SATURDAY ‘ sir J

OURN AL.

 

 

 

Gustave regie rapidly down the ledge,
and his hopes, iegan to rise, for he perceived
that he was approaching the water every
moment. The canon pursued an irregular
and winding" course, and the ledge grew
broader, till at-last he uttered apghoumpf
joy, for before'him lay a,_stecp_slofie§i:w11ich.
appeared to lead to the edge of¥h Waterfall‘,j
and there, onthe shallow rim of the-cata-
ract, lodged against a pointed rock, laythe
carcass of hisrecentf , me. ' ' 57‘

But he saw that the sloping! ledge was
much too;_steep for his horse, and reined up

to dismount. gj ,. ,_ , ,

On the opposite side of the canon a, suc-‘~
ccssion of stoop pinnacles formed a sort of
pathway of steps, of which each was some
twelve feet inghight, and a littlebeforc him
a cross canon}; opened its narrow, dark rift,
from which a second stream descended,
making the waterfall below intoa curve.

Just as he pulled up, hesitating how best
to descend, the mellow Sound 'of a horn
struck on his car from overhead, and he
looked up, wondering whence it came.

He almost threw himself from the horse
with the violent start he gave, at the sight
that met his view.

On a lofty pinnacle of rock, relieved
against the dark-gray background, looking
down straight at him, stood a snow-white
figure of the most unearthly and startling
character, combined with a strange beauty
that completely enthralled him. ,

A girl, habited in a species of short, close-
fitting tunic of some fleecy white skin,
which left all her limbs in perfect freedom,
with curls of the brightest golden hair float-
ing behind her, was gazing at him, not
twonty feet above him, from the most won—
derful dark-blue eyes he had ever seen.

, But the most singular part of her attire
was the head-dress that crowned those
bright curls, a cap made of the head of the‘
mountain-sheep, and carrying the same
huge curling horns, which descended to the
wearer’s shoulders. In one hand she held

the bugle which she had just sounded, and
the other bore a double—pointed spear,

which she seemed to use as an alpenstock.

As soon as Belcour could speak,he ejacu-
lated, in his native tongue, the words :

“ Grand Dion! Who and what art thou ?”

The strange girl answered not in words,
but pointed up the pass, and waved him
away, forbiddingly.

"‘ Nay! I will not go l” cried the ardent
Frenchman, impetuously. “ I will never
go till I know thee better, bright, beautiful
spirit ! Tell me who thou art?”

For all answer the girl went to the side
of the cross canon, and stood at the edge of
the dizzy precipice. Then she waved him
back once more forbiddingly, and made as
if to leap into the black gulf. ,

“In God’s name, hold!” cried Belcour,
frantically, and he. hastily leaped from his
horse, as if he would spring across the

‘chasm that separated them.

The next moment the white figure leaped
from the summit of the precipice into the
depths of the black canon, and disappeared
from his view.

And not a sound disturbed the stillness
of the mountain-side, but the swash and
rear of the torrent below him.

“ Ah ! mon Dried, I have killed her i”
groaned Belcour, as she disappeared.

He rushed madly down the slope to the
waterfall, and looked up the line of the
cross canon.

Not a living thing met his view, but a
deep black pool at the very edge of the
waterfall seemed to show him the grave of
the unfortunate girl, and Gustave shudder-
ed all over. ,

“So young, so beautiful!” he groaned; ;
“ and I have killed her.”

At that very instant the wild, solemn
notes of the horn came to his car from a
fresh quarter.

He turned round, in greater amazement
than ever, to see whence it came, and
faintly ejaculated :

“ Grand Dz'eu ! It must be a spirit.”

The waterfall at whose edge he stood
was at least a hundred feet in depth, and
emptied into a tremendous gorge, a con-
tinuation of the one he was in, but far
grander. Cliffs six hundred feet in hight
shut in the gorge on each side, and below
all was pitch dark, while above stunted
trees clung to the crevices of the rocks,
81nd climbed toward the narrow strip of
s (v. ,

Standing on a jagged, stunted tree, dead
and bare of leaves, that shot out horizon-
tally from the midst of the cliff, stood the
mysterious white figure of the girl, waving
her spear forbiddineg at him.

Belcour imploringly extended his arms
to her, crying:

“ Oh, beautiful creature, do not stay
there! You will fall and be dashed to
pieces. For Heaven’s sake, hear me!”

No sooner had he uttered the words than
the white figure leaped from the bare tree
into the giddy void like a bird, and seemed
to swing herself with perfect ease to an-
other tree at least a hundred feet distant.

Then, as if to cap the climax, she turned
and disappeared into the solid rock, into
whose bosom she vanished as if she had
never been there, and all that Belcour
could see was the bare mountain-side, with
the spike-like trunks shooting out here and
there, and a vulture winging its way across
the strip of sky above.

With a strange sensation of awe and be-
wilderment, the young man turned round,
forgetting even his dead game, climbed up
the path, mount-ed his horse and galloped
away. ,

His superstition was at last excited.

“ It must be the Spirit of the Sierra that
the Indians told us of,” he muttered. “ N0
mortal creature could leap a hundred feet
from tree to tree.”

And he never ceased his rapid gallop till
he was out of the dark shadows of the
solemn mountains, and into the free valley
of the South Park. _

There at last he tried to shake off the
feeling of terror that had overcome him,
and galloped as fast as he could to the live-
oak tree where his friends were watching
for him. 0

l’Vith pale face and tremblinrr accents he
ejaculated : a

“ Mes cents, I have seen the Spirit of the
Sierra!”

 

V CHAPTER III.
THE ROCK RIDER.

AT the moment when Belcour left the
mountains and galloped up to the live~oak
tree, he was beheld, miles away, by an eve
whose keenncss few, red or white, eou‘ld
cquaL

A man of remarkable hight, exaggerated
by his excesswe leanness, stood at the en-
trance of a dark cave, that opened into a
short gully, high up the side of the sierra.

 kpi

‘ low.

of the prairie.

 

 

L

His face, with great burning blue eyes,
high aquiline features, thin to emaciatiOn
and framed in straight black lif;",,.;w;.i_h
mustaches of very great length, ' "
resembled the portraits of ' the

  



htofglga Mancha, both in ogfii‘he and
Jessica-7.  , x -  

 figi‘e; lankand bony, was, equally in
keeping, _is dress that of the mountain
hunters, but, peculiarly tight and scanty in
out. On his head hecwore a tall conical
cap of fur,that,inereassed his gigantic ap-
pearance, and he leaned on a long lance
while he carefully scanned: the valley be-

    

"I‘his singular-Icoking man was soliloguiz-
ing in a low voice as he gazed.

“Strangers in the valley once more,~.and
I never thought to see human face again,
save poor, faithfulCato, and the red lords
‘ They must be mad to come
here thus, when the chiefs of the South
make their path through the very place
where they are sitting. Must I never rest
from my labors? I thought so fondly that
Heaven would send me my child, could I
but remain one year without slaughter, and
now I see the red blood coming in floods,
and I must bathe in it once more, to save
my own color.”

His great, solemn eyes glared with the
light of madness as he spoke the last words,
and he suddenly threw himself flat on the
ground, and seemed to listen intently. In
a moment more he started up, crying:

“I knew it! My visions never deceived
me ; and last night I heard the voice of the
Spirit calling to me: ‘Ride! ride! Blood
comes !’ ” 

He seemed to be dreadfully excited, for
his senses, sharpened by insanity, had caught
the sound of hoofs far away among the
passes of the Sierra. He called aloud :

“ Cato! Cato! Bring out Mountaineer,
quick! The Rock Rider must be at his red
work again, for the heathen are about, and
I am the protector of the helpless.”

In answer to the call came stumping out
of the cave a figure about as different from
the other as could be imagined ; a short,
stout negro, with handy legs, who appeared

to be as strong as a bull, and carried on his ‘

shoulders a broad,
generally on the‘ggrin. _

Now, however, it bore an expression of
superstitious terror, ludicrous to. see, and

good - homered face,

the whites of the eyes showed plainly in

their wide glare, as he ejaculated : ,

“ Oh, marse cappen ! Oh, dc Lord, sweet
marse cappen! Is. on gwine away again
wid dem horr‘ble delibils? 0h, marse cap-
pen, don’t ye do it, of ye lub old Cato ! Ob,
marse cappen, you doesn’t know nufin
’bout how I feels when you is gwine away
and dem areful-lookz’n’ heads is a—lookin’ af
me all do time wid deir shiny eyes, and
grins wid deir teeth and groans so-olthh.’
Marse cappen, don’t ye go, or else take me
wid ye.” And Cato fell on his knees by
the side of the gaunt man, shivering as if
he had the ague. .

The other looked down on him with a.“
strange look, in which pity and remorse
seemed to be blended with some cvermas-
tering purpose. ‘ -

. “ Poor child of clay,” he said, “ knowest
thou not that when the tale of heads, is
complete, thou and I shall be r-freéi again,
and once more see our darling?" I, would
that I could let thee go with me,:but thou
knowest our enemies. The crafty'wolf and
the filthy buzzard would crowd to the
feast, and our heads would be gone forever,
if we both left. ’No, ’tis thy place to guard
the Cavern of Death, ’tis mine to bring in
the victims, for I am the avenger of inno-
cent blood. Bring out my charger, for I
must ride forth.”

He ended in a. sterner tone of voico, with
a slight frown, and Cato rose up, still trem-
bling, and disappeared into the cavern. In
:a few minutes he returned, leading a. tall
tmule, at least sixteen hands in hight, of the
same lank conformation as its master.

It was saddled and bridled, and the tall
man mounted it slowly, and then sat there,
looking at Cato for a minute.

“ Cato,” he said, gravely, “ it is the duty
of a true squire to follow his knight, if so
be there is a castellan to guard the castle.
I have promoted thee, boy. Thou art cas-
tellan. See to my castle. Bring me my
buckler.”

Once more poor Cato fell on his knees im-
ploringly. r

“ Oh, marse cappen, not dot, for do lub
of heaven. Ask Cato (mg/Wag but (lat. Dat
ar’ ugly t’ing wid de dead face on him, he
send de cold shudders all troo me. And
when you gets him you goes—oh! dc Lord
knows wharl—and I nebber sees you any
more. Yah ! marse cappen, don’t look so
dl'efi‘ltl .’ I”

“ The bucklcr, dog! The buckler, or I
pin thee to the rock!” suddenly vociferated
the other, raising the long lance in anger ;
and Cato as suddenly leaped up, and van-
ished :into the. cavern as nimbly as a squirrel.

In a moment more he reappeared, bear-
ing, with averted face, a large round Indian
shield‘of buffalo—hide, which was so unusu-
ally thiek as to show that two of them had
been :bound together.

But the ornament in the center of the
shield was of the most ghastly character
conceivable. It was the face of a dead
woman, pinched and White, with wide-open,
staring e 'es, and teeth revealed by parted
lips. A ew locks of gray hair were neatly
parted on the forehead, and it seemed as if
the whole mask of the face had been sev-
ered from the front of the head and set on
the shield, preserved as a mummy, for a
real face, and of a white woman, it un—
doubtedly was.

The strange being on the gaunt mule
took the shield from the hands of his sable
attendant, and regarded the dead face
silently for several minutes. Gradually the
tears began to roll down his cheeks, and
his gaunt features worked convulsively.

“ Cato,” he said, in a deep, broken voice,
“this face, new withered and gray, was
once the face of a bright, blooming girl.
One night changed it to this. Some men
would have revenged such wrongs on the
whole race that had wronged him, but she
had told me not to take life, save only in a
righteous quarrel, to save life. Cato, I have
obeyed her, and God has taken care of me.
thile this shield covers me, all the red-men
of the Sierra can not harm me, for they
know the white face of her whom they
have wronged. So God defend the right.”

And he deliberately pressed his lips to
those of the dead face, with a strange ex-
pression of religious fervor, mingled with
knightly enthusiasm.

_Cato shuddered and groaned, as he saw
his master do it, and then the other threw
the shield over his left arm, and cried:

“ Now, I am again the Rock Rider of the
Sierra, and let all the sons of the prairie
beware! Forward!”

 

The gaunt mule set off at once at a round
trot down the gully, and turned sharp off
to the right, where the way seemed impas-
sable to any but a mountain goat.

But, as if used to it, the animal kept up
the same rapid paco, leaping from rock to

' rook, and bounding over chasms that seeméd‘,
.y-madness to attempt. ,

And all the while the gaunt figure of tile
Rock Rider sat erect, with shield and lance,

like a knight of old, regardlessof the 
_,centric movements of his mount, and with

seat undisturbed, till he had arrived at thé,
summit of a cliff, looking down into a dark}
gorige that entered the valley. *

hen he halted and surveyed the gorge,

with}! grim smile. 
"‘““ I knew it,” he said. 
A party of twenty or thirty Indians, all: "

evidently chiefs, frorni their rich dresses,
gore descending the gorgeinto the South
ark.

The Rock Rider reined up, and elevated
his stentorian voice in the Comanche lan-
guage, crying:

,“ The sonsof the prairie, aye lost in the

rho‘untain. ” Back-to your-homes, or meet,
the wrath of the Rock Rider 1”

Then with a wheel of the gaunt mule, he
held up to their View the round shield, so
that the face of the dead woman glaued
down on the chiefs.

(To be continued.)

 

W

 - . _, _ .593;  _
 Nicknames-ism ST. LOUIS.
_ ., Bus-2:?!wartime.» ‘

AUTHOR or. “132144th TALISMAN,” “BLACK onus-
cnur,’f,.j‘,goonwruxnn,” “ HERCULES, THE
mfgtgghaex,” ‘f 1311:an OF‘PEARLS,”

v “THE RED sconrrox,”.nrc.

CHAPTER VII.
'rnsr worms on 1:13AM; ,

s“, oufye‘, whose check the t , _;_.", f pity stéin-I, V

Draw near with pious ’mv _ ' and attend.”

C '    , ~—‘——Bumvs.

THERE was a peculiar'ly‘i'si nificant ex-
pression in the narrow face ‘0 .Theophilus
Onnotrann as he opened theslide in the
panel of the door, and said: -

“ Look: do you think she will live long ‘2’”
/- His long, skinny finger pointed. in at the
solitary occupant of the room, and his keen,
spectacled eyes fixed hard upon .Wilbur
Kearn. ,  .

The latter stepped quickly forward, and
placed his face to the opening. -

The apartment was handsomely furnish-
ed; but it was a prison—for the windows
were barred across, and the door was heavi-
ly locked. '

Near the center of the room, at a work-
table, sat a bent and shriveled form—a
Quadroon woman, who was well on toward
the completion of a century of years.

Her face Was sickeningly attenuated by
age; teeth she had none; there was scarce
sufficient flesh to cover the bones; a mere
living thing, and nothing, more—save that,
as if finished seen; fit to s are one relic of
youthful‘beauty, amass o jetty hair fell,

 

  

 

like, a volume of silken “thread, over her
pointed shoulders, and down nearly to the,

floor. :
She had been working with knitting-mes

dies, when the sound of comers fell upon

her ear; and now she Ceased, lettin the

weird song die on her lips, while she} ’ tens!

ed attentively. «

“ Beula! Beula !” cried Wilbur’Kearn.

Slowly she turned her head; but she did
not look at the man who uttered her name,
for she was sightless. The two eyes were
sunk deep into the head in blindness; and
they were eyes that had, in earlier years,
shone with all the luster of gems.

“ Beula! Beula!” he cried, again, “I am
here once more. Hear me. Answer me.
V’Vhere—where is my child? Where is
0158 ‘3”

She arose from the chair, and took a step
toward the door—pausing, and gathering
up those long, rich tresses, as if they were
her jealous care; and, while she wound the
black mass round her throat, she croaked :

“ It’s lVilbur Kearn ! It's Wilbur Kearn!
O—h—o ! “Wilbur Kearn !”

“ Yes, yes, it is I, Beula. I am here, as I
have been so often before, to beg, to im-
plore you—tell me, tell me—where is my
child?”

The blind woman rockedfrom limb to
limb, and the sightless orbs were turned
upon him.

“O—h-o! your child? Ha! ha! he! be!
-—yes, you’ve a child, a pretty child. But,
where will you find her?———ho! h—o! I
know ! Iknow l”

“Beula, tell me! By all the kindness
ever shown you in this world, by your
hopes of gaining Heaven when you die, I
invoke you take this lead of misery from
my breast! Oh! could you but see me !—
could you but know the grief that’s in my
heart! Tell me, Beula~tell inc—where is
my child?”

The withered creature grinned.

“ No use ! No use !” answered the creak-
ing voice. “ Remember—remember the
words of fate l”

“ Those words of fate !—”

“ Ay, ay, the words of fate!”

“ Oh, God ! I know not what they
mean.”

“ I have told you what they mean,” whis—
pered the physician, in VVilbur’s ear.

“ No, no; they can not—”

“But they do,” and the whisper was al-
most a hiss; “so be warned, ere it is too
late. She will go off suddenly, and that
very soon. If I am not able to swear to
her, that the prophecy is fulfilled, then the
secret will die with her.”

“Merciful Heaven pity me!” groaned
Kearn, in an agony of spirit.

Just then came the "blind woman’s voice
again.

“ Hear, Wilbur Kearnl—hear the words
of fate !—

‘ One twice wedded, wife of two,

Child by each, and a child that‘s lost:
One who never father knew.

And one that’s on life’s billows lost.
Marry the first to him who tried
To win the widow whose first love died;
Then will the last one be restored,
And balm on sorrow‘s wounds be poured.’

“Ho—h—o! the words of fate! Go, Wil-
bur Kearn, and mark them well.”

She turned and felt her way back to the
chair, resuming her work with the needles,
and starting afresh the song they had inter—
rupted.

“Beula! Beula! in the name of mercy,
relieve an old man of his woe! Oil! has
your heart turned to stone ?——-when you
stand upon the very brink of death !——when
you know that you must soon go before
your God! Do this one act of kindness, of
justice ere you die. Beula !” and he almost
screamed the words, while he clasped his

r s

 

hands, and a flood of tears gushed over his
cheeks, “ will you not tell me where she is?
-—my child!” ,; , ’

But the womaii worked steadily on, only
shaking her head“, and raising her song to a
loader key. I I   3»,

, Quemoment he starred minnows blind,

being Who held the seeret’he' so longedto‘

learn; then, with one great mean, like the
wail of Winter in its sighful geepphe 
bookward into the arms of ectorOnn‘or-
rann. :   ‘,  '
The phys'jyian calm! caught the-insensi-
ble form, and sustaine it, while he refasuen-
ed theislide. 

Then be half dragged Kearn along the;
hall, down the stairs, and inito his office,» ‘
' where he laid hit-iii upon the sofa.

Dismissing the niulattogirl, he applied
himself arduously to the ta,le of restoring
the stricken man to consciousness. ' _

And while thus engaged, he was mutter-
ing, lowly: r

“ that’s the use? He might as well try
to file sawdust off a rainbow as to get that
secrctxwithout complying with the condi-
tions.” ‘ W

'He hitched his chair close to the sofa on
which Kcarn lay.

Pretty soon the latter opened his eyes.
With the physician’s aid, he sat up; though
his head drooped forward to his hands, and
his elbows rested on his knees.

“ Feel any better ‘2” inquired Onnorrann,
very low, very mildly.

“I don’t know—what was the matter?”
absently. , _ .

“Oh, why, you fainted, that’s all. The
same as you always “do when you go up to
see. Beula, and learn that there’s no use of
fighting against this thing.” '

The, words had” the effect of warmino‘
Kearn’s blood. He raised his head an
gazed at the doctor, though that gaze was
wavering. . - -

“ Maul—~manljoh, if you are a man, and
not the demon you would seem to be-are
you not satisfied with what you have done?
See these tears! Look at me: trembling,
weak, despairing—”

“ New, friend Kearn,be reasonable.” He
drew out a penknife, and began paring his
nails, wisely attentive to his own scientific
use of the blade. _

“ You heard the ‘words of fate,’ didn’t

on ,
you .
,. “Yes—yes,” in a subdued tone; “they
bro 9. mystery to me.”

“ I have endeavored to make them plain.” -

“ No, no, no ; impossible.”

“ Wilbur Kearn,” with a slow, measured,
emphatic accent, “ let me impress it upon
you, for the last time: “ until you arrange
it so that I shall marry Zella, you will never
learn from Beula’s lips where to find your
oWn child. I say ‘your own,’ because it is
not generally known that Zella is your
stepdaughter—she having assumed your
name at her mother’s death. Now, what I
say is j ust as sure as aggravated measles are
ugly l” i

“ N o-no; you are old enough to be her
father!” ‘ ,

“A matter of no material difference, as
your own knowledge of every-day occur-
rences will show you,” argued the Doctor,
quietly, and filing industriously at a. sharp.

"corner on his thumb-nail. '

“Moreover,” he added, after a short

' pause, “ there‘s another item you seem to
forget.
are troubled with a hereditary affection of
the heart.
_fYcu’ll drop off before you can wink: and
'if,*by any possible chance, ’ou should get

You know well enough that you

Um! well, what’s the use?

to heaven, you’ll have to wait there another
indefinite time before you see your lost
child; Comprehend ? Now, be sensible.”

“ Theophilus Onnorrann, I believe it was
you who stole my child from me, to glut
your hatred for a rival—although you have
sworn to me that you did not—”

“Ha! ha! ha!” interrupted Onnorrann,

--a very “low laugh, “perhaps I did, after
all. But, if I did, friend Kearn, you may
rely upon it-——I haven’t the most remote
idea where she is now.” ,_
’ Kearn’sfeyes lighted with an angry emo-
tion; he glared upon the man before him—
so calm,so taunting; then, while his fingers
worked convulsively, he sprung up and for-
ward. '

“ O-h ! monster!” .

Onnorrann. did not fear him, physically,
yet, to avoid ah unpleasant scene that was
imminent, he slid out of and behind his
chair, on the back ofwhich he grasped and
leaned, as he said: '

“ Be careful, friendKearn—now, be care-
ful. Excitement is can] dangerous for a.
man who has heart disease!”

Even as he spoke. the other paused with
a cry that lingered in his throat, and clap—
ping one hand to his side, staggered back
onto the sofa.

But the pain was only momentary.

Onnorrann was about to resume his seat,
and also his play with the man who was
virtually in his power, when there came a
sharp rap on the door.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
TOO LATE! TOO LATE!
“ Giv‘st then but one look, sweetheart!

A word—no more!
It is Music’s sweetest part,

Where lips run o‘er!
’Tis a part I fain would learn,
So r’ythee here thy lessons turn,
And) teach me, to the close, ,_
All Love’s pleasure—all its woes!

—CORNWALL.

IT was the day following that of Kearn’s
visit to the physician in the city.

Father and daughter were upon the rose—
embowered porch, at their fairydike home ;
the first Seated on a rustic bench—with
chla, as when we first introduced her to the
reader, kneeling beside him, and toying
with her usual favorites, a bouquet of flow-
ers.

She dearly loved the many plants that
bloomed so gaudin around her exiled home
-—they were her especial care, her bright
companions ; it was rare to see her without
a blossom or bud arranged in her bosom, or
amid the jetty ringlets that clustered on her
brow; and she little dreamed how near 111
the future was the time when she would
part with these, and other loved assocrations
that cheered her solitude.

\Vilbur Kearn was paler than on the day
gone. Lines of sadness were traced across
his features, and his eyes were restless,
weary, wandering. . .

“Pa, I don‘t think your men; to town
yesterday did you much good.”

He was thinking so deeply as to be half-
oblivious to his child’s presence.

, The abruptness of her speech startled
him slightly. -

“ Why ‘3” he asked, after a brief silence,
and still gazing out over the broad picture
of beauty that spread before him.

“ Because you look tired and sleepy andgn go ?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

worried, and—do you know, pa, I some-
times think you arc dreadfullyrbothered
about somethingasomcthing hereJ mean,”
tapping her finger a couple of times on her

forehead. “ Now, what is it, I’d like to
know i” ‘

flawlessly as shespokc, the words caused
him another stardom! he moved uneasily.

'_“ Only‘your imagination,” he returned,
evasively. ,

“ Where did you go to ‘9” g

‘1“ To—I—«I called on Doctor Onnorrann,”

‘, Kearn answered, with a ‘hesitating manner,

9 and liis'lips Com- ressed, his teeth shut toge~
‘ tiller forcibly, aegis,

thought of hisinterview
with the physician. ‘
“ I don’t like that man i” declared Zella.

1 “ He looks so singular. 4nd When-rho was

here, a month ago, he w ‘chedine all the.
time, through those ugly green spectacles.
as if lie-wanted to eat me up! Ha! ha!
ha! he’s a very odd person, I think. But.
pa—what makes you go to see him so of-
ten ?”

“ You ask too many questions, Zella."

“ There it is again !” she exclaimed, with
a pout. “You not lately as if I hadn’t a
right to ask questions. Ayho! what a
wretched life.”

“ Zella l” He uttered the one word re-
proachfully, and glanced down into her
half-averted face.

“ Oh, don’t be angry!” she laughed. “I
didn’t mean any thing.”

“ Look: here comes some one.”

“ It’s Mr. W’iuficlc .” .

Theyoung man was approaching slowly
along the path. He did not see the pair,
for his head was hung, and his step was
thoughtful. ;

“ Penny for your thoughts l” called Zella,
as he drew near.

He raised his glance to the beautiful face
with its merry smiles. The voice that chal‘
longed was a-‘soundzthat thrilled him more
thanevcr their; vital" ’h put to flight the lit-
tle‘iron of natui'e 1387 i ad summoned for the
ordeal that was pending.

“ Good-day, Mr. Kearn,” he said, as
Zella’s father arose and extended his hand.

“ Another bouquet for you—see; isn‘t
it pretty?” and she held it toward him.

“I believe you always have one ready
for me, when Icome, whether you expect
me or not. Thank you.”

“Yes; I know you like flowers. Here—
let me pin this in your button-hole. My!
Now you look grand! Give me your hat.
Sit down. Come—”

“ Never mind,” be interposed, as she
reached out her hand to receive his hat;
“ It is hardly necessary. I have only a few
moments to stay.”

Unperceived by him, there was a slight
shadow flitted over the lovely face; but it.
Was gone in an instant, and the smile was
gayer than ever, as she exclaimed:

“Oh, you might stay a long time! Be
generousz don’t see anybody from one
week to another—that is, besides pa. Do
stay. I’ve much to talk about—though
what, I don’t know. I’ll try my best to
make you forget your watch. Ha! ha! ha !
Come, sit down—oh, I forgot to ask you if
you are well to-day !” and on she went, un-
til she had to laugh at her own unceasing
chatter.

Kearn withdrew shortly, and the young
couple wandered down among the flower-

beds.

Winfield had a trying task before him.
He had come there to bid this lovely girl
farewell—~forever,’to see her for the last
time; yet his tongue would not mold the
words he wished to speak, and it seemed
impossible to tear himself away. '

All the subtle influences that had made
his heart lean toward her, now ‘redoubled'
within him. She had never looked so beau-
tiful as then. The great, deep fascination
that held him, Was gaining strength with
every moment of-his stay in her society.

While she was talking and laughing con-
tinuously in her gay, careless, happy way,
he was forcing himself to smile and partake
of her humor, though his breast was racked
and painin g.

It Was no longer a doubt; he knew he.
loved this sunny, artless fairy, with all
the ardor of a willing soul.

“ Zella, why don’t you write poetry ‘9—
fiction, romance? If I lived in such a Par-
adise as this, I would find it hard to resist
the temptations oifered in the pursuit.”

“ Oh, I haven‘t any taste that way——
though I admire it. See—what a handsome
rose! Here’s a geranium leaf. Take it
home to remember me by.”

“ \Vhy not cultivate a taste?—it will
come easily,” he continued, adhering to the
subject. “ There is every thing around you
to paint the rarest of pictures in a pliant
fancy. ’With such airs of sweets, such
museful atmospheres, it were strange if in—
spiration, coupled to your ready thought.
did not produce these works which search
out the deepest sympathies, and reap the
golden harvest of the world’s admiration.”

“I want to be an artist, Mr. \Vinfield.
And there’s every thing here to engage the
Artist’s eye, as well as the Poet’s. Perhaps
my ambition will be gratified, some day.
But, ayho ! it’s an uncertain world we live
in: to-day we are hopeful, to—morrow we
(are sad.” *

“ Time !”-—and his voice sunk, as he re-
plied in a way more significant than, per-
haps, she perceived ; “ wemay calmly watch
the shadows of a changeful fate—reckon
aptly on the casting of a die-build bright
palaces in the glad Utopia of mind’s imagi—
mugs—my, even sChool the senses to banish
their gloom, in the sweet realization of pre—
sent joys; but, where is the panacea to dis-
pel the sadness that ever follows in the
wake of bliss ?——where the elixir to perpetuo
ate forgetfulness of woe? where the power
to forever retain to us the brilliant dreams
of happiness that momentary hopes have
painted ‘9” It was a mournful tone 111 which
he ceased. A long silence ensued, for be
little knew how deeply the import of that
speech searched to the heart of his list-
cner.

But, time had flown rapidly and unheed.
ed, as they lingered there among the flow-
ers. He roused from the gloom of melan-
choly which had seized him.

' “ Good-by, chla ; I must go now.”

He would have parted thus abruptly, for
he felt it was his only honest. course.

As he clasped her hand, it might have
been that she held his tighter than was her
went; but, though the perception of love is
keen, he failed to noticc it.

 

“ Good—by, Zella — good—by !” and he
wheeled from the spot at a rapid step.
“Mr. Winfield! Mr. Winfield!” It was

a low, pleading voice.
He paused, without turning; his eyes
widened as a strange, strange thrill per-

;vaded him. . _
 She was calling him back! Should he