in fear before that glance.

"Let nie ^oV' she cried, wildly; " let me go, sir !
What do you mean V^

" Jacquetta!"

"Are you mad. Captain DIsbrowe? Let me go, 1
command you !" she cried, with a passionate stamp of
her foot.

"Jacquettal"

With a fierce cry, she wrenched her hands from liig
grasp, and lied to the door. She stood there for one
moment like a wounded stag at bay, her eyes blazing,
her face colorless, panting, frightened, defiant, lie did
not move ; he stood like a statue.

" Once more farewell, and /jo?i vof/arje .'" she said,
waving her hand. And the next moment the sparkling
little vision was gone, and Captain Alfred Disbrowe was
alone.

220

THE S'lORT Ijy THE LONE /iViV.

CHAPTEK XVI.

THE STORY IN THE LONE INN.

** ITow now, you secret, blnck and midnight hag,

Wliut is't you do V — Macuictu.

HAT saniG ni<^lit, three iioiirs earlier, there
" niinjht have been seen," if tlierc had been
anybody out to see, which there wasn t, an
ancient mariner ploddinc^ liis way along the
lonesome road between the Mermaid Tavern
and the lone inn. The nii^'ht was dark, an<l tlie road
was bad, but Captain Nick Tempest had a supreme con-
tempt for muddy roads and the clerk of the weather;
so, with his hands in his pockets, and a phig of tobacco
in his mouth, his tarpaulin cocked on one side of. his
head, he ])lunged manfully alonij;, whistling " Barbara
Allen" as he went, by jerks, with long pauses between
the bars.

Captain Tempest was thinking — which was sonie-
tliing he was not in the habit of doing as a general
thing, being more given to acting. Old Crrizzle's man-
ner the night before had implied something serious ;
and he felt intensely curious to know what revelations
she had to make to-night. That it was something
important, ho felt convinced — for Grizzle was not a
lady to mak(^ a luystery of trifles ; and, moreover, she
had contrived to have her two hopeful sons, Kit and
Jilaise, and her equally-hopeful brother, old Till, sent
out of the way, that she and the commander of the
"Fly-by-Night" might hold their nocturnal tete-d-tete
undisturbed.

Not being blessed with a very vivid imagination,

WN.

thag,

irlier, there
re had been
Q wasn't, an
y along the
laid Tavern
nd tlie road
iprcnie con-
10 weather;
;' of tobacco
side of. his
n; " Barbara
es between

was sonie-
is a general
zzle's nran-
ng serious ;
revelations
soniethinii'
was not a
reovei", she
IS, Ivit and

Till, sent
lor of the

tete-d-tete

lagination,

THE BTORT IN TEE LONE INN.

231

however, Old Nick found the nut too hard to crack ;
and so wisely resolved not to strain his teeth trying it,
but to wait until time and his fair friend should see fit
to extract the kernel.

Having with much pain and labor ?ome to this
philosopliical conclusion at last, Captain Nick steered
contentedly along, with that rolling motion peculiar to
mtirine gentlemen, like a ship on an uneasy kwell.
Plunging resolutely through the wet level where the
old iiouse stood, he reached it at last; and giving a
tremendous knock, began yelping like a whipped cur.
Evidently tliis was a sort of signal, for the sound of
bolts withdrawing followed instantly. The door swung
open, and the pleasant face of Old Grizzle llowlet
beamed on him by the light of the lantern.

" Good night, my chick-a-leary ! Punctuality is the
soul of time," said the captain, in a hazy recollection of
some proverb. ''How do you iind yourself this morn-
ing, my sweet pet ^ ijlooming and beautiful as the
Goddess of Morning, as usual, 1 see."

" There was a time when you thought me blooming
enough," said the woman, in a harsh voice, as she se-
cured the door ; " when you would have shot any
other man foi* even looking at me !"

"■ Ah ! every one is a fool some time in their life,"
said the captain, Hinging himself into a chair before the
kitchen iire, and stretching out his legs to the genial
heat. '' Not that I would insinuate I made a fool of
myself in that blessed and verdant time of youth; for
you are a second Helen for whom another Troy might
be lost. ' Great is Diana of the Ephesians !' but greater
still is Grizzle of New Jersey I Got any beer?"

" Yes, take it," said the woman, ungraciously point-
ing to a jug and a pewter pint on the table. "There's
a pipe, too, if you want it."

^ •' It's just exactly what I do want. Ah ! that's
prime stui'f !" said the captain, smacking his lips. " It
reminds me of the bottles of 'alf-and-'alf we used to
drink in the greeu-room of Old Drury between the

■el

< t<

l\ ,

•. '■«

»'i

223

THE STORY IN TUE LONE INN.

scenes. Do you remeip.^er those l^lissful times, my
beauty ?"

" l^cs, better than I '.vant to," said Grizzle, almost
savagely, as she sat on a low stool, and with her elbow
on her knees, and her chin between her hands, looked
gloomily in tlie lire. " I'm not likely to look at you
and forget them."

"And here's a liiin' my trusty frien',
And gie's a liiui' (/ tliine,
"We'll tiik' a right gude williewacht
For the days o' auld lang sync,"

HI.1 I ,1

sang the captain, jocosely, as he resumed liis seat, and
leisurely proceeded to lill his pipe.

" That's so, old friend. All ! those were the days !"

"I am glad you think so well of them. You gave
me cause to remember them after another fashion."

A grim smile broke over- the face of the captain, as
he pushed up his hat, which he considered a super-
fluous piece of ceremony to take off ; and having un-
buttoned his coarse pea-jacket and thrown it open, he
blew a few whilfs of smoke to get his pipe in good go-
ing order, and leisurely replied :

"I believe I did act kind of ugly about that busi-
ness ; but you see, my love, man is naturally tickle, and
Captain Nick Tempest particularly so. What does
our old acquaintance, Shakspere — glorious Will — say ?

* Trust not to man — we are by nature false,
Dissembling, cruel, subtle, and inconstant.
When a man talks of love, with caution trust him;
But if he swears, he'll certamly deceive thee.'

And I was ready to swear you. know, that fair was
foul and foul was fair for your sake, at one time. It
is wonderful how soon I got over that short brain-
fever."

" Yes ; when a prettier face came between," said

mN.

THE STORY IN TUB LONE INN.

223

1 times, my

izzle, almost
;li Jier elbow
ands, looked
ook at you

lis seat, and

3 the days !"
You gave
Fashion."
D captain, as
ed a super-
having un-
it open, he
in good go-
it that busi-
.' lickie, and
What does
Vill— say ?

st him;
e.'

at fair was
le time. It
liort brain-
ween," said

the woman, bitterly. " Don't scowl, Nick Tempest !
The d;iv has gone by when 1 feared your frown !"

'• 1)1(1 you ever fear it V

'- .\() need to ask that question; you know too well
I dihTr dare to call my soul my own. Thank Heaven
I am not the only woman in the world who has been
dect'ived !"'

" A charitable thanksgiving I" said the captain, with
a sneer,

" You didn't bring me liere, I hope, to talk maud-
lin sentiment of by-gone days. ' Let the dead bury
their d^'ad.' It's devilish hard to rekindle black ashes."

''Don't fear, I have no more wish to recall the past
than you have. Yet it may be necessary to allude to it
more than once to-ni<jht."

A dark, sinister smile was on her face, and her evil
eyes gleamed red and hot in the light of the lire.

" Well, lire away, my duck! My feelings are none
of the tenderest or most sensitive," said the captain,
smoking severely.

'• Then you have changed since a certain day some
years ago, if you remember. There was a name then
you did not cxactlv covet hearinu:."

'" You mean Lelia. I've got nicely over thac."

'' I am glad to hear it. Then you will not object to
ray alluding to her a little?"

" \Vhat do you want to allude to her for? WhatVj
the use of raking up plague-pits V

" I never do anything without an object, as you %vill
discover before I have done. I have sent for you to
tell you a short imd, I flatter myself, not uninteresting
story, to night."

Tiie captain stared.

'' A story — what the dickens 1 You have not taken
leave of your senses, have you ?"

" iS'(jt exactly. Arc you ready to listen?"

"All I'ight — heave ahead."

The \v'oman glanced askance at him, as he sat smok-
ing, the very picture of composure — an evil, mocking

; t
1

224

THE STORY IN THE LONE INN.

•y. I'

h.:^-, :

.1 M

p^hnico ; and tlioTi, dropping lier voic'o into the monoto-
noi::-, iiionotone of a true stury-teliur, she hei^'an :

'* ()n(!0 upon a time, in a ccrt:\in theatrical corps of
a eert;an tlieator in old England, there was a leadinir
actress, a young girl, who did the heavy-tragedy busi-
ness, and was one of the bright particular stars of tli(3
day. She was not very handsome, this girl ; l)ut when
she trod the boards, and her voice ran.'j: throuL!:h the
house;, ])eople forgot her looks, and tlumders of applau.^c,
shook the building fro:n pit to ceiling. Night after
night when she appeared as Lady Macbeth, Jeanne
d' Arc, Catherine Do Medicis, and a score of other dai-k,
lierce characters, into which she conld throw all the
lire and passion of lier nature, has lier name been
shouted nntil the dense ])ublic were hoarse ; and
flowers, and boncjuets, and jewels sometimes, have rained
down on the stage, nntil you could not step for tramp
ling on them ; and this tragic muse, this new Melpom-
ene, became the toast of the day.''

" Self-praise is no recommendation," muttered the
captain.

"Peers of the land knelt at her feet with offers,
which she spurned, as she did tliosc who made them —
spurned them with lierce, indomitable pride, until all
London had to respect, as well as praise her. Olfers of
marriage were made her, too, from men over whose
eyes, ynd brains, and hearts, her acting cast a glamour,
like the fatal song of the fabled siren — offers she once
never dreamed of receiving : and yet she spurned them
too. And why did she do so — tell me why ?" And
the woman turned fiercely round on the stoical captain.

" Ah ! just so ! Why, the deuce only knows," said
that worthy mariner, with an exi)ressive shrug.

" You know, which amounts to the same thing.
There was a young actor attached to the same company
— not much noted for his beauty, nor liio dramatic
talent ; a wild, reckless, devil-may-care sort of a desper-
ado — lierce as a Bedouin of the desert — feared by all,
and loved by none."

'^BR'-;

AViV.

I the monoto-
eii-aii :

•ic'iil corps of
v:is ;i leadiiii/
Lragedy hiisi-
• stai-8 of tlio
'1 ; l)ut wIkmi
thnnigli the
s of upplau.^c

Kii^lit after
betli, Jeanne
f other dark,
irow all tile

name been
[joarse ; and
, have rained
p for tram]>
3\v Melpom-

fiuttered tlie

with offers,

lade them —

:de, until all

. Offers of

over whose

: a g-lamour,

;rs she once

urned them

ly ?" And

cal captain.

nows," said

amc thing.
10 company
m dramatic
3f a desper-
ired by all,

THE STORY IN THE LONE INN.

235

" My dear, you flatter," said Captain Nick, with a
look of mock huinilitv.

" Loved hv none, did I say ? Ah, yes ! there was one
—more fool she— who loved" him with all her heart,
witli all her soul— would have sold herself to Satan to
will one smile from him. A woman's heart is a strange
riddle, suice even she herself cannot read it."

" That\s so !" said the captain, emphatically.

'•This actress, who had refused so many better,
richer, handsomer men, stooped to love him — liow well,
there is no need to tell now. And he— ho discovered
it. She was not one to keep such a secret, she had hot
hloud in her veins — hot blood that had descended to
her through fiery channels."

"So had he," said the captain, with a laugh ; "^ and
there is an old-country saying, that ' butter to butter is
no kitchen.' "

*' lie was proud of it — he might well be ; for it
elevated him from the nol)ody he was before, into an
object almost of equal interest with herself. She was
rich, and she shared her wealili with him ; and he took
her money and led a life of riot and wildest debauchery,
spending it like water from the clouds."

Captain Nick perceptibly winced.

" lie said he loved her, and she believed him — poor
fool ! lY'i'liaps she thought he did ; but at all events,
he loved her money, and the reputation he had gained
by having his name linked with hers. And it was all
arranged that they should be married as soon as lier en-
gagement was ended, and travel on tlic Continent. She
did not entirely disapprove of his wild courses ; women
rather like men who have the reputation of being
harum-scarum dare-devils ; but she thought he carried
things to excess — more especially as he sometimes
stooped to robbery — even to robbing the dead. Once
her husband, slie thought she could have reformed him
a little ; and that, liaving sown his wild oats, he would
settle down and leave the crop to the birds of the air."

" Humph 1" said the captain.

10*

i -J

226

THE 8 TORT IN THE LONE JNN.

^'M

" It is doubtful whether she would have succeeded
— the demon had too strong a hold of him for that;
but, at all events, she was spared the trouble. A youni^
ballet-i2;irl of surpassingly beauty appeared — a younLjf
Frencli girl, only known as Lelia^po(jr as a church-
mouse, and, rumor said, no better tlian she oui^ht to be."

" Knmor lietl there I She was the ])uer of the actress
in those days on that point !" said Captain Tempest,
cahnly.

"Fcrhapsso; her afteractions showed it! Well,
this young actor saw her, and a powder-magazine, when
a lighted torch is tlirown in it, could not quicker or
more iiercely go oil', than did he after Mademoiselle
Lelia."

''Just like him ! lie always had a nasty habit of
going up like a rocket and (coming down like a stick,"
said the captain, with a half chuckle.

"I do not suppose she loved him — I am pretty sure
she did not ; but she wanted to get married, and she
thought by his way of living he had plenty of money.
And so ho Jiad ; but — the generous, noble-] learted youth !
— it was her money that he was spending so riotously —
she who was fool enough to trust him, and believe in
Lim implicitly."

" What is the good of ripping up tliese old sores ?
I wish you would get done, Grizzle 1" said Captain Nick,
impatiently.

She smiled sardonically.

" Have patience. I am only beginning ! I hope
you like the story^ Nick. I see you recognize the
characters."

" You be hanged 1" growded the captain, twisting
uneasily under her piercing gaze.

"Perhaps I may some day, and you too, if che gal-
lows gets its due. Let us live in hope. AVell, as I was
saying, the actor and ballet-girl fell in love with each
other — or we will suppose so — and the result of it was an
elopement and a marriage. Both were beggars, with

t , ilif!

mii.

THE STORY IN THE LONE INN.

227

e succeeded
iin for that;
Ic. A ,yonii<r
I — a yoiMiuf
as a cliurcli-
m'^\ii to be."
)f the actress
ill Tempest,

it! Well,
azine, when
t quicker or
.ademoiselle

sty habit of
;e a stick,"

pretty sure
3(J, and she

of money,
rted youth!
riotously —

believe in

old sores?
ptain I^ick,

[rl

-> •

I 1

Dgnize

lope
the

n, twisting

if die gal-
11, as I was
with each
f it was an
jgars, with

no way in the world -^f earning their salt ; so you seo
what a pair of idiots they were."

'' Yes ; I can see through a hole in a ladder as well as
any one."

* " The actress heard it, and people expected a scene ;
but they wiM-e disaj^pointed. She might have been a
little more lierce and passionate that night, playing
Lide Macbeth, but nothing more. She was one of
those who could die and make no sign. And yet, would
you believe it, though her eyes were dry, her heart shed
tears of blood! Slie tore oil her velvet robe and glit-
tering jewels that night, in the silence of her own
room ; she tore her ilesh, and writhed like one reared
with a red-hot iron — the fool, the idiot, the bedlamite,
the besotted lunatic!"

'' Upon my soul, Grizzle !" cxckiimed the captain,
"you are the best hand tc abuse yourself I ever heard.
If anybody called me half those names, I would be
inclined to knock them into the middle of next week
— if not further."

'' I deserved it all ! I was what so many others of
my sex are for the same cause every day — a blind fool !
But 1 will never get to the end of my story if you con-
tinue throwing in those marginal notes of yours. To
have done business u]) perfectly, I am aware, this act-
ress ought to have died of a broken heart, and 'out of
her bosom there grew a red rose, and out of his bosom
a briar,' etc. ; but that was not in her line. What do
you suppose she did when she found herself deserted ?"

" Consoled herself with somebody else."

" liight ! She accepted the very iirst olier she got
afterward, and married an unfortunate little anatomy
she could have doubled up and put in her pocket, if
she chose. She did it for two reasons ; first, to let peo-
ple see how little she thought of his desertion ; and
secondly, to have a husband she could govern, and who
would do exactly as slie told him."

" Poor little Luke Ilowlet !" laughed the captain.

( .

f 1

THE STORY LV TUB LONE INN.

" I uhva}'."? did pity liim. If s :i mercy they took him
up above as soon as they did."

'" She found out that lier false lover and his bride
liad started for tlie new rcfugluni peccatorum. — Am-
erica ; and she followed tlieui with hur little tom-tit of
a husband. In Xew York city they met, and a ratlier
siiii^ular ineetini:; it was. The gay deceiver was not
quite as wide-awake at that time as he is to-day, and the
serene face and pleasant smiles of his forsaken lady-
love completely deceived him, and he imai^ined himself
entirely forgiven. The stupid dough-head ! To think
such a svomaii would ever forgive such a wrong !"

"Come, my beauty, don't turn the tables, n!id be-
to abuse me instead of yourself. I can't stand too
much of that sort of thimr, vou know."

" I>efore the honey-moon was over, our turtle-doves
found it was one thing to talk about living on love, and
another to do it. Lelia's pretty face and bright curls
were doubtless very nice things in their way ; but bread
and butter was a good deal more substantial in the end
— aiid so her young husband found. To labor, he was
not able — to beg, he was ashamed. So he split the
difference and went to sea."

A shade fell on Captain Tempest's face. Grizzle
looked up with a smile, and, after a pause, went on :

" Will you mind my making a jump, and skipping
over six years? Our new-born sailor still contiimed
cruising about, and, when became home, still continued
as absurdly fond of his j)retty wife as ever, and quite
doted on his bright, little live-year-old daughter. Ah !
you lllnch I Do you begin to feel the screws tighten-
ing r

" Go on !" he said, defiautly.
Well, one day ho went to sea, and was wrecked
somewhere on the coast of Cuba, and all hands were
lost but hi:nself. You know the adage: 'Born to be
hanged will never be drowned.' So you will not won-
der at that. Ho was picked up by a private vessel, and

I-

' took him

I his ])ridG
mm — Ain-

toin-tit of
id a iMtlior
ii' was not
ly, and the
ikcTi lady-
ed himsell:

To think

)S, and bO"
. stand too

ii'tlc-dovep

II love, and
rii^'ht curls

l)iit bread
in the end
or, lie was

split the

Grizzle
ent on :
skipping
'outinued
tontinucd
lud quite
or. Ah !
tighten-

wreckod
nds were
)rn to be

not won-
esscl, and

THE STOUT IN Till;: LOMJ IXN.

229

—would you believe it?— eleven years passed before he
came back."

^^ouiethiuL,' like a groan came from the lips of the
captain.

'• i)Ut {'oiHO he did at last — a weather-beaten, scarred,
pi-i'inaturely old man. And where do you think he
tuiind his wife and child <''

*' Vou hag of Hades! I may thank you, perhaps,
for it all."

" You may. But for mo she would never have ran
away."

'' You she fiend ! Aro you not afraid I will brain
you i

" Xo !"

" Uy the Heavens above us ! if you had made that
confesiL.ion six years ago, you would not have lived an
instant after."

'' But I did not make it. I was not quite a fool!
Be calm, and let me go on with my story. One year
after her husband went away — when her daughter was
six years old (and she was still a pretty, dark-eyed,
bright-haired, merry French girl) — a young foreigner
— a wild, rich, young JSeotchman, stopped at my house.
Ho was a handsome fellow, dark-eyed, merry, bold,
and gallant — just the one to take a lady's eye — more
esi)ecially such a lady as our pretty young grass-
widow."

Captain Nick Tempest ground his teeth with im-
potent rage.

'"His name was Randall Macdonald — how do you
like it i — and he came from the old MaCdonald who
lived and fought in the days of Robert the Bruce. 1
introduced him to the handsome French girl, and what
— Captain Tempest, my good friend — my dear friend —
what was the results"

" You cursed hag !" he groaned throuurh his clencli-

11 o o o

eu teetii.

Such a bitter sneer as was on lier dark face — such a

' t

^yT

it:

I .:

■M ^

'II

230

THE STORY IN THE LANE INN.

bitter, mocldnp^, deriding sneer! Yet she looked up,
and smiled in his face.

" Yoya<'es across the ocean were slower even in
those days than they are now ; and onr handsome
Scotchman was lonesome, and wanted a companion.
A pretty French woman, gay and piquant, was just
the thing ; and the yonng genlleman was not one to be
backward in tenderinij; her an invitation. I nrwd her to
accept it. I promised to be ;i mother to little Lelia ;
and the result of our combined entreaties was, that
Ca])tain Tempest came from sea one morning, and
found himself minus a wife."

bhe broke into a laugh — a low, sneering laugli, un-
speakably insulting.

'' I clianged little Lelia's name, and gave her my
second one ; and, under my motherly care, she reached
the age of thirteen. Then — but never mind that Lelia;
we must follow the fortunes of the other. Kandall
Macdonald was fond of a roving life, and he and
madame had rather a pleasant time of it, cruioing
round the world. Six years after his American esca-
pade, his elder brother died, and the family estate fell
to him. The day that brought him the news saw Lelia
cold and dead — of disease of the heart. She had died
caressing her little daughter — his child — without a
moment's warning. No wonder you never could llnd
her when you went to search for her. You would
liave to dive a long way down under the waves of the
lo.nesome sea to lind the pretty form of Lelia Tempest."

lie made a lierce gesture, as if casting something
from him, and drew a long, hard breath.

" Let her go ! That is the last of her t But my
child, woman — my daughter — my little Lelia! what of
her V

The woman laughed scornfully, and stirred the fire.

" Speak 1 1 tell you ! Speak ! 1 command 3'ou 1"
he cried, hercely. " You have not dared to kill her ?"

" Kill her 1 Oh, no. That would be poor re-
venge !"

looked up,

3r even in
liaiidsoine
iompanioTi.
:, was just
t one to be
irged her to
ittle Lelia;
i was, that
rning, and

■ laugh, un-

ive her my

die reached

that Lelia;

•. Kandall

id ho and

it, cruioing

erican esca-

i estate fell

s saw Lelia

le had died

-without a

could find

fou would

aves of tlio

Tempest."

something

THE STORY IN TUE LONE INK

281

But my
! what of

•ed the fire,
and you 1"
) kill her V
e poor ro-

*#,

" You Satan ! where is my child ?"

" Don't fear ; she is alive and well."

lie got np, white with eagerness.

" Woman, tell me where she is!"

" It is easily told— if I choose !"

" Grizzle, for the sake of old times — for the sake of
all that is past and gone, let me see her— my little
Lelia !"

She looked at him in scornful surprise, and broke
into a deriding laugh.

" You to speak of %vhat is past and gone ! — you to
exhort me by that ! The man has gone mad !"

'" You she-devil ! speak ! or 1 will tear it out of
your foul throat !"

•'Try it!"

"Can nothing move you? My little Lelia! O
Grizzle! can nothing move you ?"

"Nothing you can say ! Sit down, calm yourself,
and you will hear idl in due time. Perhaps you will
not think 'my little Lelia' such a priceless jewel when
you do lind her!"

" What do you mean ? Grizzle llowlet, what have
you done with that child?"

There was somethiniic so terrific in his look and
tone at that moment, that she almost shrank before it.

" Nothing very dreadful," slie said, angrily. " Sit
dovv'u, 1 tell you, or 1 won't speak another word to-
night. Whnt if you were to liate your daughter when
1 name her 'i"

" '^'i.ere is some dark meaning hid under this.
Grizzle llowlet, has her mother's fate been hers?"

She laughed.

"Oh, no! Can you conceive nothing worse than
that? Her mother loved and was beloved — in a sort of
a way. 1 dare say she was happy."

llis face worked, and liis liands clenched. One
fair spot remained still in that black heart — love for his
child. But for how long?

" Will you tell me ?" lie said, in a strained voice.

I ■ !■

PH,

1 :,^"''l

f il

,ii«

233 THE STORY IN THE LONE INN.

" To be siiro. Tlmt is what I have been coming to
all alono;. She is a lino lady."
-'Welir'

" You have seen her — spoken with lier 1"
" Did she know me ?"
" iS'o."

" Where does she live ?"
" Here — in New Jersey."
" Well, go on. I cannot bear this ; you are tortur-

ing me

" 1 will be merciful, then. You were to rae, you
know ! Do you remember a scene that occurred soxne
thirty miles from here one evening, among the moun-
tains, when you tried to send a certain handsome young
Englishman to his long account V^

"Yes."

" A young girl — a bold, pretty little thing — red-
haired and gray-eyed, like somebody else we know of —
interposed — saved him, disarmed you, and sent you off,
with a lecture."

" Yes ; curse her ! I will be avenged for tliat !"

"Softly — softly, captain," said drizzle, with hex
dark smile. " Wait until you hear who she is lirst !"

"Who is she?"

"Do youknowthatmy name is Grizzle Jacquetta?"

•' Weil ?"

" Well, 1 changed Lclia into Jacquetta one day. It
was easily done, and without troubling the Legisla-
ture."

lie leaped to his feet with a cry. She arose, too,
and confronted him.

" Grizzle IJowlct, is she —

" She was Lelia Tempest once ; she is Jacquetta Db
Vero now, and your daughter /"

'ii'i

iij'

rjViV.

THE END OF THE STOUT.

233

n coming to

CHAPTER XYII.

I are tortnr-

to rae, joii
cuiTcd some
^ tliG iiioun-
some young

thing — rcd-
3 know of —
:2nt you off,

r tliat !"
, with her
is first !"

Jacquetta?"

^no day. It
' e Legisla-

arose, too,

icquetta De

THE END OF THE STORY.

" Such a mad marriage never was before."

— Taming of thl: Shrew.

HERE is but one step — a very short one —
between love and hatred. In all tlicse years
of crime, and daring, and darkest guilt, the
memory of his lost child — his little bright-
eyed, sunny-faced Lolia — had ever lain
warm and fair near liis heart; the only fair spot, per-
haps, in all that dark nature. He had thought, all
along, that her mother had taken her witli her in her

f'uilty llight; but he knew little of the revenge Grizzle
lowlet was capable of. He never dreamed of doubt-
ing her story for a moment — he/c7^ it to be true every
word ; and in that instant all his love for the little bright-
faced child was swept away, like a Avhiil of down in
the blast ; and hatred of the daring, imperious young
girl who had conquered him took its place.

He felt that she despised and looked down upon
him, her father, although she knew it not ; and a sav-
age, demoniacal longing to drag her down to his own
level lilled all his thoughts. She was his daughter; no
one had such a right to her as he had. He hated the
De Veres, and this dashing adopted danghter of theirs.
What a ijjlorions thin!»: it would be now to tear her from
them — to pull her from her pedestal — to sliow her to
the world as Captain Nick Tempest's daughter'^ He
felt a little proud of her, too ; he exulted in the thought
that she had her father's heart, and all his dauntless
courage : and he felt ho could freely forgive Grizzle

> t

i.r

mmm

SBSI

234

TUE END OP THE STOUT.

''li't

N *!

II owlet all slie had done for the revenge she liad placed
within his grasp now.

A licrce, grim smile — the .smile of a demon bearing
away a lost soul — broke over liis dark face. IJe looked
np, and met Grizzle Ilowkt'ti piercing eyes fixed full
upon him.

"• Well ?"she said, curiously.

He stretched out his hand, still smiling:

"I forgive you, Grizzle 1 There is my liand on it I
This repays me for all."

"You believe me f she said.

" Yes ; I think you nie telling me the truth. I feel
that that o'irl is m\ dauii;hter !"

" She is. AVord for word what I have said is true
— true as Gospei. Jacquetta De Vere is your child '

" The gods be praised for that ! The day of retri-
bution is at hand !"'

"What are you going to do ?" said Grizzle, half
anxiously.

He sat down, resumed his former attitude befoi-e the
fire, with that evil smile still on his face.

" You will see ! l>ut, lirst, have you accomplished
your revenge?"

" Ko !" cried Grizzle, liercely dashing her hand on
the mantel — '"no; that I have not! Until Jack De
Vere lies despised and trodden on in the dust under my
feet, my revenge will never be satiated !"

" What has she done to j^ou to make you hate her
60 ?" said the captain, serenely.

" Done what I will never forgive, if I were dying !"
almost screamed the woman, her lion-passions slipping
their leashes for a moment. '' I hated her, lirst, for her
mother's sake — for her father's sake. I hated her as a
child ; for she never could endure me, even when I v.'as
kindest to her. I hated her as a girl, for her gibes and
taunts. I hate her as a woman, for her scornful pride
and haughty disdain ; and hate her I will, to my dying
day."

" You would have suited Doctor Jolinson. Wasn't

THE END OF TUB STORY.

285

it he who liked a 'p:ood hater?' Well, I don't blame
you. She is a provukiiii;; liitlc miss as ever lived, I
have no doubt. So jiate away, my beauty, as lung as
you like, and thank the Fates there is no lost love."

'' I hate the Do Yercs, one and all, with their ar-
rogant })ride and supercilious contempt for all of in-
ferior birth, and I svrear to make them feel it. I have
done so. The proudest of them all — the llower of the
flock lies crushed and bleeding under my feet! And
there let her lie till the grave claims her!"

" Do you mean that haughty young empress, Lady
Augusta !"

" Yes. I fancy I have settled her haui^htiness for
her!" said the woman, with a short, unpleasant laugh.

The ca])tain looked curious.

" What has she done, and how did you get her in
your power '^ Is she an adopted daughter, too'^"

"Ko ; she is a true De Yere, body and soul !"

"Then what power can you have over her? There
is a long step between a I)e V'ei'e and Grizzle llowlet."

" 1 have seven-league boots, and can take it. Never
you mind. Captain Tempest. Your business is with
Miss Jack, it' you remember. What are you going to
do, now that you have found out she is your daughter ?"

" Claim her, to be sure! Think of a father's love,
and all the rest of it, and you will perceive it is the only
course," said the ca[)tain, with a laugh.

" Exactly. But how will you prove your claim ?"

" You will come with me, my dear. When you and
I lay our heads together, we can work wonders."

"We will, in this case. l>ut have you no curiosity
to hear how she cv^er came to live in Fontello at all, or
to assume their name V

" A great deal. Ihit you have a disagreeable way of
only answering questions when you like ; so 1 did not
care for getting a rebulf."

'"Then listen to the sequel. I hope you will lind it
quite as interesting as the tirst volume, and it will show

i. 'lu

%■

iifl

'? ::.,,t

I I

I J

236

THE END OF THE STOBT.

^1: !

(' !

you what a woman can do when she seeks revenge ; and
it will clear up a certain little mystery that has puzzled
more than one resident in Fontelic Hall. Have you
ever been told that strange sounds were sometimes
heard in the old north wing of that building'^"

" Of course. Push ahead."

" 1 rather fancy they have startled a certain young
gentleman resident there at present. And that reminds
me you have no particular love for him either, llavo
you r ^

" JS^o, by Heaven !" said the captain, with an oath.
" lie struck me once ; and that is an insult that only
his heart's blood can wipe out !"

" I think you can pierce his heart in an easier and
safer way, and, in fact, kill half a dozen birds with one
stone. If he is not in love with Miss Jacquetta De
Vere, then 1 know nothing of the tender passion ; and,
being ns proud as Lucifer, he will be in a sweet frame
of mind when he linds out who she is. Besides, he is
engaged to another young lady. Guess wlio V

" How the foul liend can I guess ? or what do I
care ?"

" A great deal if you knew but all. The lady's
name is Miss Norma Macdonald."

" Macdonald !" ^

" Yes,^' said Grizzle, with a smile ; " her mother's
name, I believe, was Mrs. Lelia Tempest, if you feel
any interest in knowing it."

The captain gave a long, wailing whistle, and fell
back in his seat.

" He is engaged to marry her, and is in love with
your daughter ; and our pretty Jacqiietta is in love
with him. Oh ! it is the sweetest kettle of lish all
through that ever you heard of."

" And it will be a death-blow to Don Monsieur Sig-
ner Mustache Wliiskerando to lind out he is in love
with old Kick Tempest's daughter. ' I see,' said the
blind man. Tol de rol, de rol, de rol I" sang the cap-
tain, delighted.

and

1 fell

love

dthe

cap-

TEE END OF TUE STOUT.

237

"Preserve your transports, my dear friend," said
Grizzle, dryly. " Time enough lor them when you
stand face to face with the future lord of Guilford and
Earneclill'e. Kemember, too, that though the old sjMie-
wife of Worcestershire prophesied that ' a life would
be lost betwixt ye,' she did not say which was to lose it.
So Captain Nick Tem])est had better take a fool's
advice, and not halloo before he is out of the woods!"

" 1 don't fear him. Let him do his worst. Oh,
this is revenge indeed! The bullet will hip them all to
death — this come-by-chance of Lelia's as well as the
rest."

" Don't be too sure — he will marry /<<'/•."

" But you say he loves Jacquetta."

" So he does ; but loving does not alwa3'S imply
marriage. I had hojied for a ditl'erent end to the story,
but this daughter of yours is made of moi-e sterling
stuft" than her mother, and is not to be had for the asking.
Ko ; the llonoi'able Alfred De Vere Uisbrowe will
never marry her ! lie wouldn't if he could, and couldn't
if he would."

" Two very good reasons. I should like to see this
daughter of Lelia's."

A queer laugh broke from. Grizzle's lips. Captain
Tempest looked at her in suprise.

'•' Are you sure you never have ?"

"Ehr

" Do you really think you have never seen Miss
Norma Macdonald 'V

" Well, 1 can't say. I may have done so without
knowing it, whilst knocking about this jolly old
world."

" Ah, just so !" said Grizzle, carelessly, poking the
fire. " By the way, Capta'n Tem])est, where is that
little Spaniard you brought over witl.' you the other
day?"

" Now you are olf on another track. What the
demon makes you ask after him 'T

:'•

1: '''

f: ! %

v..

■ \ ,

L;i

I I

i ' 'i

■'■MiM

Ut'

:4?

h''.

;!'

■I ,

238 THE END OF TUE ST OUT.

" Oil, nothing ! I felt curious to know — that's
all."

" "Well, lio's at Fontcllc, if I don't mistake. I
winged liini that evening I met my dutiful daugliter,
in mistal'ic for our young English frieud — poor little
devil ! 1 felt sorry for it, too, for I really liked the
little codger."

" And so they took him to Fontellc — him !" said
Grizzle, with a nuising smile.

"There ! — never mind him ! — push along ! I want
to hear about Jaccpietta!" said Captain Kick, im-
patiently.

" Well, all these things are so merged into one
another, that it is dillicult to separate them. 1 will
try, however. I need not reuiiud you that Jacquettii
was six years old when her mother made her mooii-
light Hitting."

"I am not likely to ferget it. Go on." "

"Well, she lived with me until she was thirtec ti
years of age ; and 1 took good care to impress on her
memory the fact of her mother's disgrace, and — if you
will believe it — child as she was, she felt it keenlv. Of
her father, 1 never told her 'inytliing. I left that for
the gentleuian himself."

"And quite equal he is to the task. "Well?"

" SliG was a pretty little thiug — small and light,
like a fairy, with a laugh like a bird's song, sweet and
clear ; short, Hashing, dancing curls — red, like her
father's, but very nice indeed ; bright, sparkling, dark-
gray eyes, and a dainty, delicate, pink-and-white com-
plexion. I took care of her beauty, for a reason 1 had
of my own, and cared for it every day, as a miser might
for his money."

" You old wretch !" said the captain, with a look of
disgust.

" tShc was willful, fearless, bold, and stubborn, after
her own way — her father's child in every sense of the
word. Once she put her foot down to do a thing, you
might as well try to move the Highlands over there, as

THE END OF THE STORY.

239

that small girl. She was 'cute, too, and wondcrfnlly
wide-awake for her years — keen as a Venetian stiletto,
and surprisingly smart at learning : so I liave my doubts
whether or not I would have succeeded — thougli, thanks
to my training, she had refreshingly vague i^leas of
right and wrong. In some ways, she was Ukea woman,
witli all a woman's sense, even at that eai-ly age; and in
others she was as simple as a child of three years.
Ilowlet was dead, and my boys were away with Till ;
and I carefully kept Miss Jacquetta from all masculino
eyes till the proper time came. Kit loved her; for slio
had the wildest and most winning ways, when in good
humor, that ever a fairy had ; but she only lauglied at
him, and nicknamed him and herself Ijeauty and the
Beast, Bluebeard and I'atima, lied Kiding-llood and tho
"Wolf, Vulcan and Venus, and other Hattering and com-
plimentary titles."'

" Good girl. Jack !" lauglied Captain Nick. " Her
father's daughter, indeed ! She knew what was what !"

"Kit's love soon turned to hate — as yours did, also,
a little while ago ; and I believe he would have throttled
her at times, if I would have let him. But I had
better designs on the young lady than killing her, and
an opportunity soon came for putting them into execu-
tion."

"Well?"

"Ilave you ever heard the name of Aubrey De
Vere ?"

" Not as I know of. Who was he f

" A son of Mr. Eobert De Vere, of Fontelle."

" What !

" Ah, he had, tliough-

" Well ?"

"Aubrey was the eldest — tali and handsome, as all
of his race arc — but Nature, though she gifted him
with wealth and beauty, gave him also a slight draw-
back, in the shape of madness ; for there were times
when the young; man was a raving furious maniac."

" Phew I That was a drawback, upon my word 1'

I thought he had no sons."
•two."

|5>

^^H f

: I

t .ll

■ )

1 1 4'

. .-^-Ur

240

THE END OF THE STORY.

ti "'

*'Some friglit or shock lie liad received in his boy-
hood was the cause ; and there were intervals still
wlicn he was perlectly sane. Tlie family could always
tell when one of his violent' paroxysms were comini!^
on, in rather a pecuh'ar way. From childhood he had
ever been passionately fond of music, but ever since
the loss of his reason he never touched a nmsical in-
strument except when the furious outbreaks were
approachini^. Then he would sit down at the origan —
his favorite instrument — and play as no man in his
sober senses ever played before. His friends kept him
confined, generally; but there were times when, with
the cunning of madness, he would escape; and so
sanely could he talk and act, that no one, except those
who knew, would ever suspect him of not being sane."
"Not an uncouunon case," said the captain. "I
have often heard of similar ones before,"

"I knew all the i)articulars. I hoard it from an
old servant in the house ; so that, when one stormy
night he came to my house (we lived on the other side
of the Hudson then), I knew him at once, and made
him welcome to stav as long as he liked ; for he had
plenty of money and knew how to spend it. Here he
saw Jacquetta, and fell in love with her, as only a mad-
man can love."

"Well, and the result?"

"The result was a marriage. She liked him well
enough, and had a mighty vague idea of what marriage
was ; and he was craz}" after her. Oh I it was a capital
revenge! marrying her to a madman, whose family
would cast her oil: with scorn, as if she were the dirt
under their feet."

" You were a little out of yom* reckoning there,
though, " said the captain, with a sneer.

" Yes. I am glad of it now, though, ^incc a pros-
pect of more exquisite revenge has oj^ened itself.
Jacquetta was a child, then, and had no idea of what

it 1 knew she would awake on^

*o >

i^Jj

THE END OF THE STORY.

241

:cU

}1V,

Iros-

lelf.

rliat

lay,

and then there would bo a scene ! IIow I [j^louted in
the prospect! How I exulted when it ciiinc I"

&••

- It did

come,

''To be sure — but ii lon<^ while alter. 1 don't know
whether it was his new-luund iiappinoss, or what, but
Aubrey De Vere was sane a lon^ time after that, and
remained enchanted with his new toy — though his
willful baby-wife i^ot dreadfully tired of liim some-
times. I could always tell when his insane tits were
coinins^ on, and smu^-gled him ofE to an upper room,
and left him bolted and barred in till they passed
away ; and she knew nothing of them. It was not the
time to tell her yet, though it was daily coming ; for
the woman's heart within her — like plants in a hot-
liouse, prematurely forced — was ra})idly maturing, even
tliough the breast that bore it barely numbered four-
teen summers.

''But one unluckv d;r, during a brief absence of
mine to the city, ho broku out into one of his furious
outbursts of temporary madness, and raved, and foamed,
and tied, like one possessed by a thousand devils, from
the liouse. The shock — the amaze, the horror was too
much for her — fearless as she was. When I came
back I found her lying senseless on the floor, and hours
passed before she awoke from that death-like swoon."

"AV^elir' said the captain, as Grizzle paused.

" There was a child born that night, and the baby-
wife was a mother. The demon only knows what feeling
prompted me to conceal the infant, but I did; a poor,
miserable, puny thing it was ; and when she recovered,
she believed what 1 told her of its sudden death,
iilaize and Kit had lately purchased this very house ;
and I had it conveyed here, and piiid a woman for
takinti^ care of it. That woman was Tribulation Kaw-
bones, now a servant in Fontelle.

"AVell, Jacquetta recovered, and so did her Irus-
band. Strangely enough, he had gone to Fontelle in
his lirst outbreak ; and from his ravings, they guessed
what had Itappened. When he became sane again, he

, (.,:

• 1

\^^

I 'II

■mam

243

THE END OF THE STORY.

..I''i

I ''

I- 1'.

would liav^e denied it ; but liis fiitlicr followed him to
my house, and learned all the particulars. Of course,
there was a pretty to-do, then; and the old gentleman
was. like one beside himself with grief and rage. Jac-
quetta was a perfect Httle fury, and would have sprang
on me and clawed me like a wild-cat, only 1 lied from
the room. Howl laughed! how I enjoyed it! how
delicious it was !" She laughed again at the recollec-
tion.

" You second Jezebel !" said the captain.

" They all calmed down again after awhile, and began
to reiiect it was no use crying for spilled milk. C)f
course, Mr. De V re would 'lave nothing to do w'itli
Jaccpietta. Oh no! not at all ! lie pooh-poohed tho
notion ; said the marriage was null and illegal, and
carried oif his son ])v force. The i^-irl of ht'teen was as
proud in her way as the stately old Englishnum was in
his. She let him go without a word, and never again
breathed the subject to me ; but oh ! the delightful
look Siio used to favor me with — the little kite heart!"

''- Well V

" Mr. Robert Do Vere soon found he had reckoned
without his host, when he thought ho could get his son
to give up his little bride. He became perfectly un-
governable, raved, foamed, shrieked like a wild beast,
and called on Jacquetta night and day. In fact, there
was no standing him at all, and nothing renuiined but
to send for Jaccpietta."

" And vou let her go'f

" Of course. I knew my own interests. So proud
was she, that she would not have went a step with him,
only out of pity for Aubrey. But go she did at last."

" And that is how she came to live at Fontelie i"

" That is how. Her presence soothed him at once ;
and, strange to say, she and Miss Augusta, then a
haughty little lady of ten years, became fast friends.
She had, as I told you, winning ways, and cast a spell
over every one she mot by a sort of vvdld fascination

THE END OF THE STORY.

243

tUtful
irtl"

oncd
is son
y un-
eiist,
there
lid but

proud
l\ liim,
lust."

once ;

It hell a

rieiids,

a Bpell

uatiou

about licr, and very soon she beeaine tlie idol of tlie
houseliold, and almost as dear to tiie master of lonteile

as 1

lis own dauii'hter.'^
So mueh tlie better I They will I'eel the part in<

with lier the more

' liiirht ! !So they will. Mr. Do Vere did not care

to piihlisli on the house-tops that he had a son a Jiiaiiiac ;
and as his paroxysms of madness were liecomini:: daily
more frequent and violent, one of the rooms in the old
deserted nortli winu^ was httedup with barred windows
and l)oUc'd doors, and he was conlined there. Old
Tribiiiat'.on, a woman of iron heart and nerves, became
his nurse, and everytlilng' that could make liim com-
fortable was given him. Even liis fondness for music
was thought of, and his organ was placed in his room,
and remains there to this day ; and before his fiercest
attacks, he still favors tliem with a little unearthly
music — most fre(piently at the dead of night."

"And that accounts tor the strange noises," said
the captain, nuisingly.

"Yes. As it woidd have excited curiosity and in-
quiry to call Jacquetta J//".s*. De Yere, the change to
Miss was very easy and convenient ; and as few visitors
called at Fontelle, repelled by the pride of the; aristo-
cratic JJe Yeres, j)C(>|)le believed readily enough she
was his youngei' daughter, for sIk; looks several years
younger than Augusta — small, fair ])eoj)le always do
look younger than they are. And so — and so — she has
lived there ever since ; and— that's all."

" And enough, by Jupiter! And so V\n a grand-
papa — am 1 i Good gracious ! 1 say, Griz/le, where's
the child V

She laughed and continued stirring the lire.

"llow dumb you are 1 Think a moment."

'^' Eh ? Why— what i It's not little Orrie— is it ?"

She nodded.

" O Jehosophat ! here's a mare's nest ! And littlo
black-eyes is a granddaughter of mine!"

" She has that honor."

I'll

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"Whew! What will wo hear next? And Jao-
quetta does not suspect V^

" I don-t know. I half think she does, sometimes."

" She would claim her, if she did."

" No. She knows it would be of no use. I could
keep her in spite of her She bears a shadowy resem-
blance to lier mother, and has the same Hery temper,
and the true De Vere face."

" And so she's a De Vere, too."

" Yes — and the heiress of Fontelle ?"

"• Well, this is something new. Do you mean to
make this known as well as the rest ?"

" Most decidedly."

" But what is the end of all this ? It may mortify
them to know I am her father ; but they will not cast
her olf on that account."

" Trust me for that. I will see Mr. De Vere ; and
when 1 tell him Jacquetta knew everything I have told
you all along, and artfully concealed it, you will see
what n, change it will make. You don't know yet how
haughty these Do Veres can be. Let him once learn
what her mother was, and that Jacquetta herself knew
it all along, although she denied it, and he would order
her out in live minutes. He might get over the dis-
graceful stock from which she sprung, but her own
deceit never."

"Bravo ! And then Madam Jacquetta will have to
march !"

"Brecisely! Oh. I'll fix her ! Then, as her father,
you can claim her, you know "

"But what if she won't be claimed? There's a
small spice of the devil in that young lady, and it may
temjit her to act ugly and cut up shines."

" What can she do ? She can neither work nor starve.
And her child will tie her liands. It needsonly a word
to (!on\ ince her the child is hers. Jt will humiliate her
to death, and Disbrowe's love will go out under the
blow, like a candle under an uxtinguishor."

" Good ! And then '<"

i,t I

THE END OF THE STORY.

245

" Yow can treat as lier as you please."

" By Jove ! I'll treat her well, for she's a littlo
brick," cried the captain, enthusiastically.

" You forpjet she cun(pierecl you."

"I'll forgive her that, once I j^et her. I've <.T0t
money euou,'!;h ; and hy tlie Lord Harry, she and Miss
Orrie sliall live like a couple of ladies."

" You're a fool ! She'll never own you."

"Wait till you see. I don't believe little Leila
can liave cluniged so. But look here, old lady ; you
told nie De Vere had two sous — where's the other i"

"Oh, Ileaveu knows ! Dead, I expect! lie was
carried oil by ludiaus when a child, and never heard of
more."

" AVell, it's astonishing how things turnup. A\\^
80 my precious son-in-law is locked up in the old north
tower of Fontelle ?"

" Yes, and Tribulation has her hands full to look
after him. They can always tell when he is getting
violent by his })laying, and then Jacquetta has to go to
him. She is the only one he will nund at such times.
She locks him uj) and leaves him by himself, until he
sees tit to be reasonable again ; then he is released. It
mostly happens in the dead of night, and the little lady
has an uneasy time of it getting out of bed to see after
him. Tribulation always clears on such occasions."

" And wh.cn is this delightful story to electrify your
friends at Fontelle V

" To-morrow morning."

" Am I to go with you 2"

"Most certainly — to claim 3'our daughter."

"lia ! ha! Won't there be a scene { 1 shan't sleep
a wink to-night for thinking of it."

" Well, go now! I am done with you."

"A curt dismissal! Look here, Grizzle, I should
like to see Orrie before I leave."

Bah ! What do you want to see her for i!"

Well, knowing that she is my grauv. ' 'Id, it

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THE END OF THE STORY.

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strikes me I bIiouIcI like to take a good look at her.
Come, okl friend, be ^ood-natiired, and lead the way."

"Stull! Tiie chiid\s asleep."

" I won't awake her — I "won't stay a moment."

" x^ick Tempest, you're a fool !" said the woman,
harshly, as she arose and took a eandle. "Come, then,
willful must have his way."

" En avant, itia chere /" said the captain, jocsoely.
"I follow."

She led the way up stairs, and opened the door of an
empty little room, containing no furniture but a straw-
pallet in a little truckle-bed. The child lay stretched
out — her black hair strewn about her, her hands clasped
over her head; her small face, in its repose, bearing
striking marks of her paternity.

Shading the light with his hand. Captain Nick bent
over her, but he started back the next instant ; for the
great, black, goblin eyes were wide open, and piercing
him like needles.

" You nasty old thing! What are you doing here?
Get out!" said Orrie, sitting up in bed and brandishing
the pillow, as the only defensive weapon at hand.

" Oh, you're awake — are you ?" said Captain Nick.
" Why, Orrie, don't you know me — Uncle Nick ?"

"Unci'; Nick!" said the child, contemptuously.
" You ain't ! 1 wouldn't have you for an uncle ! Will
you go away T'

" She's iicr mother's daughter !" said Grizzle, with
a grim smile.

'' Clear out !" repeated Orrie, clutching the pillow,
" or I'll heave this at you !"

" You little angel," said the captain, apostrophizing
her in a low tonx3. " What a blessed little sera])h sho
is, Grizzle !"

" Come away," said Grizzle. " I hope you are satis-
fied with your reception."

"Perfectly! Good-night, Orrie."

Orrie's reply to this piece of politeness was an an-

THE END OF TEE ST0R7.

247

fjry scowl, as she still sat tlircatcningly holding the pil-
ow, until the door closed after them.

" She does look like the De Veres," said the cap-
tain.

" And is blessed with her mother's dove-like tem-
per, and her maternal i^^randparent's gentleness. Come
back early to-morrow nu^rning. Are you ready to go V

" Yes ; if I must go. JJut as 1 have to return here
to-morrow, could you not acconnnodatc me with a shake-
down before the lire for this night V

" No. I can do no such thing. I don't want you.
There, be off !"'^

" You hospitable old soul ! Well, good-night !"

"Good-niglit," said the woman, in pretty much the
same tone as if it were a curse she sent after him ; and
then the door was bolted, and Grizzle Ilowlet was in
and Nick Tempest was out, tramping back to the Mer-
id musing intently on all he had heard that

ight.

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248

^ Tr0if4iV'5 NATURE.

CHAPTER XVIIl.

A wojian's nature.

"I am a woman — nay. a woman wronged 1
And wlien our sex from injuries tiikc lire,
Our softness turns to fury, and our thoughts
Breathe vengeance and destruction."

—Savage.

HE loud ririirni2r of the brcalvfast-bcU was
the tirst tliiiii^ tliat awoke Captain Alfred
Disbfowe on the inoriiiii£^ of his departure.
For hours after his jiartini; with Jacquetta,
he had paeed up and down his room, too
miserable and an^ry to go to bed ; and it was only
when the sky began to grow red in the east that he had
flung himself down, dressed and all, and dropped into
a feverish shmiber.

He awoke with a strange feeling of loneliness and
heaviness of heart, and it was some minutes before he
could call to mind tiie cause. Tiien it came back to
him with a shock and a thrill, that this was the last
morning he would ever spend in Fontelle — the last
time he would ever see Jacquetta. There was an in-
expressible bitterness in the thought, now that the
excitement of the previous night had passed away ; and
he dropped his head on his hand with something like a
groan. Her imago was l)efore him, bright, i)iquant.
radiant — the slight, fairy form ; the small, tantalizing,
bewitching face; the laughing, mocking, dark-gray
eyes; the sau(;y, provoking smile ; the round, polished,
boyish forehead; the short, Hashing, dancing curls, tliat
shone before his eyes, now, as the most charming curls
in existence; the whole spirited, daring, sparkling little
countenance of the intoxicating little siren, all arose, lis

A ^Y0MAN'8 NATURE.

249

if to madden him, in their most bewildering array. He
looked lip at tlie smiling eyes and sweet, l)eautii'nl
lips of the portrait above him, and remembered he iiad
lost it all. Again his head dropped, and a cry that
would not be repressed broke from his lips;

"O Jacquetta! my love! my life! my dream I
This — this is what I have lost !"

There was a knock at the door, lie lifted his head,
brushed back the heavy locks of his falling hair, and
said :

" Come in."

Frank entered. It reminded Disbrowe of the first
day of his arrival, wdien he had paid him a similar
visit. IIow short a time had elapsed since then ! and
yet it had transformed his whole life. •

"Why, Cousin Alfred, what's the matter?" said
Frank. " You look like a ghost."

" I did not sleep well last night," said Disbrowe,
glancing languidly in the glass, and starting to see the
pale face it reliected. " Was that the breakfast-bell
rang just now ?"

" Yes ; and as yon are generally dowm so early in
the morning, I thought perhai)s you had taken a notion
to run otf in the night, being so late this morning.
Yon didn't turn in with your clothes on, did you ?
They look as if you had been sleeping in them a
week."

"I believe I did," said Disbrowe, smiling faintly.
" I was up until daybreak. Are my uncle and cousins
down stairs V

There was a vague hope at his heart that he might
see Jacquetta again, in spite of what she had told him ;
and he listened eagerly for Frank's answer.

" No," said that young gentleman. " Jack's gone.
She was off this morning for a ten mile ride, to visit
one of those poor laborers, who got both his legs
crushed to pieces last evening — jioor fellow! hjlio
would have went last night, 1 believe, only Lightning
had lost a shoe."

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250

A WO.VAN'S NATURE.

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"With a sickeiiiuii; focllu/:^ of disappointment, Dis-
browG iiro>G and proceeded to arrange Ids disordered
dress and hnisli his disheveled liair. So intense and
bitter was the sensation, that it was some moments
before lie eoiikl trnst liimself to speak.

"Jack's a regular guanhaii-angel to one-half these
})Oor ])e()ple,'' contimied Frank, now, as ever, disposed
to sing the praises of liis favorite, and (piite unconscious
that every word of praise was Hke u dagger to the
heart of his cousin. " lx>t lier liear of an accident,
even though it sliould he lifty miles olf, and if siie
thought slie could be of the least service, she would be
up and olf in a twiidcling, in s])ite of wind and weather.
I remember once, when the tyj)hus fever was raging
at Green Creek, and carrying olf the people ])j scores,
she established herself as nurse-general, and scarcely
took time to sleep or eat, but went from cottage to
cottage, night and day. Uncle told her she was mad,
and tried to prevail on her not to risk her life ; ijut she
wouldn't listen to him a moment. Her duty lay there,
she saitl, and there she must be. For over four months,
she never came to Fontelie, for fear of bringing the
contagion ; and I do believe she saved the life of one-
half the poor people there. Uncle gave her plenty of
money; and, by (xeorge I if she didn't spend it!"

"And did she escape herself C

" Oh, no ! she took it when almost everj^body else
was well ; but she recovered again. Her hair all fell
out, too, and it has never grown long since."

"And this is what I have lost," again thought Dis-
browe, in bitterness of spirit. " lids is the girl I have
called heartless — this entrancing fairv, with the heart
of a hero and an angel! Oh, Jac(pietta ! what have I
done that I should lose you ^"

" What is the matter f said Frank, curiously.
" Something more than a bad night's rest, I'll be bound I
You look as if you had lost your best friend."

" So 1 have !" said Disbrowe, passionately.

( 4

A W02IAIi'S NATURE.

251

ing

" Eh ? what ? Whj, Cousin Alfred, is Lord Earne-
cliffe dead ?"

" Kot as I know of. I liope not."

" Then what the — I thought lie was, by your say-
■ that."

"Tsever mind, Frank ; yon are five years too young
to understand wliat I mean. Heaven grant you never
may n. lerstand it !"

Frank looked at him an instant with a peculiar
smile, and then began to whittle, with piercing em-
phasis, the grand m^iU'ch in " Norma." Disl)rowe paused
in his occupation, and looked at him a moment with a
singular expression.

'"' You, too, Frank," he said, with a sliglit smile ;
" are you in the secret, too f

" What secrete" said Fraidv, with a look of innocent
unconsciousness. " Don't understand, Captain Uis-
browe. I'm five years too young to know any secrets."

Captain Disbrowe returned to his toilet.

" I forgot you were a Yankee, and consequently
wide-awake. IJas Jacquetta" — his face flushed as he
uttered her name — "told you anvthinjj^i"

"No. What would she tell me ^ I don't under-
stand you at all, Cousin Alfred."

Frank's look of resolute simplicity was refreshing to
see. Disbrowe made an impatient gesture.

" You understand well enough. Out with it 1"

" Well, then, I know you're in love with our Jack,"
blurted out Master Frank, thrusting both hands in his
pockets. " All of my own knowledge, too, if I am
live years too 3'oung to know anything."

Evidently, youth was a sore spot with Frank, like
all boys ambitious to be thought men. Disbi'owe's
face grew crimson one moment and whiter than ever
the next, lie went on dressing without speaking a
word, and Frank, evidently possessed by some spirit of
evil, continued, undauntedly :

" And 1 know she refused you, too — you and your
coronet, Captain Disbrowe, as she has many a bet — an-

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252

A WOMAN'S NATVItE.

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other man. Oli, our Jack's not to be liad for a word, I
can tell jou ! The man that gets her must do somo-
tliing more tlian i)ay her comi^iimeiits, or give her
flowers, or say sweet things hy moonlight."

'' What must he duiJ Take lance and shield, and
ride forth, booted and spurred, like a second JJon
Quixote, in search of adventures; conquer a lieiy drag-
on, or rescue some hapless princess from the enchanted
castle of some gigantic ogre C said Disbrowe, between
anger and sarcasin.

'' Yes, sir-ee !" exclaimed Frank, deiiantly. " If
such things were to Ijedone now, the man that would lay
claim to her pretty little hand would have to prove his
knighthood l)el"ore he would kneel at her footstool. As
it is, the man that comes after her will have to mind his
Ps and Qs before he gets her ; for Jack De Vere is no
conmion milk-and-water young lady, but worth half the
women in the world — queens and princesses included —
rolled into one."

" That is all, doubtless, very true," said Disbrowe,
with a curling lip ; "■ but I fancy I know some one
who — "

lie paused abruptl}', and bit his lip.

" Oh, you may go on. 1 know who you mean.
You thiidv she's in love with Jacinto — don't you'^" said
Frank, sarcastically.

" Itcally, Master Fraidc, you seem in a «atecliising
mood this morning," said Disbrowe, facing round and
fixing his dark eyes full upon him. '' Supposing wo
drop this subject. Our friend, Miss Jacquetta, might
not thank either of us for so free a use of her name."

Fi'ank blushed at the rebuke, which he could not
help feeling he deserved, and in a spirit of retaliation
began humming : '" A frog he would a wooing i::o," as
they left the room. Disbrowe smiled as he heard him ;
and, letting his hajid fall on his shoulder, said, cor-
dially :

" Come, Master Frank, it is not worthwhile for you

A WOMA^'■'S NATURE.

253

and I to disagree, as this is the hist morning I will ever
trouble you. We must part friciuls, my dear hoy."

" That we sliall, Oonsin Alt'reii !'' exclaimed Frauk,
shaking earnestly the prolt'ered hand: "and I do like
you lirst rate; and I wish you /^(?^/ got Jack. Now,
then !*'

" Thank you ! but your wish comes rather too late ;
I am not likely to win sucli a prize in Love's lottery.
Tell her, Frank," he said, with a look of strange ear-
nestness in his dark, handsome eyes, " to forget all I
may have said to olfend her; and tell her that my best
wishes go with her and wh(jever may be fortunate to
win the heart and hand slie refused me. Tell her this,
Frank, my dear fellow, since I am not destined to see
her again."

FVaidv wrunsj his hand silently; for his voice at that
moment was not altogether under his command.

Both etitered the breakfast parlor together, where
Ausrusta, Jacinto, and Mr. De Vere sat awaitinij; them.

Aucjusta sat the same iiii-ure of stone that she al-
ways was of late ; but the cluuige the few past days
had wrought in her never struck Disbrctwe so forcibly
as it did this morning. She had lost flesh, and life,
and color ; she was but the shadow of her former self.
Her tall, stately form was wasted and thin ; her cheeks
hollow; her lofty brow death-like in its blue-veined
pallor ; her lips were white, and her hands so j)alo and
wasted that they looked almost transparent. The old
story of the vampire sucking the life-blood drop by
drop, seemed realized in her case; and oh! the unspeak-
able depth of desolation and despair in those great,
heavy midnight eyes. And sometliing worse than des-
olation and despair was in that haggard face, too. — Ke-
MOESE, undying, devouring, remorse, the worm that
never sleeps, seemed gnawing her heart — had set his
white, fearful seal on that corpse-like face.

She lifted her eyes slowly, as they entered ; and
meetiuir li

S'^

pity

old liaughty pride of the De Yei'cs, that even her

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254

A WOMAN'S NATURE.

night of anguish coiikl not quench, sent a momentary
tiro leaping to lier ej-es, and a lofty look to the while
face that repelled and cast oil llercely all coniniisera-
tion.

Ml'. De Yere put down the book lie was reading,
and came forward to greet him; and Jacinto, who sat
caressing a ])eautifMl little water-spaniel — a pet of Jac-
quetta's — glanced up and met a htok full of angry jeal-
ousy from the young Knglishman's dark eyes that made
him drop his own and Hush to the temples.

Mr. De Vere apologized in a few words for Jac-
quetta's absence ; and they all gathered around the
breakfast table. The meal passed almost in silence, and
sadly enough, too ; for all were thinking it was the last
the young Guardsman would partake of beneath that
roof; and until that moment they had not known how
he had endeared himself to them. There would be a
dreary gap when his tall, gallant form and gay, hand-
some \')mig face was gone, that would not be easily
filled in the family circle, llad Jacquetta been there,
the oppressive silence would soon have been broken ;
but she was "over the hills and far away" long before
this, and, doubtless — as Disbrowe thought — forgetful
of his very existence.

" Which way do you go ?" inquired Mr. De Yere, at
length — making an effort at something like conversation.

'' 1 will call at the Mermaid, and take passage from
there in some schooner, as 1 wish to take sketeiies of
the scenery as I go along, which I understand, is very
line alonu: the Hudson."

" jSIonc better," said Mr. De Yere. " I have climbed
the proud Alps, I have sailed down the Rhine, as the
song has it, but I have never seen anything to surpass
this new country scener3\ You ought to see these
American forests in autumn, decked in their Joseph's
coat of many colors. You would never forget it. It

1 1 (• /'vi 1 t;^ 1 1 1,1 • ill • , %%

f Old England conq)l(jtely in that point."
always understood it was very line," saic
Disbrowe ; " but, unhappily, 1 will not be able to see

goes ahead of
" 1 have

A WOMAN'S NATURE.

255

it. I hope to be shooting in Fontelle woods before
that."

The door opened as he spoke, and a servant ap-
pearecl with a startk^d face.

"Well, Ileynoldsi" said Mr. Dc Yere, looking
up?"

"She's here again, sir!" cried Reynolds, excitedly,
" and she won't go away, all we can do. She says she
will see you, in spite of us all I"

" Who are you talking about ? — who is she ? Don't
be so incoherent, lleynolds."

"It's old Mother 11 owlet, sir, if you please — and
there's a man along with her — and she won't go
away."

Augusta uttered a faint exclamation, and sank back
in her chair.

Mr. De Yere arose, his face flushed with anger.

"Mother llowlet! How dare she come here!
Order her away, Itcynolds, and say 1 will not see her."

" AYe have, S'r, but she won't go. The man along
with her has got a pistol, and he says he will she )t the
lirst of us that tries to keep them out."

" Who is the fellow r'

" Don't know, sir. He's a short, thickset man, with
red hair and whiskers, and a savage face."

" Captain Nick Tem]3est !" simultaneously exclaimed
Jacinto, Disbrowe, and Frank.

"The fellow who tried to shoot you that evening
Jacinto was wounded V asked Mr. De Yere.

" The same."

"Eeallv," said Mr. De A'ere, an£i:rilv, "Fontelle
seems to be a rendez.vous for desperadoes of late. Come,
Keynolds, I will go with you to this worthy pair, and
we will see if they cannot be got rid of."

" You had better be careful, my dear sir," said
Disbrowe, anxiously. " This Ca])tain Tempest is a
most sanguinary villain, and capable of any crime,
I believe."

^i Then he will find that Fontelle is not in the habit

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256

A WOMAN'S NATURE,

of sliclterins^ sam^ninaiy villains, nor its master into
bcini^ bullied to listen to what they have to say."

And, preceded by l^eynolds, Mr. Do Vere left the
rooui.

"What the diekens can In-iu'r those two hero?"
exclaimed the astoni.-shed Frank.

" That IS a question I cannot take it npon inyself lo
answe:*,'' ^^^-i'^ l)is])ro\ve ; ''for no good, you may safely
Bwear. They must liave the audacity of the old demon
himself to come here. Are you ill, Miss Augusta?
You look alarmed."

" Oh, no."

She was sitting gazing at the door, with a look so
strained and unnaiural that it startled them. Jacinto,
too, was white, as if v/ith apprehension, and shrank
from the eyes of all. Moment after moment passed —
a quarter of an hour went by, but still Mr. De Vere did
not return.

" What can detain nnclo ?" exclaimed Frank.
"They can't Ilivc done anything to him, can they?
Suppose I ring anil see f '

No one objected ; and, seizing the bell-pull, ho
rang a peal that presently brought Reynolds into tho
room.

"Have those two old tramnersmme?" asked Frank.

))

I per;
"No, Master Fraidv ; they're both here yet,
'' The dickeiis they are ! wheru\s uncle ?"
In the morning parlor with Moiher llowlet.

a T

((

Oh, ginger!" exclaimed the overwhclnu'd Frank,
there's a piece of news ! Where's Captain Tempest ?"
Sitting in the hall smoking."
Smoking! there's coolness for you, ladies and

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lieynolds liowetl and withdrew, and the quartet
looked at each other in silent amaze. Augusta leaned
on her elbow, and dropped her forehead on her hand,
but not before they saw how fearfully agitated her face
was. Jacinto, alternately })ale and red, got up and sat
down^ and occuiingly could rest nowhere. Captain

A WOMAN'S NATURE.

257

^•i

Disbrowc looked calmly sni-prisod, and Master Frank
gave vent to liis feelin;i:s by whistlinu^, and with liia
hands in his pockets m ii'checl np and down the room to
the tnne of the ''Koiijue's ]\Iarc.'h."

An honr passed, and all wore wroui!;ht np to a state
of almost intolerable snspense. '• 1 wish nacle would
come — I do wish he wouKV Frank had repeated for
the liftieth time, when at last the door was opened and
Mr. l)e Vere entered, closely followed by Grizzle llow-
let and Captain jN'ick Tempest.

A score of questions were on Fraidv'slips ; but they
froze there, as he looked on his uncle's face. The stern
and relentless face of an entrained S[)artan father, carved
in marble, miii;hthave looked as his did at that moment.
A dusky lire was in his eye, and his lips were coni-

Eressed as in a vise. The faces of Captain JSick and
is fair friend bore an unmist^ikable look of triumphant
malice, as they coolly helped themselves to seats. Cap-
tain Nick bowed politely all round, in bland amiability
— even to Captain Disbrowe; for there is nothing
makes us more amiable for the time Ijeinuj than tbj
consciousness that we are al)Out to have complete re-
venijc. AuOTsta shook in mortal terror from meetinc:
the eye of old Grizzle, and shi-ank away in a recess of
the window, shaking like one in an ague lit. A sinister
smile parted the thin lips of that lady, as she saw it ;
and she exchanged an exultant look with the gallant
connnander of the " I'ly by-jS'ight.'"

'' Frank," said Mr. De Vere, turning to his nephew,
"do you know in what particular direction Jacquetta
has gone V

Frank started and stared. There was a sharp ring-
ing tone in his uncle's voice, that was never heard there
save w'lcn his anjjjer was at its hciirht. Jt was seldom
Mr. l)e Wm'c was really angry ; but when he was, ho
was almost relentless in his stern ])assion.

"1^0, sir — that is, yes, sir — she has gone to Tied
liock."

" Do you know what time she will return i"

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258

A WOMAN'S NATURE.

*■

" No, sir, perliajis not before night."

Mr. J)c Vcru seized the bell, and rang furiously.'
Koynoldri again appeared.

"lleynolds, go and tell "VVilliani to saddle Fireliy —
that is the fastest horse, I believe — and bring hi)n
round instantly to the front door !"

lleynolds jlew to obey, wondering inwardly what
was up ; and then, turning to the astonished Frank, said,
peremptorily :

" Mount instantly, and be off for Jacqnetta! Tell
her she is to return with you inunediatelv — iimnedi-
aithj^ mind! Lose not a moment going or coming!
GoT'

Frank started to his feet, more in dismay than in
obedience ; but there was that in liis uncle's face that
repelled in(|uiry and extorted ooiiipliance.

''Just tell her I want her ! You need not say who
is here. It is as well to take her unprepared," he
said, lowering his voice.

'' That's 'so, ]\rr. J )e Ver(> !" exclaimed Captain
Tempest, whose keert ears overheard him.

" iSilence, sir!" said M.'. I)e Verc, liercely, "learn
to hold your tongue a\ hen a gentleman speaks !" Then
turning to Frank, he said, " What ani you waiting for,
sir? be olf ; and mind, don't let the grass grow under
your feet !"

Frank, so violently astonished that he scarcely knew
whether he was waking or dreanu'iig, seized his cap,
and darted out of the room. Caj^t^in Tempest arose,
his face red with anger.

" Do you mean to say, sir," he began, turning
savagely to J\Ir. De Vere, when a hand i "d his
arm, and he was forced back into his chair.

" Wliy will you be a fool ?" said Grizzl«\ angrily, ia
Spanish, "sit down and wait I Your revenge Ji* com-

ing!

I''

A moment's silence fell on all. Cai)iii}n Tenif^est
scowled, Mr. De Vere walked to the window, ui»d stood

A WOMAN'S NATURE.

269

like a statue, and DI>bro\vo pulled out bis watcli and
looked at the hour.

"•Time 1 was oil,'' he said startini^ np ; ''my dear
uncle, can I see you a moment in i)rivate, before 1 go f

'' Yon nnist po.-tjxjne your journey for to-day, Al-
fred," said his nilele imperiously. " There is a eei^tain
family all'air to be discussed here, presently, at which I
require your presence. Your journey can wait, so sit
down !"

Jacijito started to his feet.

"Then I will not intrude," he said, " I will go!"

" Y'^ou will stay !" intei'posed Mi*. De Yere, sternly.
"Sit down, sir; perhaps we may lind your presence
necessary before we have done !"

The boy turned white, even to his lips.

" I beg, sir," he began falteringly ; but Mr. De
Yere turned almost liercely upon him.

"Sit down, sir! You shall do as I tell you. Per-
haps we may make you give a better account of youi'self
before you go ! Sit down !"

The lad reeled, and fell back into a seat, like one
fainting.

All this time Augusta had cowered in her seat,
slmddc'ing, treml)ling, C(jllapsed. Now she lifted her
white face, and I'isiiig to her feet, she turned to Grizzle,
and gasped rather than said :

" Have you — have you — broken your promise ?

• «

voice

died

away,

and she

Have you told — C her
shivered convulsively.

The old, evil sniile came ever Grizzle's face, as she
fixed her piercing eyes ou the young girl's ghastly face,
and (pn'etiy replied :

"No, Lady Augusta, I have not told ! Your secret
is safe, at least, for the ])reseiU- ; 1 do not care to blacken
my lips just yet by telling it, nor -corcli your father's
ears b^' the hearing, Fear not for the })resent — you
arc safe."

She sank back, and dropped her white face in her
white hands. Mr. Do Yere, standing stern and molion-

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A WOMAN'S NATURE.

.. .

less, if he heard, licoded not ; and Jacinto, whose
emotion was evidently one of intense terror — ratliir
surprising in one who a short time before had fearlessly
rislved liis life to save another's — cowered do\. n on his
seat, and did not dare to look up, while a streak of
darlv red at intcvals llaslied across his dark face. JJi.—
browe, astonished and tronbled, yet with a licart
thrilling at the thought that he was to see Jacquei.a
again, looked uneasily from face to face. Old Grizzle,
with her gray cloak folded closely around her, sat with
u grim, sinister smile glittering in her snake-like eyes,
and wrinkling her thin lii)s. And Captain Tempest,
lolling back in his chair, elevated his legs on another,
clapped a wedge of the Virginian weed in his mouth,
stuck his hands in his coat-pockets, and looked the
very picture of nonohalance and high-bred self
possession.

And hours passed I

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LITTLE ORRIE.

261

CHAPTER XIX.

LITTLE ORRIE.

" In truth she was a strange and wayward child,
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene,
In darkness and in storm, and winter wild."

— Beattib.

N hour before daybreak tliat morning, Jac-
quetta was in the saddle, and oil" on her
mission of mercy. She, too, had passed a
sleepless nii»;ht ; and the bitterest tears per-
liaps she ]iad ever shed in her life, had fal-
len from her eyes. Jaequetta rarely wept like other
girls, even in troul)le — she seldom could — she mostly
sat like a stone till the pain at her heart wore itself out ;
but the look in Disbrowe's eyes, as she left him, had
moved her strangly, and her tears had fallen more for
him than lierself. That he loved her truly, she could
■•:'ot doubt; and a ''still small voice," far down in her
heart, whispered that she loved him, too. She shrank
in horror from that voice — she shrank from herself —
she would not hear it ; there was guilt in listening to it
for a moment. She would not have seen him again
for worlds ; she would not look in his dark, pleading
eyes, less it should make her traitor-heart betray her ;
and she would have torn it out, and hurled it from her,
had it been in her power, lirst. And yet there was in-
expressible pain in the thought of his forgetting her
altogether; worse, of b(^Iieving her in love with : n-
othcr — this small boy ! How she desi)ised herself that
any one should believe her ca])ableof being bewildered
by the first handsome face she met. It would have

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LITTLE ORUIE.

u.
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been a sweet drink to DIsl)rowe to know the restless,
miserable niii:lit slio had passed, and Ikjw eajj^erly she
had loniijed fur morninij^, when on Liulitniiii^''s hack slio
mif^ht lly over tlie liilLs, as slie longed to lly from her-
self. And before that morning came, she was oil" and
away, forgetting in her rapid, exciting gallop, the re-
bellious rising, and throbbing, and aching of her
woman's heart. Her way led her within half a mile of
the lone inn; and to her surprise, the first object she be-
held, as she neared it, was little (Jrrie, leaping, spring-
ing, ilying over the rocks like one possessed.

"Hallo, Orriel" she called, reining in her horse, as
the child stopped to look at her. " You here ! What
are you doing i"

" Nothing," said Orrie, composedly.

" Where are you going f '

" Nowhere."

"Who's at home?"

" No one."

"Where's Grizzle?"

"Don't know."

" Satisfactory answers," said Jacquetta, laughiDg.
" Will you come for a ride, Ori-ie ?"

" Yes."

"Here then, mount."

Orrie took the hand she extended, and sprang be-
fore her into the saddle. And Jacouetta again darted
off,

" AVhere are you goirg ?" asked the child.

" Only a little way I'rom here — to lied Iwock."

" Is that nice young gentleman at Fontelle yet?"

"Yes," said Jacquetta, tlushing violently.

"Ain't he nice ^ Oh! 1 do love him! Don't you
love him, too ?" asked Orrie, looking up in her face.

" See how fast Lightning goes; watch him junnp
over that gully!" said flaccpietta, eagerly.

Of course, Orrie was all animation.

" Are you not afraid when we go so fast ?"

LITTLE ORRIE.

263

" Afraid T' said Orric, contemptuously. " No ; I
guess I ain't ! I love to go fast !"'

" You iovo a good many things — don't you ?" said
Jacquctta.

" Yes ; I guess I do ! Tlierc's Red Iloek ! Whose
liouse are you going to V

" Briggs'."

" Oil, yes ; old Jake Briggs got his legs smashed olT ! I
heard Kit telling Blaise it. Are you going to lix 'em
for him V'

"Iwisli I could," said Jacqnetta, as she leaped
lightly oir, and gave her hand to Orrie to ,-pring ; '• but
I am afraid that is beyond me. Come in."

A boy came out and took her horse, as though it
were quite a matter of course to see Miss De Vere there.
Jacquetta went in with Orrie to the cottage, where, on
a bed, lay the prostrate form of the unfortunate Briggs
— life almost extinct.

A woman was l)ending (»ver him, crying and
"wringing licr hands ; four c: five children were crouched
round a smoky tire, in L-ud hmientations — some for
their father, and some for pieces of bread.

Jacquetta's presence stilled them all for a moment
— even the mother. A doctor had been sent for, and
was expected every instant; so she turned to the
children and quieted them by distributing unlimited
slices of bread and butter, an unlailing cure generally
for the atiiictions of childhood. Orrie declined taking
any, and sat with her black, eltlsh eyes riveted, as it"
fascinated, on the distorted face of the maimed man.
Jacquetta strove to conscde the woman ; re[)lenished the
smoky lire until it burned brightly ; put the dis(jrdered
room to rights, and made herself generally useful; until
the arrival of the doctor, lie came in about an hour
— pronounced the case hopeless; spoke pleasantly to
Jacquetta, and called her a good little girl ; hoped she
would nudce her uncle do something for the family ;
chucked Orrie under the chin, and incpiired the latest

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264

LITTLE ORRIE.

!i 5

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news from the land of goblins ; and put on his glovea
and departed.

Koon approached, and Jacqiietta was just trying
her hand at getting dinner for the children, when the
furious clatter of horse's hoofs brought her to the door ;
and she saw Frank panting, Dushed, breathless, stand-
ing before her.

" AVell, Master Frank, what now ?" she demanded.

" O Jack ! you're to eonie right straight home ! Uncle
says so— he sent me after you ! There's the old dickens
to pay at Fontelle !"

Jacquetta looked at him in calm astonishment.

" Come right straight home ! Why, what's
wrong ?"

" Don't know, I'm sure — everything is ! Old Grizzle
Howlet's there, and old Kick Tempest; and uncle's in
a re<2jular downriti^ht state of mind, if ever you saw him
m one !

" What sort of a state of mind?"

" A blamed angry one ! Come, hurry up ! I
shouldn't wonder if they were all assassinating one an-
other by this time. Uncle told me not to say old Griz-
zle and Captain Tempest were there ; but I couldn't
hold in."

"Not to tell me? Really! Is — is Captain Disbrowe
there?" she asked, iiesitatingly.

" JJe was when I left! Come — make haste!"

"I will be back in a monu^nt," said Jacquetta, hur-
rying in to get lier hat, and take her dejiarture.

Orrie, hearing Frank's voice, came out, to his great
amazement ; but a few M'ords explained how she got
there. And the young gentleman swung her up before
him, and announced his intention of carrying her ofl: to
Fontelle.

" Will you?" cried Orrie, dehghted ; " that's you I
I want to see that nice captain again."

"It's the last time vou'U see him, then for one
while," said Frank, " for he is going away to-day."

" Going where ?"

(;!>

LITTLE OlililE,

2G5

" Oh ! ever so far away ! To a place called England
— a small little island they have over there."

" And when will ho come hack C

" Nev^er, I expect," siid Fraidv, sententiously. " So
begin and tear your hair and rend your garments as
eoon as you like."

Orric's face grew so blank at the news, that Frank
had to laugh ; but at that moment Jacquetta mounted,
and they both dashed oil" together.

"What on earth can they ever want with me,
Frank V she asked.

" How the mischief do I know? Something awful's
lip, Fve no doubt !"

" And papa told you not to tell mo they were
there f

" Yes !"

" AVell, it's strange, I must say ; but time will tell ;
and so I don't object to a small surprise."

And she laujz;hcd, and hummed :

f ' >' il
lit' Il

1 >.

"':

Ir-

** Romance for ne, romance for me,
And a nice little bit of mystery."

" I rather calculate it won't be a very pleasant sur-
prise when you do hear it," said Frank. '' Old Grizzle
looked as if she ineant mischief."

" She generally meant that."

"And she and uncle had a lone: confab tocretlier in
the nursery-room."

" Indeed C

" And when he came in he looked liked a thunder-
cloud ! — like the picture of that old thingymajlg in the
library, you know — that old Iloman brick that killed
his daughter !"

"Perhaps it was something about Augusta!"

" Don't know — it might ; but then, what can they
want of you in such a tremendous hurry ?"

" Very true ! Well, there is no use troubling our-

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266

LITTLE onniE.

Rolves about it till we t,'ct thorc. Orj-ie, are you not
afraid to go to FoiitcUe, and Old Grizzle there '^"

"No," said Orrie; "I iiiiist see the captain; and
she may l)eat me if she likes ; but I will I"

" AVliat a lady-killer he is — eh, Jack ?" said Frank,
laugh in<^.

" What do you want to see him for?" said Jacquetta,
coloring slight!}'', and not noticing Frank's remark.

"Oh! I want to ask him to take me with him — he
said, perhaps he would."

Frank laughed uproariously at the vei*y idea of the
thing; and then, as the rapid })ace at which they went
precluded conversation, they relapsed into silence and
galloped swiftly along.

Some time in the afternoon they reached Fontelle.
As they entered tiie hall they met licynolds.

"I say, Reynolds," said Frank, taking him by the
button, "are all the good folks in the parlor yet?"

" Yes, Master Fnuik."

" Is uncle there d"

" Yes, sir."

"Nursing his wrath to keep it warm!" laughed
Jacquetta, as she tripjied along, and opening the parlor-
door entered, followed by Frank and little Oriole.

A PROUD UEAIIT C'liCSUL'D.

20'

• •

rt'l!

CHAPTER XX.

A PROUD IIEAUT CIIUSIIED.

" When I am cold, when my piile-slicetod corse

Sleeps the dark skep lu) vcnomt'd tongue can wako,

List not to evil tlu)Uglits of licr wlicse lips

Have then no voice to plead." — Matuuin's Bertram.

HE ofroup in tlie parlor had scarcf^ly chan cd
their ])0.sitioiis since the morninir, except
tliat Captain Tempest, overcome by tho
silence and watchinu^, iiad fallen asleep, and
now snored aiidihly. Limclieon had been
served; for, even in his ani^er, j\[i-. J)c V'ere could not
forij^et ho-^pitalitj ; but no one iiad touched it save
Grizzle and lier companion. Mr. \) i Vvvv, with his
arms folded across his chest, sat moodily in li:s elbow-
chair, and Augusta and .lacinto still maintained their
droopintr, dejected position.

Jacquetta's keen eyes took it all in at a glance, and
then advancinf'- toward Mr. ] )e Yere she beiian :
"You sent for m(\ papa — "

" One moment, young lady V interposed IMr. De
Yere, sternly, sitting upright. 'vDo not speak, it" yoii
please — at least for tho pi'esent — only in answer to my
(piestions. Ah! how <*ame this child here f '

(irizzle nttered an exclamaiion at the same time a3
I'll 1 1(3 Orrie entered with Fratd-c ; but that ycnng lady
paid not tho slightest attention to either. i)arLing her
bright, black eyes hither and thitlier until they rested
on Disbrowe, who was in the act of layinj; aside the book
he had been reading, she darted forward, according to

I ;.

M «

268

A F no I'D UFAiT V HUSHED.

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her usual fashion, Ihiui^ her anus round his neck, aTid
fell to Ivis.sin^ him rajjturonsly.

Jaecjuetta, wlio had lir^t started at her father's
ad(h*e>.~, and iixed her clear, penetratiiii; eyes full on
111 face, in ealni surprise, now recovered herself, and
Baid, quietly :

" If that question is addressed to me, I found lier
playiuii; near the old inn, and took her with me to Red
Ilock, and from thence home, hy her own desire."

"Home !" said Mr. i)o Vere, with a slight sneer.
"IIow know vou this is her liomc V

" I did not say it was ! She wished to sec Captain
Disbrowe, and I brought her here to my home for that
purpose."

" Ah ! You are very fond of the child, doubtless ?"

" 1 like her — yes, sir."

" You lll'e lier ! Nothing more ?"

" I do not imderstand you, papa."

" We will drop that title, if you please. Until cer-
tain matters are cleared up, I am not at all ambitious to
hear it from your lips."

Two red spots, like twin tongues of flame, lcai)ed
to the cheeks of Jacquetta, and she passed her hand
over her brow in a bewihlered sortof May. Disbrowe's
face llu lied, and he bit his lip till it was bloodless.
Augusta and Jacinto looked uj), and Iixed their eyes on
^Ir. De Vere in utter amazement. A smile and sig-
nificant glance ])assed l)etweeu (jrizzle and Captain
ISiick, Fraidv's eyes Hashed ; and even little ()rrie,
perching her head on one side, looked from one to the
other, as if trvinLC to undei'si:ind what all this meant.
!Mr. \)(\ Verci's face M'as growing sterner and darker
cv(!ry moment ; for, as she stoo<l there before him,
there was little diiliculty in tracin'«- the strong resem
blance between her and Nick Tempest. Jacquetta was
proud — too |)roud to let any one there present see how
keenly she felt the insult ; so, drawing her small, slight
figure up to its full height, she bowed and said, coldly :

•' As you please, sir."

A PROUD HEART CRUSHED.

2G9

" I mi^ijht not po iniioli ol)jeot to liearliiii; it mysell',''
said Mr. J)o Vcmv, in the saiiie 8liLrlitlv->iiL't'riiiii- touu
he liaci before used — more t^alliiii^ to hear, by far, than
an aiii;Ty one would have been ; '* l)ut a^i there is another
^jentlenian present who lias a better claim than I to that
(iulifid title, perhaps he may be jealous at being robbed
of his due."

"I do not understand you, sir."

"Oh, lire away! Didi't mind me," exolaimed Cap-
tain Niek, with a wave of his hand. " I shan't be jeal-
ous ! All in good time, you know."

" Perhaps you understand now^ young lady !"
bDeered ]\lr. De Vtre.

" I do not, sir. May I ask you to explain ?"

"Explain what f

"This singular seene. What have I to do with
these people V And she pointed to Captain Nick and
his lady-friend.

" Oh, come now, Jacrpietta, my girl — or, Lelia,
rather — you may as well leave off vour airs at once.
Old Grizzle's split, and so it s no use carrying things
with a high hand anv longer," suid Captain Tempest,
in a large tone of voice.

"No, Jaccpietta ! It's too late ; the play is ])layed
out," said Grizzle. " I have told Mr. De Vere all, and
it is of no use for 3'ou to add any more falsehoods to
the rest."

" And so you may as well strike your colors and sur-
render at once, my little iirebrand !" said Captain Nick.

Jaccpietta turned her Hashing eyes from one to the
other, and her small hands clenched as though she
could have sprung on them both like a wounded pan-
ther, on the spot; but after .1 moment's scrutiny, her
mood changed, and she turned away witli a curling lip,
as though she thought them unworthy of her notice.

"May 1 ask, sir," she repeated, turning almost im-
periously to Mr. De Vere, "for an ex])lanation of all
this? Was I brought here U) l)e publicly disgraced be-
fore a mixed crowd like this i"

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270

A PROUD HE ART CRUSUED.

h *

" liL'ally, iiiauani, you niupt be careful how 3^011 lalk !
If, hv tlio ' mixed crowd ' you mean tliosc two worthy
folks hchiiid yoii, tlie tcrin is siiij^litly disrcspcctfid to
one of tliem at least," said Mr. L)e Vere.

"JleavensI will no one tell me what this mea!is ^
Auj 1 an idiot, to be treated like this!!'' she demanded,
with Ji i^assionate stamp of her loot.

" Wliv, I have inst told yon, my little duck !'* said
Caplain Nick. ''Jt means {\u.\ iat's in the lire; the
cat's out of the lui.^; that you've ])ut your foot in it;
that you've <':;»t to the end of yonr tether; and OKI
Gri/zle, thinkini;- you mi^ht bolt the ropes, lias i^iven
yon a sliort ])n!l \\\). J adnure your ])ln('k, u[)on my
Foul 1 do! an<l I can set? with half an eve vou're yom*
father's dann'htei", evei'v inch of yon ; so you had better
acknowledge the coiii, and come to terms at once. I
dare say ii won't be pleasant, at iirst — m(>re csj)ecially
in that younii; gcMit's ])resence over there; but he'll
know it sooiuM' or later, so you mii;;ht jnst as well drop
your mask, ;md sail under your own llaii; for the future.
You're a ti[)-lop little brick, my girl ; and I swan you
ought to be i! lady, in spite of the old saying that you
can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear! ^'ou
remind me of a young <'(.lt, my deal'," said the captain,
M'ith a t(»ncli of j)!ii!osophy ; and gi\ing his arm a wave
by way of directing attention to the ])erorati()n. " As
Boon as the bi'idie and cm'b is first ])nt on, after it has
heen allowed to run loose rc.nnd the pastui'e all its life,
it kicks up its heels and grows re.stive, and jdunges, and
struggles, an<l I'aises a devil of a row generally (saving
your presence, ladies and gents, for naming my friend
ill yonr presence) ; but still it has to submit, and linally
settles down into a ca])ital beast of burden, in the long
rim. And so, my bright little Hash of lightning, you
will liave to tame down to a common tallow candle, and
burn mider a shade at that ; and you may as well come
to terms now as ever."

All the timeC'aptain Nick had been thus eloquently
delivering himself, the clear, bright, penetrating eyes

liaa
liUid
leiul

Oiiii:

lyou
land
|)inu

ntly
3ycs

A PROUD III: ART CRUSHED

of Jacquetta bad been lixcd oi^ bis face — riveted tbeic
witb siicb a steady, unwinkiii;^ i!;'>'^'-N ''''ii^ M'lieii tbat-
gallant mariner bad concluded, and, looking up, niel
tbat jiercin^i-, burninur, lixed scrutiny, be gave an un-
easy start, sbifted in Jjis cliair, tried to stare back, but
failed, and ilnall\' bunr out again in a bullying u^ui:

"Ob, conic, Jack Dc Vero I nonco't' »'' I can
stand a good deal, but I never was acfjUu :. 1 wilb
Job, and ain't much like liini in disposition ; i*o I'ln »n-
connbon apt to llai'c uj) \vlu;n ])i-ovoki>il I I r's disre-
spectful, too, astlie old gent over tliere told you « little
while ago, and — ''

" J beg you will not allude to me," said Mr. i>e Vcre,
augbtily. '• With you, sir, 1 have nothing to <i<j, and
ic seldonier you refer to me the better !"

b
tlie

Captain iS'iek sprang to bi.^ feet in a rage:

" Wby, you darned old aristocnit ! do yon moan fo
say Vn\ not as good a man as any Do \'ere among y ju
that ever liad his bead stuck on a pole over London
JJridge as a traitor'^ 1 tell you, my old cove! yiju'll
lind yourself in the wrong box if you attempt to bully
me/'

" By heaven, sir I do you dare t(» speak to my uncle
like tbis?" fiercely exclaimed J^isbrowo, starting to \\\a
feet.

" Yes, my yoimg grandee ; and to you, too. Mind
your own business, t-ir, and sj)eak when you're spoken
to. I liavc a little i)rivate account to settle with you,
l)efore von ^(\ home to see your dear iXorma, and tell
Jiow you anmsed yourself making love to anotber man's
wife all the tinio you were in America !"

There was so'.iething in the last words that struck
tiiem all dumb. ^Vilb a low, irri'pres.siblc ci-y, dac-
(pietta reeled, fell on a sofa, with botb bands clas])ed
bard ovei' lier beart. How well Disbrowe knew that
gesture now !

"All! yon mn. feel — you c<in sulTer! That bolt
goes borne to your ])roud beart, my lady !" said Captaiu
Kick, triumphantly.

t \

111

" I

i .)(

272

A PROUD HEART CRUSHED.

' i

'i i P

" O mv licart I wliat docs all tliis irican ? Oh ! will
no one tell me ("' eried Jaequetta, passionately. " What
liave I Haid— what Jiav'C I <lonc to be treated like this'i"

"Ask tliat heart you liave named. Let it disclose
your guilt!*' said Mr. l)e Yere, between grief and
rage. " I should l)lush to s[)eak it !"

Up to her feet she sprang, with the fearful bound
of an aroused tigress — her eyes llashing lire — her lips
and cheelvs white as ashes.

"Guilt !— ushamed ! Mv. Do Yere, I command you
to tell me of wdiat I am accused !"' she said, fiercely.

" What an actress was lost in you, Miss Jack!" said
the ca])tain, with a sneer.

"Now, flacfpietta, i(\s of no use,"' said drizzle, in
a wheedling tone. " You know just as well as he does
what it means, and it is only a waste of good tragedy
to rant and lire u]) like this. How often have you told
mo you dreaded this day, and implored me on your
knee» iu)t to tell what 1 have told i Calm yourself,
and be reasonable. Vou may as well acknowledixo
your true father, and drop all this nonsense at once. It
imposes on no one now."

" That's the chat !" said the ca])tain.

She looked from one to tlu.' other, like a wounded
deer with the hounds at its throat.

"O my (rod! we are all sinners, and none inoro
unworthy than 1 ! IJut what have 1 done to deserve
thisT

There was a passionate solenunty in lier tone that
thrilled ihrough every heart. DisI)rowe rose, as white
as herself.

" This is base — this is unmanly — this is cruel ! If
(she were on trial for life she would be told her crime,
and allowed to defend herself. Will you not give her
the same pi-ivilege as a public malefactor f

" She knows well enough ; it's all sham I ' said
Grizzle, harshly. She can play I'ersecuted In-
nocence to perfection !"

"Come! I'll ask her a rpk'>tion," ;-aid Captain

A PROUD HEART CRUSHED.

273

Nick, ill Iiis Inillyinj:^ tono. "TJii::lit a])out face, Mi.^s
or Miidanie Jacjuetta. Look at vie — look at mo well !"

am lookiiuc, sir

("'

Well : do you know me? Come, now, the truth,

the whole truth and notliiiiir but the truth!

es, Bir

((

Ah ! you do ! Mark that, i\[r. De Verc. Who

1, tl

len (

•ii

Captain Nick Tempest — the greatest villain un-

iiun<r

V")

le answer was so nnoxpected--so completely
different from anythinii; he had looked for, that the
gallant cn])tain 8;i?dv hack in his chair, and stared at
her, perfectly unable to utter a word.

Grizzle llowlct " grimu.'d horribly a ghastly smile"
of triumph oyer her old enemy, and mutt(M-ed :

" Her father's daughter, indeed ! Thick to the last!"

And Frank, who had hitherto stood a silent and
wondering rpectator, called out, delightedly :

''That's yon, Jack ; hit him again !''

Mr, De Yerc's brow grew, if possible, a shade more
stern than it had been before.

" Do you know to whom you are s])eaking, mistress ?
Let him be ever so great a villain, it is your duty to bo
respectful. If 3'ou think to raise yourself in my esti-
mation by any display like this, y(»u are greatly mis-
taken in me, young iaily ! \ cannot cease to forget as
easily as you can, that there is a commandment which
says : '']L)noi' thy father and thy mothi'i', that thy days
may be long in the land which the Fiord shall give.' ''

"1 have not tried to raise myself in your estimation,
Mr. Do Vere. J never yet sued for the gcKKl opinion
of any one, and I shall not begin now! Nei^herean I
see lio\y the commaiul just <pii»tc(l can apply to the
])resent case in the renHjtest degree."

" Do you mean to say," said ]\[r. De Vere, rising to
his feet, and sternly confronting her, '" that you do not
know that man 'T

She met his angry gaze unllinchingly :

12*

1^3-

1-1*

wpagggwiBWi

«•

!♦

274

A PROUD UEMIT CRUSIIIW.

"I iiicjui to say no siicli tliinji^, sir! I do know
liiui fjnite as well as I am anxious to know liini, or any
one of liis chiss !"

" I'ake care wc are not better acquainted beforo

lon^*, my pretty little dear! 'Any one of his class,' for-

\ jootli ! To what class (\o you belong, it" it conies to that,

my hi^li and nii<(]ity little princess royarsl" sneered the

captain.

" \ ou jirevaricate, younii; lady. AVill you tell nic
in what I'elation he staiids to you C

"■ 'J'hat's it ! You have her now, squire! Di'ivc lier
into the corner, where she can't dod<j;e !'' cried the cap-
tain, deliixhtedly.

"•' Silence, fellow !" anu'i'ily exclaimed Mr. De Vere.
"I await y<»nr answer, madam.''

'*J do not understand you, sir. Do you mean to
say that that man is any relation to me ^"

" That is an Irish way ot answcri!)g my question,
and looks very much like a t.hullling evasion ! Now I
will put the (juestion diri'ct. I siip[)oseyou do not need
to be told that I am not youi- latlier !''

Her face turned dark-crimson for an instant, and
tiicn whiter than before,

"I mean not your own father," he observed, hastily.

" No, sir."'

Tiiere was a simultiineous exclamation from Jacinto,
DisbroWi', and Frank ; but, no one noticed them, and
Mr. De \'ere went on :

((

lien, as every one has a

fatl

ler

ivimr or

dead,

perhaps you will be good enough to tell me who yours
really is'i"

" It is late to ask that qncsti(»n. You know as
much of the matter as I do I''

Caj)tain Tcm])e>l AvMstU'cl.

U 'V

J'hen you <leny all knowledge of your father?
1 do, sir. ] know <d' no c-uch i)erson in the worl

•Id

O Jacquetta !" exclaimed Old Cirizzle, holding up

her hands in holy horror

What do you moan, you hag — you miu'deres^^ —

Ij::^

A PROUD UEART CRUSHED.

275

you

Jezebel V exelaiiiied Jaequetta, turning
furiously upon licr. " Do you dare to say I lie?"

And she gl;ired ujion her hke a young honess,

second

lOUS

ready to sprin

<)".

Jaequetta De Yere, you know you do !" said
Grizzle, boldly.

" Come, madam, no savage outbursts of passion
here," sternly intei'posed Mr. I)e \(iyc. " A\^hen you
leave Fontelle, you may take to iisticuffs as soon as you
please; l)ut,y(ju will be good enough, both of you, to re-
Btrj'Mi your natural inelinarlons in my presence. Once
again — and for tlit; last time, Jaequetta — do you mean
to say you do not know who your father is V

" I do not. l>y heaven and all its hosts, I swear
it!" she passionately cried.

" Then behold him here !" exclaimed j\[r. De Vcre,
pointing to Ca])tain Tempest, who arose to his feet,
triumphant. '' () fidsest of the false ! That you, whom
I ])elieved the soul of fn.nkness and honf)r, could be
guilty of such mean deception as tlii>! And to think
tliat 1 should have been so poor a diipe, to be foiled by
a smiling face and asmooth tongue I Oh ! nevei'till now
did I realize ' how fair an outside; falsehood hath !' "

There was a crv from all, atid a unanimous risino'to

1 if

their feet. Jr.ccpietta stood like one ])etriru!d — turned
into stone. Mr. De X'ere steridy waved them back,
and went on :

"Your very countenance (vmvicts you; for you
have yov.r lather's face! And to think I shoidd have
ever cherished the spaw!i «>f such a vi[)cr ! to th'.nhyou
could have known this, and acted a living lie all thoc
years under my very eyes! — that you should have held
secret meetings with tliis man, and given him nu)ney —
my money — pilfered from me, to j»ay him and this
wretched old woman to keej) your si^cret ! Jlad you
told mc; he was your father, in time 1 might even have
overlooked tin; disgrace of having the child of such a
wretch connected with my family ; but now I can never
believe, or trust, or forgive you I The dauguter ol suou

.». n

i.i w

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■
«

^!l !

■^liii

276

A PROUD IIKAHT G RUSHED.

a fatlier — of sucli a inoflior, heariiii^ my naino ! Oh !
low indocd have I fallen wlien 1 have lived to sec such
a day !''

lie strode up and down tlic rooni, like one heside
himself with ^^I'ief, I'a^e, and humiliation. Still she
stood like one turninii'to stone — mute, voiceless, motion-
less. iSlie had had a vaii'ut' expectation of something
terrihlc, hut uotliinL:: like this. !She passed lier hand
over lier eyes, like one in a dream.

"Come, Jaccpietta, have done witli this," said Ca])-
tain Kick, rougldy. '" AVe havi; had enouii;h of this
fooling. I'm your father, and that's the end of it.
And, what's more, you know it, and there is no use
trying to hack out. Come, he a good girl, and don't he
ashamecl of the old man, who is ready to stand hy you
while there is a shot in the locker, or a timher of this
old hulk liangs together."

His voice aroused her fiom her trance, and, looking
at him lixedly, she turned to (irrizzle, and s'lid, calmly :

" l^oa ought to know. Do n<.t deceive me now, hut
tell me. /s' lie my father C

" You know he is. What's the good of asking !"
said (irizzle, in an impatient yet somewhat suhdued
tone, for there was that in the voung girl's very calni-

1 11 ./rat? ./

ness that awed her.

"Then it has come to this, at last ! I knew this
pleasant dream could n(»t last forever!"

" Jhit you thought to keep itolf as long aspossihle,"
said ]Mr. i)e Vere, sarcastically. " A lew falsehoods,
more or less, m.idc little ditference to vou."

"God forgive you, i\[r. JJe Vere ! From you, at
least, I have not deserved this.''

"No — you liave dcserve<l )!Mich consideration, uiuch
kindness, from me! O ialse heart! that 1 should ever
have l^elieved you true !"

" You think me then a liar and an impostor'^"

Sometliing in her tone moved him ; and he looked
in the little, sorrowt'id face and heseeching (')\'i^, with
tiieir pitiful l<.H)k, so \(}v\ .s;id to see ini'vcs so proud as

A PltOUl) IIIJMIT a HUSHED.

hers. But the moinory of Jill Grizzle had told him,
bearini^ so powoi-fiilly the impress of truth, came back

to h

;i
S

hiin ; and vierviiii; himseit witli remeinberea wrongs,
he savagely answered :

"lilof"

Her clasp d hands dropped.

"Once more — (lod forgive you, Mr. Do Verc !"'

'•pray for yourself,"' he said, haughtily. "You
need forgiveiiei-s as much as me."'

"May 1 go r she said, wearily dropping her head.
'' I am tired and sick! I never meant to wrong yon ;
and if you would only believe that, 1 could forget the
rest."

" I do vot believe it, Jac<pietta ! I can never be-
lieve you more ; you have deceived me too long and
too often for that.''

h^he leaned heavily against a chair.

"]\[aylgo^ Will you not s[)are me? You are
breaking my heai't I"

"Let it break! You will be all the better for it,
since it is so decci^fnl I No, you shall not go yet. You
have not heard all. '\'(»ur sins have found you out."

" Go on! 1 am listening I"

" Where is my son's child i Where is this child of
yours, whose exisience you have concealed so long f'

"Mr. l)e Vi-re!"

"Oh! start, and look, and coin fresh lies! T know
vou of old, madam ! Deny it, as you did your father!
VVhat an unnatui'al heart you must have, daccpietta,
to denv the existence of voiu* own child, that 1 mi'dit
leave all my wealth to }ou! Answer me, where is
my son's child i"

" It is dead ! It died the day of its birth !"

"It is false!" said (iri/zle, sternly. '• It lives!'"

" You hear that!" said Mr. De Yere, triumj)hantly.
" Yoiu' very conl'e<lerates have turned against you!
Add no more falsehoods to the rest. My grandchild
lives."

Aixain that bewildered look came over her.

♦ •

i
1

]

i'
i

{;

1 ;

278

/I PROUD HE ART CRUSHED.

"I ain ^'olng crnzy, I tliink ! You told me it was
dead," she said, tiimin^ijj to (irizzle.

'' I never did. You paid me tor taking care of it
and concealing its exir-teiice !"

Her eye turned iiivolunvarilv upon Orrie.

"Yes, Zw/.'/" said ]\Ir. l)e Vere, bitterly. "How
well you know who it is I Does she not bear her
father's faee'f

''Is she my child r'

"Pau'rh! von sicken me with this acting! As if
you needed to be told whose child she was! IS2)eak —
acknowledge the ti'uth !"

"It is us(>less! Y(»u would not believe me."

"Speak, I command you ! I have a right to know!
is she not your daughter C

"She maybe. 1 do not know. My heart always
told me we were more than strangers."

"Oh! it did? I am ghid your licart knew liow to
tell the truth for once, ;is it does not seem to be gener-
ally in the habit of doing mj! So, J\liss Jac(pu?tta De
Vere, of Fontelle Hail, has found a father in the out-
lawed Cai)tain Xiek Tempest, and a daughter in old
Grizzle II owlet's ^'/v>(Yv//y', all in the same day ^"

She dro])pLMl her face in her hiuids, with a low,
bitter cry that could not be rc^pressed. Every one
present sat mute, waiting for what was to come next.
Mr. De \'ere's bi-ow did not relax ; for, like all slow to
anger, he was still slower to forgive. His lip curled
scornfully as he looked on the little, droo[)ing ligurc
and bowed head, ouw so high and haughty.

"So von can feel shame? you can feel I'cmorse ?
yon can feci humiliation f

" I am not ashamed !"

"I am Sony to hear it! l)Ut T forgot — those who
stoop to deception as you have done, seldom feel
shame."

She raised her head and clasped her hands.

"Oh, my (rod!" she said, as the words of the
dying cardinal came to her mind, "if I had loved Thee

A rnouj) in: ART crushed.

279

as I linvc loved this man, Tliou wonlcFst not have cast

me r»

irti

lUS

icre was a

pause

which no one seemed inclined to

break. She rose to her feet at last.

don

Is there anything more? "What else have I

■>'>

Ah ! yon are anxious to he fj:one ; but I have not
quite done with you yet. Why did you never tell
me what soil of a mother you had

I did not think it necessary. It could have done

good.

'• Oh, so you do not deny that? AVell, I am glad
you perceive the necessity of speak- ing the truth, at
last ! You did not think it necessary ( No, I dare say
not! You took good care 1 should not know it !"

'' Must 1 answer for my mother's sins V

*' Yes; ' tlie sins of the father sliull be visited on the
cliildrcu, even to the third and fourth generations,'
saith the Lord."'

" Yovi can (piotc Scripture against me, too. Heaven
and earth seem to have lorsaken me alike ! Ah, well !
let it be ! AVliat else, Mr. iJe V(.'re r

"• The worst of all!'' he said, in a low, passionate
voice. " You have been unfaithful to your marriage

vow

Her white face turned crimson, and she started like
one who has i-eceived a spear-thrust through the heart.
Turning for the iirst time toward Di&browe, she gave
him a look he nevrr forgot.

"O coward and traitor ! Is this your revenge ?"

"IJa! 'J'hen he knows, too f ' cried Mr. De Ye re,
eagerly. ''I did doubt that, but this coniirms it ! Then
you <(/'(' guilty '^"

" Wliat Jias he told you V she cried fiercely.

A llu^li of haughly aiigcrand liumiHation tinged the
handsome face of l)isl)ro\ve, ijut he said notliing.

"Jlc? lie has told me nothing."

" It is false T siie (*ried, forgetting in her passion all

, \

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1 I

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il *^"'f

■i

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280 A PROUD HIJAnr CUUHIIED.

respect for licr questioner. '' He imist liiivc told you 1
]l^0 one else knew — *'

She checked herself and ui^'aiii ruriied scarlet.

" Knew what^' said Mr. JJe V'ere, with a piercing
glance.

She made a frenzied gesture like one goaded to
desi)erati<)n.

" I will not tell ! Suspect what you like! You have
laid this trap to ensjiare me ! [ can fall no lower in
your eyes than I luive falliMi now. Thitdv me as guilty
as yoii please, the whole of you ! I am ruined and dis-
graced, and it matters little what becomes of me, now !''

"Then you do not deny it V he said, significantly.

" I deny iiotliinii: ! 1 ac^knowledjj^e notliiuij: ! You
think me lost, body and soul I Think so still, but let me

•

" AVhat, without your dear friend ? Come hither, sir
Spaniard ! Is it the custom in your country, when a
wounded stranger is received into a man's house, to re-
turn his kindness as you have returned milled'

" Wliat has he done f' demanded Jacquetta, coming
over and laying lier hand, lialf-caressiugly, half-pro-
tectingly, half-deliantly, on the boy's shoulder, and
looking aromxl like a stag at bay.

'" Nay, JacijiK'tta, you would not have me answer
that (juestion, 1 trust < lint, Alfred, I must have an
explanation from you I What do you know f

" Ts'othing, sir."

"Nothing that you choose to tell, you mean?
Alfred Disbrowe, I conmiand you to tell! This — this
— person is my son's wife, and 1 have a I'ight to know !"

"I have nothing to tell, sir," said Uisbrowe, so
stunned by all he had lunird, that he scarcely knew
whether he were dri'aming or waking.

"You have!" said daccjuetta, in a ringing voice.
" Deny it not ! Tell all you know !''

'" You have accused me of doing that already !" he
said, wiHi a hiiuglity bow.

" Then vou have not told i"

i \ :

A PROUD UEAUT CRUSHED.

lie only replied by a look. lie would not answer
Piieli a cliari^e.

" All ! and I have wronged you ! I am sorry ! Will
you forgive nie C

"■ I luiv(> iK^tliiiii; to fornfive."

" No ; it is scarcely worth while stooi)in_j? to forgive
po lost a wreteh as J. Shall I tell you what he saw,
Mr. De Vere, since he will not C

"A.- you please. It matters little."

" Jae(pietta !" -aid the hoy, in a treinhling voice.

" Hush I fc;ir not! Then through the door of this
boy's vo(m\ he saw me hiss him I"'

" Ah !"

" How very indiscreet of you to leave the door open,"
said Grizzle, with a laugh and a shrug.

Jacinto started up.

" Jacrpietta, I will tell ! I will !"

"Do at you peril ! Xot one word, sir!"

" Ihit— "

" Not a word ! I will never forgive you if yon do."

The boy hid his lace in his hands with a groan.

" If you have anything to say, young sir, out with
it !" said Mr. De Wtc, sternly.

Again Jacinto started nj).

"Oh! Jaccpu^tta, I nmst ! It was my fault, and I
will take the conse(pieMces. I will tell ! I must tell !
I cannot bear to t" ink I was the cause of — ■"

"You are the ( '.st>of nothinL»: — in mvixuiltand mv
degradation I stand alone! From ail blame you are
free! You can say nothing that will free me from the
crime of having such a fathei-, such a mother, and such
a child ! I am the daughter of an outlaw and a villain,
ruined and disgraced ! Ruined and disgraced I — it has
an ugly sound ; but it is the truth, thouirh I may never
have spoken it before. (n>od-bve, mv iriend, vou at
least, believe me innocent of one crime with which I
have been chargetl, and that is something, ^[r. De
Vere, what next? I do not wish to troul)le you but as
short a time as I can. I await your connnands to go.''

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

MtaMmnMMMMMMM

282

A rilOVD HEART CRUSIIIW.

.-' 4

t"-A

"It w'll come presently. Jacqiiotta De Von*, T am
eorry for you/-

" Tliere is no need, sir. Wiiat docs it matter?"

"What will become of you when you leave here V

She smiled.

"I am a small ixlrl, sir; and in the Potter's Field
there is room for another vaurant."

Some of the old love he had felt for her came back,
as he saw that hiint, cold smile.

"Oh! Ja('qu(*tta, why have you done this? Why
were you so deceitful C

" We will not speak of it, sir, if you please. I do
not think 1 can quite Ijear it yc^t. Fon>-('t the past, and
think of me as you have learned to do to-day."

" Jaccpietta, M'as it for his home and wealth you
married my unfortunate son?"

" I had rather not answer that question. You liave
already answered it to yorr own satisfaction; and
nothini;; a conlirmed liar, such as 1 am, can say, is to bo
believed."

" ^'ou were only a child then — a little child ! Was
duplicity born with you, Jaccpietta?"

" Very likely, sii'. Yon for<^-et my mother."

"Ah, true !" His brow darkened again. "And so
you will <^o with this man?"

" lie is my father, sir."

"Oh I you a(*kiiowledii(> it iit last — do you? youun-
dutiful little minx!" growled the captain.

"Is tiie list of my crimes ended, Mr. De Vere ?
AVhen may 1 go ?"

" As soon as you please. I will ring and give or-
ders to have your things packed u})."

" iS"o, sir, you Avill not ! Hare and ])enniless as I
came to rontelle, 1 will leave it ! (lood-bye, JM.r. Do
Vcrc; you were a kind friend to me always, iuid I shall
pray God to forgive you for flu; wrong you have done

me this d

i.y

e IS more mcM'ci

I'ul ll

lan mail, and per-

... . , P

Laps he may lorgive even soloht a sinner as I am." Her

voice trembled a little as she moved one step away.

A PROUD HE ART CllUSUED.

283

:ill

" Olio thing furtlier. Since tliis is iiiy cliild may slie
not como ^vit!l nic i JScitliersho nor I will ever trouble
you niiuin."

"• No !"' p;ii'l Mr. De A^cre, "my grandchild Slavs in
Fontellc Jlair;"

'" I cannot givo her np so!'' she said passionately —
"slie is all 1 have kit to love! Orrie, / am your
mother, \\'\\\ \<n\ nr,\ coiiio with me;!*'

That pleading smiie; that (juivcring lip— liow piti-
ful thev were to see !

"1 am your graiKH'iitln'r, my child, I i" you will
stay with me y<ju .•-hail \'wo here and he a lady. You
shall have everything your heai't can desire."

Orrie looked from oni> to the other, and then up at
Dishf'owe, on who>e kne(> she still sat. His face was
averted, hut he held her closer in his arms.

" Will he stav, too f slie asked.

"Yes," said 'Mr. De Vere.

" Then so will 1 !" said Orrie. " \ won't go !"

Something faded <»nt of ihe face of .laccpietta — it
could not be coloi-, lor ^lu> was deadly white ; it was as if
a nickering light had gone out from a lanij). She \)\\t
one trembling hand up before her f;ice without a word.

"The last unkindest cut of all," quoted (Ja])taiii
Tempest, touched in sjiite of himself.

"King the bell, Frank, and tell lv(\ynolds to servo
dinner instantly," said Mr. I)e Vere, coldly.

Jacquetta lifted her white face, and made a step to-
wards the door. ( 'a])tain Tempest, Grizzle, and Jacinto,
rose too. IS'o one else moved.

She reached thi^ door; she i)aused on the thresh-
old, her face worked convulsively, and she turned
back, with a great ciy.

" I cannot go like this! Will no one pay good-bye
to mc before I leave C

" Cei-tainlv," said Mi-. ])<• Vere, " irood-bvo. And
in the future i liopii you will learn to 1)0 true!"

"And that is all i And this is what 1 have loved
so welW Oh! my heart! this is the hardest of all!

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284

A PROUD HEART CRUSHED.

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Aiii^nsta, Orriu, Disl)rowG — silent all ! And joii, too,
Frank," she said, in a voice of sorrowful reproacli.
"And I trnstcd to you."

There; was a great sob from Frank, and the next
moment he was r)ver. holdinu^ her in his arms, and
llashinu^ delianee at all the rest.

"it's a shame ! it's a blamed shame! it's a horrid
shame! and I don't believe a word of it! They have
no business to (reat you so !"' said Frank, with some-
thinic lil^^' Ji howl of minii:led y-rief and raire.

^iie smiled sadly.

'"Then you do love me a little, yet, Frank V

" Ves, 1 do! and L always will, too! I don't believe
a siniijle thini;' they said about you, and I never will
belie; ve it so lonii; as I live — handed if I do !''

Thei'e is something touching in a boy's grief —it is
so honest and hearty and outspoken, and conies so
straight from the heai't. It would have brought tears
to Jac(pietta's eyes if anything could; hut she had
none to shed — slie felt like a stone, yet with such a
dreadful pain at her heart.

"Goo(ld)ye, my dear 1'' rank, my brother ! and do
not quite forget dacquetta!"

Lrank was sobbing away in good earnest. Jacinto
had his hand before his eyes, to hide the tears that fell
hot and fast. Augusta lay perfectly still — for a deadly
sickness h;ul her, and she had faintt'd, though they knew it
not. Disbrowc sat like a ligure of marble, with hiti
face hiddcMi in his hand, and the l'>'>g locks of his
falling hair. ]Mr. De Vere was cold and stern as a
Spartan father condt'mning his oidy son to death.

''Farewcill to all I" said dactjuetta, gently, "who
1oV(hI me oiu'cl I'arcwell to old l'\»ntellel''

She turned away. 'JMii; rest went after her. There
was a few monu'nts deathdike pause, and then they
heard the luUl-door heavily closed, and something in
each heart crashed with it. They knew then that
Jacquetta— bright, beautiful dac(pietta — the gay, sunny,
liouBchold-fairy, had left I'ontelle forever!

''HE GIVETU HIS BELOVED SLEEPS 285

ClixiPTErv XXI.

**HE GIVETII Ills BELOVED SLEEP."

" Lord Heron he dwells in his castle higli,
Kosaliiid sleeps on the moor below,
He loved to live, and she loved to die,

Which loved the truest the angels know."

— Ballad.

L4<

R. DE VERE arose and made a gesture, aa
if castin<»: sornetliiii<jr from him.

"• It is goiu! — eu 18 8hc, and peace go with
her! Frank, is diimer ready f

'' I don't know ; and, what's more, I
don't care !"' liowled Frank, wiping his eyes and nose
furiously, in lii?^ [n'ief.

" Francis i" e.\claiiacd his uncle, in angry dis-
pleasui'e.

"I don't, tlien — not one bii ! You treated Jack
shamefully, and I d(.)n't care if yon turn me out of
doors for saying it. Fm bhuned it' I don't go anyway !
I'll run olf and go to sea — I'll eidist. You sei^ if I
don't! You iiad no business to treat Jack so !'' said
Frank, witli another howl.
"Francis!"

"Goini>' and believinij: that old Ivinii; (rrizzle Flow-
let, and ready to swear to everything she said, and
snapping up »Iack without giving her a chance 1o say
a word for hcrseli'I 1 say it's a shanu^ ! a blauKjd
shame! And it" 1 had known that was what you
wanted of her, I shouldn't have gone one toot; no,
not if you were to hang, draw, and (juarter me for it !"

" I don't believe she vvov did one sinde thin;' lliat

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286 ''HE G I VET II HIS BELOVED SLEEP.''

jou said slie did — <'nly slio was too proud to deny it,
wlieii slio saw you heliovcd that liatctul, old, w^^y
Motlifi- llowlt't raster than her," vociferated Fraidc,
raiitiiii:^ furiously uj) and down tlie room. "And tliat
okl scoundrel, Nick Tempest, too, i^oiufj^ and saying
she was his daui;htf'r — the old villain! 1 should like
to know wliat everybody will say wlieii they hear how
you've treated Jier, and turned lier out of doors. I
should think you would be ashamed ever to show your
face a^^nn. Uncle Iwob !"

" Francis !''

"Oh, you may ' Francis' as nnicli as you like, but
I don't care! I will say just what I think, if you
wore a dozen uncles ten times over. I snp])ose people
thiidc boys oui^ht to sit with their lini>:ers in their
moutlis, and never say a word, just because tliey are
boys, as if they could lielp-tliat! I tell you, Uncle
Rob, if 1 was you, 1 would be ashamed ever to show
my face aijain ! And you a justice of tlie peace, too !
A pretty j\istice of the peace you are, aiding and
abetting r(jbl)ers and murderesses !"

" Leave the room, sir!"

" J'm going to, and tlie house, too, if you like ; and
I will say again and again that it was a shame !"

" Will you be silent, and leave the room f

" I'm a going to ; but I say again and <i<jain^ it was
a sliame ! It was a shame — there ! It was a shame —
there ! It was a shame — now then !"

Mr. De Vere sprang up in a I'age, collared the
intre])id Frank, and shook him till he was lu'eathless.

"'JNow, will you say it f ' he exclaimed between his
teeth.

''It — w-a-a-s a sh-a-a-me, there !" said Frank, be-
tween his chattering teeth.

J\lr. De Vere seized the bell-cord, and rang a peal
that brought up Uiniiolds.

" Here, Reynolds, tidve this fellow off, and lock him
up in his room, and bring me the key.''

Mr. Reynolds, who would have manifested no sur-

S !

• !*'

"77^ GIVETH Ills BELOVED SLEEPS 287

pvii^e, and \voiil<l [)r()l);il)ly li;ivi3 obeyed without a word,
it" Jiis luastei* had told him to heliead liiiii, hiaiully
seized Frank, and hciran (hM,ii'i!;inu^ liini olT, wliile that
yonni^ jrentleniaii icieked and striiu'^led manfully. J3ut
kicks and struii-gles were of no avail, lieynolds was get-
ting the best of the battle.

"It was a shame — there !" yelled Frank, as Iley-
nolds pulled him through the door.

Orrie, who saw something exqnisitely ludicrous in
the whole scene, gave vent to a shrill peal of laughter
at the youth's discomliture.

" JJinner is served, sir," said another servant, throw-
ing o])en the door.

" V^ery well! Augusta, will you take my arm?"
said her father, rising.

But Augusta s})oke not — moved not.

" Augusta !'' he said, in alarm.

There was no reply.

He went over, lifted her head, and saw the closed
eyes, and corpse-like face.

" Good heavens ! she has fainted I'' he cried in con-
sternation. Aiid once more seizing the bell-rope, he
pulled it, as i'^ he would have torn it down.

Two or thi'ee servants answered the sununons.

" Ih'ing watei', salts, harlshorn, something, anything,
everything ! Miss Augusta has i'ainted !''

They tied to obey. Restoratives were applied, and
in a few moments the 'arge, heavy eyes unclosed and
fell on her father's face.

" Ai'(! you bettei", my darling C he said, bending
over her.

Jler eyi^s wandered around in a vague, wild way.

" () i)apa. where is she C

'" Who. my love f '

".laccpietta I (.) [)apa, it was dreadful !""

" Jjcave the njom !'' said A[r. De Vere, sternly, to
the curious seivants, who I'eluctantly o!)eyed.

"Papa, v.'hat have you done to her I'' she cried,
starting up.

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288 "i/iE; 01 VET II HIS BELOVED SLEEP:'

" Slio is gone, Aii<^u.stii I Sli(3 will never come back
more."

" Papa ♦;'

" I reiiiet the necessity as imicli as you can possibly
do, Auiijiista ; ])nt instice must have its wr-v. JSlie has
been weiuhini'- in the balance nnd found wantinii;.'''

" And you have tiii-ned lier out of doors V

lie turned crimson.

" 1 could no h)ni!;er keep her herewith respect to
myself, my dani^diter I"'

"Poor little sistei' !" said Au<»;ustn, bitterly, " this is
the return • e have made her for all her love ! Poor
little «Iac(juetta !''

" She was ii^uiltx', Auifnsta !" said her father, sternly ;
"she carried a fiilse heart under that fair face. Let us
speak no more of her. Diimer is waitin<r."

''Excuse me, i)a])a, I do not feel well, and would
rather _tj;o to my room.''

" Whatever you wish, my dear," he said, cahnly.
And she passed from tlie I'oom without a w<u"d.

He turned to Disbrowe, l)ut he had uever moved.
Orrie, too, lay very quiet, wirh her arms around his
neck, and her head on his breast.

" Alfi'cd," said Ww i)c V'ere, gently, for there was
something chilling in this shrinking oif of ;ill.

The young man lifted his head and raised his eyes,
and his uncle started, to see how pale, and cold, and
stern he looked.

'' J am sorry if this un])leasaut scene has pained you,
but it was unavoidable. Diimer is waiting — will you
come down { Yuu have tasred nothing since break-
fast."

Captain Disbrowe gently placed Orrie on the
ground, and aro<e.

'' Of course you will not think of leaving us for a
few days, now. It will be so louely hero that wc can
ill spare you."

'* Thank you! I believe I shall carry out my orig-

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''HE OIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP.

289

inal dcei^n, and leave to-day," lie said, in a voice of
chill iiii^ coldnci^s.

" Leave to-dav ! My dear Alfred, you do not mean
it!"

He l)0wed plii;'htly.

" Will you have tlio goodness to deliver my luo^gage
to whoever I may send for it, to-morrow I — and make
my adieux to Miss De Vere and Frank C

" Alfred ! — my dear boy ! — what do you mean ?"

lie was almost pitiful in his earnestness, and in the
gathering sense of his loneliness, and he looked ear-
nestly, wistfnliy, in liis ne^Jiew'sfaee. But that jiroud,
full, handsome face was as cold and inllexihle, now, as
his own had been a few short moments before, when
listening to another pleader.

" I am going, sir. I thank you for all yom* kind-
ness to me sinee 1 came, (xood-bye."

"Alfred, yon are angry !""

"Xo, sir — not that 1 am aware of."

"You are more — you are grieved, hurt, and deeply
olfended."

lie only made a uKjtion with his hand, and turned
to leave the room.

"Xo; you shall not go!" said his uncle, iirmly,
" until you tell me what this means. Is it because she,
Ja— "

" Excuse me, sir I — I do not care for hearing that
name again."

" Is it because she is gone ?"

" Isoi because she is gone," he said coldly, " but be-
cause of the way she went."

" She was guilty!"

" She may be. You ought to know best, since you
have known her longest."

"She has deceived me !"

"Well; soyoi; told herself."

"And slie did not deny it."

" Pardon me — I think she dUir

"Well, what matter r' said his uncle, impatiently ;

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290 ''HE OIVETH UTS BELOVED SLEEP.''

" she was guilty, none the less. So I could not act
otlienviso tliaii 1 have cl.ne."

"I do not presume to criticise your conduct."

" Yet you are angry. Why is it T'

" I have ijccn deceived — that is all," said Disbrowe,
(juietly.

" Deceived ?"

" Yes, sir I"

"How?"

"The person I was led to believe your daughter,
my cousin, and a 3'ouiig lady, turns out to be a wife, a
mother, and the daughter of one whom she herself
justly called the greatest villain unhung!"

"Do you love her still ?"

" Excuse me answering that question, and allow me
to bid you, once inoi'e, farewell."

" You will go ?"

A bow was iiis answer.

" 1 have acted for the best, and yet you all turn
against nic. I loved her myself ; and yet, because I
obeyed the connnand of justice, I am looked upon as a
monster."

" Charitv is as great a virtue as justice."

" Good-bye, Alfred."

" Farewell, sir."

They shook hands, but how cold and quiet one hand
was !

Disbrowe turned to quit the room, and his uncle
sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. A
child's shrill scream echoed through the house, and lit-
tle Orrie was clinging to him, wildly.

"• Oh, don't go ! — stay with me 1"

He stooped and put his arm around her.

" You must bo quiet, Orrie, and let me go — I can't
stay."

" AVell, take me with you, then ?"

"No, I cannot do that, either. You must stay here.
If you cry, now, I shall not like j^ou. Will you bo
qui 3t ?"

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''HE OIVETU Ills BEL0VI:D sleep:' 291

"Yes," sobbed Orrio.

" Tlien, good-bye ! Now lot me c^o."

lie kissed her, tenderly. '^ Fur her inotlier's sake,"
* he said, gently ; and then lie let her go, and quitted iho
room.

lie ordered his horse, and in a few moments was in
the saddle, and galloping away, as if the arch-iiend him-
self was after him, toward the Mermaid Inn. lie
knew he would hardly reach it that night ; but he would
almost as soon have passed it in a wolf's den, as under
the roof from which Jacquetta luui been expelled.

How he thought and thought, as he rode along,
until thought became agony, and he dashed over the
ground like one mad to escai)c from himself, lie felt
sure thev had taken her to the lone inn, and he was ji;Iad
that it would be dark long before he reached it, so he
would not be obliged to look even on the house that
held her. Not for worlds would he have hooked on
that fair, briujlit face ai^-ain — not for ten thousand
worlds would he have touched that small, white hand
it had once been such happiness to hold, lie tried to
shut out the '' haunting shape, the image gay," that
flashed before him in all its beauty, as if in dei'iding
mockery, until his very brain reeled. He dashe<l and
plunged furiously along through the deepening night,
almost mad with impatience to reach the Mermaid.
There was a possibility of his meeting Ca})tain Nick
Tempest there, and a diabolical determination iilled his
lieart that one or the other should leave it a dead man.
The S])anish boy, too — he felt as if it would be a di-
rect mercy from Heaven to twist his neck for him ;
and, in his present savage mood, he could have done it
without remorse.

The daylight faded, and faded, behind tiie western
liills, and tlie holy calm of a soft spring night settled
over moor, and forest, and tlowiiig river. Up rose the
''young May moon," serene and silvci'v, siiiiling down
like an auijel-face on the younu' vuV- I'dashiii'j: alon*^ the
lonely road at such a frenzied \\v e. There was some-

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202 "HE GIVETJI HIS BELOVED SLEEP:'

m \

ilnwjr of lieavcn in tlie lioly hush and drow.'^y calm of
tliat I)ri_L^lit, moonlit nii^lit, and sonietlnng of its jjcace
stoic into tlio passion-tossed heart of tlicyounii; English-
man, lie looked np at the f.ic.e of the serene sky, wliore
the serene moon sailed, and reverenily uncovered his
herul, awed hy tlie deep, solemn beauty of the pale,
l)ri;^ht niii;ht. The eoul breeze lil'teil, lii;-htly, tho
ciust-erinij^ locks of his dark hair, and calmed the fever-
ish brow beneath, until his liii^h heart beatini^ subsided,
and he rode aloni^ in a subdued and decidedly more
Christian mood.

The eastern sky was ablaze with the crimson and
gold herahls of the coinini^ morn, when the tired horso
and rider halted at the door of the ]\Iermaid Inn.
Everything was profoundly still, the shutters closed
and the door barred, and its master far in the land of
Jreams. Hut our impatient youn<»; Eriton cared little
^vhat brilliant visions of princely custom old Eol) llow-
iie was induli^ing in; and, with the butt end of his
horsewhip, knocked at the door in a way that might
liavc awoke the dead.

Ten minutes elapsed — durini^: which Disbrowe kept
'ip a steady cannonade at the door, until there seemed
jome danirer of his beatinij^ it down alto^i^ether : and
then an upj)cr window \vas opened, a red woolen night-
cap protruded, and a startled voice demanded who was
there.

" A tired traveler. ILow long do you mean to keep
me waiting here? Come down and open the door, you
old villain !"

Thus civilly apostrophized Mr. Eowlie drew in his
head, shullled down stairs, and blinking very much,
held the door open for his early customer to enter.

" Where is my horse to go i See that he is attended
to directly ; and let me have a bed as soon as possible.
1 f(^el completely used up."

Old ]>oI) led the way up-stairs to a s!nall hole in the
wall containing a b^d and a chair, and informed Dis-
browe it was his " be. ' bedroom."

•as

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blc.

Itlie
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"iZ£; GIVFAII HIS BELOVED SLEEPS 393

" Oh, it will do well cnoiii2;li," said the voiiiiix iii;>n,
castiiiii; a careless i^lanoc around. '• !See that my liorso
is well eared for and carefully rubbed down."

" Yes, ^ir," said i\Ir. liowlie.

" And look here, my irieud, what do they cill
you C said Uisbrowe, divestin-jj hinifcelf ot" his coat avid
bouts.

" My nauie's Itowlie, sir," said the host of the 1S\':y-
maid, in his slow and solemn w;iy. " Mister — Koboi-t
— Ed'ard — Rowlie, jj^ineral dealer in lickers and refres'n-
mento for in;in and beasts."

'' AVell, Mr. Jtowlie, how many other guests have
you at present in tlie housed'

Mr. Ivowlie looked severely at the bedpost nearest
him a moment, in deep thought, and then shook his
head.

" Wo hain't got any at this ]n'esent ; no — not any.
It's cpiiet here — remarkably so!"

" ^0 I should say. IJut there was one — Captain
Tem];est — is ho not here?"

Mr. Itowlie looked wirh interesting severity at the
bedpost again, until he had suliieiently collected his
faculties for re[)ly.

" No, sir ; he ain't here — leastways, just at present ;
no — he ain't.

"Do you expect him soon ?"

" Well," said Mr. Itowlic, scratching his head, or,
more properly speaking, his night-cap, '' there ain't no
saying about that. lie might, and then again he
mightn't."

" Well, what do you think ?" said Disbrowe, testily.
" Do you think he will come to-day ?"

" Well, now, I really couldn't say," said Mr. Itowdie,
with a look of helpless distress. "" There ain't never
no })utting any dependence onto him. lie might, and
then again — "

"He mightn't," interrupted Disbrowe. "Perfectly
satisfactory ! There, you may go now, my intelligent
friend j but, should he come, will you just have the

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294

UE GIVETIl IITS BELOVED SLEEP.''

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goodness to present lii.n Captain Dis])ro\ve''s compli-
inonts, and let liini know lie li(i])es to have tlie ]ileasiire
of liorsew liij>i)in_<i; liini within an incli of Ins life <l»o
first time they meet. TJiere — \fO\ I'm gdini;- to sleep.''

To have seen the exj^ression of Mr. Junviie's ex-
pressive eonnteiiance on hearini:; this saiii^uinary iin-
Tiouneement, with his mouth and eyes opened to their
widest extent !

A faint smile broke over L^ishrowe's face as he
waved liis hand forhimtof^o; and the horrilied host
of the JMermaid took his dei)ai'tnre accord ini:;ly.

Tired and worn out by his journey and the miserable
night he had j)assed, it was hin'h noon before L)isl)rowo
awoke. There was no such thini; as a l)ell in his room ;
so, hastily drcssin«v and rnnnin_i»; his fingers through his
hair, he glanced in a facetious little looking-glass, crack-
ed across the middle, which ornamented the wall, and,
possessing a strong natural taste for the ridiculous,
rcUected every fixture askew. Having, by the aid of
this dissolute mii'ror, twisted his shirt-collar hind side
before, in the belief that he was thereby putting it on
straight, he descended the stairs and jiassed into the
bar, where he found Mr. Ivowlie in the depths of a
leathern arm-chair, solacing himself with his pipe and
a mug of frothy liome-brewed.

" Morning, square !" was his sententious greeting,
acompanied by a [)atronizing nod.

" Good morning, Mr. Ivowlie. Have you seen to
my horse ?"

" Yes," said Mr. Rowlie, meditatively — " yes ; I
have."

*' Well, I Avill go and have a look at him myself ;
and, meantime, send up some warm water to my room,
and let me have breakfast."

Mr. Rowlie having promised obedience, Disbrowo
sauntered out to see aft^'r JSaladin ; and having found
that amiable (piadruped pretty comf(3rtable, returned to
finish his toilet and take his breakfast; for beiuij
" crossed in love," as the housemaids call it, seldom

HE GIVETU niS BELOVED SLEEP.

195

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iiitcrferoa with a niuirs .ippctito. Tlio meal bciiii^
Fcrved in the kitclicii, and hcin^ waited on by little
Mrs. Jiowlio, wlioin lie I'cjund to ho much mon; com-
jnuiiicativo and intclHi.'-ent than li('rsi)<)ii>o, hu proceeded
to (Toss-examine her on mattei's and thini^s- ii:;-lti!y
eoiicludinir he stood a I'ctler chance ot* obtaininu: an
answer from lier than her solemn sj)onse.

'•And po CJai)tain Temjicst left here yesterday
morning-," ho was saying. "Did he tell you where ho
was i:;oini>' V

'* < ) Lor' ! no, sir ; henever tells nobody his business,
but 1 expect it was something or other 'long old Cirizzlo
llowlct. They're^ as thiciv as pickpocktits, both of 'em."

'' Have you any idea when he will return V

'•' Well, now, 1 couldn't say exactly, but it ain't im-
possible he might come to-day or to-morrow, at farthest.
llis men is waiting for him out there in Kowlie's cove."

'^ Where is that f

"Just a small piece below; and it's always been
called after ijs."

"Thej-e was a boy witli liim — a young Spaniard.
Do you know anvthiiii; of him ^"

''Oh, that nncommon handsome little furriner 1
No ; ho hasn't been here for a long while now. I
asked old Nick once where he was, and he told me had
gone to the — you know who; but I don't believe a
word of it. lie was a great deal too gooddooking,"
said Mrs. Kowlie, laughii'g.

" Do you know if there is any chance of my getting
a passa2;e shortly in some craft going from here direct
to New York r'

" Oh, bless you ! yes, sir. Day after to-morrow
Jjill ])riggs comes down in ids wood-boat, and he woiiid
take you. You wouldn't mind going in a wood-boat —
would youT' said Mrs. Ivowlie, doubtfully.

"Oh, certainly not. It does not matter. "Well, I
suppose there is nothing for it but to wait, h there
any one here 1 could send to Foutelie for my luggage?"

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296 "//^ OIVETU HIS BELOVED SLEEP.''

"^ly iievvy will bo here in tlic course of tlie day;
lie (*(»'.i!(] ^'o."

'■ Vovy well ; soiul him tlicn. V>y tli(! way," lie snid,
carele^.-ly, as it' the tiioui^ht had r.tnick him Toi' thelii'ist
tiiiK', " (;an you tell me what this Captain Tempest
tra(.u'si in as he _i»;oes eniising around the world C

]\lis, Uowlie i^-ianced fearrully over her i-lioulder, as
thou:!;li she expeeted to see the hurly foi'iii of ihe cap-
tain there in ])erson, and answen.'d i-apldly:

"I don't know, Tin sure; 1 haiiTt the least idee —
not the least. He never l)rini2;s nothini^ up here —
leastways, nothing I ever sec — so i railly couldn't say."

"J)o you know if he was ever married i"

"No, sir. Lor', how shouUl li It ain't more than
three or four years since 1 seen liim iir.-^t altogether,
and he had no wife then that ever 1 heerd on. lie
might he married a dozen times, though, for me."

"How came lie and this old Grizzle llowlct to bo
80 intimate 'i"

"Don't know; 'ccpt that it is that birds of a
feather Hock together everywhere."

"And this child who lives with that old woman —
little Orrie — do you know anytliing of her'i"

"No, sir — not a thing. I've liearn she was the old
woman's gran'-darter, but 1 don't believe that, some-
how. J\Iy 'pinion is, that that fhcrc old Grizzle ain't
no better than she ought to be."

" You might swear that without fear of perjury, my
worthy hostess. Have you anything here 1 can read to
kill time this long day C

" Yes, sir," said j\lrs. Tlowlie, departing with alac-
rity ; and [)resently reappearing, with the wliolc library
of the Mermaid, placed it on the table beside him.

There was the Pilgrim's Progress, Watts' Jlymns,
the J\lelodies of -Mother (roo>e, and liobinson Cru-
soe, with the beginning and iMid torn ctut. Disbrowe
smiled slightly at the attractive catalogue; and, light-
ing a cigar, leaned back and tried to beguile time al-
ternately reading Watts' Hymns and Mother Goose.

*' EE GIVE TIT Ills BELOVED SLEEP.

297

liny
11 to

lac-
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ns,
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Iht-

Tliat long day seemed endless in tlie dull Mermaid.
No one came the live-long day except the " nevvy " of
Mrs. liowlic, who was immediately ])aeked oil in a
horse and gig to Fontelle for the young soldier's lug-
gage. Half a dozen times Disbrowe started up in
desperation, resolving to mount Paladin and ride to the
old inn and sec Jacquetta once more, in spite of them
all., and as often ho checked himself, and paced up and
down the little room like one insane. J^iglit came,
and brought with it a calmer mood ; but it was a night
spent in feverish dreams. And he arose next day more
restless and misera!)lo than before.

Toward noon this feelintc of restlessness ffrcw in-
supportable; and, unable to remam inactive longer, he
ordered out Saladin, sprang into the saddle, and dashod
olf in the direction where his heart had been since ho
left Fontelle. In less than half an hour, the old inn
came in *glit, looming up dark, and dismal, and for-
bidding in the solitary waste. JNo one was in sight,
but a horsv. .tood at the door, which he recognized im-
mediately as the one he had often seen Frank ride.
Could it be that Fraiik was in there ? As he started
forward to see, the door opened, and Frank himself
rushed out, like one crazed, bareheaded and frantic,
and was in the act of mounting and galloping olf, when
Disbrowe's voice arrested him :

" Hallo, Frank I Good heavens ! what is the mat-
ter?"

Ho might well ask ; for, in turning round, Frank
disclosed a face so wild and haggard, and eyes so full
of ])assionate grief, that it sent a thrill of nameless ter-
ror to his heart.

" O Frank I speak and tell mo what has happened I
Is she there <!"

"WhoT

" Jacquetta."

" Yes," said Frank, in a tone of passionate bitter-
ness ; "she is there. Will you come in and see her?"

" Yes ; como with me."

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208 "ifiE: GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP.''

Both were on their feet in an instant, and Disbrowe
was wliitc with apprehension.

" Come, tlien," said Frank, " and see tlie result of
their woric. You may all he proud of it alike."

" Frank ! F'rank ! What do you mean ^"

" You will soon see. Come !"

He led the way into the lonp^, high kitchen, and a
strani>;c, nam-^less horror was thrilling through the heart
of iJisbrowe.

Captain Nick Tempest sat gloomily scowling by
himself, and neither moved nor spoke as they entered.
Old Grizzle sat at the other end of the room, dark and
sinister as usual, and glanced at them with a malignant
smile as they came in, but did not speak. The door of
a small room opening oil' the kitclien lay ajar, and pass-
uvr into this, F'rank made a siijjn I'or Disbrowe to fol-
low. There was a bed in the i-oom, and under a white
sheet was the dreary outline; of something that made
Disbrowe reel as if struck a blow.

Without a work, Frank pulled down the sheet, and
pointing to what lay stark and white there, said, husk-
ily : '

" Look ! there is Jacquetta !''

lie looked. The small, delicate form was stiff and
rigid — the bright, sparkling eyes were closed in their
last sleep — the short, ilashing curls lay in lifeless clus-
ters on the pillow. The sweet, beautiful face would
smile on him no more. Jact[uetta lay there, and dead 1

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THE LONELY GRAVE,

209

" wA

CHAPTER XXII.

THE LONELY GRAVE.

** Thus lived — tlius died she; never more on her
Shall sorrow light, or shame."

ES, dead — stone-dead ! beyond their power at
last. ]Moi'e beautiful than she had ever
been in life, she lav there before him: her
tameless heart, that neither wrong nor sor-
row could conquer, quiet enough now ; the
little restless hands folded gently over the marble breast
— so strangely calm, so fair and beautiful in her dream-
less sleep !

Moments passed while they stood gazing on her,
and neither spoke. The face of Disbrowc worked con-
vulsively ; and at last, with a dreadful Cry, he flung
hhnself on his knees beside her.

" O Jacquetta ! J acquetta ! Jacquetta !"
" Too late !" said Frank, bitterly. " The world was
not largo enough for you and her. It is better as it is."
There was no response; but only that mighty cry:
" O Jacquetta ! Jacquetta ! Jacquetta !"
It M'as the cry of a strong heart in strong agony — so
full of such quick, living anguish and remorse, that it
went to the heart of Frank. lie looked down in the
young lace, once so careless and gay, but so full of
mortal despair now, and it softened him [is nothing else
could have done, lie laid his hand on his shoulder,
and dropping his face on it, burst into tears.

" They broke her heart," he Bobbcd. " She could
never live disgraced !"

tfi

800

THE LONELY GRAVE,

I '!

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* ■

Tliere was a step in tlio chamber ; and the hand of
Grizzle tonc'hcd the younij; Jiian.

"She left this for yon," 8lie said, in a subdued tone,
as if slie, too, were a little softened by the sij^ht of his
despair. " She wrote it an hour before she died."

She handed him a small piece of paper, on which
Bomething was feebly scratched with a pencil. lie
opened it, and read :

" For all I liave mafle you snlTer, forgive mc. O Alfred ! I
loved you witii all my heart and soul, and this is my atonement
for my sin. May God forgive me! for I could not help it.
When Jacquetta is dead, luul you hear her revihjd, try to lliink
tenderly of her ; for, O Alfred! no otic in this world will ever
love you again as you have been loved by her."

■ That was all. He dropped his head with a _G:roan.

" Thou shalt not seethe the kid in its mother's
milk," said the deep voice of Grizzle ; " yet it has
been done now."

" O ni}' God ! v.diat have I said — what have I done?"
be persistently cried. " This — this is what I have lost!"

Captain Tempest had entered the apartment, and,
hearing that sad cr}^ came over, and, with a sudden re-
vulsion of feeling, so dilferent from that of a moment
before that it was almost like love, laid his hand kindly
on the young man's shoulder :

" Lost through no fault of yours, Ca])tain Disbrowe.
I am her father ; and here, beside my dead child, who
loved yon, I will say what I never said before to mor-
tal mail, tliat I am sorry for what I have done to you !"

He held out his hand ^ but Captain Disbrowe sternly
motioned him back, and answered :

" Were you ten times her father, it would make no
difference. She abhorred you, and so do I ! Never will
my hand touch that of her murderer !"

"Hard words, young man," said Captain Nick, his
bronzed face slightly paling. "Every man has a right
to his own ; and she was my lawful child."

" I will believe that when we can gather grapes on

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TUE LONELY GRAVE.

301

thorns! But, as I said boforc, were you ten times her
f;-thor, I would not caro; for here, in the presence of
God and the dead, I declare you to be as much her
iriurderer as if you had held the knife to her throat !
Let luu* blood cry for veuf^cancc upon you till the day
or retribution comes !"

" Take care !" said Captain Xick, p^rowing whiter
still. " One word more, and wo arc deadly foes for
life !"

" So be it. Captain Tempest, you are a coward and
a liar !"

"Now, by lieavens!" furiously began the captain ;
but the strong hand of Grizzle was laid on his shoulder,
and she spoke rapidly and imperiously to him in
Spanish.

" Respect the dead !" said Disbrowe, pointing to
the lifeless form, and speaking in the deep, stern tone
he had used throughout. "1 quarrel not with you
here. Fear not but that a day of reckoning will como
soon. Leave nie now. I wish to be alone."

Even had he not been under the inlluence of Griz-
zle, there was something in the eyes and voice of the
young man that would have commanded his obedience.
Like an angry lion robbed of its prey he turned, with
a smothered growl, and, a'jcompanied by Grizzle, left
the room.

There was a long pause in the chamber of death.
Like a tall, dark ghost, Disbrowe stood, his arms folded
across his chest, his eyes fixed on the small, fair face in
its calm sleep, his own face like marble. What seemed
the world, his coronet and prospective bride, in that
moment, compared with what he had lost ! Well has
it been said, that we know the value of nothing until
we forever lose it. How she arose before him in all
iicr entrancing beauty — bright, radiant, untanicd as ho
'^ known her iirat — this niatcliL

him so well ! He recalled her in all her wilful moods;
the fairy sprite who teased and tormented him, yet
whose bright emilo could dispel his anger as a ray of

' ilt!

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303

THE LONELY GRAVE.

Biiiisliinc dispels gloom. lie thought of her in her
heroic! daring, risking her own life, freely and fear-
lessly, for that of others — the tameless mountain fairy
transrorinod to the ministering household angel, hover-
inji; beside the sick and sulferini»-. Ilow tame and in-
signilicant all other women appeared beside her — this
high-soulcd fay of the moonlight ! This was the girl
who had loved him and them so well ; and, in return,
they liad hurled back her love with scorn, and cast her
oil like a dog from their gates. And now she lay there
before him, dead ! There was no rej)roach in thoso
closed eyes — in those sweet, beautiful lips — on that
fair, gentle; face, or folded hands. She had forgiven
them all for the great wrong they had done her; but,
oh ! he would have given worlds at that moment for
words of pardon from those pale lips — thoso lips that
never would speak more.

Frank's deep, suppressed sobs alone broke the
eilence of the room. Once or twice ho had looked up
to speak, but that white, stern face had awed him into
silence, and he felt, with a strange thrill of terror and
pity, that it was })ossiblc for that dark, tearless grief to
be deeper than his own.

Disbrowe himself was the first to break the silence,
and his voice sounded strangely cold and calm :

" Does he " — Air. De Vere he could not call him
well then — " know of this ?"

" No," said Frank, with a sob. " I was just going
to Fontelle when I met you that time, and turned
back."

" How did you know this — this had happened ?"

" I didn't know. I thought it most likely I should
find her here ; and before daybreak this morning I
started off, and I found — 1 found her — " A great sob
finished the sentence.

"Dead!" said Disbrowe, drawing a long, hard
breath. " When did she die V

" Last night," said Frank, who was weeping as only
•a fresh-heai'ted boy can.

THE LONELY GRAVE.

303

Je,

" And it all ends here !'' said Disbrowe, looking
Bteadily at the death-cold face. " Iler short and sor-
rowful story ! O Jacquetta ! why were you born for
such a fate V

Tlicre was an unspeakable depth of bitterness and
despair in his tone. Frank checked his sobs, and looked
at him fearfully.

" There was another — the young Spaniard — 'Where
is he?"

" I don't know. I 1 ,ven't seen him."

" Will you ask ? — they will tell you," he said, point-
ing out.

Frank left the room, and, after a moment's absence,
re-appearcd.

" Grizzle doesn't know either, she says. He did rot
come with them after leaving Fontelle, but set off
toward Green Creek by himself. Most likely he is
there."

" Ah !" said Disbrowe, " then he is gone before this.
Well, perhaps it is better so ; and, after all, he was not
60 much to blame, perhaps — poor boy! Frank, you
ought to go to Fontelle and let them know."

Frank started up.

" I will go directly ; but you, where shall I find you
when I come back ?"

" Here, if I may stay. Ask the old woman to come
here."

Frank left the room, and the next moment Grizzle
sauntered in.

" Yoa sent for me?" she asked, in a careless tone.

" Yes. I want to know whether you have any ob-
jection to my remaining here, while she — she — " He
stopped for a moment. " Until she is buried."

"JSfo," said Grizzle, indifferently, "I have none.
You may stay if you like. This is an inn, you know."

"I understand — you shall be paid. lias Frank
gone ?"

" Yes ; I suppose so. I saw him gallop off."

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THE LONELY GRAVE.

" Very well. AVill you IcaAe mc now ? I wish to
be iilone."

In the same indilTcrcnt way the woman walked out,
closiui^ the cl<jor alter hei-, and Dishrowc was alone
Vvith the dead! Dead! — liow strange tliat word
sounded in conncetion with .laccjuetta ! Jle could not
realize that she was dead. So ealiii, and placid, and
Bereiie, was her look, that he almost expected to see her
start up, as if from shimber, to incjuire what he did
there.

Captain Nick had resumed his former seat, and sat
moodily scowlinijj in tiie lire. As Grizzle reappeared,
he looked up and asked surlily:

'' Well; what did he want f

"What do you suppose he wanted?" replied Griz-
zle, in a tone quite as amiable as his own.

Captain iSick growled out a lierce oath between liis
teeth.

'" T(^ll me, you old beldame ! None of your cursed
mysteries with mc ! What did he want V'

'' llealiy, Caj)tain Tempest," said Grizzle, in a tone
of provoking coolness, as she dropi)ed on a stool before
the lire, and with her elbows on her knees, and her
chin between her hands, looked quietly in the blaze,
"grief must have turned your brain a little when you
atteni])t to bully me. However, alkwance must be
made for a father's grief for the loss of an only child,
and all that sort of tiling, so 1 am ha}»py to tell you he
wautetl nothing very sinister: but, considering \vhat he
knows, something pretty rash — in a woj'd, to stay here
all night."

"Ijumph! Alone?"

" Certainly ! Frank has goi\<^ to Fontelle, I expect,
and will not be back to-night ; and who else is there to
share his watch, unless our young Spanish friend comes
—eh, Nick?"

" And that's not very likely. My private im-
pression is, that there is no particular love between
I)on Jacinto and the young and handsome guardsman.'*

THE LOXIJLY GRAVE.

305

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mi-
len

" Do yon really think so ?" And, as if struck by
some ludicrons idea, Crri:^zlc laiiiflicd outriLrht.

" What are you i^rinninp; at now, you old baboon T'
demanded the captain, anujrily.

'• iS'othinj^," said (jrizzle, smiling grimly at the lire.
" Oh, notliing!"

" Then 1 -wouldn't advice 3'ou to do it," said her
gallant coinnanion. " You are none too pretty the best
of times, but you look like an old dcath'sdiead-and-cross-
bones when you laugh. And so he is going to stay
here alone all night with you and 1, Grizzled 13e
hanged if he's not a brave fellow !"

" 1 fancy he would risk more than that for Captain
Nick Tempest's daughter."

" I tell you Vvdiat, Grizzle, he's a line young fellow,
and would make a splendid high-sea rover — he would,
by the powers!" exclaimed the capt'dn, enthusiastically.

'•Uah! you forget the way he treated you awhile
ago !" said Grizzle, contemptuonsly.

"I don't care for that; there's a strong spice of
the devil in him ; and I'd irive a hwj: of ducats for a
dozen such hearts of oak among my crew."

" iteally, now," said Grizzle, with a sneer, " what a
pity so nuich valuable love should be lost! Perhaps you
had better ask him to take a cruise in the Fly-by-lN'ight
to the coast of Africa. It would be a change for the
future Earl of Earneclilfe and JJaron of Guilford — eh,
my bold buccaneer i"

"Tush! speak lower — confound you! Upon my
word, Grizzle, 1 did not think he would venture to stay
here alone to-night with you and I — I really didn't."

"Pooh! he knows there is no danirer — that it
would be as much as our lives are worth to touch him ;
and, besides, he is armed. Or, what is more 1 lively
stiil, henever thought atiything about it at all. Lovers,
you know, generally get into a state of mind when they
lose their lady-love, and forget everything else."

" Do they i You ought to know, if any one does
—eh, Grizzle?" said the captain with a grin. "I

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TII/'J LONKLY GRAVE.

wonder wlmt his ln\i,^li and iniL,ditincps Duke Dc Yere
will say wlicn he liiids Jiis quoudain (laiii;liter dead and
gone. Du yon sn])j»ose he wili take on V

'• He will fee! it, and most probably will suspect we
hel])e(l her oil."

'' ^'ow, by Jove ! if he dares to breathe such an
infernal suspicion, I will brain him where he stands!"
exclaimed the captain, fiercely.

" Yon will do no such thini;, my l)oastin£^ friend.
Will it not be a very natural suspicion. Captain Nick?
Neither yon nor I, you know, are thought t(jo immacu-
late to be guilty of that or any other crime."

" Does he suppose I would slay my own daugliter?"

"Of course he does — why shonld he not^ What
a blessed innocent yon are, Nick!"

" You might do such a devil's deed, yon old Mother
Ilorrible ! but 1 would not. No ; bad as Nick Tempest
is, he would not do that."

" You saintly cherub ! Talk of Satan's turning
saint after this. Are von not afraid of making your
father Satan blush for his renegade child, if you talk
like this? They ought to send you as a missionary to
the Scalp-'em-and-eat-'em Indians. All you want is a
bundle of tracts, and the Indians themselves will pro-
vide you with a costume, which, I believe, consists in
a judicious mixture ol red and yellow paint, some
ornamental tattooing, and a bnnch of feathers."

'' Don't be a fool — will you ?" said the captain, with
a frown. "Stop yonr nonsense, and talk common
sense. AVhere is she to be buried ?"

" Mr. De Yere, most likely, will see to that."

"lie'll do no such thing. I'll see to it myself."

"Pooh! what difference does it make? The girl's
dead, and what odds who has the bother and expjense
of burying her ? It's his duty to do it, too ; for he had
most of her wliile she was living."

Captain Nick looked at her in mingled anger and

disjrnst.

You miserable old anatomy! had you ever a

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THE LOyiJJ.y ORAVE.

307

rl's
inse
iiud

woman's lieart? 1V(>; T toll yon J sliall Imry licr — I
rnypolt", as tlio f^polH]ii!:-l)0(ik- f^ays ; and ]\Ir. liobcrt De
Vcre may niind his oud aiTairs. jlc sliall have nothinui;
jnoi'c to ?ay to my ^i!;irl, livino- or dead. To-mornnv
ijioi'nijii;' J'll he oil" to (Irecii Creok lor a collin. I
enjipose J can ^ot nt)ne nearer tlian (ireeii Creek."

" JS'o; nnless yon n)ako it 3'ourseit"."

" J l)ad ratjicr l)o exensed. J coitld make a lady's
bonnet a? easily. Poor Jirtlo tjn'nsj ! Tlie other day,
slie was so full of life and spirits, and now we are talk-
ing of hnryin<; her."

Tl)ere was a toneh of something: like melancholy in
the captain's tone, that showed all his alTection for hia
'vlittle Jx'lia" had not entirely died ont. Grizzle
looked at him askance, shru;T:^ed her shoulders, and
smiled to herself.

There was a pause, and then the captain began, in
a Bubdned tone:

" Grizzle, J wonder what made her die?"

"There's a sensible question! Jlowdo yon sup-
pose J know? She might die of iifty things — disease
of the heart, or congestion of the brain, or a paralytic
stroke, or a want of breath, or "

"A broken heart !"

Grizzle lifted her head, and laughed aloud.

" A broken heart ! Ye saints and sinners! Cap-
tain Nick Temjiest, the high-sea rover, talking of
})roken hearts ! Upon my word, Nick, you arc getting
to be the most amusing person J ever knew — as good
as a country justice or the clown of a circus. A
broken heart !" And the lady laughed again.

The gentleman's answer was an oatli — " not loud,
but deep;" and a mysterious hint about making her
laugh on the wrong side of her mouth, if she did not
mind. And then the amiable ]iair sulkily relapsed into
silence, and remained staring in the tire, without a
word, for the rest of the afternoon.

Night fell. Grizzle ai'ose, heaped more wood on
the tire, and set about preparing supper. She had

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THE LONELY GRAVE.

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fallen into one of licr sullen moods; and to tlie (jnos-
ticiis her companion now and then iipkcd lier, hIio
cither retni'ned ehort and tniippish answers, or did not
r("j>!y :it ;ilh AVJien .'•Jip])er \va.s ready, Captain iSick,
without waitinrr to he invited — for which ho prohahly
miixht Iiave M'aited Xowj. enoufi'li in vain — laid down hi.s
pipe, drew up his chaii*, anci fell t(^ with an a])petlu?
no way tliminishcd hy the loss of his daughter and
heiress. {.iy'vayAq, ■went over, and without ceremony
opened the chand)er-(loor where lay the dead girl,
watched l)y her living lover.

lie was sitting nenr the head of the bed, his arm
resting on the pillow, his forehead dropped upon it,
and his dark hair mingling with her bright, short curls,
as still and motionless as the corpse itself. The sight
might have touched any other heart ; it would have
the ca])tain"s, but on Grizzle it produced no effect.
Ivlen seldom grow so utterly depraved and lost to every
good feeling as a hardened and reckless woman will,
bhe went up to him, and touched him lightly on the
shoulder.

He looked up, and his face was like marble.

" Supper is ready," she said. " Will you come
out ?"

" 1^0 ; I do not want any."

" I will bring it in, if you like."

" No. Leave me."

" Shall 1 fetch you a light ?"

" i\V?," lie said, with an imperious wave of his hand.
"Go!"

IJis tone was not to be resisted. She left the room,
and the lovers — the dead and the living were again
aJone.

After supper, Captain Kick threw him-self down
before the lire, saying:

" Have break last ready bright and early to-morrow
morning. Grizzle; you know, 1 must be oil' to Green
Creek by day-dawn."

Grizzle nodded a brief assent, and in five minutes

/V/'^'V-^

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THE LONELY G Li AVE.

809

the cnpfiiin -was sound asleep. Tlien, liavin^ sccti to
the iire and put the room in order, slie sought licr own
room to sleep the sleep of the guilty until jnoi-niiifj^,
and drenni c>t' the lonely watcher in the room of deatji.

Next niorninf;', before the lark liad l)ep:;un to chant
his matin carol, Ca])tain Kick was in the saddle in a
swift canter to Green Creek. Grizzle, curious to see the
eifects of his night's watching on J)is])i'owe, Jiad softly
ojK'ned the door once, and saw him in precisely the
same attitude as that of last uight — as tlioiigh lie had
never stirred since.

'" I knew lie would feel it," said Grizzle to lierself ;
"hut hardly as much as this, T thought. This is
revenge ! 1 wonder where Master Jacinto is by this
time V

The clatter of liorses' hoofs at this moment brougjit
Iier to the window, and she saw Mr. Do Vere, Augusta,
and their family ])hysician in the act of dismounting.

"J knew it," she said, with one of her hai'd, grim
smiles. " They sus])ect foul l^Iay, and have bi'ought the
doctor to make sure. Well, tiiey^j-e wi-ong for once —
that's one comfort! (.)h, you had better beat down the
door — hadn't you 'i One would think you were master
liere, as well as in Fontelle IJall."

Thus apostrophizing, the iady leisurely shullled to
the door; and, opening it, saw Mr. JJe Vere, very pale,
and dark, and stern, standing on tlie threshold. The
moment Jiis eye fell on Grizzle, he gras))ed her liercely
by the wrist, and said, in a hoarse whis])er:

" Woman — liend ! have you miu'dered her?"

" You have l)r(night a doctor — go and see !" said
Grizzle, with a sneer.

"If you have, by all the hosts of Heaven, you and
your vindictive companion shall hang as high as Hainan,
in spite of earth and all it contains!"

" Yow threatened befoi'e, Mr. l.)e Vere, aJid your
threats endeil in smoke, it' you remember."

" Yon will lind to your cost, they will not this time.
Where ia Jaequctta V

(I ^ il

'!■ i

(

810

THE LONELY QliAVE.

N I

"Not far distant. All! you licre, too, Mi?8 Au-
gusta'^ Your iirst visit, if I ronicniber right. Ileally,
my poor dwelling is honored this morning.*'

" Here, get along — get along — get along !*' inter-
rupted the d(yetor, inii)atiently. '"AV^e have no time to
stand fooling here, old lady. Lead the way — will you ?
Take my arm. Miss Augusta."

Augusta, worn to a shadow, haggard and death-like,
and looking more like a galvanized corpse than a living
being, took the little doctor's jiroffered arm, and fol-
lowed her father and Grizzle into thehouse. They en-
tered the cluuubei', and their eyes fell on the bowed and
motionless form of i)isI)ro\ve, resting beside the dead.

" Poor boy !" said Mr. De \^ere, bitterly. " It is a
sad blow for him I"

" O Jaequetta ! () my sister!" exclaimed Augusta,
with a great cry, as she sank on her knees beside the
bed. " Dead ! dead ! dead ! alone and friendless — de-
iserted l)y all !"

Iler cry aroused Disbrowe. lie looked up ; and
seeing them, arose.

" My poor boy ! my dear AUred !" exclaimed his
uncle, in a choking voice.

" Look at her, sir," said Disbrowe, sternly, pointing
to the lifeless form. ''Is Justice satislied at last!
What do you think of your handiwork f'

"I am soiTy — 1 am soi-ry. O Alfred, the heart
knowetli its own bittcM-ness.''

" I am aware of that, sir. fehe knew it, too, in her
dying hour. Who is to answer for this death V

" God forgive me if I have wronged her! I meant
to act for the best. Have you been here all night ?"

" Yes !" he said, coldly and brielly.

"Still unforgiving," said Mr. Do Yere, turning
sadly ;iway ; " and I thought I was doing right. Poor
child ! how serene she looks ! A dead saint might look
like this ! Poor little Jaequetta ! Poor little Jae-
quetta !" ho said, putting his hand before his eyes to
hide tho tears that fell hot and fast.

t !i

TEE LONELY GRAVE.

311

and

leant

mmg

L\)or

llook

Jac-

88 to

Disbrowo stood, like a tall dark statue, with folded
arms, gazing out of the window. Augusta wept con-
vulsively, and even the little doctor's eyjs were full of
tears.

" Poor little thing ! she <'7f;t.'6^ look like a dead saint,
and she deserves to go to Heaven, if ever anybody did ;
for there never was a better girl. AIi ! she has the
prayers of the poor and the w^eak, anyway, let the rich
and the gre;at turn against her as they might. 1 don't
think there has been any foul play here. She has died
a natural death, evidently; of a broken heart most
likely, poor child! You leave the room — will you 'f
said the little doctor, wiping his eyes, and blowing his
nose furiously, and turning ferociously round on
Grizzle.

That lady gave him a glance of supreme contempt,
and obeyed.

For nearly two hours the party remained shut up in
the room, and then Mr. De Vere came out and ad-
dressed Grizzle.

" AVliere is Captain Tempest ?" he coldly asked.

" Gone to Green Creek for a cofhn."

" He nuiy spare himself the trouble. My carriage
will be here, presently, with one. I intend to bury
her myself."

"Just as you like. It makes no difTerence to me."

"You can tell Captain Tempest that she shall be
buried in the family vault, as if she were really my
daughter, and ir will prevent the talk and scandal that
must necessarily ensue if she. were taken to Green Creek
Cemetery. It is a better arrangement for all parlies."

" You can do what you like with her. A dead body
is of no great importance to any one."

Mr. De Vere turned away with a look of disgust ;
but he pausetUiuddenly, as the sound of carriage-wheela
met his ear.

The next moment, the boisterous voice of Frank
was heard, shouting for admittance ; and he and Wil-

,:'f

«l

\ .:

i :

8ia

THE LONELY GRAVE.

I .■

liani, tlic coacliinaii, presently appeared, bearino; oc-
tween them that most dismal of all objects — a colKii.

Disbrowe\s marhleface grewa snadc whiter as it fell
on the gha;-:tly ohjeet. The lid was taken oft, and the
doctor and Mr. J)(^ Vere reverently raised the slii^ht,
p;irlish form and ])iaeed it in its last restinp^-place. And
then all i»;athered I'^'onnd to take a last look at the fair
face they were never to see afi:;ain. IIow sweet, how
placid she looked, like an infant aslceji, with her little
white hands serenely folded over her still heart, a faint,
half-smile still lingering around the death-cold lips I
The loud sobs of Frank and the passionate weepiTig of
Anjj-nsta resounded throui>'h the room. Mr. De v ere,
too, shaded his face to hide his fast-falling tears ; and
the doctor was usin<i; his handkerchief incessantly. Dis-
browe alone shed no tear, heaved no sigh, but stood
like a dark ghost, voiceless and tearless.

And now they were bending down for one last
kiss; and Disbrowe, too, stooped and touched the dead
lips he never had touched when living. And then the
eoilin-lid shut out the sweet, dead face, and small grace-
ful form ; and it was screwed down ; and the screws
seemed driving into ^heir own hearts. And then the
sable pall was thrown over it, and ^Ir. l)e V'ere and the
doctor raised it and carried it out to the carriage.

They all followed. Grizzle stood by tijC Mindow,
watching them without a word. Angus! a entered lirst,
then jMr. De Yere and the doctor, while Frank and
Disbrowe mounted their horses and rode behind.

On they drove, faster than ever a funeral overwent
before; and in less than four hours the stately home of
the De Veres was in siirht. That home she had so often
gladdened by her bright presence she was now borne to
— dead. The vaults were entered hy the north wing —
that mysterious iiorth wini>:. The way was down a
long llight of broad stunc; slaii's, and the air smelt of
death and tlu.' grave, damp and earthy.

No one had ever rested there yet, and the lonely
coffin stood there by itself. Tiie doctor read the burial

TUB LONELY GRAVE.

818

eervice. " Dust thou art, and iiiito dust tliou slialt re-
turn." What a cold chill the inournful words, sublinio
in their truth, struck to every heart !

It was over at last, and they all turned away. As
the ^rcat iron key turned in the rusty lock of the door
of the vault, the whole dreadful reality broke upon
Disbrowe for the lirst time, lie had been like one in a
dream, hitherto — he could not realize it ; but now thoso
cold stone walls, that massive door, was between them.
lie was ii^oini^ out into the i^reat world again, and Jac-
quctta lay dead and buried within.

AVith a dreadful i^roan ho leaned a2;ainst the wall
and covered his face with his hands. AVhat "svas there
lefi for him in the world worth livin<2; for now '^

"My dear boy — my dear boy!*' said Mr. Do Vc/e,

m a choking voice.

The words aroused him, and he remembered he was
not alone, lie started up to go.

" O Alfred i we must not ])art like this. Shall we
not be friends before you go i 1 am an old man, Alfred,
and I love you for my dear sister's sake."

It was a!i apjjeal there was no resisting. Disbrowe
stretched out his hand, and caught that of his uncle
in a friendly clasp.

" Good-bye, my dear uncle. Let the presence of
the dead consecrate our new friendship. Augusta, my
cousin, farewell. Fraidc — doctor — good bye."

lie waved his hand, and sprang on Saladin.

" Then you will goi? () Alfred, if you would but
stay with us a few days longer."

" I cannot. Farewell."

He was gone. Down the nia])lc avenue lie rode,
and disappeared among the trees. As he reached the
gate, he paused to look back — his last look, he tlioughfc
it. llow little did he think with what dill'erent feel-
ings he would gaze on it in days to come !

Who can tell what to-morrow nuiy l)ring forth ?

lie rode on ; Fontelle disa})peared, was left far be-
hind, and with it was left Jacquetta in her lonely grave.

■ 4

'J
.ill

'ii

OVER THE SEA.

CHAPTER XXIII. .

OVER THE SEA.

** And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon tlie wide, wide sea;
And why should I for others groan
When none will sigh tor me ?"

— CuiLDE Harold.

NE week later, and tlie bark " Sea Gull " left
New York harbor, bound for " England's
Isle." The passengers stood watching the
fast receding shores of '' Uncle Sam," and
standing oil" among them was the tall, gal-
lant form of Captain Alfred Disbrowe, gazing thought-
fully, sadly, on the land he was leaving.

bown the river, on to the wide ocean, swept the
stately ship, and slowly and gradually the shores began
to recede.

"Adieu to the new land," he said, waving his hand ;
" farewell to bright America."

" A long farewell," sighed a familiar voice behind
him, and turning suddenly round, ho stood face to face
with Jacinto.

There was a pause, during which Disbrowe's eyes
were fixed steadily on his face. The boy's dark eyes
fell, and the blood mounted to his brow.

" You here V said Disbrowe, slowly, *' this is a most
unexpected pleasure."

" 1 did not know you were on board," said Jacinto,
timidly. " I — I thought you were going to remain in
New York."

OVER THE SEA.

815

" And I expected you would luive returned with
your friend Captain Tempest," said Di.sl)rowe, coldly.

" lie is 110 friend of mine," .said the boy, quickly.
" 1 never knew him until I met him accidentally in
Liverpool, and tindin<i: he was to sail the next day, took
passage in his ship. That is all."

" Have you not seen him since yoi; left Fontelle ?"
said Disbrowe, suspiciously.

"^o," said the boy, earnestly, "not once."

" You have heard what has happened since V

Jacinto lifted his large, black eyes, and Disbrowe
saw they were full of tears.

" Yes, and indeed I was very — very sorry."

" I have no doubt of it."

His tone of proud, bitter endurance went to the
heart of Jacinto, and the tears fell fast from his eyes.

" O Captain Disbrowe, I am sorry for you. In-
deed — indeed I am sorry for you."

" Keep your pity, my young friend, until I ask for
it," said Disbrowe, with a look half-disdainful, halt'-cyni-
eal, " and dry your tears. I really don't require them."

" O Captain Disbrowe, what have 1 done to you ?
I never — never meant to offend you ; and I am so sorry
if I have done so. Oh ! if you only would believe me,
and not treat me so coldly," said the boy, claaping his
hands fervently.

Disbrowe glanced at him slightly, for a moment,
and then looked out over the wide sea.

" My good youth, how woul(J you have me treat
you ? — clasp you in my arms, and salute you on both
cheeks a la Fvancaue ? Not any, thank you !" he said,
coolly.

Ihe boy looked down, and his lips quivered slightly.

" 1 never meant to olfend you — 1 never did ! You
hate me, and 1 — 1 would die for you !"

He turned to go. Disbrowe thought of the time he
had saved his life at the risk of his own, and a pang of
self-reproach smote his heart. He started up, and lay-
ing his hand on the lad's shoulder, said, kindly ;

! I

■ Ml

' 1

III

i'ti

316

OVER rUE SEA.

■ I ■ ;

" For!>;lve ino, 1 did rioL ineiiii to hurt yonr feelings;
but the truth is, I am moody, and out of sort3, and just
in tho liumor to quarrel with the whole world. Come, Ja-
cinto, after all that is past and gone, we will yet be
friends."

lie held out his hand, with a slight smile. The
young Spaniard caught it in both his, and raised it to
his lips, while his dark cheeks were hot and crimson
with some secret feeling.

" And so you really like mc, my dear boy ?" said
Disbrowe, half-puzzled and half touched, and thinking
involuntarily of little Orrie.

" Oh, yes !" exclaimed the boy, lifting his spark-
ling eyes fervently to the handsome face of the young
Guardsman.

"Yet, I do not know why you should — I have never
done anything as I am aware of to merit any affection
from you."

" That would be loving from gratitude, senor. Do
we never love any save those w ho have done something
to merit that love?"

" AVell, I don't know — if you were a woman I
might understand it, but as it is — well, never mind, I
am glad you do like me, and we will not puzzle our-
eelves trying to discover the reason. ' Never look a
gift-horse in the mouth,' you know. We will account
for it on the principle that scapegraces, and those who
least deserve it, are always best beloved, and so sic
vitar

" Love is an impulse, and despises common sense.
The young god is always painted blind."

" AVliich accounts for the desperate mistakes he
makes sometimes. Ihit, my lad, there is a subject ])ain-
ful to both of us, but on which 1 nnist speak, now or
never! I mean the scene 1 saw that evening going to
the library. You know to what I allude V

His face flushed slightly, as he spoke, and a8

Quickly grew pa
"Yes," said

lie again

.■

Jacinto, looking straight before him ;

OVER THE SEA.

817

" and T have often and often since wished to explain
what 1 Baw jou misunderstood."

" Well, speak out freely, do not fear that I will
flinch from the stroke."

" There is no stroke to fall. We loved each other
like brother and sister — nothinji; more."

'' Xotliinu^ more ! Are you sure !" said Disbrowe,
turnini>;, and lookini^; searcliingly in his face.

" No, nothing more," said Jacinto, lifting his dark,
reproachful eyes. " O Ca])tain Disbrowe, how could
you think so ^"

" Such thin<xs have occurred before."

" And you really thought for a moment that she
could love a boy like me, in the way you mean V^

'' I thought so for a good many moments, my dear
fellow. I wronged her — I wronged yon both ; and I
am sorry for it n<jw, when it is too late,"

" jSTot too late, senor. I am certain she hears and
forgives you."

" And you, my boy ?"

" I have nothing to forgive."

"Thank you; was she angry with me that day
when I left V

" No, only grieved and hurt. Yom* words went to
her heart, because — "

" Well r

" Because she loved you. Captain Disbrowe."

Both paused, and the line face cf Disbrowe was
dark with sorrow and remorse.

" And I never knew it till it was too late ! O Ja-
cinto, why does every good gift come too late in this
world ?"

There was a dark, passionate dejection in his tone
that startled the boy. He softly laid his hand on that
of the young man, as if to recall him back to himself.

" I wish to Heaven I had never set foot in Amer-
ica, Jacinto; I wish I had been dead and in my grave
beiore 1 ever thought of coming here. She might still
be alive, and I — "

' : n

.».*■■ I

* ,

813

OVER THE SEA.

He paused, and a hot, bright tear fell on his liand.
He glanced first at it, and tlien at the boy, with a
strange look.

" What ! for me ! don't shed tears for me, my bov.
I am not worth them, and never will bo, now. O Ja-
cinto ! the world is as empty as a mit-shell."

Again that sad, reproachful look in those dark,
raised eyes.

" And is tliere no one in all this wide world who
loyes you still. O Captain Disbrowe ! are all dead with
Jacquetta ?"

The young man made an impatient gesture.

" Of what use is love, when we cannot love in re-
turn ? I never loved but her, and now she is gone for-
ever! Sadly true are the words of theAViseMan, 'All
is vanity and vexation of spirit !' You are not ill — are
you, Jacinto?"

"Oil, no!"

He was leaning over the side, his dark eyes lixed on
the far-olf horizon ; and something had went out of his
face at Disbrowe's words, like a light from a vase.

"Did she tell you she loved me, Jacinto?" he
asked, after a pause.

" Tliere was no need — I saw it."

" It was more than I ever saw then — blind idiot
that I was !"

" Lookers on, thej'- say, see most of the game. And
she would not let you see it, because she was high
and proud ; and slie knew you — she thought you were
bound to another."

" Ah ! and tliat was the reason, that —

* Memory of iv hidy
In a laud beyoud the sea.'

And because I was bound to one. Host the other! As
if one smile from Jacquetta were not worth a thousand
Normas."

Ho spoke more to himself than to his companion ;

OVEIi THE SEA.

310

and he did not observe that the hand that lay in his
had grown deadly cold, and was hastily with-
drawn.

" Did she ever tell you she was married?" he asked,
after another pause.

"No."

" Did she ever account for the strange, nightly
music « '

" No."

" And you never asked her ?"

" No."

Disbrowe looked at him, a little surprised at his
laconic answers.

"You are ill, my boy ! You are deadly pale — sea-
Bick, perhaps?"

A faint smile at the unromantic liint broke over
the boy's face for a moment, and then as quickly died
away.

" No ; I am not sea-sick — I never am — it is noth-
ing. Is she — is she — buried ?"

" Yes !" said Disbrowe, shading his face for an in-
stant, as the memory of that lonely grave in the cold,
dark vault rose before him.

" Poor Jacquetta !" said the boy, softly, his eyes
again iilling with tears.

" Do not speak of it more, Jacinto ; it is like vine-
gar ui)on nitre to me. Now for yourself. May I ask
what is your destination ?"

"I am going direct to London."

" Ah ! then we will be f(^l low-travelers — that is my
destination, too. Have you friends in London ?"

" Yes ; I think so."

" Your birthplace is Seville, I think I heard them
Bay ?"

The boy bowed, with averted face.

" You nnist be my guest in London, my dear fellow.
I will show you all the sights worth seeing, from the
Tower to tlio Thames. Come, what do you say?"

" That I thank you very much ; but my business is

( ■

*!!

' 1 : :' ;

M'.

11 ^

830

OVEIi THE SEA.

i]'

^ ' t' i

i:;

i,< ,1

'■'I '^•

pressing. I can only remain in your great modem
Babylon two or three clays ; so, you see, much as I
should like to accept your kind offer, I must yet de-
cline."

"Well, I am sorry; hut as it cannot he helped, I
suppose we must he rcsii^ned. Two or three days is
but a short time to see the wonders of London. I
should like to have taken you to old Fontelle and Dis-
browe I*ark — two country-scats of ours — and shown
you what the ' homes of Merric England ' are like.
Lord EarneclifTe would have liked you immensely, and
BO would her ladyshij).''

" You are too kind. Indeed, I wish I could accept
your invitation ; but at present it is (piite impossible.
Some day I hope to be more fortunate."

" You. will always be welcome, my Ijoj' — don't for-
get that. And I will not forget that you once slaved
my life at the risk of your own. If I seemed to do so
for a time, it was when I unjustly accused you ; and I
believe grief, and anger, and jealousy, made me half a
maniac. All that is past now, and we will let ' bygones
be bygones.' Shall we not, Jacinto ^"

" With all my heart ; you make me very happy by
Baying so."

" Then that is settled. And there goes the last
glimpse of the bright land we are leaving. I wonder if
we will ever see it again, Jacinto !"
! " Heaven knows ! 1 hope to do so."

" I hardly think I ever will ; and yet I like America,
and those American people. But sunny Spain and
Merrie England are dearer still ; and so we can heave a
sigh for the land of Columbus, and in the same breath
chant the old prayer : ' God bless our own land, that
lies beyond the sea, for it is like no other.' Say amen
to that, Jacinto."

"Amen from the bottom of my heart. It is home,
and doubly dear after the land of the stranger."

" Yes ; see the shores fade away in the horizon ;

)

OVEIi THE SEA.

891

and now we arc on the ' wide, wide sea.' Once more a
long, last foiewell to America."

And with a smile he turned away, and descended to
the cabin.

One dark, unpleasant evening, two months later,
just as night was falling over London, a hackney car-
riage drew up before a large hotel, and two travelers
sprang from it. Loth were Mrnppcd in cloaks ; for
though the month was August, the evening was raw
and chilly, and they wore their hats ])ulled down over
their brows. One was slight and boyish, the other tall
and dashing, with a certain soldier-like air and bearing,

" And so we part here, Jacin'o '^" said the elder of
the two.

" Yes, Captain Disbrowe ; to r leet again some day,
I hope."

''I hope so. Don't forget you are to come to see
me if ever you return to EnglaJid."

" Thank you, I will not forget. Good-bye, Captain
Disbrowe."

" Good-bye, my dear boy ; and as the Scotch say,
* God be wi' ye.' ''

They sliook hands cordially, and then the younger
turned into the hotel, and Cajitain Disbrov/e, wrapping
his cloak close around him, hurried rapidly down the
street. Two "guardians of the night" were leaning
against a lamp-post, talking, and the young man struck
violently against one of them in his haste.

" Beg pardon," he said, turning round for a mo-
ment, and the next he was gone.

The watchman rubbed his shoulder, and looked
after him with a smothered growl.

" A lord, that," said his companion, looking after
him also. " I know him like a book."

" Well, if he is a lord, that is no reason why ho
should bring up against a fellow as if he was made of
cast-iron. Blessed if I ain't a good mind to giv^e him
in charge for 'sault and battery. What's his name V

14*

V,i.

ii^

:'!i1

822

OVER THE SEA.

I' !

Vt r

!k-:

i\\

^^' .

•• Lord Eai'ixecliife. as used to be Captain Disbrowe
of tlie Guards. An uncommon wild cove he was —
used to get into no end of scrapes with the rest of the
young l)loods, ami was known to the pcrlice JiUe a b;id
penny, lie's been abroad in furrin' parts, somewhere ;
and lie's Lord Earneclille now, since his brother
died."

" What's that you say f said a fashionable-looking
young man who was passing, as he stopped suddenly.
'' What's that about Lord Earnecliife? Ilave you seen
him r

Tiie iDolicenian started up and touched liis hat.

" Yes, my lord, just gone past— the new earl, I

mean

ghost ?

" Yes, 1 kn(AV ; thank you," said the gentleman as
he walked rao-'dly away.

" Another of 'em," said the watchman, leaning
back. '' That's Lord Austrey ; he and the other were
always very thiiik."

Tiie geiitleman called Lord Austrey hurried rapidly
along, and camo u]) with Disbrowe near the end of the
street. Laying his hand on his shoulder he exclaimed :

"Alfred, my boy ! is this really yourself or your
Tarn round until I see! No; it is you in
'propria i^ersona. Welcome back to England!"

" Austrey, my dear old fellow !'' exclaimed Dis-
browe, delightedly, " who in the world would ever ex-
pect to see you here V

" When did you arrive V

"I reached London an hour ago only. How came
you to know me 'C

" I heard a couple of Chailles, up there, saying that
Lord Earnecliife had gone past, and so I hurried after."

" My brother here ! Where is lie'i"

"Your brother'^ My dear fellow! is it possible
you don't know^

" Know what '\ I don't understand."

" My dear Alfred, your brother is dead !"

OVEIi THE SEA.

828

"Dead ! good heavens !"

" Yes — he died three weeks ago at Disbrovve Park,
of disease of the heart. I wonder you did not see it in
the papers."

** I have not looked at a ])apcr for the hist two
months. Dead ! Oh, Earnechlfe ! and I not there !"

lie covered his eyes with his hands, half-stunned
by the suddenness of the shock. Lord Anstrey liailed
a carriage and drew him into it, gave the driver some
directions, and they clattered rapidly away over the
stony street.

Disbrowe's brain was in a whirl ; and so completely
overcome was he by the news, that he could not ask a
single question. Tlie cab stopped ; they got out ; and
it was not until he found himself in his friend's room
that he could speak.

" And Lady Margaret — where is she ?"

"At Disbrowe Park still — waiting for you, I be-
lieve. It is most astonishing you have not heard of it."

" I never heard a word of it. Have you seen Lady
Margaret since':!"

" Yes ; she sent to know if I had heard from you.
She is extremely anxious for your return."

*' How does she bear iff

" Well, calmly enough. You know, it was to be
expected, my dear fellow. He was liable to die at any
moment, these many years. He had just heen taking
a short walk, and sat down on a seat to rest, and — never
rose."

"*My poor brother? O Austrey ! he was such a
kind brother to me — so indulgent to all my faults, and
their name was legion. Who is with Lady ]\[argaret ^"

"No one, I believe, except Mr. Macdonald. IJe
happened to be «t the Hall at the time, and told me lie
intended remaining until your return. It would not do
to leave Lady Earneclilfe cpiite alone, you know."

A slight red came into Disbrowe's pale cheek.

" And his daughtei' — is she there, too V^

It:

111-

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824

OVER THE SEA.

" No ; Miss Macdonald is abroad — has been for some
time — but is expected to return, shortly."

"Indeed! Where is she r'

" Can't say, positively. Somewhere among tho
wilds of Scotland, I think. Of course, your marriage
must be postponed, now !"

" Of course," said Disljrowe, with a promptitude
that rather surprised his friend. " There can be no two
ways about that. To-morrow morning I will start for
Disbrowe Park."

" Do so, l)y all means. Lady Margaret intends
spending the winter in Italy, I believe, and cannot
leave home until she sees you. I will go down with
you, if you choose."

"My dear George! the very thing. I would have
asked you to do so, only I feared it would Ije too much,
even for your good-nature, to hury yourself alive at
Disbrowe Park. How are all my friends in London V^

" All quite well, I think — some have gone abroad,
and some got married. A jjrojjos of uothiug — how Jid
you like your visit to America ^"

" Well enough."

" What is the place like ?"

" A line country — you should see it."

" I don't know. I never care for wandering beyond
the precincts of the Serpentine; the world beyond that
is only half-civilized. Do you like the Yankees ?"

" Very nmch — never saw people I liked better."

" Particularly clever and wide-awake, I have heard
— tl e men all smart, and the women all handsome.
Weil, I don't know but I shall take a trip over there,
some day, just to see for myself. It's such an old story
doing the Grand Tour, as they call it — like the journey
nurses give children to IJanbury Cross, it's slightly

monotonous
fellow ; had

iiut you look terriuly used-up, my dear

you not Ijotter retire f

Disbrowe, or, more properly, liOrd EarneclilTe — but

the former name is too familiar for you and I to give

up, dearest reader — arose, and Lord Austrey rang the

1 ,11 I "

OV£Ji THE SEA.

S25

1 A servant appeared, and showed him into an
elep:antly-furn]shed apartment, wliere the m-eater part
of tiie nigJit was spent, not in sleepin-, but in pacing
up and down his room, Jost in his own thoun-hts

Alter an early breakfast, next morninS, tlie two
jonng peers were in their saddles and ready for their
journey. *^

"And now for Disbrowe Park!" exclaimed Lord
Austrey, as they dashed off together at a rapid pace.

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B26

NORMA.

CHAPTER XXIV.

NOKMA.

"It was not thus in otiier days wc met; »

Hath time and absence taught thee to forget ?"

r*iEVER fell tlie simliglit on a fairer Englidli
jiomesteud than the one on which streamed
the warm, golden sunshine on the bright
September morning of which I write. A
large, irregular cM building, not unlike a
niodcruized castle, or a French chateau that had taken
a serious turn, peeped through the clum])s of trees, and
thick, clustering, dark-green ivy. There were great
windows of stained glass, and projecting gables, and odd
rookeries, and aii old Gothic chapel at one end — very
pretty and romantic-looking indeed. There were broad
sunny glades, with deer frisking about, aud long laurel
walks, and shady avenues; even the trees met, and in-
tertwined their long, green arms overhead — delightful
walks and mighty suggestive for lovers. Tl'.ere were a
couple of fountains, too — three twisted serpents on oie
side, spouting forth tall jets of water, and bronze lions
on the other, with gold and silver lish s])()rting in the
glittering waters. There were the sunniest of smooth
meadows, the most velvety of lawns, the briglitest of
terraces, overrun with ivy, roses, jasmine, and honc^v-
sucklcs. There was the most fragrant and brilliant of
pastures, bright with liowersof every hue and size, from
the wee, modest, English violet, to the gaudy, flaunting
tulip, passion flowers, and tall, creamy magnolias.
There wjis a mimic lake, lying like a great white pearl
in a setting of emeralds, where snowy water-lilies float-

■^

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yOILUA.

327

ed, and on whose silvery bosom nuijestic swans, of
dazzlinij; whiteness, serenely swam. Altogether, it was
like a little glimpse of fairy-land, a peep into xlreadia;
yet, had you allied the gate-keeper, in his pretty little
lodge beside the great gate, he would liayc told you it
was only Disbrowe Park.

It was a warm, sunshiny, golden September morn-
ing. There was a drowsy hum in the air, the droning
of bees, the buzzing of flics, and the faint twittering of
birds alone breaking the sylvan silence — one of those
mornings, in short, when lazy folks are laziest, and the
most indefatigable worker in the human hive feels in-
clined to become a drone. Disbrowe Park lay still and
voiceless, basking indolently in the glowing heat, and
looking very tempting and luxiu'iant in its repose.
There were few fairer manors in all l)road Enij^land ;
and not one went past that day who did not envy the
fortunate owner of such an earthly paradise.

That same owner — the young Lord of Earuecliife
and Guilford — lay with his soul in slipj^ers, " taking
life eas}'," in his dressing-room, and looking the very
picture of ease and indolence, and indulging, to an un-
limited extent, in the dolce few oi'tente. It was a per-
fect little bijou of a room — as cveiy room in the house
was, for that matter. The softest of velvet carpets, in
which the foot sank out of sight and hearing at every
step, covered the oaken floor ; the walls were painted
with a solt, bright, neutral tint, and adorned with per-
fect little gen)s of landscape painting, glimpses of
Italian skies and sejis, of (ircrnian woods and rivers, of
Scotch mountains and glades, of American forests and
Indian jungles- -all were there, and all masteri)ieces of
art. In the niches between were statues of rare beauty
and price, goddesses, sylphs, mermaids, and nymphs.
Gilded cages, lilled with golden canaries, making the
air resound with their still, sweet voices; Ijriiliant-
winged humming-birds, and gorgeous tropical songsters,
hung around. Teni]^ting couches, sofas, and fauteuils
were scattered profusely about, and on the exipiisiLc

K'^ .

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823

^VJiMA.

o '

ti!

little tables lay books, jxipers, and letters, yet unopened
and unread. A deej) hay window, liiing with heavy
curtains of sarin damask, und t'i:riiished with a senu-
eireular couch — a ^.-'lorious i)lace for a llirtation — ad-
mitted the radiant simshiue, and an extensive view of
the beautiful i^rounds. The little gem of a room had
been Lady Earnecliife's boudoir once, though now
transformed into tiie dressing-rjom of the present lord
— her ladyship being abroad. There were sundry
marks and tokens, bespeaking plainly enough the sex of
its present occupant — a beautiiul full-size statue of JMi-
nerva had been adorned with a pair of mustaches, top
boots, and a wide-awake ha.t. Her virgin majesty,
Queen Elizabeth, was represented regaling herself with
a cigar, and her neighbor, Mary Stuart, seemed to have
all her energies absorbed in balancing a bootjack on the
top of her head.

The young lord of the manor, in a rich, Turkish
dressing-gown, and black-velvet smoking-cap, with a
gold tassel, lay on a low sofa, at full length, looking
ve y handsome and very lazy. On a table near him lay
the remains of a tempting breakfast ; and now he was
alternately re:i:alini>' himself with smokinir a meer-
schaum, reading the letters before mentioned, yawning,
and looking out of the window. None of the epistles
seemed to have the power of fixing his attention ; for,
after glancing lightly over them, he crumpled them up,
and threw them into a c/ujfojrniere, which had, no
doubt, been placed there for that purpose, blew a few
wdiilfs of his meerschaum, caressed an exquisitely beauti-
ful little greyhound that lay on the carpet beside him,
and leisurely went on with the next, which shared the
same fate. At last he lighted upon one that aroused his
wandering thoughts ; for he started as he read it, and a
look of angry annoyance and chagrin passed over his
face. As he finished, he uttered an impatient ejacula-
tion, and, springi?ig to his feet, began pacing rapidly
up and down the room, after his custom when angry

|(d

NOIiifA.

829

and excited ; and at last, seizing the bell, he rang
violently.

A servant ont of livery, his valet de chamhre and
*' eonlidential," etc., made his appearance.

" Norton, has Lord Austrey arrived ?"

" Xo, nij lord, not yet."

" Tell him 1 want to see him as soon as he comes,
and — here, take this away."

lie })ointe(l to the remains of his breakfast. Nor-
ton vanished with it, and his master thing himself
again on his sofa, with a discontented, not to say dis-
consolate, expression of conntenance,

"Deuce take it! why couldn't she stay away wIkmi
she was away ^ What a horrid bore it will be — the
whole thing ! And the worst of all is, I se^Mio help
for it. I wish 1 had gone abroad with Lady ^[argaret,
instead of rusticating here. I would, too, only 1 have
had enoui2;h of c'oiuij: abroad for a while."

A tap at the door disturbed his irritated solilo(|uy.
"Come in !" he called ; and Mr. Norton nuide his ap-
pearance.

" Lord Austrey, my lord, has "

" There ! Lord Austrey can announce himself,"
said that individual, springing up the stairs two or
three steps at a time. ''That will do, my friend ; make
yourself thin as air as soon as possible."

Mr. Norton bowed, and wentoif ; and Lord Austrey
flung himself on a Inmigc opposite Disbrowo, clapped
his liat on Queen Elizabeth, and made himself comfort-
able.

"Now, then ! I don't see why taking things easy
shouldn't pay in my case as well as in other i)eople's.
Iv.ii;;;'f.lllfe, my dear fellow, what's up ^ You look as
if you had lost your best friend."

"What's u})! liead that I" said Disbrowe, angrily
throwing him the crumj)led letter. " No need to ask."

Lord Austrey leisurely smoothed it out and glanced
at the superscription.

«*

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880

NORMA.

Iti»i

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" * To the night Honorable^ the Earl of Earne-
cliffe.^

" Humpli ! that's all right enough. Now for the
inside !

" ' My Dp:Aii Alfred : — You "will be pleased to
liear that Norma arrived in town two days ago, and is
at present visiting her cousin, Mrs. Treniain, at her
residence in Berkeley Square, where, no doubt, she will
be delighted to sec you at the earliest possible moment.
" ' Yours truly, Kandall Macdonald.'

" That's all. It's on the short, sharp, and decisive
principle. And now, my dear Earneclifte, let me con-
gratulate you !"

" Congratulate me !" said Disbrowe, looking at him.
" For w^uit, pray ?"

" There's a question !" exclaimed Lord Austrey,
aj^iiealing to society at large. " The man asks what lie's
to be congratulated for, when his lady-love, who has
been away for — how long is it, Earnclilfe? — comes
suddenly back, and 'will be delighted to see you at the
earliest possible moment' — in fact, hangs like a ripe
plum, ready to drop into your mouth at any instant."

" I do not believe in ripe plums ready to drop into
one's mouth !" said Disbrowe, dryly. " I had rather
have the trouble of climbing, and plucking one for my-
self."

" Unreasonable mortal ! you might get a severe
scratching in the attempt."

" I would risk it. The greater the trial, the greater
the triumph, you know. The consciousness of gaining
a victory would more than repay me for the trouble."

" You remind me of the old adage :

♦Fly love, and love will follow thee;
Follow love, ivud love will lice.'

Now where, O most fastidious youth, can you find one

(l!M

NORMA,

881

ter

more beautiful, more accomplished, more wealthy, more
fitted ill every way to become Countess of Eariieclille,
than this same Miss Norma Macdoiiald."

" Nowhere, perhaps. But, supposinf]^ I am not in-
clined for having a Countess of Larnecliffe at all, what
then ?"

" Why, you never mean to say you are going to
perpetrate single-blessedness all your life V

" Upon my word, I don't know but what I shall ; if
I can get my head out of this noose, I mean."

" Why, the man's crazy ! Gone stark, staring mad,
as sure as shooting I \)o you feel any violent symp-
toms coming on, my dear fellow ? or do you feel like
the country swain in the play, ' Hot and dry like, with
a pain in your side like^' Hadn't I better ring for
Norton and the smelling-bottle i I'm afraid you've
had a rush of insanity to the brain lately, and that
reminds me — this is tlie full of the moon, isn't it?
Where's the almanac ?" And Lord Austrey started to
his feet, the very picture of consternation.

"Pshaw! Austrey, don't be a — 1 mean, don't talk
nonsense."

" Nonsense, man ! I never was so serious before in
my life. I should hope I .had cause. When a man
goes and sets his What's-their-names 'i — heart's best affec-
tions, and all that sort of thing, on his friend, and then
sees him a fit subject for JJedlam. it is time to be
serious, I think. Give up Nornui ! What the uh:ncn-
tionable-to-ears-politc has inspired you with that notion,
most unhappy youth f

" Austray, 1 wish 3'ou would be serious for five min-
utes," said Disbrowe, springing up and pacing up and
down. " I really and truly do want to get out of this
business, if I possioiy can. You are the only friend i
can decently consnlt on the sub J' >it ; and as you happen
to be a relative of mine, I don't mind spealdng to you
about it."

" A fifty-fourth cousin, or something of that sort —
ain't I i The first tremendous shock is over, and I

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332

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have steeled mv heart, and nothintr can move me more.
Hand me that bottle of sal volatile. Now Fin prepared
for the worst ; so make readj — ])resL'nt — iire !''

" iViistroy, imll yon sto[) your nonsense, and listen
to me r' exelainied Disbi-owe, in a rage. "'Can't you
be sensible for once in yonr life C

" AV^cll, there — Fin dc^nc !" said Anstrej'', adjusting
the j)illow more comfortably under his head. " I'll
promise to l»e as sensible as is consistent with the intel-
lectual faculties Xature has gifted me with. JS'ow,
state the case. Yon want to get clear of this contract
of yours — do you V

" Yes."

" J hit why — what's the reason ?"

" Well, I'm in no humor for marrying for half a
dozen years yet, for one thing; and Miss Is'orma Mac-
donald does not suit me, for another."

" You're engaged to her — are you not?"

" Yes ; but it was an engagement of her father
and Eurneclille's making."

"So! and the Honorable Alfred Disbrowe and
Miss Korma had no voice in the matter V

" Well, to tell the truth, I made no objection.
There is a wide dilference between a portionless
younger brother an<l a titled carl, you know, and — "

''And the heiress that would have suited Alfred
Disbrowe to a T, doesn't exactly cojue up to the mark
for the Earl of Earned ilTe, I see !"

Disbrowe colored slightly.

" It looks rather villainous — doesn't it ? But the
fact is, I never loved Xonna as a man should love the
"woman he intends to spend his life with ; but you
know the proverb, moi'o expressive than elegant :
'Needs nuist when the devil drives !' And I was con-
fouiuledly hard up, over head and ears in debt to the
children of Irael ; and, in fact, there was no help for
it, then. Now, however, I have money enough ; and,
upon my soul, Austrey ! 1 cannot tell you how repuii-

nant the idea of this marriaije is to me.

I'epi

NORMA.

883

■) *

There was an aliuoiit jxijisioiuite velicineiK^e in liis
tone. Lord Anstrej looked at liini, and slijj^litlj smiled.

"I sav, EarnecHlTe, yon (li<ln't leave }'our heart be-
hind yon in America, I hope C

Diribrowo tnrned white for a moment, even to his
lips. His friend wiw his mistake, and instantly re-
gretted what he had said.

" ]VIy dear fellow, I beg ^''onr pardon ! 1 only
epoke in jest ; I had no idea — "

"Enough," said DIsbrowe, wavitig his hand. "Say
no more about it. But now^ that you have heard the
case, as you call it, M'hat am I to do ? I want to get
rid of this engagement without hurting the young
lady's feelings.'-

"I wonder if slie cares for you?"

"She used to, I think. Time, though, may have
changed her in that particular."

"If it hasn't, Til be hanged if I see how you are to
get rid of your fetters. You can't go and tell the poor
girl you don't care about her, and ask her to cancel the
bond. Women are privileged to do such things, but
men, unhappily, are not. You would have that old
fire-eater, her father, shooting you lirst, and suing you
for a breach of promise after."

" It would be a territic pitch of fatherly vengeance
to shoot me, and make me pay damages, too," said Dis-
browe, with a slight laugh, "llcigho! there is noth-
ing for it, then, but yielding to Fate and Miss Norma
Macdonald."

" Yes, supposing she is in love with you still ; but
if, in the meantime, she has went and splashed her af-
fections on somebody else- -eh r'

" Oh, in that case, all vould be as right as a trivet.
I couldn't tliiidv of forcing a young lady, you know,
against her will."

" Decidedly not. The man who would do such a
thing would deserve to be, for the rest of his mortal
life, a mark for the linger of scorn to poke fun at.
Well, now, suppose I go in and win there, fascinate

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884

NORAfA.

.1 K

the young womiin, got a ricli wife, and clear you, thus
obliu::iiig inysoU' and my friend at tlie same time. Q.
E. 1)., that's demonstrated, as that old fool, Numbskull,
used to say at Oxford."

" i\Iy dear Austrey — ]/ou V

" My dear E irnecliffe, me — decidedly me ; nobody
else. I flatter mvself I'm e<|ual to the task." said the
young man, glancing complacently at his handsome
face and figure in tlie glass.

"And you really intend to try to captivate her?"

"I most really and emphatically do."

^'' Et jruh?^^ said Disbrowe, laughing.

"And then I will make her Liuly Austrey; her
father wants to get her a title, and 1 don't see why
Austrey is not as good as Earneclitfe. To be sure, you
are worth a score of thousands a year, and I about
enough to buy kid gloves and pale ale ; but he has the
gilt, and he might as well let me spend it as anybody
else."

" A very delightful scheme, my good friend ; and
therefore, of course, quite impracticable. Old Mac-
donald has set his heart on marrying me to hia
daughter ; and do you suppose he will coolly stand by
and see you win the golden prize? I don't doubt
your success with the lady ; she has been shut up like
a nun all her life, and will be a regular Eastern bride
for cxclusiveness ; and, being of the intensely-romantic
order, will be ready to forget me and love you at a mo-
ment's notice ; but ah ! her father is another affair !"

" What a bore fathers are !" said the young lord, in
a tone of displeased criticism. " I don't see why pretcy
ii'irls need have such tliini^s at ail. 8o Miss Normals
romantic — is she ? ller idea of a lover, I suppose, is
derived from those charming pictur-^s, where the
scenery is all balconies, I'oses, and curtains out of doors,
and where a ^j-entleman in ti<>:lits and a ijruitar is ur^j-ino;
a ladv, on his knees, to go to sea with him in something
that looks like a floating cradle, or a hearse amusing
itself with a sail. Well, so much the better; Bhe will

NORMA.

S80

ide

Mi's

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•ill

bo all tlie easier iiiuimged, and haiidsomo ladies are
priviicGjed to be silly. As to the •governor, he's very
fond of his dani^hter — isn't he C

" Passionately — qnire d(^tes v>n her."

" All right then ! she'll fall in love with me, that's
settled — obdurate parient will insist oi- her rnarrjinf;
you. Lady weeps, flin^i^s herself at his feet, and bathes
them with her tears. Obdurate parent molts — calls to
poor but strictly honest lover, who is always on hand,
places lovely daughter's hand in his, and says : ' Take
her, you dog!' Lovers fall at his feet. Obdurate
parent stretches out his hands, rolls up his eyes to the
ceiling, and apostrophizes the flies : ' Spirit of my
sainted Elizabeth, behold my happiness — bless you, my
children ! may you be happy !' And then the curtain
falls, and there it ends."

" Xo," said Disbrowe, laughing, '* then comes the
farce, consisting of a hen-pecked husband and thirteen
tow-headed Xormas and Georges."

Lord Austrey made a grimace.

"Ugh! don't mention it! Call that a farce — a
tragedy, more likely. Well, but really, and truly, and
soberly, Earnecliffe, 1 don't see why this plan should
not work."

" We can try it, but I confess I am skeptical. Will,
you come with me to town f

" Certainly ! when do you go ?"

"AVe may as well start now, I suppose. It will
help to kill time, and that itself is no trilling considera-
tion. For though the dolce far niente is pleasant
enough for once in a way, yet there is such a possibility
as having too much of a good thing. So I will order
horses at once."

lie ]'ang the bell as he spoke, and gave the necessary '
commands, and then arose to divest himself of his
dressing-gown, and don the coat and pants of out-door
life, while Lord George Austrey went oil whistling,
" Hear me. Norma," to make a few alterations in his
outer lord also (if the expression be allowable). How

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the sad, plaintive air recalled Foiitelle and Jaccjuetta to
Dis))ro\ve.

Next moriiini^, at the earliest possible hour that
fashion would ])enuit, our two young " peers of the
realm," in faultless morning costume, "got up," as
Lord Austrey complacently remarked, " regardless of
expense," placed their patent-leather boots on the
aristocratic doorstep of the Tremain mansion. A por-
ter, quite as aristocratic as the door-step, admitted them
to a sumptuous drawing-room, and left them to them-
selves.

" I dreamt tliat I dwelt in marble halls," hinnmed
Lord Austrey ; "silence and solitude this. I wonder
how long Mis- Norma will Ivcep us waiting."

Scarcely had he spoKcn when the door opened,
and a short, roll-about little woman, all smiles and dim-
ples, came in.

" My dear Lord Earnecliffe, welcome home ! wo
were all very sorry, indeed, to hear of your loss, but
such things must be expecred in this life. Good morn-
ing. Lord George ; it is quite an age since I have seen
you. What have 3^ou been doing with yourself lately ?"

" Rusticating at Disbrowe Park, Mrs. Tremain,
admiring the l)eautles of Nature, and all the rest of it,
you know," answered that young g'Titlenuui.

" And leaving all the youno; ladies to wear the wil-
low, you naughty boy," said J\[rs. Tremain, who was
a distant relative of Lord George's, and privileged to
talk to him as she jileascd. " Positively, at Mrs. Des-
mond's card l)arty the other night, they were every one
asking for you, and went feebly about, like so many
drooping lilies, when they heard you had left town.
It was quite heart-rending, 1 assure you !"

" Ileal ly now! I wasn't aware I was such a lady-
killer. I must endeavor to countei'act my many fas-
cinations for the future, I see, in mercy to the tender
sex."

" Yon are hardly looking so well as when I saw you
last, my lord," said Mrs. Tremain, turning to Disbrowe.

NORMA.

337

|.'\(ly-

lider

I you
)we.

" you are quite pale and thin. Do you not think so,
George V

" All the more interesting^, Mrs. Tremain. Younuj
ladies a(hnire that sort of thinii;, I liave heard. JA;t
him keep on a low diet for a fortnii^ht or so, and read
tlie ' Soi'rows of Werter ' for an hour every day, to-
gether with a small dose of ' Paradise Lost,' and TU
bet my. diamond rin<j^ against a ducat that by the end
of that time he'll be ai>le to play the 'Starved Apothe-
cary,' and have every female woman in Berkeley and
Grosvenor squares, not to speak of Piccadilly and the
West End, over head and ears in love with him."

" Thank you," said Disbrowe. '' 1 had rather be
excused. J hope Miss Macdonald is well, Mrs. Tremain ?"

" Quite well — she will be here in a moment. How
did you enjoy your visit to America, my lord f'

" Very much."

" llow is Mr. De Vere I I knew him when we
were both younger than we are now, and we were
great friends. You visited him, of course'^"

" Yes, madam ; I spent some weeks with him. Ho
is very well."

"And you really liked America? It is not much
like England, 1 sui)pose. It must be a strange country,
I think, where all classes are on an equality, negro
elaves and all. Dreadfully barbarous, I think. I
shouldn't like it at all."

Before Disbrowe could reply, the door opened, and
Norma Macdonald, the object of all their schemes and
plottings, entere*' — the iwxv Jiancee ot i^ord Earneclitfe.

She was tall and sligiit, and peculiarly graceful in
form, with a complexion of snowy whiteness, unrelieved
by the faintest tinge of color, save in the full, rounded
lips. Her hair was of a bright-golden hue, and was
worn in a pretty siik lu^t, something like the present
fashion ; but instead of the blue eyes that shouhl have
accompanied that pearly face and })ale-gold hair, her
eyes were large, lustrous, and intensely dark. The
fair hair and complexion she had inherited from her

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1

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888

NORMA.

k \ wM

Scotch fjitlicr ; tlic dark eyes and romantic nature, from
her frail and g-iddy French mother. A dresc of dark-
bhic silk set ott" to the best advantage her pecuhar
style of beanty : and very hjvely and very graceful in-
deed she looked — so nmch so, that Lord Aiistrey won-
dered inwardly at his friend's insensibility, and felt diat
a prize like this was well worth even his while to try
for. Both gentlemen arose upon her entrance, and
Disbrowe had to acknowledge that seldom had his eyes
rested on one more lovely, lie thought of Jacquetta,
wild, spirited, daring, bewitching; and she seemed like
the dark-hued, brilliant passion-liower of her native
land, to a shy, fragrant violet, this pale, gentle English
girl.

She dropped her large, black eyes, and laid her liiy
hand for a moment in theirs, mnrnniring a few words
of welcome to both, and then retreated to a sofa. Still
and reserved she looked, but perfectly easy and self-
possessed; yet, as she sat down, there was just the
faintest perceptible tinge of pink in those pearly cheeks,
called there by some inward feeling.

Disbrowe looked at her, comi)letely at a loss. Was
this the enthusiastic, wild-eyed girl he liad left — this
cold, still, moonlight young lady — so composed and
serene'^ He could scarcely believe his eyes, or his ears,
or his senses, as lie looked, and listened, and wondered,
but — yes — it was the same Norma, in body, but ani-
mated by a dilhM'cnt spirit. His eyes were fixed on her
face — riveted there, unconscious of his rudeness ; until
she raised liers, suddenly, with a look of calm surprise,
before which he colore-d slightly, aiul removed his gaze.

" I did not know you were in London, my lord,"
she said, quietly. " I understood you were at Disbrowe
Park."

"I was, until yesterday. 1 heard, then, you were
in town, and so called."

" So then I am indebted to Norma for the honor of
this visit," said Mrs. Tremain ; " but, of course, I might

''' ' iW"

I j

of
ht

NORMA.

889

have known you wonld never have called to see your
old friend, but for a fairer magnet."

Ditsbrowe aroused the old lady by some gay compli-
ment, and Lord (xcorge began chatting with Norma —
" drawing her out," as he al'terward informed L'isbrowe,
" to see wiiat she was made of."

" And so you have been rambling all summer, too,
Miss Macdonald, like our friend here? Wiiile he was
doing the savage tril)es of North Amei-ica, you were
roving through the huul of kilts and porridge, ' o'er the
muir amonix the heather.' "

"' Come, my lord, speak respectfully of the land of
rivers and mountains. Remember, I am a stanch
Scotch lassie."

"Oh, your natioupbty is not likely to be mistaken
while you are called Miss Macdonald. By the way, is
Mr. Macdonald in town ?"

"No — papa has gone over to Boulogne on business
for a few weeks."

"All right," thought Lord George; "the coast is
clear — but faith ! 1 beuin to fear the voun«r lady is no

such easy prize as 1 thought he

5»

" And vou have been away, too — have vou not ?

asked the young lady.

"Oh, only out to Disbrowe Park! Splendid place
for doing the dole a far nhnite^ as Karneclitfe calls it.
What does that mean, Miss Macdon;ild h It's a rejj-ular
Castle of Lidolence, where the sun shines from o!ie
year's end to the other, and the very dogs are too lazy
to bark."

" Indeed ! I hope you have not caught the infection,

lord !"

Before Lord Austrey could indignantly repudiate
any such notion, Mrs. Tremain, who had been earnestly
conversinir with Disbrowe, exclaimed

Oh, i

\\\\\ certain iNorma knows

oruia, IS

that

portfolio of Emily's in your boudoii'^ As Lord Earne-
clilfe has just come from America, I wau ^o show him

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840

NORMA.

tliat American scene you and Emily were trying to
finish yesterday."

" My dear annt !" exclaimed the lady, rising, in evi-
dent alarm.

"Nonsense! nonsense! My dear lord, she is so,
bashful about such things, you would never know how
well she can draw, if 1 did not show you. I will go
and iind it."

For one monient Miss Macdonald stood as if about
to follow after her; but meeting the strange eye of
Disbrowe, she relinquished her design, and sank back
in evident agitation on the sofa.

" llow cruel of you, Miss Macdonald," said Lord
Austrey, " to wish to deprive us of the pleasure of
looking at the work of your f;iir hands! J am sure
both Earnecliffe and I will bo delighted to criticise the
drawing, and point out its defects."

"How very gallant! 1 presume you are about as
good a critic as I am an artist. I>ut, indeed, 1 would
rather aunt would not show you this. Emily was read-
ing an American novel the otlier day, and attempted
to sketch a scene it described, and I assisted her; and
I am afraid Lord Earnodilfe, who has been over there,
will laugh at our poor elforts."

"How can you suspect mo of anything so shocking,
Miss Norma? Ah! you ought to see those American
scenes and draw from life. I am certain, if you are a
lover of Nature, and have not quite outlived all your
old enthusiasm, you would be delighted with them. H"
you only could see Eon telle !"

" Eontelle !" exclaimed Lord George. " Is there a
Fontelle there, too?"

" Yes — my uncle's residence : and the very moral,
as my old nurse used to say, of Eontelle Park — mhivs
the park. Well, my dear Mrs. Tremain, did you iind
the drawing?"

" Yes, my lord ; here it is."

She handed him the drawing, and he uttered an
ejaculation of amazement as he looked at it. For it

NORMA.

341

';iu

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►ui*

l-al,
ud

Ian
it

waB the " Mcnnaid," and the scenery aronnd it to tlie
very life ! There was tlie river, the shore, tlie lonii;,
strngi^ling, deserted road, tlie solitary inn, and the hills
and woods in the distance. And there, too, out in the
river, was the low, dark schooner of Oai)tain Xick
Tempest, as he had seen it the lirst evening he had
ridden that way.

" Why, what is the meaning of this?" lie exclaimed,
looking up ; ''that is the Mermaid inn for a ducat I —
that is the Hudson river, and that schooner is the ' Flv-
by-^ight,' as sure as my name's Earneclilfe. Why,
Miss is^orma, are you a magician V

She laughed as bIic met his eyes, but her fair cheeks
were crimson.

" Not exactly ! But you arc laughing at me, Lord
EaiTieclilfe 1 Do you mean to say that poor sketch is
like anything you have ever seen V

"To the very life! I have looked on that very
Bceue dozens of times."

"Something, perhaps, slightly resembling it?"

" No ; that, as it is, to an iota, without a shadow of
difference. Some one must have described this to you,
Norma !"

" Oh I" said Mrs. Tremain, anxious her own daugh-
ter should share the credit, " Emily connnenced it from
a description she read from a book — probably the scene
was laid in that part of America where you were.
Norma assisted her to linish it, only."

" It is an odd circumstance, any way. I Avonder
what Mr. Rowlie would say, if he knew two English
ladies had been sketching his inn ?" And Disbrowe
laughed at the idea.

" Who is Mr. Kowlio?" asked Lord Austrcy.

" Oh I a particular friend of mine — keeps that inn
you see there — a glorious old fellow he is, with tho
nicest little wife! Shall I tell you all that picture
wants. Miss Macdonald, to make it complete?"

" Oh, yes ! by all means ! What is it ?"

"Well — a rider before tho door, horsewhipping an

■in

342

NORMA.

elderly individual with the most villainous face vou can
possibly draw ; while a bov, as handsome as an an^cl,
and dressed like a staL:;e l)riu:and, interferes to keep the
peace. You will have ;i strikini^ secne from life then/'

" Striking !"• exclaimed Lord George. " Faith ! I
should say so — a pretty subject, that, for Miss Mac-
donald's pencil !"

After a few more remarks on the subject of the
sketch, both gentlemen arose to go. Lord Austrey and
Mrs. Tremain were conversing together in one part of
the room, whilst Disbrowe was taking his departure
with Norma.

She turned to him with an agitated face, as he
arose to go ; and without looking up, said, hurriedly,
and with a heightened color:

'' Lord Eai'neclilfe, I have something very important
to say to you in private, and as soon as may be. When
can 1 see you again ?"

Her evident agitation, her downcast face, and
hurried voice, amazed him.

"At any time you please. I am always at your
service, Norma.''

" Then this evening — arc you engaged ?"

" No. I have no engagement that I cannot break."

" Then Mrs. Tremain and Emily will be out, and I
will be alone. Will you call this evening?"

" I. shall be only too happy."

" It is a strange request, 1 know," she said, coloring
in painful embarrassment ; " but you will understand mo
this evening. It is absolutely necessary this interview
should take place, and ininicdlately. 1 see Lord Aus-
trey is going; so good morning, my lord."

He bent over the hand she extended, completely
puzzled by her strange manner ; and wdien Lord Aus-
trey had made his adieu, both went out together. The
latter gentleman's cab stood at the door, and they
sprang in and drove off.

" 13y Jove I she's a beauty I" enthusiastically ex-

»g

IS-

X-

NORMA.

343

claimed Lord George, as they dashed along. '• I am
halt' in love with her already."

"AVhieh — the aunt or the niece?"

" Oh, j)ooh ! I hope my religions edn(;ation has not
been so far negleeted that I did not learn the Com-
mandment: 'Thou slialt not covet tliy neighl)or''s
wife.' Don't you think la l:Ue Norma has improved
since you saw her last : '

" Ye-es," said Lord Earnecliffe, slowly. " She has
altered, but whether it is an improvement or not, I am
not ready to say at this present moment."

" Well, for one thing, she is not such a gushing
young female as she was."

"Ko; but she has, unhappily, gone to the other
extreme. Iler manner seemed cold, constrained, un-
natural, I thought."

"Oh, that was caused by meeting her l)etrothed
* afore folks.' If you had been alone, it would have
been a different story."

"Well, I am soon likely to know. I am to see her
this evening."

" Whew ! You're not going there again — arc you?"

" Yes. Have you any objection ?"

" Yes, I have ; most decided ()l)jections — most de-
cided objections ! Have you forgotten she is to be
Lady Austrey, and that you have given up all right,
claim, and title to the lady C

" Well, no ; but, to tell the truth, the engagement
was of her own making. She told me she would be
alone, and asked me to come."

Lord Austrey fell back, and indulged in a long,
wailing whistle of intensest surprise.

" There's Miss Slyboots for you ! Oh, your shy
ones are never to be trusted ! What, in Heaven's name,
can she want with you this evening ?"

" That is somethinii: 1 did not ask her. To give mo
my coil]) do cont/e^ I should judge by her look when
giving the invitation. She said it was of the utmost
importance, and was to be heard by me alone."

15*

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y H

344

NORMA.

" Well, I am astonished ! I saj, Earnecliffe, you
won'b niake love to her — will you ? Honor bright, you
know."

Dishrowe laughingly promised. And they were
soon driving through the park, too busy answering
bows and Balutationa to talk further of Norma.

i;S >r:

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

846

CHAPTER XXV.

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

** Was ever woman in this humor wooed?
Was ever woman in this humor won?
I'll have her!" — Shakspeub.

OR some cause or otlicr, Disbrowc felt ex-
tremely anxious for the hour to come when
lie was to see Norma. Jlcr manner, even
more than her words, had implied chat the
interview betokened somethin<^ serious and
She had been completely transl'ormed jsinco
he had seen her last ; changed more than he had
thought it possible any one could be in so brief a ti:ne ;
and her manner to liim had been something more than

<^'old. What could be the

unusual.

was rigidly

»ssible that during his absence she

reserved — it

cause? Was it p(

had contracted another attachment, and was anxious to

be rid of the old one ? " Too good to be true," he

thought, with a sigh, as he strove to account for her

agitation and coldness in some other way.

The drawing, too, trivial as the matter was, puzzled
him not a little. That any one could have sketched
the whole scene so accurately from merely reading a
random description, he could not believe ; it must have
been seen, to be so faithfully depicted. Yet who was
there to see it ? Neither Emily Tremain nor Norma
Macdonald had ever visited America, he felt certain ;
and who was there but himself:' to describe it to them ?
Altogether, he felt more completely mystified and puz-
zled than he had ever done about a smiUl nuittcr in all
his life before.

i'i

''i 1

846

OFF WITH rilE OLD LOVE.

rf 111

At an early hour that evening, lie presented him-
self at the Trcmain House, and was shown by the aris-
tocratic porter respectfully mentioned before, through
a " marble hall " into the ]iarlor, and left to his own
devices, while the yellow-plush gentleman went to have
Miss Macdonald apprised of her visitor.

lie had not long to wait. Tlie door presently
opened, and Norma entered, paler even than she was in
the morning, and looking as when he had seen her last,
agitated and troubled.

She scarcely looked up as he advanced to meet her,
and shrank away visibly when he led her to a sola, and
took a seat beside her. But she need not liave been
alarmed ; had he been an archbishop, he could not have
behaved with more gravity and decorum. There was
very little of the ardent lover about Lord Earnecliffeat
that moment. His heart was far over the sea with Jac-
quetta in her lonely grave.

There was <'i brief and embarrassed silence, which
the lady was the first to break :

" You were doubtless surprised, my lord," she be-
gan, in a slightly-tremulous voice, " by my somewhat
strange request, and I beg — I beg — you will not be of-
fended at what I am about to sny."

This was a promising beginning. Disbrowe looked
at her, wondering what in the world was to follow this
preface.

" Nothing you can say, Norma, will offend me," he
replied, scarcely knowing what he was expected to
answer to this strange address.

" I wish I could think so. Gentlemen all have a
large share of native vanity — have they not?" she said,
looking up for the first time with a smile.

Keally, I can't take it upon myself to say posi-

tively

I have heard so ; and if it is true, what I liave to
say may wound your vanity — and for that 1 beg pardon
beforehand."

((

It is granted. Pray go on, Miss Norma, what

!l.

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

847

I'i'

3e-
lat
of-

vcd
this

he
to

'e a
aid,

losi-

hat

awful death-blow is my vanity destined to receive from
your fair hands f

She dropped her eyes, and a faint color rose to her
cheek.

" It is a serious matter, my lord. You remember —
yon cannot have fortjjotten M'hat is — what was destined
to take phicc next ISovember^"

" Oh !" he was serious enouii;li now ; " no, I have not
forgotten — how could 1 i But Korma, what do you
mean by sayinu^ ' was' to take place (!"

" Because 1 hardly think it ever will do so now.
Lord EarneclilTe, I know 3'ou desire to be free, and I
release you once and forever from your engagement !"

" Norma !" he half sprung from his seat at the lirst
shock. Her beautiful face was as white as monumental
marble, but she was also as firm and composed.

*• Sit down, my lord. I am certain this does not
take you unawares. 1 feel sure that after this morning
you must have had a presentiment of what was coming;
and further, you will do anything but grieve, now that
you have heard it."

"Norma!"

"It Wiis a bond not of our own making, and it
would gall us both. ]\Iy father and your brother were
the cause of the step you took, and ])erhaps there were
ten thousand reasons why you should not at the time
decline it."

There was a touch of sarcasm in her tone, and the
blood Hushed scarlet for a moment to his face.

" I do not intend to reproach you, my lord, but
this I will say — you did icrong ! You should not
have led me to believe that you loved me, when you
knew in your heart you never could or would care fur
me more than you did for any other of your dear five
hundred friends. I was a frilly, romantic girl, I know,
who, perhaps, needed this lesson to bring her to her
senses; but, ni)' lord, I would rather any other hand
than yours had struck the blow."

%k\

.i.4t!

hia'

848

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

Her lip trembled in 8})ite of herself, and she put
her hand for a niouicnt before her face.

" Nonna — Norma !" he cried out, passionately,
" you wrong me ! I r/id love you once !"

"All! you did,'^ she said, turning her pale face
toward him, and lifting her clear, dark, penetrating
eves to his face, "' then you do so no longer ? I knew
it!"

lie averted his face, and was silent.

" Mj lord, answer me," she said, laying her hand
earnestly on his arm, " it is better for us both. Answer
me on your honor as a gentleman — do you love me
now .^"

" Oh, Norma ! forgive me 1 I never was worthy
of your love !"

Iler hand dropped. She sat as if turning to stone.

"Ilave I wronged you beyond reparation? Will
you never forgive me, Norma?"

" I forgive you, my lord ! I cancel the bond, and
you are free !"

" Oh, Norma ! fairest and best, you forgive me, but
when will I be able to forgive myself !"

"Do not think of it — such things happen every
day. It is only the way of the world."

There was an untold depth of bitterness and sorrow
in her tone. lie did not dare to look at her, but
leaned his head on his hand with a groan.

" You have acted as most would have done ; and as
wisdom is only bought hy experience, I will be wiser
for the future. Do not blame yourself too severely,
my lord ; it all does not rest on you. Others — the
dead and the living, have alike erred, yet I suppose
they thought they were acting for the best. Let us be
thankful it is no worse — we have both cause."

" Oh, Norma !"

" You have got a fortune and a title, and do not
need to make a inarlcKje de convenance y and I have
discovered it all in time ; so things are not so bad, my
lord, as they luight be."

OFF WITH TU/'J OLD LOVI'J.

:A9

lot
ve

" Oh, Norma ! What a villain I must socm in your
eyes!"

"A villain! Oh, not at all; it is a common thing
enough, and habit redeems everytiiing. Perhaps we
may both live to be thankful things have ended as
they have."

" But your father, Norma ?"

" My father loves me well enough to sacrifice even
his long-cherished plan at my wish. 1 have only to
say I do not wish this engagement to be fuliilled, and
he will leave me as free as air."

"Norma, did you ever love me?" he asked — his
man's vanity, as she rightly judged, wounded by her
apparent coldness ; for when men, the generous crea-
tures ! renounce the woman who has once told them
she loved them, they like to think of her as piiiing
away, and dying of a broken heart, and all that sort of
thing, for their sake ; and Lord Alfred Earned iii"e,
though an English peer, was just made of the same
clay as his more plebeian brethren.

" My lord," she said with a dark bright 1 :sli of her
eye that reminded him of Jacquetta, " you have no
right to ask that question !"

" Perhaps not, but I fancy there has been little love
lost on your side, and that you are very glad to be rid
of me."

" Ah," she said with a half smile, " did I not say
your masculine vanity would be wounded? Confess
now, it would be balm of Gilead for you to sec me
shedding floods of tears, and bemoaning like a tragic
heroine my hard fate."

"No, i hope I am not quite so selfish. Since we
must part, I am glad that you mind it so little — 30s, I
am !" he said, trying hard to convince himself he spoke
the truth.

" Thank you ! And now, my lord, let me ask you
a question — do you intend remaining for the present in
England V

* 1

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' 1

fi 1

1 ''i

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ill

l-i'.:

850

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

" Yes, I rather think so. I am tired of rambling."

" That is well. I want to _i:;o abroad and travel for
a year or two on the Continent ; and if yon were going,
I should remain where I am. So, when A^rs. Treinain
and Emily leave next month, I shall go with them."

" 13ut jou are sure your father will make no objec-
tions to this overthrow of all his plans ?"

" No ; on the contrary, I am (juite sure he will object,
but I think I can persuade him to let me do as I ])lease.
One tlung I dread, and that is, what the world will say.
I am mortiiied to death to think papa made this unfor-
tunate eni!:a2:ement known."

'"It would be better, ])erhaps, had he not ; but the
M'orld shall know how it is — that 1 am a rejected lover.
I shall then have the consolation of being pitied by
bright eyes and rosy lips without mnnber."

She smiled — but her smile was as faint and «'.old as
a moonbeam on snow, and she arose, to signify that
their interview was at an end.

" You will excuse me, my lord ; my head aches, and
I am unable to entertain you just now. As this is
probably the last time we will see each other alone, I
will bid you good-bye, since to-night, as betrothed
lovers, we part forever."

She held out her hand. lie took it in both of his,
and looked sadly in her face. It was strange, now that
the desire of his heart was attained, how lonely and
grieved he felt.

" It is a hard word to say, Normn, and harder still
to think you and I must henceforth meet as strangers."

" You may think so to-night. To-morrow you will
rejoice."

" Well, be it so. Farewell, Norma."

" Adieu, my lord."

" O Norma ! not that. Say Alfred as you used to
*lang syne.' "

"Good-bye, Alfred. Heaven send you some one
you can love, and who will love you."

'ill

!10

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

851

" A wish, Norma, tliat will never bo fulfilled ; but
I thank you all the same. And so — "

II o shook hands, and, with a last look at the pale,
fair face, and tall, graceful figure, he turned, and left
lier alone.

And so was broken the tie that was to bind those
two through life.

It was in a strange state of mind Lord Earnecliile
hurried along to rejoin his friend. Pleasure and regret,
and a strange, mortified feeling, were at war within,
and when lie entered the room wliei'e Lord Austrey
lay stretched on a sofa, solacing himself with a cigar
and the last Pinich^ he Hung himself into a chair, and
looked half moodily at the nonchalant young lord.

"Well, my beloved Damon, what news if What
terrific mystery of inicjuity has been brought to light?
In what state of mind did you leave her peerless high-
ness, Princess Norma 'C

"Hadn't you better go on with the catechism?
Ask a few more questio'is before you stop : What ia
the chief end of man '*. What do the Scriptures princi-
pally teach ? (to on. why don't you V

"Pshaw! wiuu was this mysterious interview all
about? If the (piestion is impertinent, don't answer it."

" Oh, I will answer it readily enough ! It is some-
thing you will be veiy glad to hear. Her peerles,s
highness has rejected the slave, and you behold before
you a dis(!arded suitor."

i^ord Austrey half rose, and took his cigar between
his linger an<l tlnuub.

"Eh? What? Just say that again, will you?"

Disbrowe laughed.

"lam discarded, rejected, refused, jilted ! Is that
plain enough to suit your limited capacity, my yoimg
friend i "

Up sprang Lord Austriy to his 'iirn^, and flinging
away iiis cigar, he stretched out his arm, and j)utting on
that enrhnsiastic expression all Othellos wear, exulting-
ly cried :

|i,

Hi-

ffil

li ?

'I i

352

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

u (

\><

" ' Excellent wcuch ! perdition catch my soul
But I do love thee; and wheu I love thee uot
Chaos is come aijain ! '

" Wliat's the rest, Earnecliffe ? I haven't seen
Othello phiyed lately. Deuce take that cigar! I have
burned my lingers."

"What a loss you are to the stacce, Austrev ! If
Nature had not made you a British peer, you would have
been a treasure beyond price, to do the iiiirh-tragcdy
business. Have you ever turned your thoughts to the
stage as the meansof earning an lionest living f

'' r>ah ! don't talk nonsense ! L want to hear all the
l)ai*tlculars. Are you really, and truly, and seriously
jihedi"

" 1 really, and truly, and seriously am '"

" Good ! Fate has turned the cold shoulder to me
over since I was old enough to know the lady ; but I
felt sure she would smile at last. And she has, you see.
Norma's mine !"

" Don't be too sure. She may serve you as she has
me."

"No fear. The litth? Macdonald has better tiiste.
But what reason did the damsel giveT'

" None at all, except that 1 did not love her — and,
faith ! she hit the right thing in the middle just
then. And so the engagement was broken, now and
forever. I felt about three inclies higli at the tim*>, I
can tell you ! "

•' Te Deinn ! What a slice or good luck for George
of A.ustrey ! What is papa going to say about it?"

"Oh! she has promised to make it all right there.,
She will bring him to view matters in their proper
light, she says. !She goes abroad with the Treniaintj
next month."

"Better and better! I'll bo an a^Ar' ''"^ of ' ♦em-
bassy, or kTU)w lor why. I never was y ;>• •!) uuk-
ful before that my maternal ancestor and JVln Tremain
were twenty-second cousins, or something ; bu* it just

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE.

853

suits me exactly now! Won't I console our pretty
Norma on the way ! ' Make hay while the sun shines ; '
there's nothing like it," cried Lord George, iu a hazy
recollection of some proverb.

" Well, I hope you'll be successful, of course," said
Disbrowe, feeling dreadfully hypocritical ; for he was
amazed, he could scarcely tell why, by his friend's reso-
lution of success.

" Successful ! Of course I will. Ther6 is no time
when a girl is more disposed to smile on a new lover
than after she has discarded an old one ; and, ahem ! a
Lord George Austrey is not to be come across every
day, I flatter myself. So, when Norma comes back to
England, you may be ready with your congratulations,
my Lord of Gcdliord and Earnecliife."

i ^

^ »l

.»

'!ol

IM,

864

A SECRET SORROW.

CHAPTEK XXYI.

A SECRET SORROW.

*' I have a secret sorrow here —
A grii'f ril ne'er impiirt;
It hciives no sigh — it sh(-'ds no tear
But it consumes the heart."

J" r4

;;*'3

^1:

IITJEE dajfi after. Lord EarnecHffe went back
to Dishrowu Park, leaving liis friend in
Eondun — a constant visitor at Tremain
House. AVliatever Miss Macdonald felt,
slie had enough of the pride of Albion's
stately daughters to conceal ; and she rode, and walked,
and drove, and went to the theater and the opera
nightly; and Lord Austrey was always of their party.
His distant relationship to tlic Treniains stood him in
good stead now, and he took care n<»t to be too particu-
lar in his attentions, but to be (piite as devoted to
Emily Tremain as to Norma Macdonald. He left it to
time to ri[)en their ac(puiintance to a warmer feeling.
And Lord George acted wisely. A handsome face and
ligurc, and gallant bearing, seldom fail to ])lease
ladies; and Lord George could be agreeable, not to say
fascinating even, when he chose. ]\liss Macdonald
might have the bad taste to be iuvsensible to his numi-
fold attractions just at present, while the wouiul her
Urst love had received was still rankling; but there was
a good time coming, and Lord George, being none of
your iiery mad-headed lovers, was cpiite content to wait,
and console himself with the nuixini: *■'' Mleux 'caut
tard que jamais,''''

And at the end of the month, having given liimself

A SECliET SORROW.

855

mi-
ler
ivas

of
lit,

an invitation to join their party, whicli Emily Tremain
— wlio called liiin " Courun George," and considered
liiin dclip^htful — had wariidy seconded, they all set olf
together for France. Norma, too, was not displeased
at fhis new acquisition to their party; for Lord George
was an unfailing antidote against ennui and depression
of spirits, keeping Emily Tremain especially, who had
a strong natural taste for the ludicrous, in lits of
laughter continually.

Just before starting, Lord George sent an c])istle,
rather of the short and sweet order, to his friend, to
announce his success.

" My Dkae Ai-f : — "We are off — to-morrow will
find us en route for Paris. The battle is won ! Norma
is mine, as certainly as if she was signed, sealed, and
delivered ! AVhat a superb beauty it is — ma hclle
re'ine ! Ah, Earneclill'e ! you don't know what you
have lost ! But one man's loss is another man's gain ;
and so hencdicite !

" AUSTIIEY."

Lord Earned iffc read it, as ho lay sH]^pered and
dressing-gowned in his room, ennuijce nearly to death,
and an expression, half angry, half contemptuous, came
over his face. 1L)W little she must ever have loved
him to forget him so soon!

A life of inaction, of stagnation, was little suited to
the gay, volatile nature of Alfred Disbrowe ; yet some
pervei'se spirit seemed to possess him now, and hold
him in chains at Disbrowe Park. lie scarce ever went
to London. lie visited but little among the neighbor-
ing gentry, and seldom ever saw any one at the hall.
He rarely rode, or hunted, or quitted home, and alto-
gether became a sort of anchorite — a hermit — a Kobin-
Bon Crusoe, shut u]) and fortified in his " casi.' ." The
young ladies of tlie neighlxjrhood pouted, and were
terribly mortified to find the handsome and wealthy
young peer so insensible to all their fasuinations, while

* )<

/ir

l« ■!

' -i.l

356

A SECIiET SORROW.

the sentimental ones looked upon him witli romantic
interest, and fell in love with his dark, nielancholj
eyes, and sighed to comfort liiin in his solitude.

Ilavini^ nothiiii^ better to do, Disbrowe amused
himself with looking after his tenantry and improving
his estate ; and this, with lying lazily on a sofa, and
smoking no end of cigars, constituted his indolent and
aimless life. lie felt a little ashamed of himself some-
times, and his useless existence. Jiut a spell — a lan-
guor of mind and body was upon him, and he wanted
a motive to make him rise, like another Samson, and
burst his bonds.

So passed the winter; and spring and summer found
him still loitering at Disbrowe tark.

At odd times, he received short, spasmodic letters
from his friend Austrey, to tell him they were "doing"
gondolas in Venice, or St. Peter's at Rome, or risking
their necks up the great Saint Bernard, or other colcl
and uncomfortable places in the Splugen Alps. Ac-
cording to his accounts, their travels were something in
the style of the " Dodd Family Abroad" — a continued
series of mishaps and misadventures, together with
jealous Austrian governments, rampagious Italian beg-
gars, savage and unreasonable couriers, or ferocious,
brigandish guides, who would persist in not understand-
ing him — Lord Geoi'ge — when he swore at them in
English, and screamed out his directions in the same
language. lie further went on to express the strongest
sort of contempt for the whole Continent, vehemently
asserted England, with all its fogs, was the only place
fit for a rational Christian to live in. As for foreign
scenery, he had a poor o])inion of it. The Ehine was
well enough, but not lit to hold a candle to the Serpen-
tine, and as for Baden, Ramsgato was worth a dozen of
it. All this had very little interest for Disbrowe; but
the postscript had, where Lord George wound up by
informing him Norma was in excellent health and
spirits, and " his affair " was progressing as " well as
could be expected." At first, this used to invariably

A SECRET SOliliOW.

867

m-
lof

jut

put Disbrowc in a fnmo ; hut lie got used to it after a
time, and almost as indiilerent about Norma as the
rest. Her father had joined them, evidently qnite
reconciled to the broken-olf matcli, and, what was better
still, great friends with the volatile joung lord. It
was qnite uncertain when they wonld come back, but
probably not until late the next autumn.

Of his American friends, since his arrival in Eng-
land, he had heard nothing. As time cooled and toned
down his feelings, he began to regret the hasty manner
in which he had left his uncle's roof, who, harshly as
he had treated her whom Disbrowe never named now,
even in his own mind, had been always kind to him.
Therefore, in a tit of penitence, during the previous
winter, he had written liim a long aiul cordial letter,
nrn-inij: him to come to Enujland, and visit him at Dis-
browe Park, and bring Augusta aud little Oi-iole with
hiu]. It was strange, how ardently he wished to see
the little, wild, eltisli girl again ; j)artly for her own
sake, and the strange, strong love she bore him, and
partly for her mother's sake — that dead mother, his
lirst, his last, his only love. No answer had come, al-
though the June roses were in blossom, and the letter
had been written in Decembei", until, one morning, the
mail brought him a brief note, in the well-known writ-
ing of Mr, Do Vere. It was dated London, and in-
formed liim that he, and Augusta, and Orrie had
arrived, and awaited hiuj there.

Disbrowe took time to digest his surj^rise and pleas-
ure, and inunediately started for London, and went
direct to their hotel. And then there was one of those
pleasant meetings of old friends, that gleam like bright
little Hashes of unalloyed sunsliine through this tangled
life of ours, more than conijiensating us for the sorrow
of parting. ]\[r. De Vere looked half a dozen years
older than when he hail seen him last, and had a dreary,
lonely look, the cause of which .Dishrowe well under-
stood. But Augusta was still more changed ; she had
wasted away to a shadow, with white, sunken cheeks,

.1*'

^'|.

•f

I •!

' c

868

A SECRET SORROW.

.1 .1

i\ '

.. in

and liollow, lustrous eyes loolcing unnaturally dark and
laro-c in lier tliiu and hairi^ard lace. Ail her old hau-
tour and lofty pride seemed to have faded away like a
dream, and she stood before him dejected, spiritless,
ghastly — like a spirit from the grave.

The deo]) mourning she wore contrasted glaringly
with her pallid face and blue-veined, transparent hands,
and Disbrowe was inexpressibly shocked and grieved
as he beheld her.

And Orrie — ho scarcely recognized her in the richly-
attired, half-timid little miss, who shrank back and eyed
him askance with a glance half shv, half laughing, that
reminded him with a thrill and a shock of Jacquetta.
A year — most of it spent in the artiiicial atmosphere of
a fashionable boarding-school — had robbed little Orrie
of most of her eldrich boldness and brightness; but
still it broke out litfully at times. She had lost, partly,
her wild, eliish, precocious look, too ; and with her-
shining, coal-black hair smoothly braided, and her
pretty dress of rich, black silk, she was (piite another
being from the wild little kelpie in boy's clothes who
had once stabled his horse. They all seemed to have
changed ; and Disbrowe half sighed as he took her in
his arms and kissed her, and inwardly wondered if he
had changed, too.

"And Frank," he said, "how is he?"

" Frank is rpiite well," s?;id A[r. Do Vere. " I got
him a midshipman's commission last winter, and he has
gone oft' like i second Jack to seek his fortune. We
found Fontclle terribly dull, and your kind invitation
came at a most opportune moment. Change of climate
may do something for Augusta, whose health is failing
rapidly."

" 1 noticed Miss De Vere was not looking w-ell,"
said Disbrowe, lowering his voice that she might not
hear. '' She is greatly changed since I saw her last.
AVhat is the matter V

" That is a question I cannot answer," replied her
father, with a sigh. " She has no bodily ailment, the

A SECRET SORROW.

859

got
has
iWe
:ion
liate
liner

111,"

Inot
list.

ber

the

doctors say ; but somethinc: is evidently preying on her
mind, undenninini^ both Hfo and hap])iness. In fact,
she has never been the same since tliat visit of old
Grizzle Ilowlet's, whatever slie told her. Since that
time she has pined j^id faded away ; and if I believed
in the Evil Eye, I should say my poor Augusta was
under its inliuence."

" Have you uever tried to discover what this strange
secret is ?"

" Repeatedly ; but in vain. Augusta only wrings
her hands, and cries for me to leave her, until I have
no longer the heart to resist. O Alfretl ! my boy, it

foes to my heart to see her suffering like this," said
£r. De Vere, with tilling eyes.

Disbrowe pressed his hand in silent sympathy.

"Do you think she would tell you, Alfred ? She
liked you, and she might. Do you really think she
would ^" he said eagerly.

" I fear not, sir. When she refused to tell you, it
is not likely she would make me her confidant — a com-
parative stranger."

" 1 am sorry ! I am sorry ! If she wonld only
speak ?nd tell, it might save her life. My poor Au-
gusta ! — my poor, poor girl !"

"Does Grizzle llowlet still reside at the old inn f '
asked Disbrowe, after a pause, to divert his mind from
the subject.

" Yes, the old limb of Satan! O Alfred! that a
wretched old hag like that should have caused us all so
much miser}^ !"

"Her day of retribution will come ; be assured of
that, sir !" said Disbrowe, almost sternly. "And her
honfrere^ Captain Tempest, what has become of him^"

"Gone olf in the ' Fly-by->iiglit ' on one of his
dark, deviTs (jruises of crime, lie went shortly after
you left. I>y the way, Alfred, can you tell me any-
thing of that young Spanish lad, Jacinto i' We never
could hear anything about him after that ^aity."

" Yes," said Disbrowe, over whose handsome face

,/** -.'"^

860

A SECRET SORROW.

a dark shadow fell — the memory of that sad day. " Yes,
he came with me to London ; and, uncle, he was treated
ungenerously. That boy was guiltless of all wiong."

"I know it — I know it!" groaned Mr. De Vere.
" Old Grizzle, to taunt, to madden me, I believe, came
with that villain Tempest to Fontelle, one day, and
derisively told me all she had said about Jaequetta was
false ; all save in one particular — her being the daughter
of this reckless freebooter. Jaequetta knew nothing of
her father, nor of her mother, except that she was one
of the frail and erring of her sex ; and that never in
the slii^htest action had her marrias^c vows been
broken ; that she knew nothing of Orrie save her
birth, and that, O Alfred ! that she refused you, lov-
ing you all the while. My poor boy ! it was a sad day
for you both when you met."

l)isbrowe sat with averted head, his eyes shaded
by his hand, and made no reply.

" And my poor, poor, wronged Jaequetta ! My
high-spirited, broken-hearted girl ! O Alfred ! I can
never forgive myself for the great wrong 1 have done
her," groaned Mr. De Vere.

" She was cruelly wTonged, sir ; but you acted
from a sense of duty, and were not so much to blame.
Let the dead rest ; I had rather not speak of lier."

"Her loss, too, has preyed on the mind of Augus-
ta," said Mr. De Vere, recurring to the former subject;
" and, combined with the death of her brother, has in-
creased the depression of her spirits, and left her as you
see. Ah ! Alfred, I am not very happy in my
children !"

" Her brother V said Disbrowe, with a start. " Do
you mean — "

" My unhappy idiot son ? Yes, he is gone," said
Mr. De Vere, in a husky voice.

Disbrowe turned away in silence. " Had Jaequetta
been alive !" was his thought ; and a pang more bitter
than he ever thought ho could have felt for her again,
pierced his heart.

Vere.

it was arranmxi fi,,,. .,

don of doii.:.,/*"","^"' l''^'«'-nn A.nbh V r

Md pride. ' '"■'" ^'"'-'^ ^'J-^'* «erc brigh ,ri i', w^''"'"
''Jajjj J , fe'''' ^^itn pleasure

oyes fimn./ 'wt,?''! ^"S'"'"' •"' cried Mr Do V ,
f/X 1 1 i^ ^^iin tears " t#- i • -''G Vci'o ])i^

avenues, and tree^•':L,'"''^'•'''■^' ami flowers , 7

tiio I i '"''^^ "^ ^^'0.0 pref v lift] ''' ^^'^' ^"'^^v-'
,.'^ '''<^'« away ovor fi. J '^''.r ^'ttJo iioiises • mmJ "

''"lo el, „.cl,, wi ,i''"'T'' ""'I 0'', look- ,;«,:','"•'
dowa! Oil /, »)jltMic|;d red ■i,„l , iV ''"'"'

hands. ' ^""'' ""••«•'" Ci-ied Orr/o If' •"' "''"-

''OJi, ve^ f_i.'^- ,^'^" yon nde '' ^ "^"^ '^^'^^^
, '-^ • n^'^t-i-ate. ('m,v /
^<^ .you say; Uut ^,w+' • ^' ^''''I'tlpa ?"

no re-

li'i

; ^1

•1:1

•( .

<l„

}

;i'

.11

l:Ci:

f i;*-'

,i^il

If*

f irf

i .irt

I I

111! I

303

A SECliET SOIiltOW.

" Oil, I know !" snid Oriie, Fliniprginr^ her shoulders.
"Miss Smiih used to give u.s thiit for a copy ; bnt I
can. ride, though, c'ver so well. IVank learned me."

''Tnu^lit vou," amended jMr. l)e Vere.

"Oh, bolher! I iiiii so glad yoii have got a pony
for me, Oousin Alfred ! May 1 eallyou Cuu.->in Alfred,
as Fraidv used to do!!"'

"Of course — what else would you call me?"

" An<l ma}-^ I ride out to-morrow morning T'

"You will he tired to-morrow morning, after your
journey — won't you C

"Oh, la! — no," said Orrie, with one of her shrill
laughs at the idea of such a thing, "I'm never tired.
Oh, Vvhat a pretty house it is, any way ! — twice as nice
as Fontelle."

"And yet you used to think Fontelle a very beauti-
ful place, Orrie."

"Oh, I know! that was when I lived with old
Grizzle — the nasty old thing ! — and it was a great deal
nicer than her house, but not near so nice as this. Oh,
1 should love to live here forever!"

"Unha])pily, people don't live forever in England,
ma cliire jille y but you shall stay as long as I can keep
you. You will miss Frank — will you not?"

" 1 es, some — we used to quarrel so, you know,
until grandpa sent me to school in — oh, just the
horridest place in all the world ! 1 didn't like it at
alL I'd a great deal rather grandpa had let me been a
sailor, and went to sea M'ith Frank in — oh, such a lovely
great big ship, and such a sight of ropes! And Frank
looked so splendid in his nice jacket, with all the
bright buttons, and his cap with gold on it. Oh, he
looked lovely !" cried Orrie, enthusiastically, laying
great emphasis on her notes of admiration.

"Indeed!" lauii;hed Disbrowe. "I should have
liked to have seen him. And you used to quarrel
when you were both at Fontelle i''

" Oh, yes ! Frank used to get so ugly sometimes — it
was all his fault, you know — and we used to have such

A SECRET tiOBUOW.

868

iiying

have
liarrel

iS — it
such

a time ! We made it all up, tliough, you know, before
he left ; and Frank says we will be married as soon as
ever he conies back."

" Ah ! that will he pleasant — won't it ? When is he
to conic back V

" In two or three years. That is a good long time,
ain't it ? — hut I don't mind, so long as I've got a pony.
O Cousin Alfred ! how nice yon are !''

" Uncommonly so ! The Admirable Crichtou was
nothing to me ! Ihit here we are at the house ; and
now, mademoiselle, we will see whether the inside suits
you as M'cll as the outside."

The servants, who had been apprised of their lord's
approach, were drawn u]) in the hall to receive him as
he entered with Augusta on his arm ; and Orrie looked
about her, quite awe-struck by their number and the
splendor around licr.

"Ain't this Itjvely, grandpa T' she said, in a
whisper, giving him a jnill.

" Very lino, kitten — a grand old manor."

" And such a lot of servants ! Oh, my !"

"Hush! they r\ ill hear you. So you like it better
than FunteHe?"

" I guess I do! I wish you would live here all the
time, and not go back to h ontelle."

" But it's not my house, monkey, and so I can't. It
is Lord Earned ilfe's. you know."

" Well — but he would let you stay, I guess. I
mean to ask him, anyway."

"But that is not pulite. reoi)le sliould not invite
themselves. You must wait until he asks you."

Orrie gave a, little impatient shrug.

"It's such a bother being polite, and I don't see any
good in it, either. See here, grandi)a — ('ousin Alfred
is not married, is he ^"

"Not as 1 am aware of, my little nettle — why '^"

" lie ain't going to be, is he C

"Well, I can't say, positively — you had better ask

\ \

I' k

864

.1 SECRET SOIUIOW.

• i t,

r ' f

It. . ;'

himself that. Have you any iiitoiitions of proposing to
him r

'-' X(>; you know I haven't. Didn't f tell you I was
goiii'j; to waii, for Franks*' said the young lady, with
dii^uity. " Hut [ thouii;ht he niip^ht marry (.histy, and
then wc could all live here — couldn't we C

" Frank and all, I suppose," said Mr. De Vere,
laupfhing. "A rare plan, hornet, hut I don't know
M'liat (Viusin Alfred and (lusty would say about it. Voa
had bettm- ask them — hadn't you C

"■ I'm au^uin;^ to," said (Jrrie, a.s she turned to follow
a spruce cliambermaid to her room to l:)o dressed for
dinner.

The suuu^estion of Dishrowe's marriairo recalled
Bomethin:*: Mr. I)e Vere had nartiallv for*j'otten — that
he was to liave !)een married the pri^vious year. It
was a delicate subject, but he deteruiined to ask Dis-
browe the nasou, and an (H)porrunity occurred when
they were left alone to chat over the *' walnuts and
the wine '" after dinner.

" My dear Alfred, I expected to lind you a happy
Jienedict by this time," he said, carelessly. " llow
comes it that you ai'o suilcrinij;' sinu;-l(j bli^soduess still V

''The match was broken olf," said DIsbrowe, look-
ing intently at the orange he was peeling.

'•AiiT' said u\[r. l)e Vere, in(juiriiigly.

'' Yes, by the lady's desire. She did not fancy rat-
ifying a contract slu; had no hand in making ! and so
she is Miss Norma .\racdonald still."

'• J3ut 1 thouglit you said she loved you i"

" Well, I may have been mistaken — £ don't pretend
to be infallible ; and, even if she did, young ladies
easily get over such things. Try th;it sherry, mu-le —
it ought to be good, if age can mak(; it so."

" Voiis ri/h: ill, t'oi r' said Mr. I )e Vere, with a
smile. " What a Sybarite you are, Alfred, in ihi.>
hixurious home of ycjiirs !"

" Yes; as far as the good things of this world go, 1
believe I have got my shart! , but is there any one liv-

ii- r

l(»\V

ook-

,l(lu.'S
U'io —

,vith a

ij;<), i

liv-

.1 sECiu:r .BORROW.

in_i^, my dear uncle, wlio lius not still sotijo wish unful-
lilled — some dreary //^ never t(» be realized."
" And yonns is—

" Whore I left my heart — in the tomh of Jac-
qnetta.'' he said, tiadly.

"StroHii; lo\e — stronp^ and true! Oli, th;i! Jdc-
quetta had lived to be your Avifc- '/"

•" Too late ! it is sometMn;' J cannot thinik of caltnlv,
even to this day. llow little I drc^ame<], wbon i first
saw 1^'ontelle, that my dream, my hope, my 4ay-.>^tar,
was to rise within its walU. llow little J drt'amed,
when I first mei her, of all she vvas destin^^i to bo to
me !"'

There was a long j)anse, bi'okcn first by Di4)rowe,
wlio never would dwell loni,^ on that subject, an«'t now
turned the conversation on Kome other to])ic. And Mr.
Dc Vere noticed that he never again spoke on the sub-
ject.

For a brief time it seemed as if the change of scene
and air had really been of service :;' Augusta, and that
both health and s[)irits were improving; but it was
only a momentary i-allyiug, that soon passed away, and
left her spiritless and drooping as b(;i"ore. Her [o.-mer
dark despair, and wild bursts ol' anguish atul remo/se,
alike seemed to have passed away, and a dead, inane
listlessness — a dull, lifeless stupor — a blank, lio])eless
calm, terriljle to see, had taken their place. For hours
she would sit with folded hands, white, e(jld, and voice-
less, her large, dark eyes ti.xed on the floor; a living
automaton, a breathing statue, a moving fiinu'e of ice.
Mr. Do Vere was in despair; no elTort could rouse Ikm-
from her lethargy; no amusement could win a smile
from her ; no excitement could arouse interest — luAli-
ing couM awake her from her trance.

].)isbrowe wa^-i puzzled and interested, his curiosity
was excited, and that, n)ingled v»'ith a feeling of jiity,
made him halt' determined to ask the reason of this
mysterious a'rief. Jle felt tliat this very secrecy itself
was augmenting tiie original source of her trouble,

,li:

3G0

A SECJIKT SOllROW.

Vi -f.

\m '

li'i

wliatcvor it niii^lit be ; and that, once she took soinoono
iiito lier eoiilideiic'O, this inorl)i(l siiikiiiii;, iVoiii sheer
lack of sympathy, would vanish h"ko niorniiiL( mists he-
fore tlie sun. As ji nettle, which shar])lv stiiin-.s if
dainiily toiu'hcd, is harmless if holdly grasped, so iii-
v.ai'd ^rief, if nursed in silence, festers and rankles,
while, dauntlessly confronted, it hides its diminished
head and sinks comparatively into nothini;'.

One still, serene moonlight ni^-ht, leavinpi; jVEr. De
Vere dozini:^ over the Thnct^^ and Ori'ie amusinii; her-
Bclf with her honne and a hook of pi"int-i, Dishrowe
strolled idly out, attra<'t(Ml hy the £i:;entle hush of the
charmed hour. Saunterinu; down IIk; lon^i;-, shaded,
laurel walk, he suddetdy stopped in astonishment at ho-
holdiniij Auij^usta, hall-sittinir, half-lyin/j; on a bench,
her louL' hair, unbound and soaked with tiie niicht-dew,
6trcai;>in,ii: aromid her ; her face hidden in her hands,
her whole attitude so full of woe, so crushed, so heart-
broki'U, that a thrill of terror and pity shot through the
young earl's heart.

In her passionate <th<iniht)i she lieard not his ap-
proaching footsteps, and it was only when he gently
tried to remove her hands that she uttered a startled
cry and sjirang up, so whites so wild, so terrilied, such
a shadow^ of her former self, that he had no words to
express his deep pity.

"Augusta, my dearest cousin, what is this'^ Do_you
not know the danger of sitting out here in the uight-
dcw^'

She did not reply. She flung herself back in her
seat, and hid her face once more in her hands with a
groan.

'• Augusta, will vou not tell nic what this means?
Can I not help you in any way { Will you not trust
your cousin C

"I dare not! I <lare not tell you! You would
shrink from me in horror il' I did/'

" Not 80, Augusta. Are you not my cousin — al-
most my sister ? Dear Augusta, whatever this myeteri-

you
ight-

hcr
itli a

ould

A SECRET SORROW.

3()7

ons BGcrct may be, you may safely (rust me. And who
knows l)ut it may be in my power to aid you."

"' Xo, no. Vou cauTiot — you cannot ! It is beyond
mortal ai 1 1"* she desijairiiii^Hy Wiiik'<|,

*• AnL:;ust:i, it is killinL; you — this secrecy. Why
not tell your father — surely you can trust him C

" (.)li ! not to liim ! not to him ! I would sooner
tell vou a thousand times. O Lord Earneelifie! if you
only knew.

'* Will you not tell me, Auu^usta ? Dear Augusta,
it is some power this old wrelch, wlio luis already
wroui^ht .so much evil to us all, holds over you — is it

not r

She alone and one otlier know."

((

yes, yes '

"It is some imni::inaiw power, then — some elever
scheme slie has concocted, and which will prove to be
nothiui^ but empty threats and vapor. Courage, Au-
gusta ! spci'k out imd tell wliat it is, and you will iind
it nothing but thin air. Do not think, Augusta, thai I
urge yuu to tvll llii'ough impertincMit curiosity ; l)ut foi
your own peace of mind you ought to Ujake a conlidant
of some one. You do not know how evils shriidc and
cower when boldlv looked in the face, and how tliey
grow into huge misshapen monsters when dreaded
Come, Ar.gusta, exorcise this demon that haunts you
and be yonrseli" once more."

His bold, frank toiu>, his easy confidence, his
spirited, fearless voice, acted ])Owerfully upon her. She
lifted her eyes to the bold, resoluto, handsome young
face, and with a sudden impulse she said:

"I will tell you! 1 will! Let the result be what
it mav, you shall know all, and learn if 1 have not cause
eiiough for misery. O Alfred! there never, never was
guilt equal to mine !"

" That remrins to be seen. I Ijavc seen more of
guilt than you have, 1 fancy, and will jndge presendy.
(.'ome, Augusta, where is the pride and courage of your
Do Vere blood now i Courage ! I proiniso you not
to faint."

' il:

I':,

1:!

i'jt

■!

P i L ;

mij-

!:*«

mi- i

. M*r*

1!''

1 -i'

3G8

2l SECRET SORROW.

Tic seated himself beside lier, and took both her
hands in his, and looked brightly in her face.

"JS'ow, Auii;usta."

" O Alfred^ how shall 1 tell you ? How shall I tell
you my dark, guilty story. Yes, guilt! Do not start
— though Heaven knows is was unintentionally com-
mitted. Listen. Perhaps you did not know I had two
brothers."

"No, I did not know. 1 never heard of but one."

" Poor Aubrey ! he is at rest. Well, I had another
brother younger than Aubrey, and some four or five
years older than me, of whom I remember nothing as a
child, for 1 was but three months old when he was
lost."

*' Lost ?"

" Yes. O Alfred, you do not know how dark a
doom has ever rested on all of our ill-fated family, and
on me and him darkest of all."

" But how was lie lost, Augusta ? Did he die ?"

*' No ; he was stolen. There were marauding parties
of hostile Indians about at the time, and it was no new
thing for them to take children and Avomen prisoners,
who were sometimes killed, sometimes ransomed, und
Bometimes kci)t by the tribe."

"And which was your brother's fate?"

" Neither. They strove in vain to gain any intel-
ligence of him; they final ly gave him up in despair;
they thought he was dead. Would to God he hud
been !"

" Augusta ! " cried Disbrowe, shocked.

She looked up with a hard, dark, despairing face.

" Is there no fate worse than death ? The dead are
at rest; but there is a living death of guilt, and anguish,
and remorse, that never knows rest. Tiie latter was
reserved for his fate and mine."

" Go on, Augusta."

*' You know, very likely, that these Indians were in
league with the tories, and that the whites were very
often worse than the rod men. Among those demons

I'll

A SECRET SORROW.

369

nr;
liid

are

lisli,
Lvas

111
iry
)ns

in Imman form was the brother of Grizzle Ilowlet —
Till, they call him — a morose and l)lo()d-thlnsty human
ti^or, who hated pa|)a for some real or fancied wroni:;
he had once done iiim. Jle was at the Indian viilaije
when my little brother, Wilton, was brought there with
other prisoners, and knew him instantly. How he ex-
ulted when he saw him ! It was a prospect of revenge
jjeyond ])rice to him. Most of the other ju'ihoners were
slaughtered in cold blood; but he ordered them not to
hu^^ a hair of Wilton's head ; and, having some author-
ity among them, he was obe^'ed. Wilton was adopted
by the chief of the tribe, and brought up in all respects
as if he had been his son ; taught to hunt, and shoot,
and live the life of an Indian boy, and treated as the
son of ;in Indian chief. Old Till's object was to keep
him there until he had grown uj), and then present the
half-savage young Indian to my father as his longdost
son."

" Well ? "

" He did not su "ceed — would to God he had ! even
that would have been better than the fate that awaited
him. Wilton, child as he was when abducted, had a
vague remiiubrance still of the far-diil'erent life he had
left; and thougii he lived the life of an Indian, he had
not an Indian heart. The desire of escape was with
him viighr and day, but he was carefully watched and

fuarded, and for a long time no oj)portunity occurred,
n i'act, he was ten years old before he was able to
make his esi*ape from the tribe."
"He did escape, then?"

" Yes — after perils and hardships innumerable, he
reached the nearest town, ignorant of his name, birth-
place, and family ; for the Indians had given him a
new name, and a child of live soon forgets. His story
made liim frit'uds, though, and one of them obtained
him a situation as cabin-boy on board a man-of-war."

" Of course, none of your family knew all this at
the timer'

" No, they knew notliing of him — nor doGB my

10*

■"1

Hi'

"I if.

' u

>,,:

870

A SECRET SORROW.

fiithcr till tliis day: nil tliis I have learned of late.
Well, he grew up a sailor; rose to the rank of lieuten-
ant in one of the United States ships-of-war, under the
name of his first friend, which he had adopted — that of
Scott."

•'Weir!;" said Disbrowe, as she made a long pause.

•'Oh! how shall I go on with the rest — how shall I
speak of myself and my deed of madness. O Alfred!
I cannot tell 3'ou !" she wildly cried.

" Go on, Augusta, and fear not ! I think I suspect
what is to come."

" You do ? what do you suspect ?"

"That you somehow met this unknown brother of
youi-s, and — "

*' Well 'P she whispered, hoarsely.

"And fell in love with him!"

"Oh! worse — worse — worse! A thousand- fold
worse! O Cousin Alfred, I — I — "

" Augusta !"

" O Alf) ..-d ! I married him r

AVith a wild, shivering cry, she sank down, and lay
white and shuddering, with her face in her hands.
Disbrow started, and an ex})ression of horror came for
a moment to his face ; the next, he raised her up, and
said, gently and tenderly :

•" Augusta, tell me how it was. Augusta, dearest.

Look

up,

and tell

do not tremble so dreadiuUy
me all.

She took lier white hands from her pallid, tortured
face, and spoke in a voice scarce above a whisper.

" 1 was visiting a friend, and went with lier to a
ball on board his ship; 1 nwX him there — we loved
each other, and — O my Ood ! you know the rest!"

" You married him secretly f

"Yes, I knew my father never would consent, on
account of his poverty and low birth, and, most of all,
for his being a rel)el against the king, lie loved me
passionately, and 1 — I — was mad, delirious, and cou-

rt H 1' j;

t 'I

A SECRET SORROW

371

fold

to a
ovucl

t, oil
)f nil,
:d nie
con-

sented to a private niarriage. O Alfred — Alfred ! was
there ever ii-uilt like to mine?"

" My dear Augusta — my j)0()r Augusta, you are not
guilty — you did not know. Go on, let me hear all."'

" I thought our marriage was unknown ; hut it wjis
not : a son of Grizzle Ilowlet — oh ! why was all belong-
ing to that wretched woman destined to he our evil
destiny through hfe ! — was in the church, and saw us,
and heard our names. The hour of our marriage we
parted, he to return to sea, and I to go to Fontelle. Two
months after, you came, and but for that 1 might still
be iicnorant of my dreadful crime."

" But for me !" exclaimed Disbrowc in amaze,,
" why, Augusta V

" Even so. You remember your narrow escape
from being murdered, and iiow, to save herself, it
brought (rrizzle next day to the hall V

''Yes— yes I"

"To:^ave herself, she told me what I have just told
you, that I had wedded my own brother; and she
threatened to make my guilt |)ublic, if 1 did not save
her from the effects of my facher's anger. The shock
almost killed nie. You have not forgotten that dreadful
morning, nor how 1 })lcaded for (ii'izzle .on my recov-
ery, anil obtained her freedom. (J Alfi'cd, 1 would
sooner have been burned at the stake than that my
father should ever know."

" Ihit, my dear Augusta, you are insane to l)elieve
a tale trumped up for the occasion by such a woman as
this villainous old Grizzle Ilowlet. It is in all proba-
bility false, every wt>rd of it."

" No— no ! there is no such hope for me ; her brother
and the chief of tribe still live to prove its truth; and
to make assuranc-e doublv sure, she told me to ask him-
celf, and see if her story was not true."

" And did you V

" Yes, he came a short time after your arrival, and
wrote to appoint a meeting one night, and that night,
I met him for the last time."

A sKCiiEV soiuion:

Tier voice clioked, aii<i she stopped. Disbrowe
thoii<^ht of the dark, imitHed linuro ho luid seen with
her that nii>-ht at the north wiiiic-

"• 1 tohl liini all; and, O Alfred, word for word it
was true, lie had been st(>len in liis infauey; lie did
rerneinbcr old Till, perfectly, and he had escaped just
as Grizzle told me. Oh! that last, dreadful parting!
God ^rant 1 niii^ht ever forget it!''

""And this, then, is your secret, Augusta'^"

" This my secret — my dark, terrible secret — that is
gnawing away my very heart — that in u few brief
months will bring me to my grave. May God forgive
us both, for we little thought of this!"

" And he — where is he, Augusta ?"

" A wanderer ovei* the wide world. We will never
meet amiin."

She sank down once m<)re on her seat, collapsed,
prostrate, despairing. A bright gleam of moonlight
broke through the quivering laurel leaves, and fell like
the wing of some pitying angel on that despair bowed
young head.

n'l

!MI

RESUROAM.

878

CHAPTER XXVII.

RESIT no AM.

'•*;;

" "With wild surprise,

As if to marble struck, ilevoid of sense,
A single moment motionless he stood."

— Thomson.

ORD AUSTREY, my lord."

It was Mr. Norton — that respectable
^eiitlcinan's gentleman, who spoke. Dis-
l)rowe, after iiis usual easy fashion, was
lounging in his own vooni, chatting with
Orrie, hut on hearing his friend's name announced,
he spi'ang to his feet with a suddenness quite startling.
'' J.ord Austrey — when? how? where?''
" Whither — why — wherefore !" exclaimed the well-
known voice of Lord Austrey himself, as he uncere-
moniously entered. " I took the liberty of entering
sans ccremonie^ you see. Earneclitfe, nwn anii^ how
goes it ?"

" Austrey, my dear old fellow !'' exclaimed Dis-
browe, " welcome back! When did you come?"

" Two or three days ago. J 1 alio! a young lady in
the case ! Win-, Alt', what have you been about since
I left r

" Oh! this is a little Yankee friend of mine. Oriole
De Yere — oh ! she's gone ! Well, Austrey, how has
the world been using you lately ?"

" Enchantingly — I'm a made man, Earneclille, and
the happiest fellow in England !"

tions ?

•I' -^

iiii

^tr

i' i

1;.
ii 111

^ II

374

RESURGAM.

*' As soon as yon like — the jionoymoon's over."

"What!" eried Disljrowe, stiirting to his feet, "you
don't mean to say — "

" ]\ry dear fellow, don't u^et excited ! I do say it —
nothiiiuj shorter. Lady Austrey awaits your congratu-
lations in London."'

"And you are really married ?"

" Just so. Miss Korma Maedonald no longer exists,
and from her ij^rave has risen Lad}- Georijje Anstrey —
the handsomest peeress in England ! Sharp work, my
boy, eh V\

" Puissiez-vmis etre heurcux .'" said Disbrowe, as he
laughingly shook his friend by the hand. "I wish you
joy witli all my heart. AV^lu^re were you married V

" At Home, at the ambassador's, two months ago."

" And you have come home for good and all,
now ?"

" Yes, if you eall Castle Hill, Inverness, home. We
are going there as s#on as Lelia leaves England."

"Lelia — who is shei"

"Why, you old hermit — you anchorite — you St
John of the Desert — you never mean to say you don't
know who Lelia is I"

" If you mean the I'rench tragedy-queen of thai
name — "

"French! She's no more French than I am; she's
English, man alive! <) ye gods! it takes away -my
breath only to think of her. Lelia — the cpieen — the
enchantress — the sii'en — the Melpomene- -the con-
queress ! Whew! Earneclille, I want a glass of ice-
water to cool me down after speaking of her — the little
devoui'ing llame of lire !"'

" lieally," said Disbrowe, dryly, "extraordinary
transports these for a married man. I have heard — or,
lather, read — of this Mademoiselle Lelia ; for the papers
are full of her. Is she, then, so pretty V

" Pretty ? Earncelilfe, if I had a loaded pistol here,
upon my soul I would have it in me to blow your

'you

it—
jratu-

?xist8,
rey—

, as he
li you

I r

ago."
id all,

e. We

on St
doii'i

[f thai

; she's
ay -my
h — the
con-
if ice-
ic little

lilinary

-or,

|)apcr8

here,
your

REiSUROAM.

376

brains ont for applying that word to lier. Pretty —
fauirh ! She's glorious — maddening — divine ! That's
what she is! You might as well say a tornado — a sheet
of lightning — a storm at t^ea — was pretty, as Lelia.'"

'• Indeed ! Rather a desperate little artielc she must
he. So she has come to England. J thought she had
heen "Ki'*y times olTered a small fortune, and refused."

''So !-hc did. She came with us."

""With you V said Dishrowe, with a stare.

"Yes, with us! She made one of our party. She
and Norma are like sisters."

The straniijest smile went wanderin<»; round Dis-
browe's lips, and shone bright in his eyes, when he
lixed them on the face of his friend.

".Lelia, the actress, jind Lady Austrcy !"

" Yes, Lelia, the actress," said Lord George, de-
fiantly. " Your cold English pride will have no cause
to strain itself trying to stoop to her. She is the
equal of any woman, peeress or not, in all ()road
England. I have seen her dancinijj with archdukes
and royal highnesses without nund)er; she lias been an
honored guest in the home of a duchess. Her life is
above reproach, as she likely is above want. It is not
necessity nudges her play — she has already acquired for
herself a fortune ; but ^lie has a passion for her art.
Oh, Earneclilfe ! v ' -it a dazzling creature she is ! She
has flashed like a nicteor through Europe, blinding,
dazzling, electrifying wherever she went. Nobody
knows who or what she is, except — you will wonder
when I tell you — Norma !"

" Norma ! how came she to know V

" Well, my dear fellow, that is the strangest part of
the business. It was at Eloj'cnce we saw her first — as
Cleopatra, 1 think, and a glorious (piecn she made, for
■whom a thousand heroes might die. Every eye was,
of course, bent upcjn her the moment she ai)peared ;
and Norma half rose, and then fell back in her seat. I
looked at her, and upon my honor. Earned ifle, I never
was so startled in my life ; her face was perfectly color-

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loss, lior ojes darkeninii; and dilating, and her lips
wliitt! and trendjlinii;. I sjioke to Iicm', bnt slic only
grasped niy arm and niadu a motion for me to keep
Htill, without over removing her eyes from the stngc
I confess I was pnzzled, rather; ])ut I tliought it best
to l)id(; my time, and let her hidyship liave her own
way; and faith she had it, too — for before Cleopatra
had uttered ludf a dozen words, slie gave a low cry,
and fell back fainting — stilf, sir, in a dead swoon!"

'' llnm-m-m ! Very strange, indeed ! AVhat then ?"

"Why, we brought her home, of course; but as
soon as she recovered, she insisted on going back — no
persuasi(jn could induce her to remain ; and she
peremptorily ordered me to give a small note she wrote
to the manager of the theater to be delivered to
Madame Lelia. AVell, sir, he <lid it ; and the next thing
was a!i earnest recpiest from Lelia herself, tliat jSTorma
would wait in her private dressing-room until after the
play."

-And did she r'

*' Ves ; and a precious long interview they had of
it. Like the 'live minutes' it takes a lady to put on
lier bonnet, it was over two hours before she made her
appearance; and then in such a state of delight; by
(xcorgc!! if my Jewish moncydender turned Christian
and burned his books, I couldn't get up to such a pitch
of ra])ture."

" Well, what was the result ?"

" Why, that Lelia l)ccame our traveling companion,
or we hers — 1 don't know which — from that day until
we reniched Paris. And there, to the great surprise of

every one, she accepted an oifer from Mr. M , of

Theater, to make her debut in London, and aston-
ish the natives, as 1 Hatter myself she will do, slightly."

"And was our aristocratic friend, Miss Emily Tre-
main, reconcileil to the idea of traveling oi farnille
with an actress 'C

" Ueconciled ? I should think so; and very proud
and important she felt about it — for where archducliesses

i.r

RESURGAM.

377

r lipg
! or.ly
keep
staii;-'.
t best
r own
opatra
iw cry,
iT'

then ?"
l)ut as
ck — no
id Blie
e wrote
ired to
it thing
i!sorn\a
f tor the

had of
put on
adc her
ht ; by
iristian
a pitch

ipanion,
iiy nntil
i:>risc of

,of

d aston-
li-htly."
dly Ti-o-
\fa7nille

|y proud
lucliesses

Rniilo, it is not for insnlar aristocracy to sneer. And
then J^elia fascinates evurv one she meets. She is irre-
fiibtible, my l)oy ; so take care of your lieart."

" It stands in no danger. 1 have a connter-charin
stronii; enongli to protect me even against tlie all-powor-
ful fascinations of this tragic mnse. Ihit tliis mystery
between lier and Xorma — wliat does it mean V

" That is iust wliat I wisli von would ted me ; for
be Jianged if I have the least idea. JS'orma onlylau;ih8
and says : ' AV^ait, the demmcmcnt is at hand.' "

"Humph! liather singular ! Is it another act of
high treason to ask what this meteor looks likeT'

" Well, Norma mat^e me promise; to toll you noth-
ing until you would see for yourself."

"lieally "

" Oh, M'cll, after all, what difference does it make,
Earneclilfe? It is oulv a woman's whim, and your
curiosity will soon be gratified, for Lelia plays to-night,
and, of course, you w'iil be there to worship like the
rest of London."

" Can't, my dear fellow ; couldn't think of sucli a

"■)

thin_

" What ! you're not in earnest ?" cried Lord Aus-
trey, aghast.

" iS'ever was I more so, as I remember."

"AVHiy, you're crazy — downright mad, you know.
Wliat's the reason ?"

" Well, I have some friends staying here with me,
and I can't leave them."

" Ih'ing them with you."

" Humph I Well, of course, if they would like to
go, that might do ; if not "

" If not, you go alone. I have said it. Norma
commanded me, untler pain of her etern;d displeasure,
an<l half a score of the severest sort of curtaindectures,
to bring you along; so, will ye, nill ye, come you must.
Not a word. I M'oiTt take any excuses ; so don't go to
tlie trouble of making then) "

^ - ti!

" Oh, but positively you know

378

RE SURG AM.

IfilliiiJ fl

t r

" Oil, but positively I know I won't ! Wlio are
tliosc friends of yours V

" My uncle, i\[r. De Yere ; my cousin, Miss De
A^ero ; and that little ^i^ii'l you saw, from America."

" Well, brini^ them aloni^, of course. They want to
see Jjelia, too — supposiiio- they ai'e not barbarians like
you. (/ome, you will just have time to dress and beat
JMriL-. Tremain's in time for dinner."

" Well, there is no resistinui; you, I see. Make your-
self at home, while I go and consult my respected micle
on the subject."

"Allrii2;ht! only hurry up — there is no time to
spare. I wouldn't miss seeing Lelia play ' Jeanne
D'Arc' to-night for ' The Crown' Diamonds !' Tell the
old gentleman, with my respects, that I won't take
* No ' for an answer, at any price."

J)iribro\ve laughed, and sauntered out, and, after a
brief period, returned with his uncle, to whom he pre-
sented Loi'd George, with due decorum.

" You have met with l)etter success than you de-
serve, my Lord Austrey," he said ; " for my cousin not
only consents to go, but is dressing even now ; and my
uncle is quite delighted at the prospect of seeing Lelia,
whose fame has reached from Dan to Beersheba, yea,
even unto the far and facetious regions of J^ew Jersey.
I have ordered my 'coach and six,' and nothing remains
but to make a ^"ew alterations in my outer man. So,
for a few moments, an revoir /"

Half an hour after saw tlieni(??i rr?'?/^^, dashing along
behind two splendid grays. The whole subject of con-
versation was " Lelia," as Lord George related anecdote
after anecdote of her — her kindness to tlie poor — her
princely donations to churches and charitable institu-
tions — iier iierce indomitable [)ride, that made her le-
gions of admirers keep a long distance oif — her
haughty indei)endence, that made the friendship of the
high and titled no act of condescension, but a sim])le
courtesy to an ecpial — her free, fi'ank, impulsive ways
— hor splendid acting ; in short, Lelia — Lelia was the

RE8UR0AM.

379

N\\o are

\Iis3 De

I want to
iaiis Hho
iiid be at

live yoiir-
ted nuele

time to

' Jeanne

Tell the

on't take

.1, after a

II he pre-

. you de-
;ousin not
; and my
in;:; Lelia,
leba, yea,
w Jersey,
r remains
lum. So,

ling along
■etof con-
anecdote
)oor — her
lo iiistitii-
dc her Ic-

oil" — her
ihip of the

a simple
Itjivc ways
a was the

tlicme until tlie carriage drew np in front of the Tre-
main mansion.

Lt»rd (rcoru^o had insisted on tlieir all cominGi: with
him, and Dishrowe had half-ndnetantly complied. Th.ere
was a (piick flatter of his pidsi-s at the thought of meet-
iiii>- Xonna airain, and a hot n'low in his face as he re-
called their last parting. How v\'ould she meet him?
How conld he congratulate her, and hot'orc so many,
too ? IJe halt' regretted he had come at all ; bnt it was
too late to dra^v' hack or regret now. Lord (reorge, with
Anixnsta on his arm, was already in the drawinii:-room,
where JSorma, Mrs. Tremain, and her danghter sat.
There was an introduction, l)ows, and smiles, and
friendly words of welcome from the lady of the house
and her daughter ; and Dishrowe found himself hold-
inc: Norma's hand in his, and wishin.*]: her iov, com-
pletely himself — his easy, self-]iossessed self again.

She had met him so frankly and freely, hjoked in
liis eyes with a smile so bright and h'lppy, laid her hand
in his so promptly, that all Ids c<»'i!'u.sion passed away.
She started violently as slic saw who accompanied him,
and turned upon him a look of eager iiupiiry.

*' My American relatives," he said, in a low tone,
surprised by her strange, (piestioniug look.

As Lord George introduced her to Mr. De Vcrc and
his daughter, she bowed, while the blood mounted to
her temples. Yeiy strange, thought Dishrowe, lost in
wonder at this school-girl blush or the calm, graceful,
high-bred lady.

Something about Lady Austrey seemed to strike
Mr. De Yere ; for he lixed his eyes on her face with a
look at once so puzzled, so searching, and so full of
a strange recognition, that as she looked up, and caught
his involuntary stare, she crimsoned again, and half-
turned away.

" 1 beg your pardon," said Mi-. De Yere, hastily, be-
coming conscious of his rudeness; " but, really, your
ladyship's face struck nie as being so familiar. Alfred,

1 1:

'.l^

'\-

880

liESURGAM.

'V>

M.i

f i

' ', :>

docs Lanv Austroy rciiiiiHl vou of any one voiiever saw
be Core r

'' Yes, sir. I liiive often tlioiiii;ht slie strikingly re-
seni])I('(l that Spanisli l)oy, Jacinto."

" The very one ! The Hkeuess is most extraordi-
nary, and tlie expression istliesanie exactly !''

aXornia tried to lanirh ; hnt her face was scarlet.

" AVho was Jacinto, may 1 ask f- said Lord George.

"Ayonng Spaniard 1 met in New Jersey. He
might have been Lady Austrey's twin brother — he
looked so like her.*'

The dinner-bell here fortunately j)nt an end to a
snbject evidently anything but welcome to the lady iu
question, and it was not again renewed. Disbrowe sat
beside her at dinner ; but all his ell'orts would not make
her disclose anything that would throw a light on the
subject of her intimacy with Lelia, the actress.

"Is she hinidsome'^" he asked.

" Perilously handsome."

"Andladv-liker'

" Extremely hidydike."

'' Does she remain long in England ?"

" That depends — yes, I think she will. Would you
like her to do sof

"Me
me 'r

Why, what possible interest can it have for

She looked up with the queerest smile, but said
nothing.

" Do you suppose I will fall in love with her?" ho
could not help asking, provoked by her smile.

" Oui, monsieur."'

" I had rather be excnised. Stage-players are not ia
my line. 1 could not love an actress, if she were a very
goddess for beauty — a Venus herself."

^^ Preiuz gardt\ won.sienr / do uot be too sure.
You can do as you please, however. Most certainly
neither I nor Lelia will ask you to do so."

" Has she many lovers f '

" Legions."

^er saw

igly re-

;traorcli-

rlet.

2y. lie
,licr — lie

end to a
3 Uidy ill
)ro\vo sat
not make
it on the

or.ld you
have for
but said

1 her?" ho

ire not in
;re a very

I too snre.
certainly

UESUUGAM:

881

" Wealtliy and titled V

" Yes, my lord. Slio ivfiised the hand of his Tli<j:li-

ness the Due de B , at Villctre ; ^o I do n()tl)L'li(jvG

she would die cf ecstasy if my Lord of Earneclilfo of-
fered her his hand, heart, and name to-morrow I"

Her sarcastic tones silenced lJisi)rowe on that sub-
ject ; but all he had heard pi(|ued his curiosity to see
this strange actress — this eightli wonder of tlie world ;
and it was in a sort of fever of impatience that lie took
his seat in the carriage on tlieir way to the theater.

It was crowded when they entered — a perfect jam
from pit to ceiling. It was a brilliant scene — fans wav-
ing, jewels Hashing, bright eyes sparkling, smiles
wreatliing rosy lips, and a dreamy odor of perfume all
around. The liigliest, the noblest of the proud Eng-
lish nohlesse were there, and all waiting breathlessly for
the curtain to go uj). A bell tiidvU^d — the noise ceased
— a dead hush fo'lowed — the curtain slowly rose, furh^d
to the ceilimx, and there stood the brave "Maid of Or-
leans " — the heroic daughter of France, its banner in
her hand, at the head of ita army — there before them
stood " Lelia, the Actress 1"

A wild cheer arose — an En<>;lish cheer — swelliufi;,
and rising, and thundering, till the very walls shook, a
regal welcome truly to the tragic (pieen. IShe advanced
a step, bowed, and smiled with a (pteenly grace, and,
waving her hand for silence, uttered a few brief grace-
ful words of thanks. Another cheer answered .her,
and then the vast crowd sank back in silence to listen.

All but the imnates of one box ! Lord Earneclilfe
was on his feet, and so was Mr. l.)e V\;re, both deadly
pale. Were they dreaming ^ Were they nuuH Jac-
([uetta stood before theml — dead no longer, but living,
smiling, radiant — the same .Iac([uetta they loved so
well. JSVdther could speak ; they stood watching her,
spell-bound, until lier vcdce lirst broke the silence.
That voice ! There never was but one such voice in
the world ! And frotn the lips of both, at the same
moment, broke a wild cry of " Jacquetta !"

•i;

■I*

i:^

• i

S82

THE ACTUESti AND THE EARL.

CHAPTER XXYIIL

TIIE^CTRESS AND THE EARL.

''Do not spurn mc in my prayer;
For cliis wand'riiij^r ever longer, ever more,

Ilath overworn nie;
And I know not on what sliore

I may rest from my despair."

E. B, BllOWNING.

tH 1 i

r c

W'\

l! Ml'

I •

11 AT cry drew every eye to their box, and an
angry nmrinur of " ISliame I'' ran througli
tlie house at the iiiterrn]>tion. iJut heed-
less of all — of everything save the actress
before them, Mr. De Yerc; and Lord Earne-
cliffe stood still, gazing upon her with eyes M'ild with
surprise, not nnniixed with a sort of horror at this ap-
parition from the dead. Augustn, t(j(), had seen her,
and sank back with a low crv, while Orrie leaned over
the box with the loud exckimation :

" O Grandpa ! it's Miss Jack ! it's Miss Jack !"
For one moment the clear, bright, penetrating eyes
of Lelia, the actress, were I'aised — those dark, clear eyes
Disbrowe knew so well ; but there wns no recognition
in their depths, and dro])ping them again she went on
with her role.

All eyes v.-cre still bent on their box, in surprise and
curiosity, to the great annoyance of JMrs. Tremaiu and
her dauij-hter, who were lost in wonder a: this singular
scene. Lord George, too, stared with all his eyes, evi-
dentlv debatinu: within himself ^^hether he had not se-
(jured a party of lunatics that day from Disl)rowe Park.
Norma was the oidy one of the party who seemed to

THE ACTRESS AND THE EARL.

883

NING.

X, and an

tlirougli
kit lieed-
ic actress
rd Earne-
^vild ^vitll

t this ap-
scen lier,

nod over

ik r'

[ting eyes
Iclear eyes
tcoii'idt ion
went on

•prise and
Iniain and
[s singnlar

eyes, evi-
lad not se-

)\ve Park.

heemed to

understand it, and there was amaUcions smile sparkling
in her eyes, and hovering aronnd her li()S, only prirlially
concealed hy tlie fan she held hefore her face.

" I say, Earnecliffe, old fellow, this won't do, you
know," said Lord (ieorge, in a low voice, toiichiug his
arm, '' cveryhody's looking at yon. Sit down — can't
your

'' r>y Heaven ! it is her! Herself," cried Disbrowe
passionateh\ "Living or dead, it is Jaccjnetta."

" My lord, sit down, 1 b( seech you ! iMr. Do Yere,
my dear &\\\ j^^ay sit down," entreated Mrs. Tremain.

Mr, De Yere saidv hack with a ii-roan.

" ( ) my God ! can the grave give np its dead ? "

" Eh ? AVliat ? " cried Lord (leorae. '^ What is he
talking about!' The old gent's mad, JS'orma; mad as a
IMarch hare."

" You may find there is method in his madness.
Lord EarneclifTe, do be seated ; you are disturbing the
audience."

Disbrowe passc^d his liands across his eyes, as if to
dispel a mist; and then seizing his hat, turned to go.

" My lord, where are you going?" sa'd Lord George,
startled by his wild looks.

" To Jacquetfa ! Living or dead, she is mine, and I
claim her ! Let me go !"

lie broke from him, mingled witli the crowd, and
disappeared. The face of sublime bewilderment and
dismay which Lord Geoi'ge turned to his wife, at any
other time would have thrown her into convulsions of
laughter ; but now some nervous feeling of anxiety for
Disbrowe restrained all inclination for mirth,

" You had better follow him, GeorL>"e
him," she cried, anxiously.

" Follow him ! Wliv, where the dev — I beg vour
pardon. Lady Austrey ; but ui)on my soul this is the
most extraordinary thing J ever heard of ! iS'ow, what
do you suppose has got into that good youth, and this
nice old American here, to set them llaring up in this
fashion at the sight of Lelia. Where is he gone V

Do go after

?«. ^

384

THE ACTRESS Aj\I) THE EARL.

^-:

ii,.

" To the i>:rGorirooin. O Gcor::c ! do cjo after him :
jou have the entree — have you iiut 'P

" Yes ; but wliat am I to do when I tijet there V

"Oh, aiijtliiiig— nothing — I don't know. 1 wish
you Would go, anyway. Do go, (leorge."

'• Most decidedly I'll go, my love. 1 hope I know my
duty as a married man too well to refuse you anytliing.
And as this overwlielming mystery is not to be explain-
ed, I presume 1 must trust to my own native genius
and ingenuity for linding it out. Au revolr. I'm oil."

And opening the door, he disa])peared among the
crowd, leaving Mrs. Tremain and iier danghter com-
pletely at their wits' end.

Passing hastily through the cn^wd, Lord George
wended his way to the gieem'(x>m by a side-dooi- ; and,
on entering, saw his friend in violent altercation with
the manager. Lord Earncliil'e was passionately excited,
his face deadly pale, his eyes wild and lierce, and his
whole appeai'ance so com])letely changed from the lan-
guid, indolent being he had seemed scarce an honr be-
fore, that it is no wonder Lord (reorge stood for a mo-
ment undecided whether it was his friend or somebody
else.

"I say, EarnclifTe, what the foul fiend ai*e yon rais-
ing such a row for { Mr. ]\[axv\ell, what's n])^'

" Your friend, my lord, insists on seeing Lelia ; and
it is contrary to her express (;onnnand to admit any one.
I am reaLy very soriy ; but, 1 assm'e you, it is quite
impossible," said the managei', bowing deprecatingly.

With a lierce exclamation of angry impatience, Dis-
In'owe turned to Lord Austrey.

"I tell you, sir, 1 will see her, in spite of all the
juanagers from here to the Antipodes, i must see her,
or I shall go mad 1"

" Faith, 1 think you arc that already ! What, in the
name of all that's absurd, has come to you, Karnclifl'e?
What do you want to see Lelia for V

''I know no Lelia I I came to see .Facfpietta De
Vere ; and see her J will, in spite of eai-thand Uades!''

Iff'

.u,

r liim ;

low my

ytliliig.

ixeniiis

ui ull.
)iii2; tlie
er coin-

Gcorge

on with
excited,
and Ilia
. tlic Ian-
hour ho-
ur a nio-
nnehody

[you rais-

lia ; and

|any one.

is (juitc

in! '

luce

'Dis-

ill the

see

her,

>t, m

Irnc

the

Uil'e %

tta I)e

THE ACTllE^^ AX/f THE EAIiL

',8.>

dad

"Wlio tlic demon is she? Oh, the man is mad —
that^? Hat I ^Maxwell, yon know I am a j^ersonai friend
of Leha's, and privile<i;ed to see Jierat any time. Will
you tell lier I wisli to see her now C

'•Certaiidy, my lord. I havenodouht she will see
you,^'' said the mana^-er, hasten! nii; olL

"Now, Earneliilc, what /.v the matter? What iu
the world has come over yon all of a sudden f'

"1 cannot tell you — I cannot tell ..liether I am sane
or mad. Do not ask me, for 1 cannot talk to you now."
A desperate ij^esture, as he strode up and down, spoke
more than W(.u'ds.

Lord Georijje looked at liim, and indnlged in along,
wailing whistle, that ])lainly spoke his conviction that
his unhappy young friend's hrain (if he ever possessed
such a thing), was completely turned. At the same
moment, the manager aj)peared.

" My lord," he said, tnrning to Lord George, " Lelia
has just left the stage; and as she does not a])pear in
the next scene, she will see your lordship now. Will
you please to step tiiis way ?"

Disl)rowe started up to accompany him, hut Lord
George interposed.

''Not now, \wy dear fellow ! AVait until 1 return ;
and if my eloquence has any effect on Lelia, she will
see you."

lie followed the manager as he spoke ; and Dishrowe
was left pacing up and down, witii a hnrning heart and
a whirling hrain, still striving to j^ersuade himself this
was all the wild delirium of a dream. Jaccpietta alive
and well ! Oh, he nmst certaiidv he mad !

The return of Lord Austrey aroused him, and he
looked at him with eves full of devouring impatience.

"Welir

"AVeil, I have seen her, and she will see you after
the play ; so rein in that mad impatience of yonrs until
then. How you are going to apologize for intruding
upon her, 1 don't know. She smiled wdien I told her

''if

■^i

386

THE ACTJiE.SS AXIJ THE EARL.

^i^-'-^t

tlie state of iniiitl her appeiinince luid thrown you

into;; _ _

Disbrowe Ptill strode up Jind down, like one pos-
sessed. Lord (loorge threw himself into a ehuir and
looked at liini.

" My dear fellow, what a treasure you nuist be to
your bootuiaker, if you are in the habit ttf taking such
severe turns as this I 'Pon my honor! I would give
all the spare cliange 1 have about ine, to know wliat
has come to you so suddenly. \V(^irt you go back to
the theater and see the play ])l<cyed out C

" No — it would drive me mad to look at her there
again!" exclaimed Disbrowe, voliemeiitly.

Lord George stared, and indulged himself in a low,
hysterical whistle.

An hour and a half drao:ijed on their endless lencctli
before the drama was ended. Disbrowe had wrought
himself up to a perfect fever of impatience, when the
manager approached them and annoimced the coming
of Lelia.

And even as he spoke, she stood beside them, look-
ing at Disbrowe with her large, calm eyes. Those eyes !
what a spell they cast over him, cahning down his nuid
fever of impatience like ice cast on lire ! Those clear,
bright, penetrating eyes, with their unl"athomaI)le depth
of mockery, how well he knew them ! Those short,
bright, clustering curls — that round, white, boyish
brow — those sweet, beautiful lips, that small, graceful
form, how well — how well — he knew them all ! It
seemed but yesterdav since he nad bidden her farewell
in the parlor of Fontclle Hall — forever, as he thought ;
and uow they stot)d face to face again !

" Jacquetta ! Jacquetta !" he passionately cried,
"hive we met aij-ain V

She glanced at him with her calm eyes, and drew
back in haughty sur])rise.

" My lord, what does this mean V she said, turning
to Lord Austrey.

" Are you mad, Earnecliffe ! What the fouliiend do

I you

3 pOS-

ir iind

be to

\ U'ivo

V NvllUt

jiick U)

- there

I a low,

i length
vroiight
hen the
coining

n, look-
se eyes !
lis uuid
so clear,
depth
bhort,
l)oyish
crraceful
till ! It
farewell
hought ;

y cried,

nd drew

turning

iieud do

THE ACTRESS AND THE EAUL.

337

not forgotten

you mean with your ' Ja((|uett:i '' " i-aid Lord An-trcy,
ill a tierce \\ iiispi'i*. Then aloud : '• Madam, wiii you
excuse my friend '. Unle>s he has suddenly gone rrazy,
I do not !;nou' how to account for this. Allow me to
present him : Lord I"]arneclill"e, Madame J^elia.''

She howed, and the faintest, strangest smile went
wandering round Ikm' lips. That smile! had he not
Been it a tliousand times i)efore^ lie passed his hand
across his brow, like one bewildered.

" Am I sane or mad '. ( 'an the dcnid have risen again ?
Madam, for heaven's sake! answer nie, before 1 go
wild — were you ever called Jac(juetta r**

She came over, and held out her hand, with the old,
bright, half-mocking smile.

" Yes ! And so Cousin Alfred ha
Jack Do Vere 'P

lie took her hand and tried to speak, but a sudden
faintness came over him, and, deadly i)aie, he sank
mute and voiceless into a chrir.

" My lord, he is fainting!'' she cried, in alarm.

He made a faint motion with his head.

" No — it is nothing. A glass of water — quick !"

She caught it from the manager's hand, and held it
to his lips. lie drank it oil", and catching both her
Lands in his, looked up in the bright, l)eautifu!, smiling
face, with such a strange, troubled, yearning gaze.

"Well, my lord, you will know mo the next time,
that is certain. Had you not better let go my hands V

"O Jacquetta! Jacquetta! is this really you i"

"Well, i am rather inclined to think so. Do 1 not
look substantial enough V

And she laughed as she released her hands.

"O Jacquetta! I thought you were dead ! '

A dark sluuhnv passed over her face, a strong
shiver passed through her frame, and she turned away
with a passionate gesture.

" O that dreadful death-sleep ! that terrible vault !
that awful awakening ! God grant 1 could forget it !"

She put her hands over her face for a moment, and

[••

I \:

:^i

388

THE AUTRIJSS AND THE EARL.

then dropped tlieiii — culiri onco more, lie started to
his feet, a new li.;!it dawnin/i; npon iiini.

" Then yon were \\(A dead — only in a trance? Jac-
quetta I Jacqnc^tta ! wa.s it to 'P

" ^M'en 81), WW lord."

" And then — good heavens ! yon were buried
alive 'T

" Yes," she said, witli another strong shudder.

" Great lieavens ! And liow were you saved from
your awful fate, Jae(]uetta C

" (rod lives !'' she said, looking nj) reverently.
"And the same power that onee saved Daniel in the
lion's den, Jonah from the depths of the sea, saved
Jacquetta frv)m her living tondj."

'"But how — who — Mr. De Yerc did not know?"

" iSi^o; hilt what ean it matter to yon, lord earl C

The old look of eold hauteur passed over her face,
and she turned away with a small impatient motion.

" Oh, Jae(pietta !'' he niproaehfully cried.

" Well, my lord."

" My lord ! This from you ? It was Alfred once,
Jacquetta."

" That time has passed, my Lord Earnecliffe ; and
you had better forget it ever existed. It is not fraught
with b.ich pleasant reminiscences for either of us."

"Forget it! Kever, while lile remains! Oh, Jac-
quetta ! you are free now ; may I not hope "

" Lo]'d earl, you forget yourself !" she inqieriously
cried. " IJo[)o for nothing from me! Jack Ue Verc
is Jack De A' ere still !"

" Thank heaven for that ! Look on this, Jacquetta,
and see if you know it yet."

He drew out a k)cket set with diamonds, and 0])en-
ing it, disclos(Hl a small piece of paper on which a few
faint j)encil-marks still lingered. IShe took it; and up
over her neck, face, and brow Hushed a hot, crimson
tide.

" JVIy lord ! my lord !" she cried, iu a choking voice,

THE ACTRESS AND THE EARL.

;'>80

v\ to

JilC-

)iu-led

. from

i-eutly.
in the

I have not deserved this! I was insane when that

was written.

1 v"

er face,
jtiou.

;d once,

u ; iuid
fraught

lis.

L)h, Juc-

|)erionsly
le Veve

L-qiietta,

Ind open-
\\\ a tow
I; and up
crimson

[ng voice,

" Tlien let nie hope you arc insane still. ()li,, Jac-
(jiietta ! my life! my love! my Jiope ! do not ruii'iict
M'hat you once wroie here. Tell me you love me
still !"

'" Lord Earneehlfe, do you dare to speak tlnis to
me? Do you fori^et the secret of that lonely room in
old Fontellef'

" Then you do not know ^ Oh, Jacquetta! lie is
dead!"

" Dead !" she cried, with a start, turning lirst red
and then ashen white. '" Oh, Alfred ! 1 never heard
this."

" lie has been dead nearly a year, now. You are
free — free as air, Jaccpietta! My heart, my hand, my
fortune — my very lite, lies at your feet. Oh, Jae-
quetta ! speak, and tell me 1 may live."

She looked at him with a strange glance, and her
cold look softened a little as she saw his eager, wild,
passionate gaze.

" Then you have not forgotten Jacquetta yet, my
lord V\

" Forget you ! Oh, Jacquetta ! sleeping or waking,
night or day, you have never for one instant been for-
gotten."

" You are blessed witli a good memory, Lord Earne-
cliffe ; and yet there is one little circumstance you
have ceased to remember for a moment. Allow me to
remind you : you are a belted earl, and 1 am — Lelia,
the actress !"

That drawing up of the small, delicate figure — that
proud lift of the head — that clear, bright llash of the
dark eyes — that scornful curl of the short up[)er lip —
what a world of pride they betrayed!

"iSelther you nor 1 care for that one straw — 0110
whit! Wealth and rank are but a name, and iiKickery,
when put in competition with your love. You are not
Lelia, the actress, to me ; you are Jacquetta — my Jac-

i^'i

890

THE ACT RE, "i 8 J AD THE EARL.

qiietta — my liege lady — my darling — the one love of
my life ! Jacquetta !*'

" Softly — soflly, my dear lord. What a gale you
do get into for a triHe!" (And the provoking smile of
other days broke over her pretty face.) " Let us talk
this small matter over calmly, sensibly, and leave out
all transports for the present. Tliere are more heads to
this indictment than one. I am Captain Nick Tem-
pest's daughter !"

Disbrowe was provoked by this off-hand way of
doing business, and exclaimed, impetuously :

" What the deuce do I care ! I don't want to marry
Captain I^ick Tempest! O Jacrpictta!"

" There ! you are at it again ! How often have you
said, thdt during the last ten minutes ? So you are
willinjTj to forujct evcrythinijj but — "

" But that I love you more than life. Jacquetta —
Jacquetta ! you are torturing me. Speak, and tell me —
am 1 to live or die?"

She looked in his eyes — in his flushed, eager, impas-
sioned face, so bright and beautiful in its fervent plead-
ing — and she read there the strong, undying love that
was to bless her whole life. A soft, tender sujile came
to her lips, something like a tear to her eye, and, laying
her small white hand in his, she said, brightly :

"Live, my lord! Forever and ever Jacquetta is
yours !"

Well, good reader, are you on the qui vlve for what
came after that ? If you are, and expect a glowing de-
scription of Lord Earned life's transports, I am sorry to
disappoint you. The fact is, it is very tantalizing (iMher
reading or writing of such things — something like beiuii:
hungiy, and looking in a pastry-cook's window when
you iiave no money in your pocket. Just imagine, my
dear gentleman friend, how you felt when '\your own
Mary Ann" said something similar, and multij)ly that
by a thousand-fold, and you will have a pretty good
idea of how Lord Earneclilfe felt at that moment. It

THE AGTREbS AM) Till: KARL.

31)1

jtta 13

wliat

hg do-

■ry to

oitlicr

w lie 11

^0, iny
Ir own
' tluit
good
t. It

was one of those brief, blissful instants of unmitigated
sunshine than shine on us so rarely — niore's the })ity ! —
in this life ; and two of tlie vranderers in this vale of
tears were, for the time bein<^, perfectly and eompletely
hapj)y.

But Lord Austrey ! AVhat words can paint the
astonishment, amazement, not to say horror, of that
youn<»; Briton at hearini^ and seeinj^ all this! The
whole Llnf^lish lano;uage would Jiave been inadequate to
the task of expressing his feelings. J^o, thrusting his
hands into his pockets, he began whistling, with the
most piercing emphasis, "God save the King."

Jacquctta looked at him, and laughed.

" You think us crazv — do vou not, my lord ?"

"Well, really,'' said Lord George, politely, "I am
Dot prei)arc( to say exactly that you are ; but my pri-
vate convictiv^n is, that some one of us three is an idiot.
"Which one it ^*'^, I am not at liberty to say."

"Come, George, my dear old fellow,'' exclaimed
Disbrow^e, laying a hand on either shoulder, "wish me
joy ! I am the happiest fellow in the whole world 1"

"Oh! arc you ^ Well, of course, you ought to
know best; but LU be hanged if L can make head or
tail of this whole matter !"

"All in good time, my boy! Jacquetta, will you
not come with us to-night ? Augusta, and Orrie, and
Mr. De Vero are here.''

"I know — I saw them. No, not to-night, Alfred.
I have given you my address ; come, the whole of you,
to-morrow. I am not quite calm enough to see them
to-night. Oh, Alfred ! it all seems like a dream to me
yet!"

" Thank Heaven, it is a reality ! Ihit, first, Jac-
quetta, will you not tell me how you were saved i"

" bimply enough. My father — Captain Nick Tem-
pest — saved my life."

"lie! How?"

" It appears he was at Green Creek when I was re-
moved ; and, upon his return, wtis furious to find what

■•'*
'I

A\\

392

THE ACTllLSS AND THE EARL.

'■^. m

m I?

4,,i;i

;t';i

I ■ '

Mr. Do Vcrc ]iad done. At first ho was for goins^ to
I'ontolle, and iiiakin/^ a soene witli Mr. Do Vore ; but
(iri/.zle ])rov:>ilod upon liiiii to take a luoro prudent
course, and sul)s(.ituto cunning- for vicdeuce. lie came
to Fontelle that inu'ht, saw old Tribuhition — poor
Aubrey's nurse — "m\^ throuii'h lier means, obtained the
key of the vault, entered, aiul found ine alive V

" Heavens ! what a situation for 3'ou !"'

"I had scarcely time to realize my situation; for I
had just awakened from my deathdike sloe]) — my trance,
or whatever you may call it ; and Ca])rain Tem])est,
who can bo cool and self-possessed in a crisis, made no
to-do about it, but carried me olf, ijjot me on l)oard the
' Fly-l)y-Kip;ht,' where by the aid of his surgeon, before
morning Jac(pietta was herself again !"

" ILjw strani»;e and terrible ! J have often heard of
such deadly sleeps befoi'e. Good heavens ! if ho had
not come, what a fate mii!;ht have been vours !"

" Wc will not tliink of it. Heaven was merciful.
Do you know that all the time I lay there for dead,
I heard and understood everything that passed? I
know you watched by my side all that long, sad night
— I knew they were going to bury me ; but I could
not utter a word, nor make the faintest motion. Life
was, suspended, seemingly ; yet, oh ! how vividly it all
comes back to me now ! I sulfered an age of agony iu
those few hours."

" My poor Jacquetta ! my own darling ! To think
there should have been such a strange destiny keeping
'IS apart in this way ! Truly, this world is full of pa-
per walls !''

" AVe have l)roken them down at last. Jacquetta
and Alfred stand on equal terms now — do they not?"
* she said, with a smile.

" Heaven be praised — yes ! But, tell me, how came
you to seek the stage ?"

" It was my destiny, I suppose. I was made to bo
ail actress and not a countess. However, I su])]')ose I
must submit. Captain Tempest — I cannot call him fa-

nsj to
; Ijut
iideiit
came
-poor
;d the

fori
raiice,
ii])est,
ide no
rd the
before

)ard of

ic had

;reif\d.
• dead,
ed? I
night
could
Life
it all
(»iiy in

think
3eping
)f pa-

[qiietta
notf

came

to be
hose I

THE ACTRESS AND TUE EARL.

303

IIU

fa-

ther, somehow — and I came to nndcrstand each other
pretty well before onr journey's end. Alfred, they say
the demon is not so black as he is painted ; and 1 found
Captain Xick anything but the ferocious monster he
was represented. lie saw we could not get on to-
gether, and he agreed to let me go through the world
my own way. So we parted — he for Cuba, and I for
France ; and since then, we have never met. I took
my own name, and was successful, as you know. I
met Lady Austrey abroad, and came with her to Eng-
land."

"And that reminds me! ITow in the world came
you and Norma ever to know each other {"

She laughed, and her eyes sparkled.

" What great stupid things these lords of creation
are. So you really cannot suspect ?"

"Upon my honor [ cannot."

"Then I shall not tell you — perhaps T^orma may
someday. But tell me, Alfred, how is Augusta? I
saw her in your box, looking like a living skeleton."

" Yes ; she is dead in life."

" My poor, poor sister. Have they discovered the
source of this mysterions sorrow of hers yet V

" I have ; she told me in confidence, and I believe
it has no real foundation whatever ; yet you see it is
wearing away her life. What a pity we cannot all be
happy in this v*-orld — as happy as J am."

"I don't know as yon have any great cause for hap-
piness after all. I am not nnich of a treasure for any
one. But now you positively must go, Alfred ; and,
listen — bring Orrie with you when you come to-mor-
row. I wonder if Mr. Do Yere will give her to me
now."

" He shall. The Countess of EarneclllTe shall claim
her own child. She knew you the moment she saw
you, Jaccpietta."

" I am glad ! I am glad ! () Alfred ! how my heart
has yearned for that child — almost as much," she said,
with a smile, half-sad, half-gay, " as it has for somebody

17*

,■{'■

:||

^^^

1 ; '

i (' ,

894

THE ACTRESS AND THE EARL.

else. And now, Lord Austrey, goodnight; rcmeuibor
me to licr hidyship, and tell her her prophecy has come
true.''''

" AVhat was that V said Disbrowe, curiously.

"Nevermind. I will tell you someday. Good-
night, Alfred — good-night, my lord."

She turned to go. Disbrowe took a step after her.

" Not with this cold parting, surely, Jacquetta V

" Keep the feast till the feast-day," laughed Jac-
quetta. And with a wave her hand and a bright, saucy
glance, she was gone.

AN OLD FOE.

896

CHAPTER XXIX.

AN OLD FOE.

*' Who comes from the bridal-chamber ?
'Tis Azrael, tlie ungel of death." — Thalaba.

T was a liappy scene on which the glad
snnshine streunuMl the next morning, as it
came in lonij:, slanting beams between the
folds of the damask curtains, aiid irradiated
the beamiiiii: faces on which it fell.
They were in Jacquetta's parlor at the hotel — Mr.
De Vere, Augusta, Orrie, and Disbrowe. Jaccpietta
herself, bewitching in a morning-dress of blue silk, sat
on a low ottoman at Mr. De Vere's side, one hand
clasped in his, the other arm encircling little Orrie. It
seemed like old times to be all together again, and the
sad, lonely years that had intervened since they parted
last, were like a dark, vague dreauj. Jacquetta sat,
bright, radiant, entrancing as a little sunbeam ; her
piquant little face Hushed, sparkling with her new-
found happiness. Air. De Vere's face wore a look of
quiet delight, tinged with a sort of chronic remorse for
the i)ast ; and little Orrie stood ffiizimj; on her new-
found nianmia, with a mingled exi)ression of pleasure
and doubt. Even Augusta's sad, wan face was lit up
with a faint glow of pleasure, and her large, melancholy
dark eyes lingered long and fondly on the bright face
of her lonix-lost sister.

But Disbrowx' — who shall paint the state of beati-
tude he was in — the profound joy, too deep and intense
for words'^ Ah ! cynics may scolf; but, after all, the
brightest moments of our life is when we know we love

' ?

TS-— ?-?— ^HP

396

^.Y OLD FOE.

•I

' [

W%^\

and arc lovud again. It brings the most ])Ci'fcet joy
this world has to give. I don't say it will last ; and
you know tlie pithy Scotch proverb : "A kiss and a
drinlv of water make bnt a })oor breakfast;'' hut after
all, the kiss is very delicious for the time being; and
thouij:h one would not live on sweets always, they are
very delightful things, indeed, in their way, and nnich
more pleasant at the moment than the hard brown
bread of every-day life. So Lord Earnecliife — poor,
faithful fellow ! — felt repaid a thousand-fold for all he
had endured and suifered for her sake ; and as the
lieart best knoweth its own bitterness, he had suffered
too. To think that she ^vas his at last, his own — this
fierce, tameless spirit, half-mortal, half-changeling, but
wholly bewitchin , — to think that he was to ])lace a
coronet on that graceful head — to call her wife, to —
oh ! it was too nnich bliss ! and it would have rerpnred
an iceberg applied to either temple to cool the fever in
his blood at the thought.

" Strange, strange, strange ! — most strange," nuir-
mnred Mr. De Vere, as he listened to Jacquetta repeat-
in<»: the story Disbrowe had told him the nii^lit before.
" O Jacquetta ! what an escape you have had. What
an awful fate might have l)een yours — to be buried
alive, the most dreadful of all dooms ! What a debt of
gratitude we ail owe to Captain I'empest at last!"

" lie was very kind to me ; and I owe him more
than I can ever repay ; but to live on wealth obtained
as his had been, I could not ; and so we parted."

" I wonder he let you go," said Air. De Yere. " lie
seemed bent on obtaining you that day — that terrible
day — I will never forget."

"Do not think of it, sir. No ; strange to say, he
made no objection to my resolution. 1 believe he
loved me in a sort of \yay — tliat is, he did not care two
pins for Jaccpietta De Vere ; but he still fondly cher-
ished the memory of his lost Lelia. And seeing how
desperately in earnest I was, he did not oppose me.
And so we parted in Havre ; he to go to Cuba, and I

ct joy

; and
iind a

alter
; ; and
jy arc

much
brown
—poor,
- all he
as the
Liliered
1 — this
(V, but
])hice a
c, to —
.^quired
ever in

" niur-

repeat-

before.

What

buried

ebt of

a more
)tained

"He

terrible

say, he
eve he
are two
ly ehcr-
njji; how
jsc me.
ji, and I

AN OLD fop:.

307

to go to Paris, under the name of Madame Leila, and
make my lirst appearance on any sta^e.''

" What a strani^e life yours has been, Jac(pietta ! —
a real romance in real Hfe. What a brave, stronir heart
you must have, my dear chihl, to endure sd mucii and
make no siijjn ! And all thruugh me! O Jaequetta,
how, /loio can you ever i'oi'iz;ive me V

"Very easily, sir. You do not think me such a
vindictive little monster, I h pe."

" Ihit yor have b(icn so cruelly wronii^ed ; so deeply
injured — deprived of a name, of a home, of friends, of
a child, of a father, all in one day. O Jac(pietta! you
may forgive me ; but I can never forgive myself."

"Dear ])apa," she said, calling him for the first time
by the old familiar name, "why will you rake over the
ashes of a lire that went out long ago. Let the dead
past bury its dead, and remember nothing but that I
am the happiest woman in all England to-day."

She looked at Disbrowe with a smile; and her
bright eyes were full of ])erfect love and trust.

"After a storm there cometh a calm, and after tears
and weeping lie poureth in joyfuiness!" nuuMnured
Mr. De Verc. " lleaven be ])raised for that ! And
now, Jaequetta, will you ever go back to America^"

She laughed a little, glad laugh.

" You forget Jaequetta is not to be her own mis-
tress much longer — more's the pity. You must consult
my future lord and master about that, as 1 will have to
bow to his superior judgment, 1 suppose."

" Your future lord and master is ready to obey his
liege lady's slightest wish. Do what you like, go where
you like, and you will please me, even should it be to
the remotest corner of Kamtschatka !"

"How charming! W^hat a model husband you
will make, my lord ! AVliat do 30U wager you ai*e not
ready to give me a good shaking before a month,
now f

" It would not be the lirst time I have felt liUe it,
you little torment 1 Nevertheless, we will go back to

msm

398

AN OLD FOE.

AiiR'ric'U svlionevcr you please, and buj the wliole State
of iS\'\v Jersey lor a couiitry-suafc, if you fc^ay so."

''Thank you! How vorv Lroiierous you are! Dear
— dear old ]'\>iitel!e — liow glad 1 shall be to see it
again i Won't you, Ori'ie i"'

"■ Y-e-s,'"' t-aid Orrie, meditatively. "I guess so, if
grandpa don't send nie ba(;k to school. I hate school.
I'd a great deal lather go with Frank and be a iniddy."

" Poor, dear Fraidc !'' laughed Jacquetta, "he was
such a stanch friend and admirer of mine, always. I
wish you had ljn>ught him with you to Enghuid, papa."

"1 couldn't, my dear. You will see him, though,
when Alfred takes 'you back. And, d jj?'o/)OS, when
are you to be transformed into Lady Earnecliife,

Jack r

Jacquetta blushed, but before she could speak, Dis-
browe began, beseechingly :

" Do intercede for me, sir ! where is the use of
waiting i 1 have been urging her to name some day
next week, but she is not to be persuaded. If you will
only try your iniluen 'e, you may prevail on her. Au-
gusta — Orrie — do pjrsuade her to listen to reason !"

" Reason ! Now, my lord, I think it is most un-
reasoiuible — next month will be quite time enough."

Disbrowe's gesture of despair at such an announce-
ment made Mr. De Vero smile ; and, turning to the
willful beauty, he began, coaxingly :

" Nonsense, Jacipietta! — don't bo absurd ! I can't
see why you should object to next week, if the settle-
ments can be got ready in that time — eh, Earnecliife ?"

"Of course not, sir! There is no possible reason
why she should do so ; and, as for the settlements, I'll
pledge you my W(3rd they will be all right. Come,
Jacquetta, do consent and make me happy at once."

"Happy! lie calls that happiness!" said Jac-
quetta, dot to voce. " Why, pajxi, such haste is per-
fectly barbarous ! — no one ever heard of such a thing !
Why, when a man is going to be hanged they give
him three or four weeks to prepare ; and I don't see

AN OLD FOE.

809

wliy you should be less iiiercil'ul than the grim old
jwdge !"

Dit^browe flung himself into a chair with a groan.

'' xS o\v, Miss Jack — I mean mamma — don't," said
Orrie, looking symjiathizingly at Disbrowe. " Don't
you see you are making him leel bad ? Wliy can't you
do what he wants'^ I'm sure /would!"'

*' Jji'avo, Orrie !" said Air. De \'ere, hiughing.

" Would you, really, Orrie 'C said Jacquetta.
" Will you come and live with us if I do'"

" I guess I will," said Orrie, with sparkling eyes,
"if grandpa lets me ! May I, grandpa f

"" Decidedly, my dear ! Come, prevail on mamma
to name some day next week !"

'•Now, mamma, do! — why can't you? Just see
how solcum he looks. I'm sure he would do as much
for you, if you asked him. Aunt Gusty, coax
mamma I"

" My dear Jacquetta, let me prevail on you to make
Alfred happy," said Augusta, with one of her ftdnt,
cold smiles. " Life is too short to be spent in
waiting."

" O Jacquetta, be reasonable ! — do, for once in your
life ! Let it be next Thursday," pleaded Disbrowe.

Jacquetta laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

" Well, bo it so — a willful man must have his way;
but if you rejicnt before the honeymoon is over, don't
say it was my fault."

" Repent ! Ah, my darling ! you know I will never
do that !"

'' Indeed, I don't I Think of Socrates. How do
you know but I will turn out a secoiul Xantippe on
your hands? I consent, but on one condition."

" What is tiiat ? Name it, and it shall be fultilled,
though it were half my kingdoMi."

"Ah! that sounds very line; but I know^ the
proverb : ' Good promisers are bad performers.' How-
ever, we will see. Our marriage must be strictly pri-
vate. I will have no pomp, or fuss, or parade. If I

W'.^

' '•

S-M

J : '

i|l i

'nl'

f- *

. fM

■'

i. 1

' "i

400

/l^" OAT) FOE.

am to 1)0 aconrtcs?;, I will put (>\l my ijreatness as long
as pus.sil)iu. And, Hccondly, in.steud of g(jing to tlio
continent after tlie ceroniony, von will take me to
America. 1 want to see the land of my birth and the
home of my childhood on(;e more."

"It sliall he done, on the honor of an earl. Have
you any further commands for your slave f '

"No — yes; I want to see Norma — 1 mean Lady
Austrcy — this moi-ninr^. So, thouufh it is yet unfasli-
ionably early, J will take the privilege of a friend, and
dress immediately for the vi?-it."

" By the way, Jacquetta," said Disbrowe, as she
arose to go, " when am 1 to learn the mystery of this
strange intimacy between you and Norma? Austrey
told me his wife fainted, or something, the moment she
saw you."'

" j\ly dear sir, is it such a very unusual thing for a
ladv to faint suddenly, that I am to be brouijjht to task
for it? Lady Austrey might faint a thousand times,
and Jacquetta have nothing to do with it."

" True ! But when J^ady Austrey immediately gets
into a state of mind, and insists on seeing Jacquetta,
surely that lady has something to do with it, then."

" Ah ! you are dying to know, I see ; but I shan't
tell you — at least till Norma gives me leave. So, for
ten minutes, au 7'evoir.'''' And the bright little vison

was gone.

Half an hour later, the whole party drew up before
the stately portal of Tremain House, and were ushered
into the drawing-room, where they found Norma alone.

" My dearest Norma !"

" My dear — dear Jacquetta !"" And the two friends
were clasped in each other's arms.

"So, my lord, the wanderer is found," said Lady
Austrey, when the first greetings were over, turning,
with a smile, to Disbrowe.

" Yes ; and, if I do not mistake greatly, we have to
thank your ladyship for it."

She laughed.

AN OLD FOE.

401

Y gets
itta,

kfore
liercd
ilone.

rieiida

iLady
Ining,

Ive to

" How i3 this, Madame Lelia? Have yon been tell-
ing ?" ^

" Not I ! — tlioni::li it was not for want of coaxini::, I
can assnre yon.

"Ko; we have l)een hivisliing cntrciities on her
wliich, if she had not a heart as hard as the nctlier
mill-stone, she could n«jt resisl. AVill Lady Austrey be
more nierciful, and explain the mystery f '

She l)hishc(l and looked at Jaequetta.

"Shall I tell him?"

''Just as you like. ITc will die of a rush of curi-
osity to the brain, if yon don't."

As she spoke the door opened, and ^[rs. Tremain
and her daughter entered. Cordial greetings were in-
terchanged ; and, liudiiig the rest ^\'ere in the midst of
an animated conversation. Norma beckoned to Dis-
browc and made room for him beside her.

"So you would like to know how Jaequetta and I
came to know each other."

"Really I must plead gnilty, I fear. You knew her
before yon met in Italy V

" Yes — let me see — nearly a year before."

" Why— how ?"

"Well, yon needn't exclaim in that way, and draw
attention — it is simple enough when you come to un-
derstand it."

" But my dear madam, a year before, she was in
America !"

" I know it ! So was I !"

"What!"

"Why, how thunderstruck you look ! Is my visiting
that country, as well as other people, such an unheard-
of thing T

" But really — why my dear Norma, I never heard
you were there," he cried, completely astounded.

" Very likely — yet I was there, nevertheless. How
is Captain Tempest, and my friend, (rrizzle Ilowlet,
and Mr. Ilowlie, of the Mermaid Inn ?"

402

yliY OLD FOE.

> 'H i ■*'

ii!i;

il'.'"^

Slic lialf laugliod, yet there was an nnusnal flush on
her jx'arly face. l)i>l)r()\ve sat jiuite with amazement.

'' Dumb, 1 see ! J'v tlie way, my loi'd, have you
heard of your Spaiiisli friend, fJacinto, hitely V

A liij^ht broke ujxm liirii ! Witli a iuilf repressed
cry lie nearly sprani^; from his seat.

"Good heavens! were you — could you — ? O
Norma, was it yon !"

She was crimson to the temples, yet she met hie
startled eyes firmly, and said '"'Yes!''''

" And T never knew it — never suspected it. Norma
— Norma! what an idiot I have been !''

" Hard words, my lord ; but, of course, you know
best."

" And you were— -von followed me there ! Did Jac-
quetta know it, X<»i'ma^"

'" "^'es ; her keen eyes discovered me at once ; and I
told hei- all. Do you understand, now, the scene in my
room ^"

"Oh! cverythinfr is as clear as day now ! Good
Heaven ! how 1 should have been so blind ! Does your
father know, Norma V

"No; no one knows but you an.d Jacquetta; I
ought to have told Georo-e, 1 su})pose ; but really I felt
ashamed to tell him 1 had made such a fool of myself.
* Where iirnoranee is bliss,' you know, "tis folly to be
wise.' Perhaps, also, you understand the mystery of
the painting now, too V

" Oh, everything is as clear as noonday ; but this is
60 straniie I can scarcely ])elieve 1 am not dreaminir!"

" Think it a dream, if you like. 1 wish it was.
But, n>y lord, don't flatter y^jursclf too much. You
know how intensely romantic i always was, and it M-as
quite as much for the sake of the adventure, as for the
sake of Captain Disbrow'e, that 1 went. It had haunted
my imagination for years, an escapade like that; and
when the op])ortunity ollcred, 1 seized it. raj)a was
abroad on the Continent, and would not return until
you did ; so it was easy enough feigning a trip to Scot-

AN OLD FOE.

403

iusli on
e merit,
e you

pressed

-? O

met Lis

Norma

1 know

)id Jac-

; and I
e iu my

I Good
les your

letta; I
y I felt
myself,
y to be
stery of

til is is
inino:!"

it was.
You

it was

for the
launted

it ; and
■ |)a was
until

o Scot-

land, and goinij; to America instead. You remcnd)er
my disiiuisc, my dyed hair, and walnut-barked com-
plexion, and how completely it changed me, when you
failed to recognize me? At Southampton 1 think it
was — I first met Captain Tempest; and tinding he was
to sail the next day, took passage with him to America.
A few days after my arrival, we met; Jac(pU'tta dis-
covered my secret; I told her my history; audi hough
she bhuned me for my wild freak, yet she consented to
keep my secret. And so— ;^Vi/,s'/"

lie smiled, and looked at her with a strange glance.
She met it with one half scornful, half shy.

" Xo, my lord ; have no doubts on the subject. I
have completely got over my school-gii'l penchant for
the dashing Guardsman. J love my husband with my
whole heart, and him alone. When am I to congratu-
late Lady Earnecliife, my lord ?"

" Next week," he answered, his eyes filling with
love and pride, as they rested on Jacquetta.

" Ah, I am glad ! Dear Jacquetta, how happy she
will be."

" I hope so — I trust so. If the devotion of a life
can nudvc iier so, she M'ill be indeed !"

Some other visitors were announced, as he spoke,
and our ]")arty arose to go.

Mr. Do Yere had ]iromised to take Orrie some-
where. So they set oil' on foot, while Augusta and
Jacquetta entered the earPs brougham to be driven
home. As they drove on, laughing and chatting gayly,
their attention was arrested by a mob that had gathered
round a drunken wonum in the street. A sudden
cheer aro^e, as they approached ; j^nd the horses, oidy
half-tamed things at l)est, saw fit to take fright ; an<l
the instant after, were dashing along like mad. Dis-
browe strove to check their mad carcjer, but in vain ;
and they flew like lightning on in the direction of AVest-
minster Bridge, threatening every moment to dash the
carriage to pieces. People cleared the road in terror,
and let them dash on to certain destruction- -without

404

AN OLD FOE.

lU'

4-;

malviiig any attempt to .stop tliem. Angnsta lay in a
(loud s\V(K)ii, and Ja(j(|uetta sat white as niarblv3, but
perfectly still.

They were on the bridi>;e; and tlie passengers
shrank to either side, in dismay, when, suddenly, a
man, whose eagle eye caught sight of the faces within,
uttered a wild shout, and springing forward, heedless
of danger, seized the nearest lu:>rse by the bridle, and in
spite of their mad plunging and rearing, hekl him in a
grasp of iron for one moment. Tlie next, a cry of ]»or-
ror broke from the crowd : he was down, trampled
under the feet of the furious animals, but a dozen
hand'' now held them fast ; and, the next moment, Dis-
browe was out of the carriage, forcing his way through
the crowd to where the wounded man lay. Crushed,
trampled, bleeding, a fearful spectacle, lie lay tiiere,
with the pitying crowd bending over him.

" Is he dead V cried Disbrowe, kneeling beside the
bleedini>: form.

" No, my lord," said the man he addressed, touch-
ing his cap. " Not <lead yet, but soon will be.
Skull fractured, I think."

" lie must be ren'oved instantly," said Disbrowe,
starting up. " Do any of you know him f

No ; no one did. He was a sailor, they thought,
and, very likely, a stranger.

Even as he spoke the Avounded man's eyes opened,
and fixed themselves oti Disbrowe.

"Lelia — Lolia! Where is Lclia?" he cried.

That voice! It reached Jac(pietta where she sat;
and the next moment, with a startled cry of grief and
horror, she was bonding over liim.

"O Alfred! O Heaven! it is my father!"

" I'm done for, Lelia ! It's all up with old Nick
Tempest, at last," he said, holding out his hand, with
something like a smile.

Jac(pietta wrung her hands.

"O Alfred, cati nothing be done? Must ho die
here — in this dreadful place V

Ji'ij

in a

AN OLD FOE.

405

bo a,„,,n. the crowd, euterell aft., l.in.i, " " ,

RUSH ^ I 'T,r ■''-■■'•'''•?';"' *'", '"■""s''^""- -i,..,v A ,:

406

ALL THING ti HATH AN END.''

CHAPTER XXX.

" All things hath an end." — Provekbs.

" Wc are born; we laugh — we weep —
We love— we droop — we die." — Cornwall.

f ■ .'■ ?..■!

^i-'-

u .i„--=„;..,,=, -^-Q ^1^^^.^ .g ^^ 1^^^^^^ doctor ?"

•' None, my lord ; he must die. No
Immau power can save him now !"

" I knew it myself, and could have told
you so," said tlie wounded man. " AVlien
a man's skull is fractured, he is not likely to go cruis-
ing round the world much longer. I say, doctor, how
many hours before Fm in ]x>rt i"

" You may ])ossil)ly live four or five liours — not
longer," said tlie pliysioian, as he arose to go.

''Humph ! short notice to settle one's accounts ; but
it must do, ] su])pose. Lelia!"

" Here, fatlier," she answered, kneeling beside him ;
"shall I send for a clergyman i"

" For a clergyman ! No. What do you suppose
Japtain N ick Tempest has to do with a clergyman ?
Come here, my girl, and tell me : for the wrong
your old father has done you, can you forgive him
row ?"

" From the bottom of my heart — as freely as I hope
to be forgiveii,'' she earnestly answered.

" And you, my lord — they say you are a lord now?
We have not been very good friends hitherto ; but will
you shake hands with the rouii-li old sailor before ho
goes V

Ho held out Ids hand, and Dislu'owe took it between
both liis.

r-.r-'-i

ALL THINGS HATH AN END:'

407

ive told
' When
) cruis-
jr, how

rs — not

ts ; but

c hiiii ;

[nppose

;yinan ?

wrong

Ivo hiui

I hope

now ?
I) lit will
[ore ho

letween

" Tlien we arc friends, my lord ?"

"We arc, with nil my heart."

" Thank you. It was all my fault. I was a rough
customer, I know ; hut the world and I never were on
very good terms, and 1 got reekluss, knocking about
its sharp corners. It has given me some pretty hard
raps, njy lord, until it has made mo what you see me
now. Ihit I am not likely to trouble it nmch longer.
Lclia, you have been an actress since ; are you one
yet r

" No, Captain Tempest," intcrrnpted Disbrowc ;
"she is Lolia, the actress, no longer. A few days will
make her Countess of Earneclilfe !"

"Ah!" said the captain, while his dull eye lit u]).
"A countess — niy daughter — Old Nick Tempest's
daughter a countess !"

tSometliing ludicrous in the notion seemed to strike
him ; and he laughed outright.

"Do not mind that, lather — do not think of it.
Remember how few are the hours you have to live,"
said Jacquetta, gravely.

" LoTiix cnouii;h for what I have to do. Tell me,
Lelia — or, rather, do you tell me, my lord, were you
ever engaged to be married to a (.-ertain Norma Macdon-

ald ^^" . . .

" Yes," said Dis'urowe, surprised at the question.

" Well, wdiy did you nc»t marry her."

" For many reasons, captain. 8he refused me and
married another."

"Is she now in England'!!"

"Yes."

"I should like to see her. Send for her, Lelia."

"Why, father, do you know her^"

" No ; but i shoaki like to. Have you ever met her
Lelia V

" Often, father. She is like a sister to me."

Again the captain laughed. .Jacquetta turned to
Disbrowe, with a look that plainly said she feared his

I. >

408

ALL THINGS HATH AN END:'

brain was wandering. The captain saw it, and read its
meanini^.

"JSu, I \\\n not insano, Leila. I know wliat I am
sayinii;. Li'li;}, Norma Macdonald is 3'onr lialf-sister !''
"Father!"

" It is true. Listen : yon know, when you were a
little child, your niotlier eloped, through the machina-
tions of that accursed hag. Grizzle liowlet V

" Yes."

" Lelia, it was with Randall Macdonald — her father !
You both had the same mother!"

Jacquetta and Disbrowe were dumb with surprise.

" Ask this man — her father — if it is not true ; and
let him deny it if he dare. Lelia, you and jSorma
Macdonald are sisters!"

" I felt it — I knew it. I was sure we were not
strangers!" said Jacquetta, in a low, breathless voice.

" This is most wonderful !" exclaimed Disbrowe.
" I know, now, why Mr. Macdonald would never speak
of Norma's mother. But to think that she and Jac-
quetta should be sisters ! I wondei- what Austrey will
Bav !"

" Where is you little daughter, Lelia — where is
Orrie?" asked the captain, after a pause.

" Here, in London ; but not in the house at present.
Would you like to see her?"

" Yes ; 1 always liked the little one, somehow. How
came she here ?"

" Mr. I)e Verc brought her."

" Mr. De Vere, of Fontelle ? Is he here, too ?"

" Yes, ho and his daughter."

" Ha ! his daughter ! By the way, that reminds me,
I have sometliinii; to sav about that daui^-htej*. ' Thero-
by hangs a tale.' She has appeared in trouble lately —
has she not V

" Trouble !" exclaimed Jacquetta, " she has been like
a galvanized corpse for the last two years — dead in life !"

" Ah ! just 60 ! Well, I know the cause."

((

ALL THINGS UATH AN END.

dOO

me,
icro-

ly-

!5J

" You !" exclaimed Diril)rowe.

" Yes, me ; and I can minister to a mind diseased,
too. JJo yoiL know the cause, my lord i"

" Yes.'"'

" Then she thinks she lias married her brother, does
she not V

Jacquetta uttered an exclamation of horror.

" Yes."

" Well, slie may set her mind at rest, then ; she has
done nothing of the kind."

"AVIiat!"

" It is true. I have it from Till— old Till, you
know, Grizzle's brother — and he ought to know, if any
one docs."

" Thank Heaven ! Poor, uidiappy Augusta! But
are you sure, Captain Temj)est C

" Certain ! ()ld Till will conlirm the story an}- day,
if you only threaten hiiu with a little hanging !"

" Where is he to be found f

"At the 'Sailor's liest,' St. Giles. You'll have no
trouble in finding him. You see, Old Grizzle knew
about the marriage, and trumped np the whole story to
frighten the young lady, and save hersell'."

" Well, but xVugusta's husband himself acknowl-
edged its truth."

" And he thinks it is true. You see, mv lord, there
were a number of other little urchins taken prisoner
with the little i)e Vere at the same time — some of
"whom died, some were sent to another tribe, and some
were ke[)t. Young De Yere died a short time after
beitig taken captive; but ho was always a sickly little
codger, Till says."

'''i'lien she really marrie<l one of those cai»tivesr'
Yes; but no relation of hers. Jlis real nauie is

Durand — Mark Duranil ; and he escaped just as Grizzle
related. The young ladv is all rii-'ht, so far as marry-
ing her brother is concerned, lund out Till, utid he
will tell you so, if you only frighten him ])roperly."
" Heaven be praised for this ! it will be uow life

*4l

I
t

Iff

1. 1

l^'-'

V .

iiU^'

410

.**ALL THINGS UATII AN END:'

to Au<^nsta. Captain Tempest, what a debt of grati-
tude she will forever owe to you !"

'' To me ? Nonsense ! Give me a drink, Lelia — I
am parclied."

She held a drink to liis hps, and lie drank eagerly.
He had spoken so rapidly, that he had exhausted him-
self, and already he was beginning to sink.

"And Augusta was married?" said Jacquetta, in a
low voice to Disbrowe.

" Yes ; that was her secret. lie was poor, and they
were married m private. Grizzle told her that morn-
ing, you remember, he was her brother, and she be-
lieved her."

" Poor Augusta ! Where is her — her husband now,
I wonder '^"

" 1 do not know. Can you tell us. Captain Tem-
pest, where this Mark Durand is now?"

"I saw him in Paris three weeks ago; most prob-
ably you will rind him there yet."

" How strangely all tliese things have come to light !
How mysterious arc the ways of Providence ! Oh,
father! if you had only told this long ago, how much
misery it might have saved !"

" I did not know it long ago myself ; though, if I
Lad," said Captain Nick, in ])arentliesis, "it would
have been all tiie same, most likely. I knew Grizzle
had some power over Miss De Vere ; but wdiat it was,
I didn't know until old Till, who came this voyage
with me, babbled in his cups, and let the murder
out. He'll confirm it, you'll see; for he's as arrant a
coward as ever lived. 1 never had any particular love
for the De Veres, and might have kept the secret still,
if I had not been hipped to death in this fashion. How-
ever, better late than never — eh, Lelia '( And so you
are going to be a countess, my girl, though you are
Old Nick Tempest's daughter."

" Dear father, do not think of these things, now.
Do try and compose your mind for the dread hereafter

ft-'

"ALL THINGS HATH AN END:'

411

if I
,'onld
•izzlo
was,
'ago
rder
Imt a
love
Istill,
llow-
you
are

now.
ifter

you arc hastening to. Hemembcr how shoii; are the
hours you have to Hve."

"The hist act of the drama — isn't it, Leha? As
for composing my mind, what good will that do ? You
don't sup])ose I expect to go to heaven — do you ? No,
as I have lived, I will die ; so say no more about it.
Have you sent for your sister, Lelia'^"

"Yes, father; she will be here directly."

" And you — you will not leave me, Lelia, to the
last — will you ?"

" No, father."

" Ah ! I am glad you can say father ; I like to hear
it from your lips. Do you know you look strangely
like your mother to-day, Lelia ? There is the same
look in your eyes I have often seen in hers. My poor
lost Lelia! buried in the wide sea! Oh, that accursed
wretch. Grizzle llowlet!"

" Do not think of her — do not speak of her. Here,
drink this."

It contained a narcotic, and gradually he fell into a
troubled, feverish slumber. Still he held Jacquetta's
hand, as though, even in sleep, he feared to lose her,
and at intervals murmured, brokenly, the name of Lelia.

Disbrowe, in obedience to a whisper from Jac-
quetta, left the room in search of Augusta. He found
her in her room, lying on a couch, still weak and faint
from the effects of her recent fi-ight.

As gently and tenderly as might be, he unfolded
the truth ; but before he had iinished speaking, she lay
without life or motion on the floor, where she had
sank like a snow-wreath. Shocks of joy seldom kill,
however ; and he was too accustomed to see Augusta
faint to be much alarmed by it now ; so, bathing her
temples and dialing her hands, he waited until she had
recovered again.

" AVhat is it — what have you told me ?" she cried,
clinging wildly to him.

" Good news, my dear Av ^usta ; you may be happy
once more."

(

413

''ALL TUIXGS HATU AN END^

PI %

"And lie is not — is not — "

" C'eiiainly not. Von have been imposed npon froin
first to last by onr fair friend, Madam ilowlet. (Jlieer
np, An_u:;nsta ! Let nio fgo yon smile onee more."

" I have abnost foriijotten tbo way. l>ut, () consin
Alfred! if tbero sbould bo some mistake; if tbe
man — ''

"■ Tbis man is dyin^^'-, Anirusta, and in bis sober
senses ; so tbcre can be none. To make ' assurance
doubly sure,' bowever, I bave sent my servant and a
Bow street runner in searcb of old Grizzle's brotber,
wlio knows tbe wbole jilfair; so, in a sbort time bis
testimony will convince yon.'-

lie smiled briii'litly bimself, as be spoke; but
Angusta dropped ber bead on bis sboulder, and burst
into tears.

" I will leave yon alone," be said, gently. " AVben
tbis man comes, 1 will send for von."

As be ])assed from tbe room, be met in orma ascend-
ing tbe stairs.

" lias anytbing bappencd ? Yon sent for me ?" sbe
said, willi a startled look. "Jacqnctta — "

"Is quite well ; but an important matter Las come
to ligbt, in wbicli yon are closely concerned. Perbaps
I bad better tell you before you go in. Captain Tem-
pest is dying in tbe next room, and it was be desired
to see you."

'' Captain Tempest ! O my lord ! does be know — "

"Ko, be does not know your secret. But, my dear
Kornia, wbat will you say wben I tell you tbat you and
Jacciuctta are sisters V

" Sisters ! How ? Wbat do you mean, my lord ?"

" Tliat you bad tbe same motber — Captain Tem-

K?st's wife. Do you know your motber's name,
orma?"
" It was Lelia. I do not remember ber ; but I saw
it written in one of ber books. But, O Lord Earne-
clilTe ! wbat bave you told me ? Captain Tempest's
wife 1"

''ALL TIIIXGS HATH AN END.''

418

\ps

:ci

))

3ar
Ind

>'>

nc.

law

IIG-

it's

' " Yonr father was never married, Norma ; and now
you know why lie never would speak of your mother.
You and Jacquctta are sisters. A dying man atiirms
it. Do you doubt it, Norma V^

" No, my lord, straniT^e as it seems, I yet do not
doubt it. And this is why he wanted to see me? Oh,
Alfred ! I am glad — I am glad that I am Jacquetta's
sister !"

" And 60 am I. Shall we go in now ?"

They entered together.

" Ah ! you have come ! Come close and let me
look at you. Yes, yes ; you are Lelia's daugliter. You
look more like your dead mother than she does. Are
you willing to acknowledge Nick Tempest's child as
your sister, young lady ?"

" Willingly, joyfully !"

" Tell your father — tell Randall Macdonald — I for-
gave him at last. He was not so much to blame as the
she-devil who forced them both to it. Will you shake
hands, young lady, for your mother's sake ?"

She laid both her white, delicate hands in his large,
brown palms, and a bright tear fell with them.

" For me !" he said, with a look of wonder. " Ho I
what noise is that ? I ought to know that step."

A shuffling sound of feet was heard without. Dis-
browe threw open the door, and old Till, in charge of
a policeman, stalked doggedly in.

" Hallo, old comrade !" said the captain, " Well
met ! You did not expect, when we [lurted this morn-
ing, to find me on the road to Davy's locker so soon.
Where's the lady, Lei ia?"

" She is here. Now, my man, what is it you know
concerning this young lady V^ said Disbrowe.

" You may as well make a clean breast of it, Till,
for I have told already," said the captain. " Out with
it!"

"Tell, and you shall go free and unharmed — I
pledge you my word and honor. Kef use, and the walls
of Newgate will hold you before an hour."

I
1

H
If]

414

''ALL TniNOS IIATIl AN END.''

r'i^t

1 1.

■A- 1

r'li

' <:.-

'■' ii

! ■<'

Uli--
hi

Old Till was, as Captain Is'ick said, a very white-
livered hero, so he forth witli — rather sullonlv, thouiirh
— bc.<niii the rceital, addiiu^ that the father of youni;
Duraiid was still alive, one of the wealthiest and most
eminent lawyers in Xew York. And having made a
deposition to that elleet, and further inl'ormed them
tliat he might he known hy a peculiar tattooing in In-
dia ink on his arm, done wlien he was a child, ho was
allowed to take his departure.

Captain Nick was sinking fast. He had exerted
himself to speak and listen whilst Till was ])resent; but
DOW he fell back exhausted on his pillow, a cold per-
spiration oozing over his face, a dark livid ring encirc-
ling his mouth. His eyes wandering slowly over the
faces gathered round him, and rested at last on that of
Jacquetta.

" Going!" he said, with a faint smile. "It is get-
ting dark and cold, Lelia. Don't cry so. I will bring
you no more squirrels to play with, as I used to do long
ago — you were a child then, Lelia ; now you are — "

" Father, father !'' cried Jacquetta, through her fast
falling tears, as the hand she held grew cold, and a
dull glaze crept over his eyes.

"My little Lelia!"

A strong shudder passed through his powerful f iwirie,
one arm was half raised, and then dropped .^\^avily by
his side.

" Gone !" said Disbrowe, as he bent over him.
" Come, Jacquetta, let us go ; all is over now !"

And now, reader — my dear reader — draw a long
breath of relief, as I do, for our tale is at an end. Per-
haps, though, you would like one linal peep behind the
Bcenes before the curtain descends to nse no more.

Look then ! One year has passed since the last act.
And now the time is night ; the scene, Disbrowe Park.
It is more like a glimpse of fairy-land than ever, this
lovely niglit ; for the whole stately mansion is one
vast sheet of light. The beautiful fountains are send-

ALL TUIXGS UATIl AX END:'

41.5

dm.

'er-

tl\G

I act.
lark.
Itliis
I one
end-

ing vast jets of t^llver sparkling up in the serene inoon-
liglit, and the trees are l»ri'j^ht witii many colored lanijis,
tliat twinkle like niyrlad.-i of iire-ili(>«;, and ijive the
whole seenc an air of cnchaiitniont. Tin; lamvl walk is
one blaze of iihmiination, and sweet, delicious straitis
of music rise, and fall, and lloat on the still niij^ht air.
Carriai^e after carria<^e rolls up the broad avenue, and
throngo of magnilieently-dressLMJ ladies and stately gen-
tlemen pass into the marble hall. ].a<ly Earnecliire has
just returned from the " land of the free and the home
of the brave ;'' has been ])resented at court ; made a de-
cided sensation ; and to-night gives her lirst ball.

See licr there in white velvet, frosted with seed-
pearls, sparkling with jewels, and lloating in lilmy
pointdace — the most bewitching, the most dazzling
countess in the peerage — receiving her guests. And
yet she is our own Jac(pi;etta after all — the same spark-
ling little fairy as of yore. The short dancing curls
are of the old obnoxious hue ; but a coronet becomes
them wonderfully. The wicked grav eyes sparkle still
with the ol<l mocking light that was wont to madden a
certain Captain Disbrowe, and the little rosebud mouth
in wreathed with the same entrancing smiles that oik-o
drove the dashing Guardsman to the verge of despair.

lie is there, too — the Earl of Earneclille — hand-
some, graceful, and elegant as (;ver, watching her with
a curious smile, as he thiidvs of the past. A ha])py
man is Lord Earnecliil'e — as indeed he ought to be,
with such a rent-roll and such a wife.

There is Lord George and Lady Austrey — the
former, languid, nonchalant, and complac.ent as he
strokes his mustache ; the latter, one of the belles of
the room, and so proud nnd so fond of her handsome
young husband, and a powerful-lunged young scion of
the aristocracy at home — who, of late, has made his
dthat into this vale of teai's. And Lord Geoige is so
proud of that baby, though the feeling is mingled with
a sort of deep awe, more particularly wlien it cries,

416

ALL TIILNGS HATH AN END.''

which it sees fit to do pretty often ; but no inducement
can persuade liiin to liandle it.

Our dark-eyed friend, Oi'rie, is at scliool, and has a
strong notion of irrowiiiii; up shortly, and marrying
Frank — that young gentleman still writes U. S. N.
after liis name, and is pretty nnu^li of the same notion
himself; oo it is very prohablo j\liss Oriole will bo
Mrs. Francis Do Vere, some day in the " fullness
of time."

It is a long step to Xew Jersey ; but you and
I, with our se\ en-league boots, can take it. At Fontelle
still lives Mr. Do Vere, happy in the happiness of his
dauijrhter and new-found son. And Mrs. Durand — how
strange it seems to cull Augusta th;it ! — is as happy as
the day is long; and feels it all the more after the
fiery crucible through which she has passed.

Our old and estimable friend, Grizzle Ilowlct, hav-
ing, with her two sons, committed an atrocious robbery,
suddenly found the old inn too hot to hold her, and
decamped for tlio Far West with Blaise — the hopeful
Kit being caught, and sentenced to prison for life.
And since then nothing has ever been heard of
her; and so, to both, requiescat 'hi pace.

As for Mr. Ilowlie and his cheery little help-meet,
they kept the ]\Iermaid for many a dny after that ; and
that pleasant hotel throve and llouiished like a green
bay tree. And if ever you visit the remote and face-
tious region of Xew Jersey, good friends of mine, just
make a pilgrimage to its ruins, which tradition saith are
to be seen to this day. And so, reader, Farewell.

,;* , ■' M

THE END.

'i»

life.
I'd of

meet,
, and
green
^ f ace-
e, just
til are

ej^^_

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