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“Forgive me for startling you, dear," she
said, kindly; “I believe I’ve sat looking at
him. too long. I feel all unstrung—nervous—
hysterical. He woke and looked at me, and-—
and—I could not bear it—” she could not press
back the convulsive sob here, for oh, his eyes
had looked into hers so solemnly, so appealing
ly; and—oh God! was he dead now—dead?

“Poor love!" faltered Rufus, anguish in his
heart, for he truly loved this ill—fated woman
who had come to him through crime—and
what man, howsoever wicked, can endure the
sight of her sweet hands, soiled with guiltll
“ l’oor love, would to God I had kept all this
from you—would to God I had gone through
it alone, or—or never thought of it at all -- ’

“Don’t! Don't say that!” she cried, with

’ sudden shrill despair, for was it not too late—

eternally fixed—no drawing back any more—
and to whisper compunction Howl—“if you
want to kill me, or craze me, talk of re-
pentance now. Oh! Oh!” She went back in‘
to her room in a wild way, trying to check the
cries of agony which would burst from her
betrayed soul; for it is NOT true that men and
women who have head to reason and heart to
feel can sin without remorseful anguish; it
must be a semi-idiot who could; and especially
to plot deliberate murder—a double murder,
as had been done here; oh, poor, quivering,
anguished soul of doomed Godiva, why were
your throes not enough to soften that
adamant will of hers, which even now could
not bring itself to accept defeat, express con-
trition, and welcome retribution and expla-
tion?

Rufus, carried out of himself by her vehe-
mence, her distress, and the near sorrow of se—
paration for a time, ventured in after her, and
catching her in the center of the room, en-
circled her writhing form with his eager arms,
and sought to press her head to his breast;
but she thrust him from her fiercely, crying
out words that pierced his very soul with grief
and terror.

“Out of my sight, murderer!” she raved,
prudence, calculation, all forgotten save the
flame which was consuming her; “it matters
nothing that I am as guilty as you—do I not
abhor myselfl—ah! I could tear my own vile
heart out with these hands, and trample down
its hateful throbbings! And you expect me to
love you-—-you, the low hound, the our, who
could work upon a poor, proud-spirited girl’s
evil passions to Win yourself wealth—who
could—”

She stopped; Vulpino was on the threshold,
his black eyes glimmering green with jealousy
and daring exultation; he had heard her last
bitter words; and Rufus’s convulsed counten-
ance corroborated the sincerity of her denun~
ciation; but he quickly commanded himself,
stepped up to Rufus, and whispered in his ear
with a friendly look:

“ Foolish lover, do you not-a see dat yore
donna amica is distract, dat you oppress her
weeth love-makings now? Leave her weeth no
addio; she weel sigh fore you to—morrow, re-
penting of her cruelties to-day. Away weeth
you brave amico.” And he gently pulled the
reluctant swain from the lady’s room, softly
closing the door upon her hysterical sobs and

111011118.

Five minutes afterward she heard the grind-
ing of wheels on the stones below, and hurry-
ing to look down, saw the brothers driving
away with a couple of valises strapped to the
back of the fly.

“And that’s the last of you,” she muttered,
laughing wildly.

(To be continued —commenced in No. 389.)

 

NEXT WEEK:
MR. ALBERT W. AIKEN’S
GOLD DAN!

 

REPINING.

BY W. HECTOR M’LEAN.

When the heart is sad and weary,
And the tears unbidden come,
When the air is chill and dreary,
How we long to hurry home!

What’s the use and what‘s the meaning
Of this tOil, this crushing care?

Other hands rewards are gleaning—
Other brows the laurel wear.

Why must I, unhap )y, labor,
Till the stony, fruitless sell, '
While rich harvests bring my neighbor
Double tribute for his toil?

Is there coming never, never,
For this cross of care, a crown?

Will no hand our fetters sever
Till we lay our burdens down?

Wherefore all this hope and fearing?
Wh was man but born to weep?
n Coul not life be always cheering-—
Sorrow in oblivion sleep?

 

 

Foolish heart! cease thy repining!
Sorrow always joy enshrouds; _ _
Would’st then see the rainbow shining
If it were not for the clouds?

Still thy tongue its loud complaining;
Whatsoever is, is best; _ .

On thy head the cares are raining,
Soon ’twill brighten in the west.

The Californians;

OR, THE
Rivals of the Valley of Gold.

A ROMANCE OF FEATHER RIVER.

 

 

 

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

CHAPTER XXIV.
DIABOLISM.

FOR an instant the men stared at each other
in mute amazement, but then Gospel George
sprung to his feet and snatched up the mys—
teriously delivered parcel, scattering the fire-
brands and extinguishing the flames With one
vigorous kick, exclaimmg as he did so: ”

‘Scatter, boys, an’ look out fer snakes!

This prom t action broke the spell, and wea-
pons in han , the gold-hunters «funded and be-

an quartering the ground in search of the

ing who had cast the paper-enveloped. stone,
guiding each other’s progress by their low
signals; but their search was in vain, and
after hunting for nearly an hour, the most re-
solved were forced to admit themselves baf-
fled

“ I cain’tsee into it,” muttered Gosgel Gear 6
as he returned to the spot where the extro y-
scattered firebrands still smoldered; "onless—
we was all here, together, ’cept one—” _

“You take me fer a durn fool?” angrily
interrupted Grumbling Dick. “You want _to
go easy ef you don’t wantamountain a—climbm’

our back—” _
up“yStop your sparring, both of you,” cried
Allen, sharp] . “ There is morem this than an
idle trick. You have the paper, .old man. .I
would almost swear that I saw writing upon it
as it lay by the fire. Hurry—help start a light
——it ma. be an important message.—
“ An mebbe a. love—letter,” grinned Gospel
r 6.
Ge}? Allen said no more, though had there
been light enough it would have been seen that
his cheek was flushing hotly, for much the

 

same idea had occurred to him—not, indeed,
that it was a love-1etter——but might it not be a
message from Inez de Mendoza! He fancied
that she was on the point of telling him more
when their interview was intermpted by the
appearance of Gospel George—might she not
have taken this method, making use of the
trusty hand of which she had spoken, in pre-
feregnce to running the risk of another meet-
mg.

All these reflections flashed through his mind
while endeavoring to rekindle the fire, and when
the tiny flame gained strength, the hand that
he extended toward Gospel George for the peb-
ble, trembled rceptibly. Though the old man
grinned knowm ly, he said nothing as he hand-
ed Allen the litt e packet.

The young man smoothed out the crumpled
paper, and stooping low, read aloud the address
—his own name.

The others crowded around in breathless in-
terest, as his eyes glanced hurriedly over the
few lines of bold, decided writing.

“ Listen.” he said, then reading aloud:
“CAPTAIN EDWARD ALLEN:

“Allow me to observe that you and your com—
radesare running a very foolish risk in remaining
here after being repeatedly warned to leave. You
will never he suffered to carry one ounce of gold
away from the valley, and may congratulate vour
lucky stars that you can escape with life. nly
that you are accompanied by ladies. my only mes-
sage would be delivered through my revolver. For
their sake you are granted two days from this even-
ing—August 12th—in which to make your retreat.
If not gone before that hour, you will receive a cor-
dial visit from FiEaY FRED.“

“ An’ that long-legged ragamuffin swore ’at
he rubbed Fiery Fred out!” exclaimed Dick
Barnes. “Lord! how I do hate a liar!”

As for Gospel George, he seemed fairly thun—
derstruck.

“They must be some mistake—you couldn’t
’a’ read it right!” he muttered, snatching the
document from Ned Allen’s hand, and with
fingers that trembled like one afflicted with the
ague, strove to find the date. “ Ef I could only
read! You wouldn’t cheat an old man like me,

ntlemen? But, don’t I know? didn’t I see him

all—didn’t I see him dead? It’s a low-dOWn,
dirty trick to fool me! But, look out! whoever
did it won’t hev time to say his pra’rs when I
lay hands onto him!”

“Don’t be foolish, old man,” said Allen; “if
you have failed once, there may be another
chance. You need not look at Dick. I am
ready to swear that he cannot write more than

Own name, and as for the rest of us, you
know that we did not throw the stone.”

But Gosgel George refused to be consoled, and
shaking o the friendly hand, he picked up his
blanket and withdrew to one side, lying d0wn
and wrapping himself up like a mumm . It
was late fore his example was followed. The
mysteriously—delivered note furnished ample
food for conversation. Yet the affair had been
so dextrously managed that onl one fact could
be satisfactorily determined. he pebble could
not have been cast far, else its contact with
fie? 1Allen’s head would have been more severe-
y e .

The messenger, then, must have crept up to
within at least twenty yards of the camp-fire.
The reflection was not an agreeable one, to so.
the least. Which of them could feel safe wit
so skillful an enemy upon his trail?

That night was a wakeful one for the most of
the flirty, even when not on guard duty, but
day wned without any further alarm. After
a hearty breakfast, Ned Allen called a council,
and earnestly requested each member to give
his sincere opinion. As for himself he declared
his intention to remain at the valley, not only
because an ample fortune only awaited the
gathering, but because the wounded men,
though progressing as favorably as could be ex—
pected were still unable to bear removal, espe-
cially Malachi Grey.

To think of retreat now would simply mean to
desert the wounded and the women. The de—
termination of the others was terser embodied
in Grumblin Dick’s threat to “crawl all over
the feller as net said crawfish!”

Warned by the experience of the past day,
Allen assigned particular duties to each man—
save Gospel George, who had stipulated for a
roving commission on joining them—and won a
promise from all that these duties should be
strictly com lied with. Indeed, after the warn—
ing the h received, all knew that there must
be er ect discipline if they would avoid worse.

spel George left them directly after break—
fast, nor was he seen again until after dark.
The remainder worked hard and steadily, with
far more method than before. There was much
to be done before the could hope to reap their
richest reward. The dof the stream between
the fall and the lake promised them the most
gold, if properly mana ed, and to this end they
set to work with a Wil , one other, besides P1—
card, keeping guard b turns. Favored by the
lay of the ground as t ey were, it would not be
difficult for them to turn the course of the
stream so as to leave its present bed bare. This,
with the addition of a. dam across the neck of
the lake, it was believed, would effect their pur-
pose. And, if not otherwise troubled, they
might hope to begin reaping the reward of their
toi by one week at the outside.

Through all that day not a living being was
seen besides their own compan , and, with each
a. secret hope that they had e ectually “bluff-
ed” the outlaw chief, they lay down to sleep,
wearied with their hard labor. As before, two
men were kept on guard at a time; there was no
alarm, each relief being assured by his prede-
cessor that nothing was stirring, and yet, just
after arisin , Jotham Grey, with a sharp cry,
pointed to t e side of the wagon, where, sway-
ing in the slight breeze, fluttered a scrap of pa-
per, covered with writing. As before, this mes—
sage was addressed to Captain Edward Allen,
and as before, the signature was that of Fiery
Fred. In silence the party listened to Allen
read the note, which redapitulated their doings
through the day, ending by repeating the warn-
ing of the preceding ni ht. And in silence they
interchanged glances, ark and gloomy, tinged
with suspicion. Who could be the mysterious
messenger—who but one of themselves! Though
not uttered in words, this was What those covert
glances declared.

Already the poison was working slowly but
surely.

Doggedly the day’s work was pursued; but
the laughter, the jesting retorts, the eager spec-
ulations over the amount of gold Which was to
finally reward them—none of this passed be—
tween them. Even Allen was subdued and
gloomy. Though he could not explain the mys-
tery, he felt almost sure that he could answer
for each of his comrades as for himself. He
had known them all for years, all, that is, ex-
ce t Dick Barnes and Gospel George.

ick, he would almost take an oath was true,
and—supposing him the one—what object would
the old scout have in playing such a part? He
had foughtin their cause against the outlaw,
and making his blows count, too; and equally
clear was his hatred for Fiery Fred. It was a
muddle clear through, as he was forced to ad—
mit, and tried to dismiss the unwelcome thoughts
by resolving to secretlafkoeep a. close watch upon
both Dick and l rge

That night. though the fires were permitted to

0 down, not one of the party thought of sleep,
fiat occupied the rifle-trench, weapons in hand.
During his day’s scout Gospel George had seen
an unusual stir around the mountain den of the
outlaws, and expressedhisbelief that the signal-
fires had rformed their work in calling in the
whole of 'er Fred’s band.

The hour 0 midnight passed without alarm,
and the miners be 11 to congratulate them-
selves, when what ooked like a meteor arose
from the hill beyond the river, and fell within
a few yards of their position. By the tiny.
flickerin light they could see an arrow qmver-
ing in the ground. G03 1 George crept out
and secured it. Around t e shaft was wrapped
a third memage, simply stating that not one of

the part should live to see another night.
Lest t ‘ might be only a ruse to throw them
off their

rd, the entirgap‘tfirty kept on the

alert unt' broad day. Br ast was eaten in

 

silence; then Allen advised his comradesto sleep .

 

instead of work, since he believed that the ob-
ject of these repeated alarms was to wear them
out through loss of sleep, when they might be
eas1ly_surprised and overpowered. His advice
was silently complied with, but Ned, himself,
weaned though he was, could not sleep. The
haunting sus )icions were still present, despite
the last night s evidence.

Gospel George remaiied in camp that day,
and upon him and Allen devolved the keeping
guard. It was dreary work, and when night
came again, even Allen doubted whether he
could endure another such. Better the final
struggle at once than this horrible suspense.

Refreshed by their days repose. the four mi-
ners and the wounded Picard declared their
readiness to stand C"uard, but it was thought
better to divide the watch into two parts.
Allen, completely worn out, lay down early and
soon fell asleep: nor did he awake. until the gray
light was growing in the east. Then, as his
eyes opened. a sharp cry broke from his lips.
A lock of his long hair was knotted aromid the
handle of a dagger, the blade of which was
driven deep into the earth!

CHAPTER XXV.
A PRIVATE ADVENTURE.

FOR a moment after uttering his cry of sur-
rise—almost terror—Ned Allen was overcome
W a. dizzy, sickening sensation hard to describe.
The knowledge that their utmost vigilance could
not guard against these repeated warnings—
that there was one hovering near them, day and
night, who a )peared able to enter their camp at
will, to post ' message beneath the very eyes
of men whose utmost energies were bent on
solving the mystery—that he had lain wholly at
the mercy of this dark unknown, whose hand
could have driven the keen blade into his heart
just as easily as into the earth; these thoughts
caused his brain to whirl until a bloody mist
seemed spread before his e res.

The cry attracted genera attention, and great
was the consternation when the miners beheld
their young leader lying pale and motionless
upon his blanket, his long hair half-concealing
the jeweled haft, the blade of which seemed
buried in his throat. The excitement acted as
a restorative, and Allen arose, with a sickly
smile leaving the dagger in its earthen sheath.

ore answering any of the flood of ques-
tions that were poured upon him, Allen quickly
but keenly scrutinized each countenance before
him, but if he hoped to gain any clew from this,
he was doomed to disappointment. Even the
most suspicious could have detected nothing.
save enuine astonishment, in more than one
case eeply tinged with superstition; though
only Grumbling Dick spoke out his thoughts.

“ Ef it wasn’t fer them wimmen! A feller’s a
durn fool to buck ag’inst the devil and all his
imps—an‘ that’s jest what we’re doin’! They
ain’t no livin’ man as kin sneak aroun’ an’ out up
each doin’s, never leavin’ no Sign behind nur
nothin’—you needn’t tell me!”

“ That’s all in your e e, Dick,” sharply inter-
posed Harry Lane. “ hat some one is playing
it down mighty fine on us, I won’t deny, but as
to its being ancythin more than an unusuallv
sly, sneaking og— ’d give a year of my life
just to have one squint at him over a pistol bar—
rel. Now, look here. There are two ways to
look at this matter. Somebody has played
these tricks, thinking, no doubt, to drive us
away from our find. That rson is either an
open enemy, or a. preten ed friend——one of
Fiery Fred’s men, or else one of us seven men!
Hold hard—there is no use in ’ g. Who-
ever would play these tricks would deny it, of
course. There is only one wa to get to the bot-
tom; and that is for each an every one of us
to suspect every other person—to watch his every
action, night and day; then, at a certain hour—
for instance, directly after su per—we will meet
in council, each man will de 'ver his re ort in
turn; and, also, each and all of us mus stand
ready to answer every charge, clearly and with-
out reserve. You may say that such a com‘se
will create hard feelings; but I don‘t believe it.
If we all publicly swear to perform our duty,
honestly and without prejudice, there can be
only injury to one person—and that person is
just the one we wantto find! There, entlemen,”
concluded Lane, “ you have my i eas, and if
this plan is conscientiously carried out, one of
three things will be the result. It will be found
that one of us, now present, is guilty; or if not
that, that these tricks will have to be aban-
doned; or, that the guilty person is an outsider,
which will at least restore perfect confidence be-
tween ourselves.”

Allen grasped Harry’s hand, and pressed it

a .
“ Oldy fellow, your head is the best among us!
and I, for one, bind myself to follow your ad
vice from be ‘ ' g to end. If anything can
solve this mystery, your Ian will.”

The rest followed in llen‘s wake, there not
being one dissenting voice; and then, in words
prepared by Harry Lane, a soleum oath was
taken to show no prejudice or favor in their re—
ports, and heartin agreeing not to take offense
where all were to be treated alike. Then, by
common consent, the matter was dropped.

It was agreed that, though one man was to
stand guard, the work of laying bare the river-
bed should be prosecuted regardless of the threats
made by Fiery Fred or his representative.
Since Alfred Picard, thou h steadily improv-
ing, was still unable to han e pick—ax or spade,
he was selected as the sentinel, and posted upon
a little rise in the ground, not far distant from
the scene of labor. Beside him lay all the wea-
pons of the miners, save one revolver each,
which was worn constantly. Thus, in case 01'
emergency, the entire party could be armed
and ready for hot work inside of ten seconds
from the alarm.

The work progressed steadily, without inter-
ruption, until. noon. It was during the hour
after dinner, which was habitually one of rest,
that Harry Lane drew Allen aside, and when
safe beyond earshot of the others, said:

“ Let me look at that curious present of yours,
Ned; I have a reason for it,” he added, as Allen
produced the dagger. “I knew it! I can tell
you where that playtng came from—or, at
least, where it was less than one week ago. You
remember my hobby—a love for rich or curious

cimens of armory.”

“ Yes—but what—speak out, man!”

“ You remember that girl—the daughter of
old Mendoza, I believe? “’ell. she were that
identical dag er in her sash, on the day we tried
her father. I would willingly take my oath on
it "

 

W

A new light seemed to burst upon the young
miner‘s mind and he never knew what answer
he made to his friend as they slowly paced back
to camp. He firmly believed that this was the
message romised him by Inez, though it would
have pus ed him hard to have explained the
reasons for his belief. One whose mind was less
disturbed would have seen the utter folly of
such an idea. No such risk would have been in-
curred in order to deliver an article against the
recognition of which the chances were then-
sands to one. But Ned was not reasoning; he
was acting purely on impulse, and when his
comrades arose to resume their labor, be briefly
explained that he believed he had found a clew
to much that had puzzled them so utterly, and
asked a full consent to his devoting the remain-
der of the day to investigating the matter. Only
Lane objected; he believed that Allen would m-
cur too great a risk in venturing beyond the
valley, alone.

“At least, let me go with you,” he ur .

“ No; you are needed here. I pl cre my
honor, thou b, not to run any unnec
risk. I  back by sunset, at the outside.’

“ Ef you chaince to see ande we ever see
afore, jest give ’em our re-gards!” ‘ lGeorge
called after him; but if Ned heard, he made no

re 1 .

Tile young miner pressed eagerly forward,
though still keeping a keen 100 -out, until he
reached the spot where he last parted with Inez
de Mendoza There he paused, glancing eagerly
around; but his face clouded as no living being
met his eye. that he expected, probably
would have puzzled himself to state, even if his
wishes were more clear.

He paused beside the bOWlder for several min-

 

utes, buried in thought: then, with a sudden air
of resolution, he started forward. heading for
the point of rocks around which the fair rider
had vanished.

“I will see her!” he muttered aloud. “ There
may be risk, but Ican't go on like we have these
few days back—it is enough to drive a dead man
crazy! I‘ll see her, even if I have to ask for ad—
mission to the house."

Though by no means an experienced scout,
Ned's eyes were keen enough to pick up the trail
after passing the rock-point, and following it for
nearly a mile, he came out upon a low ridge,
from which he could look down upon the square
stone building which he knew must be where
Mendoza dwelt.

The building appeared utterly deserted; not
even an animal was to be seen. For some min-
utes he watched, doubting what course to pur—
sue; but this was decidec for him in the next
instant. Slowly passing down the little valley,
evidently choosing a course that would yield
shelter from the house. he spied a rider—and
even at that distance he recognized Inez. His
first impulse was to meet her as speedily as pos-
sible, but a second thought convinced him that
she was not using such precautions without good
reasons, so, marking her probable course, Allen
drew back and hastened along in hopes of iiiter—
ce )ting her.

e had calculated closely. “’hen once beyond
possible discovery from the building, he crossed
the ridge and found the rider just below him.
Inez wrenched her mustang around at his sud—
den appearance, but at the sound of his voice
she paused, an eager light in her fine eyes as the
young miner hastened down the slope.

“I was riding in hopes of meeting you,” she
said, hastily, not heeding his rather impulsive
greeting. “ But not here—I fear I am watched
—back over the ridgebanda—anda !”

Not less agitated than herself, Ned obeyed,
finall ' pausing close. beside a huge bowlder.

“ on were coming to our house, senor,” she
said, in an eager, trembling voice. “That vou
must never do! vour life would be in great dan-
ger—they would kill you !”

“ And who are they?" laughed Ned. “ Is
there not a truce between us and your people?”

“ It has been broken—one of your men shot
my father—and some one told him of our meet—
ing—ay dc mi ! what have I not endured!”

An angry exclamation broke from Allen’s
lips, but before he could speak, Inez hastily ut-
tered:

“ Never mind that—listen! You are betrayed
—-the victim of a dastardly treachery! There is
a traitor in yom‘ midst—no, I do not know his
name; I could not learn that, but he is in league
with the villain you know as Fiery Fred. I
have tried to warn vou before this, but since
that evening I have been kept a close prisoner,
and I had no one whom I could trust to send
you the message I promised—”

“ Then you did not send me this?” exclaimed
Allen, extending the jeweled dagger.

“ No—though it was mine—but he took it from
me—I tried to kill him—”

At that moment, without shout or warning,
half a dozen rough, fierce—looking men darted
around the bowlder, from both sides, and pre—
cipitated themselves u )on the young miner.
Though taken so comp etely by surprise, and
not given time to draw a weapon,Allen struggled
so desperately that he fairlv shook off his assail-
ants; but before he could do more, a pistol was
discharged, almost against his head, and he fell
back without a sigh or groan.

CHAPTER XXVI.
FIERY FRED NAMES THE DAY.

WHEN Inez de Mendoza told Edward Allen
that she had suffered much, of late, she spoke
nothing more than the literal truth. She had
endured both bodily and mental pain since that
interrupted interview. The fear which she ex-
pressed then that her steps were beino dogged,
had only too sure a foundation, and t e report
of the stolen meeting reached home before she
did. She found her father, cold and stern, await-
ing her at the great gate, and one glance told
her that he knew all. Without a word he mo—
tioned her to her room, following close upon her
steps. But if his cold deliberation told her how
deeply offended he was, it also gave her time to
decide upon the course she must follow; and
thus, when the long pentup storm of rage,
anger, almost curses came, she, drawn proudly
erect, met it with an unflinching front. Not a
word did she attempt to utter until her father,
out of breath and exhausted by the fury of his
own passions, sunk into a chair, muttering
hoai'sely:

“ Have you not one word to say—no defense
to make? Mother of Jesus! it cannot have gone
so far as that——”

“ Stop!” almost imperiously interrupted Inez.
“ You have said enough, and more than enough.
Had your spy been as keen of ear as he was
sharp-sighted, you might have spared us both
this painful scene. Know, then, that I had two
motives in meeting this gentleman. One was to
thank him for saving your life; the other to
warn him against an unscrupulous enemy, who
had sworn his destruction. You know whom I
allude to—Senor Gonzalo—or Fiery Fred, the
outlawed murderer, robber, and scoundrel in
general.” _ _

“You are mad, girl!" cried the Californian,
his face ashen gray, casting a nervous glance
over his shoulder.

Inez laughed hardly, almost contemptuously.

“I see you are expecting him. Very well; so
long as you do not expect me to meet him again.
That 1 will never do. I never liked him, even
while he was at his best, but now that I know
him in his true colors, I would sooner herd
with lepers than be for one moment in his com-

anv!"
p "This is a sudden change, Inez,” said Men-
doza, forcing himself to speak calmly. “ It is
not so long since that you promised to become
his wife—”

" Ay—because you declared that upon my con-
sent depended your honor, if not life. But new
—not even that consideration can influence me.”

“ Now—does that mean. since you have met
this ragged Yankee? this robber of other men’s
gold—no doubt some despicable, low-bred cur,
who was forc;~d to leave his country for his
country’s good—"

“Father, why did we leave our own dear
house so suddenly—ha ',” cried Inez, startled at
the effect of her wor s. “Pardon—I did not
mean that!"

“Mean what?" asked Don Estevan, though
with an evident effort. “I do not understand
you. But let that pass. You must never see
this heretic again—you must never even think
of him. Swear this, upon your Master’s
cross—”

“I cannot—I will not! You ask too much,
father. I have always obeyed you, but in this
I cannot. You ask me to take an oath that
I would break every day—ay! every hour!”

“Are you mad, girl? or am I dreaming?”

“ No; it is I who have been dreaming, all my
life—but now I am awake. Father, what mo—
ther felt for you, I feel for this stranger! I see
him before me every time I close my eyes—I
can hear his voice still ringin in my ears. _ I
know that I love him—that shall love him
until I die! And this is the reason I Will not
take the oath you wish—why I swear that I
will never receive your friend as you and he

' h” I
W1'bZAnd now listen to me i” cried the Califor-
nian, hoarsely, his face convulsed With fury.
“ I swear that you shall receive him-that ou
shall keep your pledge to hocome his Wife. . nd
more-I swear to you that if you are obstinate,
that I, with my own hands,  kill this ac-
cursed heretic, and bring you his bloody head
for a bridal resent !"

“You w‘ make me a murderess as well,
then,” slowly uttered Inez, as though the words
imued with difficulty. “ If a single hair of his
head is harmed, I swear never to know rest
until I have had revenge, deep and bitter—ay!
even against you, my father!” _

“ Very prettily spoken! If all other arts fail
you, fair lady. you can make your fortune upon
the stage.”

Father and daughter started at the sound of

 

that soft, musical voice. Fiery Fred was lean- , business

 

ing carelessly against the door-post, half laugh-
ing, h sneering at the tableau he had inter-
rupted. Inez was the first to recover, and in a
clear ringing tone she spoke:

“You are intruding, sir; begone, or I will
summon the servants to teach you common po-
liteness!”

“That would be taking a great deal of useless
trouble, my love; and I fear the poor fellows
would find me rather an untractable pupil,”
sneered the outlaw.

“Father, order him to leave the house!” im-
petuously cried Inez, turning pale with anger.

“If father is wise, he will do no such thing,”
and as he spoke, the former languid insolence
changed to an air of stem authorit , as he closed
the door behind him and tame the massive
kev, ending by slipping it into his pocket.
" There—there!" he added, impatiently, as the
Californian made a step toward him. “For
once in our lives let us be honest together, and
play our cards faced. There has been too much
time wasted, too much talking and not near
enough action. I am tired of this child’s play—
and you, my lady—you are really in need of a
touch of the curb—”

" Senor Don Gonzalo—in my own houseL!”

“ In your house? shall I call the servants and
ask them who is their master. you or I ?" sneered
the rufiian. “Peace! you have tried your way,
and failed, most miserably; it is my turn, now.
I am going to play the limits, this time—break
or make. To satisfy you that l ImOW my game,
listen:

“ You, Don Estevan are aforger, a defaulte',
a price set upon your head. You, my dear, to
insure my silence, have pledged yourself to be-
come my wife. I know that you do not love me
quite to distraction—I heard enough to deter—
mine all doubts, before coming in, just now.
lVell, to tell the simple truth, I am rather glad
of that; there is so much more pleasure in store
for me—in other words, it will be amusing
sport, the breaking you in. You see I am per-
fectly frank with you. I don’t love you—I
never did, probably never will: and had you
taken less ains to show your dislike, I dare
say I shoul never have dreamed of wooing you
for a wife.”

“ You are insulting, sir!” gasped the Califor-
nian, one hand seeking his om.

“ And if I am, who are you to complain? Be-
ware! I am not in the humor for nonsense.
Let your weapon rest, my friend, unless you
wish to die unshriven. Take your seat in yon~
der chair; I mean it—there is no use for you to
struggle. Remember that , too, carry a
weapon in my breast—3y! and one that I know
right well how to use!”

Vith a groan of impotent anger, the old man
literally obeyed, sinking into the designated
chair and covering his face with his trembling
hands.

“And now, my lady,” said Fiery Fred, turn—
ing once more toward Inez. “I have a few
words more to speak to you, and then I leave
vou to our sweet dreams—of this gallant Ed-
ward, len. Ha! that touches ou? The noble
captain of ragamufiins has ma e a con uest, I
see. Well, do not think that I shall be a Jealous
husband— ’

“You will never have the chance,” inter-
ru ted Inez, forcing herself to speak with that
c ness which means so much. “I will lu'll
you with my own hand, first!”

“I have heard a score stout men threaten as
much,” laughed the outlaw; “but I am living,
still, and my death will be a more glorious one
than by a soft woman’s hand. So much for
your threats. Now lend me your ears for a mo-
ment, while I prove what a generous husband I
shall be.

“Your father threatened to bring you this
fellow’s head for a bridal present. I pledge you
my word to do even more than that for I will
convey him here, alive and unharm . He shall
be one of the witnesses to our happy espousal—
he shall wish us joy, and, if you are on extra
good behavior, he may even be permitted to
salute the bride—after the happy bridegroom,
of course. Now—am I not magnanimous?”
and his low, taunting laugh rimg out insolently.

Inez made no re )ly. It seemed as though she
must suffocate. er brain reeled and she would
have fallen but for the support afforded by the
high—backed chair beside her. Don Estevan
started as though to assist her, but at a
order from the rufiian he sunk back, with a
groan of bitterness. It seemed as though the
sound of that hated voice acted as a stimulant
to the almost fainting maiden. She drew her
proud form erect and met his sneering glance
with one of open defiance.

“ New I will proceed,” coolly resumed Fiery
Fred, resolved on enjoying to the full his re-
venge for all former coldness and slights. “ In
just one week from this I shall have eveil'uy‘thing
in readiness for our wedding. There w‘ be a
priest, holy enough to satisfy your every
scruple. The one particular witness will also be
here. In the meantime, I don’t think it would
be good for vour health to take too much exer-
cise, and I shall leave orders to that effect. You
will save yourself considerable annoyance if
you bear this fact in mind.”

He paused, but Inez made no reply. lVlth a
little laugh, Fiery Fred stepped toward her.
Contrary to his evident e ectation, the maiden
made no attem t to avoid is approach; instead
she pushed asi e the heavy chair, a cold smile
upon her face. Then, qmck as thought, she
sprung forward and struck heavil at his
threat, a glittering dagger in her han .

But something in her eyes had warned the
ruflian of peril, and he dextrously caught her
descending hand, wrenching it so that the wea-
pon dropped to the floor. and she turned sick
and dizzy. Then his arms were closed around
her: his burm'ng lips were pressed upon hers for
one instant.

“A kiss for a blow,” he laughed, steeping
and securing the jeweled dagger. “ And now,
my darling, good-night. As for you, Don Este—
van, I must trouble you to bear me company.
I have a few words for your private ear.”

Like one in a dream, the Californian followed
him from the room.

(To be continued—00771menced in No. 391.)

 

Ripples.

GENTLEMEN’S hats, that last year brought $3
apiece, can now be purchased for S1. 50; where
as it still costs a woman from $15 to $50 to go
comparatively bareheaded.

A TEACHER in one of our grammar schools
inquired, “What was the cause of the Revolu-
tionary War?” The prompt reply was, “The
Yankees wanted the Fourth of July and were
bound to have it!"

“WILL the boy who threw that pepper on
the stove please come up here and get the
present of a nice bookg" said a. Sunday school
superintendent in Iowa; but the boy never
moved. He was a far—seeing boy.

IT must fill the soul of the average boy with
some idea of the grandeur of civihzation when,
after he has smoked his first cigar, he reflects
on the versatility of the common wood-shed,
and its adaptability to his own purposes and to
those of the old man.

AT a recent sale of short-horn cow’s in Eng-
land one animal brought $22,000. That is a
tremendous price, but it has its compensations.
To be kicked in the stomach by a cow worth
$522,000 must be accompanied by a variety of
ennobling sensations. Not every man can
afford it.

“ I WANT five cents’ worth of starch," said a
little girl to a grocer’s clerk. The clerk, wish-
ing to tease the child, asked: “ What do
you want five cents‘ worth of starch for.“
*‘ thy, for five cents, of course,” she answered,
and the clerk concluded to attend to his own