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$5.003Year.

Published Every
98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., October 12. 1881.

Vol. XII. Week.

The Corsair Queen; or, The Gipsies ef the Sea:

A ROMANCE 0P STRANGE MYSTERY AND THRILLING ADVENTURE.

 

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,

AUTHOR or “MERLE, TEE MUTINEER,” “MONTEZUHA, THE mmxmss,” “mEELANCE, THE BUCCANEER," “THE DARE DEVIL,"
“ THE our” ROVER,” “TEE PIRATE PRINCE,” ETC., ETC.

 

I

\§\ g

‘\\\\ ‘ \\\\\\\

\\ \\\\\\ \\

 

 

 

 

TEE CORSAIR OWEEN ON DECK.

 

 

 

2

TheCorsair Queen.

 

The Corsair. Queen;
. 0,, ,
THE GIPSIES OF THE SEA.

A Romance of Strange Mystery and
Thrilling Adventure.

‘ BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
au'rnoa or “m, 'rnn momma," “nox-
rszuxn, ran Mnncnmss,”u“csmni
m,” “GOLD arcs," Inc.

CHAPTER I.
'r E n 'i‘ H n n A '1' . ‘

“QUEINA, which shall it be, my love or my
hatred?" . '

“A strange way indeed, Mr. Vance, to offer
a lady your heart and hand!” and there was a
sneerin the speaker’s tone as she gazed upon
the handsome man standing at her side in the
moonlight. v '

 

 

“ I have offered you my love scores 'of times,.

Queens. Gray, and you have he t me he 'ng on
153303 that one day you would be in? wife,
a " i ‘ “i

“ I never told you so, I never bade you hope,
Vincent Vance.”

“Not in words, true, but in looks and ac-
tions.

“ You know that I have loved you since two
years ago 1 met you, a school-girl at the con-
vent in Paris where your father had left you,
and for the past three months I have been your
slave, followin you from Germanyto Italy,
from Ital to bpain, and now I beg of on an
answer _ y entregty‘to become m Wit.”

an» assist. woman— stagger!
 shamhutachﬂ ' but _ 461119
was perfection itself, and her ace was so dark,
her hair and eyes so black she might have been
taken for a daughter of n, in whichlland,
with a party of friends, she was then whiling
awa a few weeks, preparatory to returning to
her ome in America.

An heiress, for the death of her father a little
more than a year before had left her a' grand
old home in America, and an income to keep
itu , she was sought for her mone as well as
for or beauty, though there were few men who
did ndlrbow down in adoration before her
when once they caine uﬁdér’the‘fascmatlon of
her eyes and voice. I

Her companion yes a man of striking alp-
pearance, tall, courtly in manner fashionab y
attired, and with a face strangel ndsome,
and yet with a look u n it of nob of
character, that a close 0 server would see was
a mask to hide an evil heart.

The two were on the piazza of a fashionable
hotel in Madrid, and the moonlight streamed
down upon them, and upon the ower-garden
before them, and where were visible several
couples promenadin while from within
saloon came thesonn of music. ‘

“You Wish snanswer to your offer of‘
tinge you say?" and Queens. Gray’
seemed to have lost its softness and music. _- .. ‘

“ Yes, Queens, for you know how dearly I
love you, and ygu have led me to hope you
woul onerda my bride,” he said eagerly.

“ You she I have your answer, Vincent

once.
“I have led you on by e no to believe
‘ that} cared for you: but Iohavg’gimply been
servmg a purpose in so doing, and that purpose
lamenge.” ~ .
“Reeengé I” ’ , ,
“ for I have not forgotten one who was
In ood friend, onewhom I. loved as an
01 ersister, and who three years ago left the
convent to return to America. V ‘

“You Were on the vessel that carried her
across the ocean, and she. loved you, and you
professed to love her. .

“She trusted you and you led her on to her
ruin, and, deserted by you, she one night took
her own life.” - _

,f‘To whom do you refer?” he asked hoarsely.

“Hal are your dead victims so numerous
tbag‘you fail to recall poor Lou Wallace?" she
ask almost savage! . -

“Great God! Lou allace!" he gasped.

“Yes, In truest friend; her fat or and mine
were shipp merchants together, and as her
mother was nch, she was sent to Paris to
school, and there my father also sent me, for I
could not be separated from her.

“Wehad built many a castle in the air for
thematic, Vincent Vance, and you destroyed
thglgby your "bass treachery.

. who you were, and what you bad
0 and» Malta win your love; oh! I have

..

 

m
,¢:

don
hied’so herd to faseinate you, that I might make

our stony heart is capable of
an!  I-have made you

yogi suffer; if
e u
hams"  ,,,.

‘whieh shall'itbe,your:' 'or
and my ansWEr Is yoq‘r atred tan
times beforeyour love.’ ' \
She rose to her feet and, confronting him, he
quailed before her ﬁery eyes. . .,
For a moment he seemedto suffer allthat

thousand

. 
' 1"

  
   
 

the

.' ~ 3?“ ,.; ‘ .w‘ ..'.‘
“ Youask me; sit. in your  way,
y ,.

she could have wished: then he a peered as
then b about to throw himself at er feet in
p , but checking such determination,
while face ew livid, he hissed forth:

“So be it, eena Gray: you scorn my love
and court my hatred: you shall have it, I
swear. in all its venom, and you shall rue to
your death the words you have ustuttered.”

“Leave my presence, sir!” s e haughtily
commanded. -. ‘

Silently he turned awe. , and she was alone.

But, brave as was her cart, it turned cold
when she remembered his throat, and recalled
the evil glitter of his eyes, as treacherous, as
merciless as a serpent’s.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE HAUNTED RUIN.

A FEW leagues from Madrid, in old Spain,
lies the village of San Pablo, which many years
ago was the abode of the Spanish Dons and
wealtliy merchants, who had built up in the
West ndies and South America their failing
fortunes. . ..

Now, San Pablo is a ruined village, its inhabi-
tants not what the were in the long ago.

old Kama, thedcastles of the rich,
eon

Thoma-and .
were gradually falling
to dwell. ‘

And to one of those old homes, grand in its
ruin, I would have the reader accompany me,
several days after the scene related in the fore-

oing chapter between Vincent Vance and
gueena Gray.

Once the home of a Spanish Don, who, with
his family and servants had one night been
1! ed in ' ds not one living to tell

d_ ~ w e themesﬂe‘hadn been
. .  0‘:9YQ1.beinE claimed by
,lits heir, and‘ year time shald‘left its
lim ress upon_ its walls,>u_n_til at last it became a
mug); .; .. x  ' ....i  _  L is“

And grand in its decay ityet was, standing
up in bold relief, as it stood on the crest of a
,hill, with thousands of acres of foreﬁs sur—
ro nding it,<and far stay the 'of San"
Pa 10, whose denizensgazed upon' t‘in’ awe
andgaveita wide berth for it was said, and
believed to be haunted. by, the ghosts of the
dead, so cruelly murdered there years before.

_  though not dreading the minor of the
forests being haunted w1 h spooksg'an'd the
ruin by ghosts, a horseman was riding sl'qtvly

he:

    
  
 
   
 

dre d_had  to the-my pile of stone in;
the co, and annw _ : _

W ‘ There'it lies, and yonder road Wlll lead you
there,’senoi': but you will ﬁnd it over grown,
' ,Ipne but Gi es dare visit that old mm, or
shelter in t t gloomy forest.”

, Rifle tossed the man a iece of silver and rode

at a rapid pace, '1: into the forest
where a weed-overgrown pat way, led toward
the castle. . ' . ' .

A ride of half a league, and thro h the dark
forest ahead gleamed a camp-ﬁre. t at seemed
toadd more gloom to the scene, rather than
cheerfulness. ' .

And then another, and another camp-fire
came in view, until before the horseman was 'a
IGiBsfv encampment. \ ' .

, -~men, women and children‘ there were

over two hundred, and theeyes of all wars
turned upon him with surprise, fer seldom in-
truded any one into their lonely retreat.
_ The women were busy preparing their even-
ing meal, for the shadows of the forest made it
almost_night there, though th'e sun was yet
some distance above the western horizon. .

The men lay idly about upon the grass and
the children, who had been playing until the
horseman’ came in view, crept nearer their
parents, as though dreading him. ,

“ I would see your chief, he said to
faced, evil-eyed man who stooduin his th, as
though to prevent him from riding to the

limits of the encampment.
“ our kin you mean, senor.” '
“Well, g, if so you will; is he
askedthe horseman impatiently.
“ Yes, senor.” '

“ Tell him I would see him.” .
“I‘I’willld 013 if titan1 , ,
serum" ’3 e: i _ ‘ away an ap-

' than any of the others

mama's
'rsd ., .. .
 ' ‘ andaaidzf‘mIs
r9 r J. '
“ 3' 

.w,
facethevba ‘ “o -
came,

here i”

will see ' on;

    
 
     

eve parloft _ . e rs; -

'.  r , seek~the m , Senor, -13 ,Gipsy

Ki _ou,”'was‘the on mmeply. ﬁat“;  ,_
“Very‘ well, I will accompanykgou,“'an¢

throwing h ‘ein over the branch of a. “ the—

hor'seman dismounted and followed the ipsy,

 

who ushered him into the large tent.

to timer-ted b
their owners, who sought other {elude in which »

' -r ~u’l‘he speaker hsitated

in the direction,“toward sunset the third day

after the scene on the piama of the hotel in

Madri . ' j, _ ,.Jw\!a‘5<f«-~ a“.
He wpswell. ’w” . - withtheeaseofa
rfect horsemen,‘ ' u-ﬂhrough San
ablo had asked the - '- a - 1mm “in.
With awe at his St “the one be ad: '

admit-j

Before him, seated upon alarge chest, covered
with the skin of a wild boast, the horseman be
held a man of striking presence, and with that
in his face and manner that commanded respect.

_ He was dressed in a fanciful garb, half cava-
lier, half Gum. and were a soft sombrero,
worked with gold threads. while in a belt about.
his waist was 3. ion , slender-bladed dagger,
the hilt of which spar ed with diamonds.

His face was as dark as an Indian’s, his eyes
deep-set._ piercing and restless, and every
feature indicative of resolution, intellect and

courage.
Superb] formed, and with his dark fascinat-
ing face, 9 looked every inch the G pay King
9 was.

At the entrance of his visitor he inclined his
head slightly, and motioned for him to be seated
upon a rustic chair, while he said in a deep
veice:

“ You would see me, senor?”

“ Yes, if you are the Gipsy Chief.”

“ I am Chandos, the Gipsy King, senor.”

‘ “ Well, you are the one Iseek,” said the horse-
man with some eagerness of tone.

“Your business, senor?”

“I wish work done.”

“Red work, senor?” was the calm question.

‘.‘ Yes, for it amounts to that.” -

“S s: are not wont to seek others to
drive a knife in a file’s back, senor, as they
generally like to feel the blade cutting its way
to the heart," was the uiet response.

t “‘31 am no assassin, ipsy,” was the ﬁerce re-
or . . -
“You are worse: you are a coward.”

The man splrun to his feet, and his hand was
thrust into is in, as thou h to draw a
weapon; buwne look into 7 in fee L. the
man 'who had momma he  his
mipd,andsaid:' ‘ ;5.sl;_ “- '2 ,

‘ I came not “here, chief,‘w be slices by

on.”

-y “, You_9ame to hire me to do a red deed, and

'1 55 were a coward not'to do it yourself.”
“Vi. stain my hands with blood that my

gold w' I buy another to shed l” was the reckless

‘You‘forget that the stain also reddens the
conscience, senor.” , ,
“I forget nothing. There'is one" 1 seek re-
ven 6 upon, and I will pay you for the work."

“ ho is it, Senor Spaniard, you would have
die?” was the cool-question.

. “‘1 am no Spaniard, chief.” ,
" “Ah! ylour Spanish is ﬁts/ﬁend the Gipsy
Kin arc ed his eyebrows , rise. ;
“ amen Ammw‘ﬂ—e’ _ .‘ ‘
seemin ly sorry that
he€adeonfossed as much, and ‘ e Gipsy King
831 : >1 _

.t‘Indeedln II  your land,
never been across the bound-

... ‘

{mach toga ere, 1, one. , .,theso days,
I have no doubt. But I rgete—who is the gen-
tleman you wish' removed from your path ?’

“It is not a man, chief.”

“Ah! a woman, then there is indeed danger
to you,” and there was, a sneer in the Gipsy’s
tone, which the other oeuld not fail ,to notice,
for he said quick] :

“ It is not one nyear, but one I now hate as
dearl as I have loved, and whom I have sworn
no ot man shall ” ‘

.“ You still love her then, instead of hate;,but
you wish her to die?”
“ 1 do." a - '

U How,” ', "

“It matters not so that she dies.” -

“And you are willing to pay?”

“Your price,” was the ﬁerce response.

“ Where is she?"

“ In Madrid. ”

“ Where?” ' - .

“ At the Plaza tavern.” ,

“ A Senorita?"

“ No.

H

An American marital”,-

“ Yes-l" .. ‘ . ’ '

“Her ultimo!" - -

“ The Senorita Queens Gray.”

The Gipsy King took an ivory tablet and
wrote down the name.

» “glow, senor, my price is one hundred on-
zss . v v '

Senor erican '
'  wail; t t loary hetgu; but I ave wanted

v v

       
   

  

 

“IA large sunLn , r l‘

“’_It is a woman you wish to die,” was the la~
conic reply. ' ‘ ‘

“ What matters it to you?”

“Nothing; thatismy price.”

“ I Will y it." . l

-“ Then e w' be dead the day after tomor-
rowmomi ."’  u - ‘\ ~ ‘ ,
. “Nestor are  11Wth
day from‘tliiass 9.4., ' ‘1 ,her
friends,haveheard,' ‘ “98:?
seem ,-  - ., ,Wmt
1"  ' la‘ '  .

ﬂ '3 v 1 ' 'lntterway;got herapart
in me,  or friends, and hurl her
from th . . : orthecliff.” ‘ -

 

" ’ ' “ you she shall-die.”
" “Mn who does the deed must; not 1001:
her in the face.’-y . . .. s. _

which.

nmn .* 

 

w
“a .m “an...

 

4:. .2m4L—.—»--t~'.‘-<«~»-§ -— —

 

’ All started, for

“Why, senor?" and the Gipsy King again
arched is brows in surprise.

“ She is strangely beautiful.”

“Senor, gold will buy the heathen to strike
down his idol, the Christain to turn against his
God, the Gipsy to Strike at the heart of the
beautiful babe, so say not that beauty of face
can turn him from 1115 pu so.” *

“It is well. Here is your gold. and themorn-
in: of the fourth day from this I Will come to
sue if vou have kept your ledge.”

“Chandos, the Gipsv E , never shrinks
1mm a pledge iven, Senor ericano,” was
toe res onse, an ﬁve minutes after his visitor
w [S ri ing rapidly away from the Gipsy en-
campment, his dark face gleaming With me.-
licious triumph. ’

 

CHAPTER III.

m QUEEN OF' DESTINY.

A GAY cavalcade of ladies and entlemen
dashed rapidlgfthrough the loomy orest'sur-
rounding the aunted Ruin t e third day after

the meeting of the American and the Gi’psy.
King, and drew their horses down to a ’wa] -

upon comingbin view of the picturesque encamp-
ment at the ase of the hill. '
A few pieces of silver found readyholders for

their steeds, and, dismounting, they ascended‘

the steep hiIll'nnd stood at the crumbling portal
oftheruin. ' “"' “
There, involuntarily they paused for ‘a chill

of dread seemed to fall'upon' all, and they'

turned their gaze upon the landscape s read out
before 'their vision—the Gipsy camp, t e village
of San'Pa'blo, and hill and valley beyond.

Wrap' ed in silent admiration, for a moment

they fax cd to‘ observe that a form suddenly a

peared' in the arched entrance to the castle s‘
court, until, turning I , I ,
fell full upon him andthe e of be two met.

Impedously‘ beliu I 'iIoo ‘t‘heI American
moidenin her-dartfiri ng—hggit- and drdopin
plume,i for her'ra'ce' ﬂush with the rap)
gallop, and her gloriouseyes sparkled With de<
light and enthusiasm. "

And the one she d upon was Chandos, the
Gip‘sy King, stan ng in manly“ dignity before
her, as thou hto bar her entrance to thé‘ruin;

Compell to admit to herself isth her admir-
ing gaze, as well as his own, was becoming 'a
stare, Queena Gray ﬂushed crimson, and' said,
with courtesy: , "  '

“ Pardon, senor, but do we intrude upon your
domain?” ' "  "I, “ ’* ,

Her remark drew the ..atten£ion- of ‘all,’ who,
turning, beheld thenGigsy, ing1 barring their
progress to the ruin,.an euro! it reply in Ins

ow, musical tones:  ‘-  I ‘ " '

“No, lady; this is the home of the ’spirlts of
ihe dIead,’_not of ﬁeshiand'blood; I hold no claim

ere. ' ‘ 1

“You are a Gipsy," answered the maiden, as
though thinkin aloud.

“I am Chan cs, the Gipsy King, lady,” was
the reply, in a tone that was haughty and cold.

“Perhaps, than, some of 3 our, is can

uide usin our exglloration of t s 01 mi n?” con;
inued neona, ts: 'ng the' initiative, as she had
begun t econversation. ; 1' "Ii
“It isa place . haunted by bitter memories,
the home of bats and owls by day, the dhidin
lace of departed spirits by night. I Why distuIr
ts sanctity, lady, with the impious’ tread of
curiosig?’ '. .
The i y King s oke in a'deep, impressive
tone, an others of the party seemed to shrink
from the invasion of the ruin; but Queena Gray
was no coward, andIanswered:

“ As the dead were naught to Ian, and you
hold no claim upon these crumb mg stones, I
care not, for one ‘to follow our adee, so
kindly let us pa, Sir King of t e Gi‘psies."

The face of the man ﬂushed, yet whether with
anger or not none could tell; but he responded
in the same musical tone: '

“Senorita Americano, let me urge you not to
cross this dread portaL” ‘

“ Hal ou’ know me?" cried the maiden I'ln
surprise, 9, with a start; ‘ ' '-’ ‘

“As the u hterof a far-away land beyond
the sea,” was t e'calm res e, and it was evi—
dent thatvhis words_astonishedtho half-score of
ladies and glentlemen sent. ‘ 1 r 1 .

“I have eat-d tha your rues were gifted
with thepower to read fortunes-11EI 33
stars; c'an'you tell me my name, Six: négsagked
the fearless girl. ‘ I ‘ -

Instantly came the reply: I

“ The Senorita necna Gray.”

in the p 1109 of. whose power to read on-
destinymdu‘oﬂﬁ doubt, and several ‘ I d
anxious to retrace their steps: but the  
maiden was, not 01a timidInaturo,;and‘I I isted
with the question; 4’ ,_ , - > ‘ >

“So far you have prover; seni-
belied; ' I
“ ‘ ,1 y, but tzere‘ is one
here who will place thy future be yours an
mammal  99.99%? Des

' ht sh dder ran thrqu the, m " en’s
framilgand’sogie“ "the color‘ﬁgded‘ fro her
face; butshe an'_ _ ed ﬁrmly: , I

 

, the gaze of Queens; may

and ~

ey believed that they'stood

The Corsair Queen:

“Yes, I will hear what I have to face in life,
be it good or evil."

A number of voices cried out against this, but
easing Kthat the maiden was determined, the
my
and woun a few notes upon it, which were
thrown back from the walls of the ruin with
many an echo. '

Then, in perfect silence, all awaited, and soon,
out of the ruined tower across the court, came
a human form; a form bout with' age seemin -
ly, and with lon white hair falling like a v
around her, and in strange contrastto her scar-
let dress. '

She leant on a staff and seemed to have num-
bered three score years and ten, for her wrinkled
face was like rchment, her hands trembl
and only her b ack, piercing eyes, showed tho
the lamp of life yet burned brightly.

“Nana, this led would have you read her
destiny' can you 050?” asked the Gipsy King,
as the o d woman halted near. .4

“Can the sun not give light, though clouds
obscure its rays?

“Can the soul not rise, though the body be

rich and full, in spite of her age.
“Then, good Queen of Destiny, read in the
stars my destiny, and accept this as a souvenir

The woman returned no thanks,-‘but raised her
glittering ‘e wm-‘the)maﬁm’s, and said, 118
theft ‘ ' ‘ng unconsciously: . H  - .

“ yunfol too. young life the‘shadows
that darkeir the pathway from~ the cradle tothe

ravel"'5‘ " '*,' " - »

g ” ‘y'tiirn the eyes of hope upon the tomb
o'fIIdes ir?” I r ' ‘

“Come, Miss Gray, let us not tarry hereto-
have this woman's cro‘akingx destroy our day'of
pleasure,” and a young naval oﬂlcer,‘ who:

ormed duo'oi thev party,’stepped: forward ‘as

though to draw the maiden away. I  :1 .2.

IB‘tit sisal-was ,ﬂrmninl‘ber redolvqand ha!
i . :1 .l ‘

1",. ~:.'

abr‘a adamant-w ‘

ui kl u ,h r, nd‘s‘he: caughtnlns eye” yet»
gen yeoﬁoq' 't e look uhesawon hhdnrk,
stern face. ' ' I

“LadIy ” L‘g‘an-thd'ﬂueen IotIDosﬁny,lv‘"if
you wil ave the curtain drawn'baok from he-
fogghy future, beholdl”'. " r‘ v' -. 1 ~ . ‘

hand/add lasth gh painting (tom! imaginary

‘ i-nnfolde‘d against the graylwall,zlahiwh
ringln tones: , I ‘ - H
- FIBei'atilul as thou art, possessing ncheeras
thod'ddsﬂ, neither will save thee'from thesor-f
ro‘w the miseryythe despair thy-destinybibl
thee allow} W'h‘  -   :5 ’ I :

“Deadly dan ers shalt thouvlrnow,‘ m:
burnings shalt 5,1011 feel, lonely hours of bitter
anguish shalt thou’ ass, and from this hour but
one joy willbome < to thy heart, and that joy
shall revenge for a wrong done thee. A

" y, 'I have spoken.” ‘ - .

SheItnrned away and retreated into the ruin,
and in almost horror all stood gazing upon
Queena= Gray who, pallid as a corpse," stood
with‘ her hands cogerin her face, anthoth to
shut out-some aw! wtsion that was summoned
Lip before'heribylthe words of the Queen ofDes-

lnI.vI,.v.:. » ’J‘. '. . ,

$ith‘an eﬂo’rt she at last shook oi! the spell,
and " landed quickly toward where had stood
the“ pay King. / r »

But, he had gone, having silently glided
awa ,‘nOne' knew whither.

“ ome, let us go from this awful place,” she
said in a hoarse whisper, and gladly all acqui-
esced, and ountingtheir horses they sped baCk
toward rid, a shadow upon them the sun-
light wo 1d not dispe and a clutch, like the
gyhand 017 death,’u n the heart of Queana

my. I 1 I » , -

r

 

I I CHAPTER IV.
. a .A NOOIURNAL vzsrroa.

'rumussnnby what 1the Queen of Dostiny
had told her in the old ruin, and stmnﬁly
fascinatedb her remembrance of the r

l

less and ill at ease, after returning to the hotel.

Her brave nature had cast 03 the I
coming upon her until night-fall: but w1
shadows of night came theIwords of the Gipsy
.woman, and it haunted her with phantoms Ishe

Mldnmcusﬁhﬂﬂ . .. -. 1 .
Unmindful , of the ga crowd in the calm
wdéardw, shdwent to or room and satdown
‘ t ’In‘i‘oonlight;'with a real heart-Coho. . ' "
Wes  she had wniahedandithen-

Why she thou ht of him'then shoknew not;
Ifor he had left adrid, all said, the day folloW-

her ’refdsqtt oi!“ him ‘and’hhe- had not seen:
m-diInce' end-“d I him from hernrlnd. 't
Gradually ’the‘éme‘rry voices in the gas-den

k
», ,.

 

ceased, the hum of music in the salon died

raised to his lips a small silver bugle, ;

dead?” answered the woman in a tone that was

from over the sea,” and Queeno Gray sli ped‘
into the withered hand an American'goldh one. -

 »  -. .- 

anymy' good woman; you can tall/me on 4

no dan or or sorrow; that I-rwlllzI/not moot' wiIth. ‘
i. ‘. ,_,1‘:

new words scanned ’the‘ Ginny Kingto glance; ,

wheeled grickly, stretched, ~torth'her 2'

{ace 01‘ the (tipsy King, Queens. Graymu rest- .

loom .
the ,

_  alts t A d 1am ’~ '11 ind ameV'dn
yqu tﬂébmgﬁmeI Skgﬁiggﬁfg Imn ,as sheIsat into erm o l 1
mad .' estiii . 'hri e,:ﬂie:qneenofm.y

3.

I
away, and alone she sat in her room, the moon-
li ht streaming in upon her. .
he knew that it was past midnight and yet
she dared not go to bed ﬂat fear that her pain—
fulthoughu would cause. dream: farmore dis-

tressinlg. . v r
8nd only she started, for a form appeared
upon the balcony before her.

' She would have cried out, for she saw that it
was a man’s form, yet she had not the power.

. He had gained the balconigy the lattice-work
that extended from it to t d, and the
distance was very slight, yet a a had dreaded
no intrusion, as the garden was surrounded by
a wall, and the gates kept locked atnight.

One glance had shown her who the bold in-

. truder was.

It was Chandos, the King of the Gipsies.

What could he want there!'

toHarlkimhe come to see her, or to pilfer, perhaps
Such were the questions that ﬂoated through

her mind,,and yet she could not move or cry

out.
With a slight start, he  her.
His manner showed that be ad evidently not

expected to ﬁnd her up. - --

: ‘Pardon, Senorita, my intrusion unsalted,” he.
said. litely. ' . . . ,

II “ Ihy have you come herel” she asked, in a
WathemGu-dsming to her with an of-

“ To seek you,:lady.l’ ; .-
“A‘dwhygilw... ‘ I ,, ,. . I . . ,
.‘t Have the words of the %ieenzof Destiny
drivenslosp from your eyes?” sacked. ..: V r
:8th he had acme mud-her have no:
fear, as ey.were un'tme, and said,!engorly: t‘
“Yea-Ileannot, dare notsleép.” t -.2  12
“All, lady, you did wrong. to with. to have
‘your future spread like an open book6 before
you.  w " ' ..~.e-:.‘l‘
I 591W halide 'know what into some to us, than
,we live in dread.” - ' '

‘ 'M‘gghyiave you come here?! the abruptly
lask :' ,.I. .I

and in a cold tone.
“To see ain’t»— 'x~-  "’.
3133.15” 1' "a?" “‘11.; it" '
I y, am an 014,4 v . and
m whammywdrieatslavea’h‘ ' j» .I g, z "

‘So I can believe,” she said, with a sneer”
iandsheladded:‘= i‘ {-97 .-; -» ~—-»- u-v ‘
I: {"1BIt'Illeokno interest . in you, you- tribeon
;your fortunes.” ‘  u -. . 222‘ 2- rl
“ Yet it is diﬂerent with windy.” . I v -
3 “How mean you, Sir G ' 3" ~ ‘. -  ’

He was Isilent ‘an instant, and then answered:
I“Senonta, a strange fatalityleamnta have
Envy-7°. agitﬂimlnm." : '1 . . i . ,‘W '1‘ -. m

. _.'  :‘.'/‘ 3.! v. 1

'v M ’n. “1'

u 95., : n .V ,1; ',. I

. “It’wu' ‘ I-tom’e byanold=nurse,aud my

mother, liking it, never changed itz'but'you

must leave that bummnd at once, loner."

I Unheedin her, he : ' --;.~ , .«u‘ ~

I =‘.‘+Doyou owiu meaninng . '1'
u Yes, a queen.” . I , 
“ True, addyou were justly named. for you

areIa queen among women, and should rule as

youdeserve.”w- - - s.~- - v .

f4 “.Senoroﬁ I 1i11in nﬁ'hntenud to such 11381183;

rom y. an .you, no ‘oomman

14014, to leave me, or I will call for aﬁ,”‘sho‘said,

htily. ~ . -

“ mean you no harm, lad , and would- save
you from seem a y, w ’ h wouldrfollow
your.cail for he p, as andoa, the Gipiy King,
allowva no man to insult him, or pollute him
with his touch,\and not erase the stem.” <

She quailed before his lofty manner and
boldwords: but only for an instant, and then
she said: -  r - ‘

“ Will you obey?”

h  z)! I

“ Then I shall have to witnea a scene."

:I‘ Hold! hear me forI one moment."
I II lgglshymgo than?

“Then what have you to sayl":ali she felt
that the man held over her a. strange, magnetic

w"l::f‘.' ' W .‘ , .' - . .'
p0“ I would say, lady, that I am king afﬁrm;-
in race of forest children, and my linens? 1
da liar-back; but in tribe, though them
are dark—eved daughters, here is not one Whom
Iwould asktobecome’mylnidafuzw. f >

“ The law of our commands thattbeir
king shallun emthey reach. the$ of two-
mm a yean,I' withm' «and moon I. be that
o I” " ' . .1, I .
ii Hepawedandflooked the maiden straight in
the face," and see-link :uuderstanding his

words, she neither spoke' or moved,hup sat in

' her chair, in which’nhﬁhad mm 6P-

.“uparentlywithoutwno Atomof. power over. f her-
' ..;*t-~4  “x-',:,',:--

“Lady, your name in our tongu'mns a.
queen, and now I;va thump)?me sav
toyth I love-youand ask mambo-rm

.'?3‘ u’ "I"-
S eput up her hand 95$”.watniim 011’,

 

and from bmkeeoneywordam
“Never.”  my  ;-
;..:-“ Think, lady.” ~. v 1.4
“ Never.”

.»
,l

 

“You cannot love mel’":

 

l.
(.

 

4

The Corsair Queen.

 

“ I fear you, I believe I hate you.”

“ This is irrevocable, lady i”

“ Yes,” she articulated in almost a whisper.

But he heard it, and the mooglﬂifht showed
that his face grew dark, while he :

“Remember, lady, our race are revengeful
when our love is cast aside.”

She made no reply, but her form sunk further
back in the cushioned seat, her eyes closed, and
in vain she tried to cry out, and stretched forth
her hands appealingly.

But they fell into her la and she was uncon—
scious, with the Gipsy ‘11 standing like a
statue before her, gazing ‘ ently down upon
her beautiful face.

CHAPTER V.
VINCENT VANCE AVENGED.

TRUE to his appointment with the Gi y King,
the horseman, wlao had before vmgwetéhe en-
campment near t 9 min again ap upon
the scene, and asked the inan who opposed his

to lead him to his chief.

“TEe king is expecting you, senor, and you
will ﬁnd him in yonder ruin,” was the answer.

The horseman shuddered as he turned his
eyes u the dreaded pile of stone, and asked:

“ at does he there?"

“ Awaits you, senor.”

“ Well, I suppose then I must seek him, but I
like not entering the old ruin ” he muttered, and
he urged his horse on up the ' 1.

Coming to an impassable barrier for a steed
he dismounted, sprun over the rocks, an
wended his way to e gatewag, where the

ra

reader will remember Queens. and her
friends had been met by the Gipsy .
Here he hal for the shadows about the

lace, its intense g com and silence, caused him
dread invading its recesses.
“ Well, senor, what fear you?"
he man started, and beheld the Gipsy King
standing only a few ste
“ I ugh you. kins. to

“ our own eyes shall see, senor.”

“What have ounot buried her!”

“No, Senor ance—”

“Hal you know meWand the man turned
Q. .

pa‘l‘ h senor. No, I did not her, for
I wished you should see that he Gipsy
King]: 1: his word.”

“ ut carenot to do so.”

"You must, senor.” .

“ Must r ”

“ Ay, must, senor; comet”

There was that in the co tone and
manner Vincent Vance had not the power to
resist and he said: _

“ Well, I will see the body; where isiti”

(I Here.”

“ In this old ruin!”

" What safer lace, senor?”

“ True. You dnapped her most skillfully.”
“Yes, senor.”

“No one in Madrid
“ I do not intend the , senor.
“There rtis that s sheard hereher destiny
from the go of some old Gipsy witch, and itso
imeresserd or that she took her own life.”

‘ so

from him.
if you kept your

your’”

‘ “ And they are searching everywhere to ﬁnd
the body.”

“ It will be a useless task, senor.”

“ If some of your people do not betray you.”

“ people are not treacherous as are your
race. nor Vance,” was the stern response.

“ Where did you ﬁnd her, chief?”

“ King, senor, I am the Gipsy King,” proudly
corrected the Gipsy. ,

“ Well, kin , then, if so you will; where
found {in her

“In r room at the hotel.”

2: gﬁwere bold.’t’h h _

men are e ones w o wm success,
Senor Americana.” -

“ Did she not cry out!”

“No fothad withmea perfume that per-
vaded room and unconsciously inhaling it,
she soon swooned awa .”

“And she did not then?”

“No; I bore herin my arms to myhorse, and’
brought her here.”

“And killed her here?”

“ You shall see her senor.”

“ Lead on, then, if 'I must, and let me leave
thishatedgpotinfnorItakethe nextship leaving
(05%” 71? forget this ' 1r

‘ you never rum, senor, ‘
you 650w gray with years,” signiﬁcantly said
the pay.

“ Bow mean you, king?"

“Youhaveaconscience,audforyoutohave
taken the life of a woman so beautiful, her
form will often haunt ”

“I did notkillher,  .”

“No notwith our ﬂdJu-you were too
c0wardly to e the death—blow; but your
gold metc do so.”

“ Enough! you insult me, because you know
you have the war.”

“You should7 never place yourself in the
pewer of any man, senor.”

“ Bah! you have just placed yourself in

 

“ How mean on, Senor Americano?”

“ You have ' a woman for gold.”

“ Ohl you dare not tell, so 1 am not in your
power; besides, did you do so, my people would
be like bloodhounds on your true .

“ In your power, on as I am’! Why, senor,
let me tell you that woul unfold the secrets of
my life to you, and dare you to make them
known.

“Listen, do you know that he who lived in
this very castle fell by my hand?

“ He was my foe, and he stole from me my
sister, and she became his wife.

“It was long ears before we tracked him
here; but at last found them, and all died by
m hand.”

“ Great God! that clears up the mystery of
this haunted ruin.”

“ To you, yes, senor; but if it becomes known,

even years hence, you will be the one to have

told and the Gipsy bloodhounds will be on your
tr , and you and yours can never escape
them.

“ Come 1” .

He seized the frightened man is the arm and
led him into the inner chamber or the castle.

At length they came to a small, rock-bound
room, in which shone a weird, greenish light
but coming from whence Vincent Vance could
not discover and before him, on the stone floor—
” he beheld a form lying. '

e shuddered as the Gipsy Kin painted to
the beautiful form and pallid ace of the
woman, and listened to the stern words: _

“There, Senor Americanoklies your victim.”

“Come, let me leave here, he whis red.

But unheeding, the (H King con ued:

“ There, where you see t red stain on her
ytvahite rgbe over the heart, my dagger found
I way.

“Your dagger?” gasped the now conscience-
stricken man.

“ Yes, senor, we Gipsies love to kill with the

“ ere. take her hand, her retty little hand
and see how like marble it 1%,” and the Gipsy,
Kingleantoverand raised the beautiful hand
and ex uisitely rounded arm.

But inccnt Vance could stand no more, and
cried earnestly, while the sweat stood in great,
cold beads upon his brow:

“Come, for God’s sake! orI shall go mad if
I s‘t‘a here.” ed m a”

on are av e senor

“ Y oh yeselgs n,

“ I have won my price?”
some ye; tamer...” me “a

e , ra
avenged too? for  this gear I am a hauited
man.

The Gi King smiled sir-angel , and led
the ways; ofthe dismal unmandymounting
his horse, Vincent Vance dashed away as
though he expected the dead form to come in
pursuit of him.

CHAPTER VI.
saonrmcnn son nova.

Ir was some days after the ﬂight of Vincent
Vance from the Haunted Ruin that Chandos
theKingofthe Gi es, waspacing to and fro
over the stones of t a court.

He was dressed with more than usual care,
his long mustache was curled u at the ends,
and his a co was almos dandrﬂed: in
fact woul have been but for the calm dig-
nizof his manner, and stem, resolute look.

he paced to and fro his brow was clouded,
his handsome lips stern set, and his eyes were
ever and anon glancing through the pathway
that led out of t e forest. _

Presently his quick ear can ht a distant
sound that brought him to a t, and gazing
down the woodland path he beheld a horseman

ap reaching atarapid llo .

gElic comes: now  soon know,” he
muttered.

Leavin his steed, which seemed to have been
hard ri en, at the base of the hill, the rider
came on u toward the ruin, and soon stood
before the i yKing.

A Gipsy h mself, and with an exceedingly;
dark, cunning face, he ap roached and salu
his ruler, by placing bot palms to his fore-

“ Well?”

It was uttered almost impatiently by the king.
and the dark eyes were fixed fullupon the man.

“ He has gone, King Ohandos.”

“You saw him depart?”

u I did.”

“ How wont be?"

“ 0n : packet-ship sailing for the other side of
the sea.

“ You are sure there was no mistake?”

“ There was none. Ere he reached San Pablo

Itmfntf‘ﬁi‘sW“ and  g m
‘ e ow o y
eyeon him, I followed  Madri but he
had ' ' himself—”

“Itistrue,8enor 'hethrewaround
himwhenhehaltcdaSpau cloakandhidhis
facsheneatha'l‘urk’sbeardandhishead under

the sombrero of a cavalier, hiding
coat the bet he were when he was here.”

 

fige was cautious; and you saw the vessel set.
sax

“Yes, king, I saw the vessel leave the port,
and then I returned to tell you, as you ordered.”‘

“ Very well, Elie, you havo done well.”

Without another word the Gipsy King turned
away and entered a crumbling corridor of the
ruin.

Traversing this with a rapid step that showed
his familiarity with it, he soon came to a cham-
ber that was In the base of the tower.

The stone steps had weeds growing in the
crevices between, the wind whistled mournfully
through the arched windows, and upon all was
a look of desolation and decay.

But unheeding these signs of gloom, a young
girl stood at an arched window, gazing out
upon the forest and the landscape beyond.

{it the sound of the king’s step she turned
quickly, and her face ﬂushed with joy, while
her e es brightened with delight.

“ unah, you are here I see,” and the king
gazed upon the darkly bronzed face of the

oung girl, for she was scarcely more than six-
n, With a look she could not read.

Her form was sli ht, yet elegant and grace--
ful, her hands and eat were small, and her at—
tire sucb as is worn by Persian maidens while
a silk turban half hid the coils of black hair
that encircled her head like a crown.

Her neck, arms, ears and ﬁngers littered
with precious stones, which, however, t e luster
of her glorious eyes rivaled.

Full, red and passionate were her lips, and
between them, as white as pearls, were her even
teeth yisihl adding a greater charm to the
smile with w ch she greeted the Gipsy King.

“Yes, Chand I am here at your request;
nay, your order; or it is for you to order and
Nunah to obey,’ she said in a rich, full voice.

“ I fear Nunah, what I have to say will bring
a cloud to your brow, and wash away that
smile with tears,” he said, calmly, unhe or
unseeing the tiny brown hand she had stretc ed
forth toward him.

“ Has alight happened to wo the kin of
our tribe, t his sub t N must coud
her brow with sorrow or him ’ she asked in a.
lowktendgr tone.k m h f

una on now e wso our least
I do myseli'.x peep

it Ya.”
“ And obe them?”
H In an t 8!.”

“Brio it pain or sorrow to obey?"

“ es, 'ng, bring it pain or sorrow I obey
the laws of our people.”

“ Bring it worse, Nunah?”

“I do not understand,” she faltered, and the
res hue went out of her face.

‘ Bring it worse than pain and sorrow?”

“Wha worse can it bring, Chandos?”

“ Death I”

She and her li uivered but she
answermy: p q ’

“I am a true Gipsy, Kin Ohandos.”

“ I believe you: but I w ll not ask the sacri—
ﬁce of you, but make it myself.”

She seemed now thoroughly alarmed, and
shed into his face with a look that tried hard

read his full meaning.

But not an emotion d it betray, and with a
sigh she said:

‘ King Ohandos, no true Gipsy will allow you
to make a sacriﬁce which he or she can take
upon him or herself.” -

“ What if the sacriﬁce be death?”

“ So be it, if it save you, king," was the
proud reply.

A moment he was silent, and then he said:

“ Nunah, our law tells us that where the
kin of the Gipsies loves, it is death for another
male of the tribe to love, and if he so dares, if
the Secret be known, with hisown hand must he

e.
l“9:1Yes, King Ohandos,” and tire maiden trem-

, s

“ Our law also tells us that if the king loves a
maiden of his tribe, oﬂers his love and she
lovin .him in return, they not being bound by
the may oath of marriage, within a given
time one or the other must die.”

“ es, King Chandos.”

“ _Nunah, you were in accepted bride, and
to-mghtwe were to go fore our people and
become bound lighthe Gipsy oath of marriage.”

“ Yes, King andos, and I awaited you
here: see, I have m bride’s robe on, and the
maidens of our peo await my coming as the
men await yours.”

“ Nunah, ygu "and I can never be bound in the

cat s.

A cry escaped her at his calm words, and
she upon him wi staring eyes.

“ repeat it, Nunah.”

" No. no; you do not mean it!” she gasped.

“ Did you ever know Chandos the Gipsy King
to falsely!” he asked.

“ o, and now you speak the truth,” she
hoarser said.

u Yea.” . '

“ What wrong have I done, king?”

“None.”

31!?! thou hast «afﬁx-gag, and—’2

hm ﬁnds no so a mate, Nunah
Marin-euthanasia”): death.” ’

 

‘ *"ré’. ‘

 

sat ﬂ—d". ‘

The Corsair Queen.

5

 

 

:: B death?” she cried wildly.
es.

“ You mean that you will die?”

1“;I‘he king must not break the law of his peo-
'p e.

“ Nor shall he die. ”

“The law though, Nunahl”

“Yes but there can be a sacriﬁce, King of
of the ipsies,” she said proudly.

“A woman sacriﬁce herself to save me?” he
said almost scornf y. _
d"‘ Yes, you shall ve, KingChandos, and I Will

re.
“ I have loved you as Christians love their
God and I will die in your stead.”
“ l‘loble Nunab.”
“ Give me the poison for the knife is forbidden
to pierce the heart of the maiden that was to
have been the bride of a king,” she said mourn-

mu .

“Iiunah, you stand u n the threshold of
womanhood, and I am no anger youn , 80—”

“ Silencel King Chandos, my saori ce is one
013%" i I d th 1 t

epo sou, say, an en e megoamong
my kindred and die with their eyes upon me.

“ Give it me, I command you, even though
you be Chandos the Gipsy King.’ _

Her manner was imperious now and it but
.hightened her great beauty; but his eyes did
not soften, no muscle of his iron face quivered
with pity, as he drew from his bosom a small
silver ﬂagon and handed it to her.

Eagerly she ﬁrasgd it from his hand and
placed to her ps 0 fatal draught, drinking
dee of the ﬂagon’s contents.

“ ow, King Chandos, Nunah, whom thou
didst select for thy bride, has proven herself a
true Gipsy, and she has taken with her Own.
hand the poison she knows isfatal; sacriﬁced
herself for love, to save you to her people.

“ Farewell!” ,

She turned suddenly glided rapidly out
of the tower-chamber, leaving him standing in
grim silence.

He saw her, as he gazed from the arched win-
dow, gain the open space beneath the ruin, and
totter into the encampment, leaning upon the
arm of the old woman who had told ueena
Gray’s ill-omened destiny and then he old
the beautiful maiden sink down at the door of
her tent. .

Then up from the Gipsy camp went a wail of
sorrow and Chandos, the Gipsy Kin , turned
away from the window, his face s ' haunted
with that grim, strange, unfathomable smile.”

CHAPTER VII; .
SACRIFICE ma HATE. ,

FROM the base of the tower, where he had
held his strange interview with Nunah, the
beautiful Gipsy maiden, who had held hope of
being the chosen bride of the leader of her tribe,
and who had loved him with all the ardor of

 

her passionate natureCi Chandos wenderl his way '

along the dim corri ors asthough thorouglhl
acquainted with the, d min which ot
seemed most anxious to shun.

Y
81‘s

At length he came to a massive iron-bound,

door which had withstood the decaying touch
of time well, and taking from his bosom a large
key, be inserted it in the lock.» .

t turned with a creaking sound .the door
swung, open, and at the moment the dipsy King
staggered back, for in the dusky light a form
was seen to spring upon him, and_the rays of,
sunlight fallin through a small Window above
his head, had gushed upon steel in the hand of
his assailant. .

he blow descended ﬁrmly and foul for the
heart of Chandos the Gipsy; but the b ade was
shivered against some obJect it could not pen-
etrate, an the one who would have taken his
life shrunk coweringllasack into a corner.

“Well, senorita, t ' is a new phase inyour
character, and ou are as ready with a knife as
:ﬁough you h11 Gi y bloolii in yourvsénsi”§aid

e man coo osmg t e iron-stu e 001'
behind him. y’

“I meantto kill you, that I ' ht free my-
self from your power,” said thetlclgv voice of a
WQPPI‘M' b t kn th I

rue, 11 you never ew at wear a
shirt of steel net-work that turns aside just such
well-meant blows as you ve, eenorita; but
may I ask how you got that ifs, for the Gipsy
that ave it to you will wish heor she had never
been in.” '

“You need not fear treachery from any of
your tribe, for they are too nearly allied to evil
and yourself, to ever do a good action," she said
haugl’ilhly.

“ on how came you with the knife?”

“ I care not to tell.”

“Mind you, if ascore of heads fall, I will ﬁnd
out. ”

,The woman saw that he was in earnest, and
not wishin the innocent to suffer answered:

“ I foun it in a niche in the wall.” .

“ May I believe you?”

“ There are others there; look for yourself.”

He stepped to the place indicated, placed his
hand ulpon the :- shelf, and discovered sev-
eral o d wea ns idden there, and evident]

- laced there or some sinister motive, by ban
ong smoe crumbled to dust.

 

“Pardon in doubt, senor-ita; but I see you
are to be dre ed, and therefore desire to come
to terms with you."

“Betweenus there can he terms of but one
kind ” she said coldly.

“And name them, 

d “what will you ketogive me my free-
om

“ You are not for sale, senorita.”

“ What mean you, Sir Gipsy ?" and the voice
trembled, us coming out of the corner she sud-
denly faced him, revealing the countenance of
Queena Gray.

GI“! aiuean, s’enorita, that you are to be the
can.

Raﬁever I”

“’You are too quick in your decisions, senor-
ita. .

“Never 1”

“Letus talk together calmly, and see if we
can §ot,pome to terms.”

‘ o.

“Isay yes; on are supposed in Madrld to
have committed suicide in some mysterious way,

our brain having been turned y the stories
1d you by the Queen of Destiny regarding
your future.”

“ Bah! I am not so weak as that.”

“ It is also reported that you were utterly
wre e om a rig ven away your
1 to}: (1 fr h vi dri ,
over. .

“ Who do you mean?" she asked quickly.

“The one whom rumor says you devotedly
lov and had discarded in pique, thinking he
woul return.” ' .

“ I do not know to whom you refer.”

,“Doubtless, for your conquests are many;
gut I offer to the Senor Americano, Vincent

once.

“I hate him.” ‘

I “True, and you have cause: but report he-
lreves otherwise.

“ Now, I candetain you here, while my tribe
and myself ﬂy to other lands, [and if I release
you, whatever on may say to the contrar ,
the world shall lieve you to have been t e
bride of a Gipsy, if not worse.”

“Villain!” she ‘ .

i “No, I wish to protect foupand therefore I
beg on to, become my wi e.”
‘ ou insult me by the heinous pro ,”

“No, for many, even the prou ladies of
Spain, would ﬂy rom their ham to become
the bride of Chandos the Gi y . '

“They might, and I wi not, for I 'am an
American.”

“A reason I love you more. I admire your -

peogle, and wish to visit your native land.
“ say never.” ;

“Then as you fully decide not to became,
through oving me, my bride, let me give you
another; reason for so doing.”

" There can be no other reason.”

“Judging from what I know of your nature
there can.”

it e  I”

“ on are revengefull”

“I admit it.”

“ Well, you owe dyour being here to one man
whom the world a mits to be honorable. ”

“ Oh, curses upon that man I” she oaned. .

,“ Yes, he deserves your curses an
tred, for while ou were unconscious with the
drugI. adm' '
your aide.” _

a Gra ’3 eyes fairly blazed at this in-

formation, bu her indi tion ke t her silent.
ﬁnTuhaein the Gipsy, wi a sligh smile, con-

“Yes I was determined that he should see
the work which I told you be had'hlr'ed me to
perform, and I brought him here, having given
you a narcotic in your food. ” Y

“Yes, I remember ’I became unconscio and
yet it seemed stran 1y like sleep, only‘ ere
was one thing I coul not account for.”

“ And that is, lady?"

“A red stain on in dress just over ‘my
heart; it was there ,w on I returned to con-

sci‘c‘nisnessﬂ’ed
ric m arm with m dagger— int
and alfowed the lood to stain yzur dress; gore

I told the Senor Vance, was where m cruel
dagger was driven into your heart; an it Im-
nerved him, and he ﬂed from the spot, and has
nowlfone back to America.”

“ ow know you this?" ~

“ One of my men saw him leave the port in
the packet-ship, and he went in disguise, for.it
seems he gave out, the day that you sent him
from you,,that he was to sail in a vessel then
leaving, yet remained to see that his revenge
was consummated u 11 you.”

“And he believ me dead?” she asked, in
stran 1y calm tones.

“ es, senor-ita, and said he was content.”

“ Oh! but he shall suﬂer for this.”

here was a wicked glitter in her eyes, and

her bosom heaved convulsively, and. to add
he‘s-tum the ﬂame of revenge he saw burning
Within her the Grips said:

“He said he woul return to his native land
and  some rich heiress, now that you were

" ﬁe! said he this?” she almost screamed.
“Did he mention her name?”

your ha- -
to you, I brought him to ’

 

“I do not recall it, though I am satisﬁed that
he ke her name."

“ as it Violet Gray?”

“ Ah! that was the name
violet, now recalls it to me,
swer.

“ Listen to me, Gipsy King: Violet Gray is
my cousin, and she was my rival when we were
more children, and I never loved her; but I
would spare her from that man.”

“ She will neVer be his bride unless she is
rich, as he said he had run through with nearly
all of the rlches he had inherited.

“ She is rich or will be, if I die.”

“ Ahl she inherits your property at your
death?” smiled the Glpsy King.

“Y if I make nowill.”

“ An you are dead.”

“Np, I am alive and will be revenged on that
man. ‘

" Oh no. you are dead, for remember he saw
you lying in this ruin dead, you know.” -

“ But he will not dare tell of it.”

“ No, but it will soon be known in your land
that you committed suicide, from disappointed
love, or dread of what a Gi sorcaress told
you our future would be, an on your cousin
will {merit your fortune, and the Senor Vance
will make her his wife.” .

“ You draw a fearful picture, Sir Gi
one I would give my very life to thw
said with almost ﬂerceness.

“ You can thwart it and live.”

“ Hal how so?" >

“ Become m bride, the Queen of the Gipsies,
lose your iden ty, and we will go to America.
and you will then be there 'to gradually work
out a fearful revenge u n the man on hate.”

She started, her pa eness incre g to pal-
ior. ,her lips quivering, and her form trem-

Siiently' he observed her, for {he had nothing
more to’say. ,
123.52;.Suppose I refuse?” came in hoarse tones at

for the ﬂower, the

l’ was the ready an-

and
,i' she

“But one of niy tribe knows you are here,
and that one is the Queen of Destiny; you can
come to tribe as one of the mountain Gipsies,
for you look enough like our race to be one, and
none will dispute my acts.” I

“If I refuse?” she repeated. , '

“ Then I swear b the fearful oath of 'tha
Gipsies, that on s all die here in this min,
and no one wil ever know our fate.”

She stepped directly in nt of him, laced
a hand upon either shoulder, and looked im in
the face-with a gaze that seemed to read his
soul to its inmost depths. v

Then she said in a low, but ﬁrm tone:

“ Chandos, King of the Gipsies, I accept your

terms.

“ I become the queen of your tribe, and sacri-
ﬁce myself for hate.”

“Enough; within a'few days I will take you ,
to my camp, which'I/will pretend to leave ‘to-
night to go after you.

‘I care not for the motive that prempts you
to become my bride, so that you do so, for,
Queena I love you, and the soul of Chandos
goes out with his love.” ' ' '

He drew her toward him.‘kissed her on‘her
brow. she offering no resistance, et shudder-
ing slightly, as though a snake he touched her
wr h his vehemed mouth, and turning away he
left her to her own bitter thoughts to nurse her
aching heart alone. ,

CHAPTER VIII. '
rm: HIDDEN Guava.

NIGHT fell upon the Gipsy encampment, and
with its shadows a deeper “gloom seemed to
pervade the forest, rest 11 n 9‘ Haunted Ruin,
and fall upon the faces the roving people, as
they] moved slowly about. ‘

e ﬁres were not lighted, andpnly a couple
oftorches sent their red, ﬂickering glare out
into the darkness. ,

And between these two torches, which were
about seven feet apart, lay a human form clad
in white, and silent and motionless. .

ne look into the face and Nunah the Gipsy
maiden wadrecognized.

Now her eyes no lonﬁer sparkled, her bosom
no longer heaved; the ds h over the orbs,
and upon the heart the tiny ban were c
while about the lips was a pinched, severe look,
astho hshehaddiedin in.

Stan 'ng by each tore was a youn girl,
slowly drop ' pine into the crate to eepit
burning, an one b one came the Gipsies to
gaze upon the ma den whom all had looked
upon as their future ueen; but who, not hav-
ing been claimed by t e king on their day of

had been compelled by their cruel
law to e by her own hand. _
Stern men with gra hair came one by one,
and grind down in a be dead with admiration,
for ad she not, all her youth and beauty,
roven herself a brave girl, and a true Gipsy to
the forest born? . _

01d women came also to gaze upon that .u .
turned face, and drop a prayer that the brr 3
might ever sing above her grave and the wild
ﬂowers blossom there.

Young men, those who had loved her, and
gladly would have had her love in return, drew

._.__._«....

 

.
E
.

the others chanted a. w

  

67'

The : Corsair. Queen.

 

 

near, looked in silence, yet with deep anguish
of heart, and moved awa in the forest.

Then maidens, none 0 whom were her peer
in beaut , and all of whom, though envy-
ing her t e love of their king had loved her,
shed tears of compassion and g ’ded on, to give
way to little chi dren to whom she had ever
been most kind.

“ But, schooled to command every emotion,
and to outwardly conceal it, they gazedin si-
lence and s, on.

And stil the torches were fed by the two
maidens clllothﬁd in white, sand their light fell
upon anot er orm ap roac 1n .

It was the form of tge white-iaired Queen of
Destiny.

Nay more, she was the grandmother of the
maiden who lay at her feet.

Now her face was even more stern than usual
and silently she gazed down upon the form of
her grandchild.

Presently, out of the royal tent came the tall
form of Chandos the Kin , and he was prepared

fora journe for a man eld his horse near. , .
“Gi y. ng, pause here, before you go,”
cried 6 old. woman. ’

Chandos turned, glanced at the woman and
came toward her. '

She uttered no word, but silently pointed
with her wand to Nunah. ' ‘

“ Yes, she is a noble Gipsy,” he said, his eyes
resting upon theupturned face, ' .

“ She is the one you cast aside, King Chandos,
and I, who read the. stain of ., Heaven, the signs
of earth. and the tacos of men and women, tell
you now, above her body, that you made a

e.
“ Woman, I, not you, rule this tribe,’? he said

an .

‘ True you have the right to pick where on
Wm "is, utter“. N whims“; 2;. w
your s , u , ana, e a can,
tell on that you have made a mistake.”

“ on I shall‘be the suﬂerer, not you, Nana,”
he said recklessly and turned away. V

“Hold! will you not see her placed in the
earth?” she called out.

“ No, forl have along ride to the mountain ”
and he strode on, mounted his horse and mile
away.

The old woman shook her head sadly, and
then placed a small bugle to her lips and gave a
loud call.

Instant] , out of the various tents came white
forms an advanced toward the spot where
Nunah lay between the torches.

They were young maidens of the tribe, and
those who had never yet told their love to
mortal man.

A score of them in number, they came for-
wd, and stood with locked hands around the

Then six of them step forward, and while
refrain, that sent its
dolefnl echoes through the forest, they raised
theform in theirarmsandthenaludden
silence came upon all.

“ Bear her away.”

The command was in the voice of the Fate
Queen, and she inted with her wand to a spot
beneath the aha ows of the Haunted Ruin.

came the wild chant, as the Gipsy
mai ens moved away, walking slowly, and
11-3: every tent was heard the sound of sad
m c.

In front walked two oung girls bearing the
torches, then the six w carried r Nunah,
and next the other maidens, and on the ll
of all broke the wild song to the spirit of e

one them bore to the grave.

- Stan ng like a statue, her outstretched hand
still holdin her wand which inted' toward
the burial g , Nana the Fate n, remained
urﬁtgl the ickering torchlights were no longer
v 0.

Then, with the sound of the singingJ of the
maidens mlthe distance, drowned y e dole
ful music in camp, she turned away and entered
her own tent, of which none, not even Nunah,
had ever been permitted to behold the interior
and which the tube, from the king down, held
as wholly sacred to her alone,,as the Sorceress.

At length the music in the encampment was
suddenly chan ed to a more joyous strain, and

- louder and lou er grew the voices of the return-

ing maidens, singing some merry Gi lee
andthe old sorceress knew that by g (11
child had been buried b those, whom t a law
of herrfeople, alone a] owed to perform the
bang! tes over a young girl whose heart was

P - ,
Even Chandos the king, bed he remained,
would not have been allowed to o tothe grave,
the locality of which could on y be known to
those who bore the body there, and who, by
Gi law, dare not reveal it.
. ut into the dense forest they had gone, and
in some secluded spot already selected they
had buried Nunah, and then the earth ha been
smoothed over, the sod replaced, and the grave
ﬁncealed from mortal eye, according to their

W .

Back then merrily singing came the burial
party, and t en loud, clear, and thrilling rung
out the music of the encampment.

But Nana, the Fate Queen, satin solitude and

 

silence in her weird incantation tent, until the
sounds died away, and darkness and stillness
fell upon the scene. r

Then she arose and lanced without the tent.

Not a form was v' ble, and no sound broke
the silence, other than the hootvof night-birds
in the Haunted Ruin. ‘

A moment she gazed over, the encampment,
and feeling assured that it was lost in deep re-
pose, she disspfeared from sight.

But a minu after she reappeared and at her
side was a huge dog, held by a stout chain.

Silently she led the way, the dog trottin

uietl along, to the spot where the form 0

mm had lain, and then she drew a muzzle

from the brute’s nose and said simply in the

Gri ton e: ' -
Wake ti; scent, hound!”

It was a Spanish bloodhound, hu e in size,
and ﬁerce in as t, and he sniff eagerly
about the spot, uttering at last a low whine.

"Good! on have it, lie there!”

The dog aid uietly down, where Nunah had
rested between torches, and the sorceress re-
turned to her tent.

Soon she came back, bearing in her arms a

bundle and a wooden shovel.
airing hold of the rope attached to the dog’s
negligl‘igrs’aid sharply.

The bound at once set forth upon the trail,
foll0win'g it slowly, as the voice of the woman

kept]: him .
ong'the thtaken b the Gipsy maidens
he went, fol owin unfailin' gly the scent into
the, forest beyond e ruin.

'Atlasthe halted and uttered a low whine,
and the Fate Queen said eagerly: ‘

“ Here is the grave 1”

CHAPTER IX.
. a menu‘s.

“Movn, hound! you have done yourywork,
now let me do mine.” \ »

The sorceress as she spoke made the blood-
hound move from the spot upon which he
stood and which was in the v center of the
fogest, surrounded b bushesdof' a: growth.k t

' reading upon egroun a blan e ,
the%‘ate Queen, with a strength an quickness
one would not expect from one of her age, took
the shovel mdmn to remove the grassy sod
that had been ully replaced upon the grave
by the maidens, to hide it from the view of

man.
One b one the soda were removed and care-
f y pizza upon the blanket, and then the
shovel of earth were taken out, until-it
was evident that the body could not be far
8W3 .
orkin' g more gently the woman it you,
never stoppi to rest, and seemingly not ring,
until at last s e felt that the end was reached.
Bending over she seized hold of the stout
cloth, which enfolded the fair form,.and drew
it out of the grave' quickly unwra ping it from
around the body, e walked 08 in the forest,
brought back a. lar e log, which one would be-
lieve was beyond or strength to carry, and
around it placed the shroud.
Down into the grave he drop the log in
antothrow

its white wrapping, and rapidly
in the loose earth. .

‘ Packing it hard down with her feet, she soon
had the grave ﬁlled, carefully replaced the sod
and not a single mark had she left to show that
she had robbed the earth of a human body.

Then she turned to the prostrate form of the
maiden and began to bathe her face With some
11 uid she took fromaﬂask. _

his she did for a time, never tirin , un-
til at last there was a s udder ran throng the
fresco, and next a low sigh.

But the Fate Queen ke t on with her work
until at last the es 0 the dead
inaiden opened and ooked her squarely in the

ace.

'Hie moon had risen, and, though waning, it
gave ll ht enough to penetrate the dark recesses
of the crest, and the maiden said simply, recog-
nizin the form bending over her:

ana my mother, is it you?”

“I am here, Nunah, to save you.”

“ Ah! I remember now; I have long been
aslee .”

“ on have been like the dead, and ri ht be-
neath the earth there On have rested for ours."

The maiden shu dered, and said, almost
peevishly: ‘

“ Yes you made me break the Gipsy law, and
I live when I‘should be dead.”

"‘ No, Nunah, you obeyed the Gipsy law, for
you.took the poison; but I was determined that
you should not be sacriﬁced even for Chandos,
the king, and I gave you a powder to destroy
the poison, or counteract its effects,  then
told you my plan ere I again put you into a
slog like death.”

! Nana mother how can Ibelieve what you
told me of Chandos ’ groaned the maiden.

“ It is true; he has gone even now under a
pretense of go to the mountains after a bride
of another branc of our people, when he knows
the woman he would m is in yonder ruin,
for I heard all that seed tween them.”

“ And she loves h , and will—”

 

“ She hates him, I told on; she marries him
to be avenged upon one w o sought her death.

“ I tell you, girl, you must live, not die, and
obey mi commands in- all things. I .

“ nt is bundle is clothing for on, and here
are your jewels, which are wort a fortune if

on need to turn them into gold, and I have

ere money for you.”

“I will obey ou Nana mother, for even
though you are t 6 ate Queen, I know your
death wouid follow did our people know what
you have this night done.”

“Yes, and you would die, too, so obey me.

“Keep near us, and never lose si ht of us,
and never be seen by one of our t be, for re—
member, you rest here,” and she pointed to the
spot from which she had taken the maiden.

“Inwdl obey you in all things, Nana—mo-

er

“ I feel that you will. Now here is your dis—
guise, but you must make it a better one when
you reach the city.” .

As she spoke she unrolled the 'bundle and
drew from it a suit of clothes, such as were worn
at the timelbrv the young cavaliers in S in.

This suit unah put on, and then, wit a air
of shears the Fate Queen quickly cut the ong
raven locks from her head, executing her work,
by the light of the moon, with the skill of a
hair-dresser.

,“ This liquid Nunah, will dye your hair a

lden hue, and yet wash readily oil! from the

ssh, though the stain will remain. for months
on the hair: seel”

As she spoke she poured some of the li uid
into her hand and rubbed it all over the short
hair of the maiden, and the enact was startling,
so thorough was the chan e.

“ I am disguised n0w other Nana, so that
even the king would not know me,” said the girl,
with a sad smile.

“ Better that he does not; now let me wash
the stain from your ﬂesh.”

A wet cloth, which she had brougéit with her,
soon accomplished this, and then unah stood
up, so thoroughly disguised as a dark-eyed,
b undo-haired youth of fifteen that the most ob—
serving eye never would have recalled, in look—
in at her, the Gipsy beauty of a few hours.

ore.

“ There lies your road, Nunah; here lies
mine: farewell l’

The sorceress pointed further into the forest
as she spoke, and slowly the disguised maiden
turned away.

Watching her until she was out of si ht, the
Fate Queen then gathered up her bun es and
blanket and calling to her patient bloodhound,
retraced her way to the encam cut and.
reached her tent unseen by any of e tribe.

CHAPTER X.
an mauvooanu 301m.

IN her lonely prison chamber, for it was noth-
ing more, sat Queens Gray», brooding in silence
over her fate.

Twice daily had the Fate Queen come to her
With food, and of the choicest kind that could
b‘eilzad in. thle Gipgy camgi; $3311: had 1
o sparing y, an seem ' g so ee
over what was to be, that she cared little 1:051:
comfort or edibles.

One evening, when the sun was casting long
SQhquOW! across the egalley Nags, the thte

can, again“ appear , an er arms e
bore several large bundles.

“These are to robe the chosen bride of the
king for her marriage, ” she said.

Queena started but made no reply, and the
old woman unfolded the packages, and the
maiden beheld a ridin -dress of urple velvet,
a Spanish veil of rare co, and ew ﬁt for

rincess, with other things nee ed for a Grip-

 

a
'sy s trousseau.

Silently she allowed herself to be robed in her
handsome dress and then stood in passive si-
lence awaiting the coming of the man she had
been forced to pledﬁherself to marry.

A noble-look ing he certainly was one
who, if  one 0 the rovzn race, would ave
been admred and respec among men and
loved among women.

But Q0901!!! Gray had come to know him as
he was, and that he ruled with a rod of iron his
people, was merciless to man and woman, and

ha his life was stained with many a crime she
believed.

At bay, and wholly at his mercg', she knew
that she must become his Gips ride, or the
bride of death, for she felt that e would take
her life. .

She did not care to die, for life held charms
for her; but as his bride, as a Gipsy, it held but
one passion for her and that was revenge upon
]the man who had brought such misery‘ . upon

er.

She was behaved to be dead by herfriends.
She was to let them remain in that belief, and,
lost to the world, to the , she would live to.
make Vincent Vance su er as she had.

At times she believed she hated Chandos the
King of the Gipsies, and then she had to admit
to a certain respect she felt for his Wild nature,
and that he certainly fascinated her.

Had his claws not been hidden by the velvety
manner he held always toward her, she might

 

 

.s“»

The Corsair Queen."

 

 

have rebelled: had, too, he been deformed
in person, instead of the splendid being he was
courtly and grand, she might have preferre
death to him.

But as it was she accepted her fate, and
waited in patience the coming of her master.

A quick step along the outer corridor, a
knock, and Chandos the Gipsy King stood before
her

He too was clad in velvet, his tall form and
dark, fascinating face, looking the king, and
Queena Gray could not but have the thought
ﬂash thou h her mind:

“ Were e what he is in appearance, and other
than he is in race and character, I could love
him, ay worship him; but as he is, as I
know’him, he is a savage, yet a magniﬁcent
devil. ’ '

“I have come for my fair bride, Queens. my
Queen of the Gi ies,” he said softly, speaking
in French in w ich language he had always
addressed er.

“ I am ready ” was the calm reply.

“Then go, ana the Fate Queen, call the
tribe together, and let them know that you
have just read by onder stars, twinkling forth
in the twilight, t t Chandos their king has
taken a bride from the mountains: that he has
Won‘a fair Gipsy maiden from another tribe of
the Roving Race, and bringstohispeopleastheir
queen, a bright particular gem to dazzle their
eyes with her beaut . .

“Go then, Fate n, and bid my children
of the forest to await my coming."

The sorceress turned away and disappeared,
and then, to Queens, striving oh so hard to be

calm, the Gipsy King told that she must profess '

to be a daughter of the Franco Roving Race

and breathe no word of what and who did

reall was.

“ t matters not to me who or what I am in
the eyes of others, now that I am what I am
in my own ht," she said contemptuously.

The Gi etected the scorn in or tone, and
answerenf’ztymly: _

“ All that man can be to you, I Will be,

ueena.

“ Forget that a redder blood ﬂows in in
veins, than in ygurs, forﬁzt that I am what
am and remem r only t t I love you.”

Ills manner and words touched her and she
held forth her hand, which he grasped quickly
and led her from her prison.

“ From this moment you are free. Queens,”
harms???" e1 ad repl

e e an m e :

“ From this moment I 0 Into bondaggizi

He remained silent an led her on, ng a
con-lidor that soon led them to the rear of he
cast 6. -

Here, in a small court, stood two horses, one
his own, the other a m niﬁcent animal he had
bouégdht for her, and wh ch was richly capari-
son .

Raising hertothe saddle he also mounted,
and they rode through the 0 en gate and which
the wind causedtoswing and fro with a
doleful, creaking sound, and were soon traverh
sing the ridge, upon the spur of which stood the
Haunted Castle.

A long unused pathway led down the hillside
tothe forest below, and descending this they
held on their course, the king leading, and
passed through the forest toward the Gipsy en-
campment. _

Presently the steed of the Gipsy Kingnfell for-
ward, and nearly unseated his rider; ut both
horse and rider soon recovered themselves.

Yet, little knew Chandos, the Gipsy King,
that the animal he bestrode had sunkto his
knees in the verdy grave dug for the form of
N unah, the real on he had cast aside, and then
believed dead. .

And on the went, until soon they came in
sight of the es, blazing brightly, and heard
the strains of music from the tribe, which was
making merry over. the tidin of. the Fate
Queen that their king had foun a bride. .

They had hoped for one of their own maidens
to Win_ his heart; but the stars bad decreed
otheryise, and they would be content and right
merrily they sung songs in honor of the choice
of their chieftain.

Soon, out of the darkness into the light, rode
two persons, and at once a. wild about of greet-
ikni-g went up, for all recognized Chandos their

g.
And clustering around them, they led them
to the Patriarch of the tribe, and kneeling be.

fore him, he performed the simple ceremon ‘

that united those of his race in marriage, an
which all believed was the second service, as
was the custom, as they deemed the bride had
been ﬁrst wedded to their king before she left
her people.‘ _ _

“ Come, Queens,” and the Gips K_ing led his
bride, bewildered, frightened an With .an ach-
ing heart to his tent, and ushered her into the
spacious and comfortable abode, when a man,
one of the tribe, stepped forward and said: I

“There is a person waits you within, Kiazag
Chandos; he came w th your ring, and I -
"’1th him to our tent.”

_“You did ght; now
Glpsy Walked away to ‘ein the merry crowd
around the camp-fires, t e king turned to the

leave us,” and as the;

 

stranger, who had arisen at his entrance, and
said litely in pure Spanish:

' “ nor, I am glad you have come as you
promised; we are ready.”

Then turning to Queena, whose surprised look
he saw, at beholdin one present who was not
of his tribe, but in t e dress of a padre, hesaid,
speaking in perfect English, to her rise:

“ Queena, fearing that you mig t have
qualms a ainst the marriage ceremony of our
people, I ad come here this gentleman, a riest,
who will unite us by the ceremony 0 your
church. ”

A ﬂush passed over the face of the beautiful
woman, and she took her place b his side,
while in a low tone the priest read is e serum,
and then left the encampment, escorted by the
Gi y King.

gisnking own upon her knees Queens. buried
her face in her hands and cried:

“Great Godl that man will yet make me love
him, devil though he be.”

CHAPTER XI.
A SKELETON IN THE cwsnr.

Tim, second scene of my life-drama of the
long a o, kind reader, lies not in the land of
Spain, t shifts to America, where the curtain
gseshupon a plantation home in the Sunny

out .

A d old mansion fronts the blue waters of
the hesapeake, the velvety lawn, dotted with
massive trees, running down to the sandy beach,
upon which the waves of the bay break with a
roar in mimicry of the ocean surf.

It is a. large, roomy structure, comfortable in
the extreme, and u n all sides there is a look
that is indicative o the wealth and refinement
of its occupants.

Back and to the left of the mansion half a
mile distant, is a row of white cabins the
“ quarters” of the slaves,whom we see toiling in
a vast field of grain. '

To the right,qu the residence are the out-
buildings. w th astylish coach and team stand-
in in front of the stable.

itbin the mansion there is an air of luxury
most inviting, and it would seem the very place
for one, tired of the world’s bustle, to while
away the years in charming idleness and repose.

As the carriage rolls round to the door,,a
livei-ied ne coachman and footman on the
box, a gen eman comes out of the ions hall-
way and halts upon the wide veran a.

‘ I am ready, massa," said the coachman. ,

“Then drive quickly to the villa , James,
ssaid get there in time for the arrlgvil of the

a. .

‘glf Mr. Rupert should not come, then return
at once and will drive to the city myself to
see him.”

“Yes, massa,” and the stylish vehicle whirled
away by the carriage drive leading u the bay,
leavmg the master gazing moodily at r it.

He was a man of striking appearance, and
dressed in a suit of white linen, and weari 9.
Panama hat: yet wh describe him, for e
reader has met him be ore, and in Spain, for it
is none iother than Vincent Vance, litt e changed
in the six years that have passed since the

ht he ﬂed from the Haunted Ruin near
Pa 0 believing that he left Queena Gray dead
behind him

At the present time however, he wore a bag-
gard look upon his face, and he seemed in at
ease and restless, for he paced to and fro, now
walking quickly, now slowl and at times halt-
ing altogether, as though body moved in
unison with his thoughts. ,

Unmindful of the picturesque scene spread
out before him he never gazed ii n the bay or
landscape, or if doing so, seem not to see it.

Thus near] two hours passed away and then
the rumble 0 wheels «caused him to start.

Turning he saw the carriage returning at a
rapid pace, and a moment after it drew up at
the door, and an elderly gentleman sprung out.

 

“ Jud Rupert I am c armed to see you, for
I fear on had not received my letter,” said
Vincent snce eagerly.

“ Yes, Vance, I received the letter, and came
at once, as your letter seemed urgent indeed;
but how is your wife?” '

“ Well, I thank you, than h absent across the
bay Just now,” and Vincent ance led his guest
into the house.

. A sumptuous sup r was soon servsd and
lights havmg been- p need in the library, thither
the planter and the lawyer adjourned.

_“ Come, Vance, tell me what is the trouble?”
said Judge Harvey Rupert, as he smoked a fra-
grant ci at. I

“ 0h am in lots of trouble,” said Vincent
Vance impatiently.

“Why should you be? You are rich your-
self, have married a rich wife, and have aﬂne
little ' I: what else do you want, man?"

“ 1 tell you, I want money.”
“ Monies? you want money?” asked the judge

surpr
 for appearances are deceitful. 1 am not

 thought you were: but your wife is, car-
“ he is thought to be.”
“But she inherited a large fortune by the

 

death of her cousin, Queens Gray who com-
mitted suicide, or was drowned in Spain some
years a 0.”

“True, but it is badly mortga ed: but I
might as well make a clean breast o it, Rupert,
an tell on all.”

“ As am to be your lawyer, so you hinted
ll} your letter, I judge that would be the wisest

an.

“Well, you know I once loved Queens. Gray,
thou h m wife does not know that.

“ he iscarded me, however, shortly after
she left a convent in Paris, where her old sea
captain father sent her.

‘ Shortly after I left Spain she died, or killed
herself, and though I had made up my mind
never to marry, I changed it upon meeting
Violet Gray—”

“ Ah! her money and-J ,

“ Yes, her money had someth to do with
it I admit, for she t the fortune at had been
left ueena' but t en she was a beautiful girl,
and loved her too.

“I had, uandered all or nearly so, that I
had inheri ,and as I had charge of my wife‘s
estate, I kept my verty hidden, and in the
endeavor to win ck what I had lost, have
each year gotten more into the mire, until now
this estate is mortgaged for twothirds its
v ue. . . ‘

“Quit gambling, cease being extravagant,
live with economy for a few years and t 3 es--
tate would pay 0 the mortgages,” terser said
the lawyer.

“ True; but there is trouble ahead for a week
a 01 received this letter, which I will read

and to you.” ‘

Taking from his pocket a letter, he read as
follows: ‘

“HAVANA 0c
" Méy 1371812. }
“Y‘élmsl “m “m” at. Queens. e '

‘ r: x ears in r, - re
died in d, Bpaﬁfobyhzrownhanditwassaig:
andvher fortune. inherited from our father, Ca thin
Martin Gray, went to the next of kin, now inlet
Gray Vance, your wife, no one believl that I was
alive, as I was supposed to have been t at sea
wheanasahoyo ten. ‘ ‘ r i '

“ But though swe t overboard b a Wave. Iwas
mirac usiy saved 5; s ’ 'a p of
timber, which I clung to, an w h the coming of
da‘w'i‘ihwpssggscovered and lozedcpﬁg by adsoliooner. I

‘ a ooner wasa rs. an bees.
would not join their are; they heldt'me a m’
itpon their island retreat in the Indies for l these

ng ears.

-“B¥itatlutlhave escaped from them,a.ndlearn-
11151:th a. person I met in Havana, and who
has furnis ed me with mone . that you, and my
cousin Violet Gi'a , are e oy my fortune, and
dwelling in my fa er's old ome, now mine, I write
you this letter to tell iﬁou to vacate in my favor.

“If you refuse, I w be in Baltimore within the
month, and after giving roofs of my identity,will
proceed to recover my ei-ltance by law.

“ With respect, Honor: Gan.”

“ Well, that seems clear enough, Vance, and
if he can prove his identity,you will have to

.give up,” said the lawyer.

“ Yes, and he can prove it,” said the planter. ‘
“ You know this?”

“ Yes for I have seen him.”

4‘  If, ,

“ I came up from Norfolk a few do.
go int e regular et, and we ran downﬁ

e night a small s allop, and two of three men
on board were drowned.

“The third was a youth and the moment I
saw him I knew. from his likeness to his sister,
that it was Horace Gray who had written me
the letter. ‘

“I entered into conversation with him, and
he told me he was a mere passeﬁger on board,
havirﬁ joined the shallop at orfolk, where
he ha landed from a vessel from Cuba. ‘

“ I asked him to (go ashore with me, and we
were put 03 at the ock below, and I brought
him here.” ,

“And he is here now?”

“Judge, I can trust you,I hope,” said the ,
planter in a low tone.

.“ There is. no need of mincin matters be-
tween us, Vincent Vance; you ave not for-

otten, no more than I have. the night we
killed and robbed—”

“ ’Sh, for God’s sake i"

“No, I will sa . it; thenight we killed and
goblhed Planter ay of his twenty thousand

o are.

“We “(1 our gambling debts at colle ,
Vincent,p::id I turned honest and studied lag:
and have done pretty well' as for you, I" feel
you have kept up your evil life, for you are
now in troub o from mortgaging an estate you
have no le claim upon.

“ Now, on have money to pay me, I can

.keep a score and be trusted; if not, I’ll switch

right over and aid this Horace Gray to et his
fortune, and send you to jail for squan ering

i .
‘Vincent Vance turned deadly e, and his
hand holdin his cigar trembled vio ently.
_Impatient y he threw aside his unsmoked
cigar and said: ,
“ es,IseeI cacti-net you,if.you are paid
for it- well, I will payyou. ’
“ hat with?”
it Gold.”

 

[
l.
i:

:1:-

1"

.NB.‘

if
‘3
v;

33.

The Corsair Queen.

 

 

“You just said you had squandered your
wife’s fortune. ”

“True, it-is heavily mortgaged, but I can
work it off, as you say, in time.”

“ But that is not now.”

i “ I know, but the boy’s death would give me

H Ah!”

“ Yes, if there was no claimant for the place
.I could soon pay off the mor ages.”

“That is true; but where n 0 you wish my
services?”
“ To get rid ofthe boy."
“ Ah. I see I see,” and the lawyer bent upon
the planter a ook of devilish cunni , as though
he understood fully what was expec of him.

CHAPTER XII.
a RED couracr.
“ You see what?" gr0wled Vincent Vance as
:soon as the lawyer ceased nodding his head in
: a knowing way.
“ I see hat you want the boy, the heir to this
‘estate out of the way.”

“ Wh a blind man can see that; if he proves
t'himself race Garey, out of this home I go with
my wife and child.’

‘ They to the

“ Curse you!
'Harvey Ru rt.”

“ Don’tl e it, eh? Well, what’s to be done?"

“Get rid of the boy.” '

H Certain.”

“ And at once.”

0 True. ’1

“ And forever.”

“ More wisdom.”

“But how?”

“ Have you formed no plan?”

it No.”

r-house and you to jail.”
on’t be so plain in your talk,

“Don’t lie to me, Vincent Vance.”

“Well, sup I say I have?” a

“ I know w t it is.

“ In God’s name, how?”

“I read it in your face, and your words he-
trayed as much.” \

” Then tell me my plan.”

“ You wish the boy killed.”

. u rah—p, I

“ Oh, nobody is listening; you wish him
killed? '

“ Yes.”

“ And you wish me to do the deed?”

“ 0r hire some one.”

“Nonsense; you say that merely to pour oil
on my feelings; but you know you desire me to
do the work on dare not do.”

“Ithou h you, beinga lawyer in the city,
could hire t done. ”

“ Bah! why put yourself in the power of an-
other by
yourself

“ But I cannot do it.”

“ True, you have not the nerve to drive a
knife into a-man’s heart, or touch a trigger and
send a ball through a foe’s brain; but report.
has said of you‘ that you have caused man a
r girl to take her own life, and of the wo
ds f scoundrels give me the murderer to the
wron er of innocent, trusting women.”

“ Ygou should have studied for the church,
you reach so eminently,” sneered the planter.

“ nd you shon
for your crimes; but come, let us not quarre,
but talk business." r

“ That is what I desire." .

“ Well, where is the boy?"

:‘ In this house.”

I

“I mean it; I let him in at night, took him to
a wing which is hover occu ied, and which was
as a prison in the Bevo ution, my wife 39. s
she has heard her plareuts say and there he is.
“No one knows e is therei"
H No. S)
“ You are sure?”
it Yes] I ‘
:‘ gou’brought him with you from the vessel?”
‘ es.

“ Who knows that he landed with you?”

“ No one; he followed me ashore, and I de-
tained him until the vowel sailed.”

“ He knows who you are?”

“ Oh, yes, for I told him, and more, he remem-
bers his old home.

“I told him that we could settle our trouble
peacefully, and asked him to come home and see
my wife.

‘She is away, and I led him, unseen by the

servants, up-stairs, knocked him down and

I dragged him to the prison wing, when I puthim
in irons and left him there.”

“ Strange he does not call out.”

“No one would hear him if he did with the
walls around him.”

“You have seen him since?”

“ Yes, for I carry him his food.”

“ He will not com romise?” ‘

“ No, for I have t eatened to have him ar-
rested as a pirate.” .

“ Well, he will have to die.”

“ Certainly.”

“And you are afraid to kill him?"

“ I want not my hands stained with blood.”

“True, I had to give old Day the death-blow
I remember, though you ﬁngered the greater

ying-to have that done you can do ,

dhave been in jailyearsa 0:

part of the mone ; but the stain on your con-

scieiliéie does not s (111W, mail?” b i
omore preac in , utsa f on

will do the deed?" g pert, y y

“ That de nds.”

H n w t?”

“T e price on will y.”

“ Ah! well, will give you one thousand a
year for ﬁve years.”

“ This estate is worth, with its slaves, just
twent times that sum.” .

“ at of that?”

“ I must haVe one-tenth of its value. ”

“Mercenary wretch.”

The law or smiled but made no reply, and
after aw ' 9 Vincent ance said:

“ Well, I will give you the sum, two thousand
a ear.

“What guarantee have I?”

“ My word.”

“No cod.”

“ Curse it then, my note."

“ Worthless."

“ In Satan’s name then, what do you want?”
“ Security.”

“I have none to give.”

“ What have you done with your wife’s
jewels?”

“ Ha! I had forgotten. them; but she will
not 've them up.”

“ on’t ask her.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Take them."

“ I dare not.”

“ You are stuﬁid; rob the house by night, or
so have it thong t and get the jewels.”

“ Heaven. I will.

“ at are they worth?” I

“ About ten thousand all told.”

“They are worth more, for I saw her wear
at the ball in the city last winter, a necklace
that was worth that.’

“Well, I will give you the necklace as secu-
ﬁt .71 . a.

'YNo I must have her jewe'iocase; the gems
will alibe kept safe for redemption when you
have the money.”

“ Curse your grasping "soul, why do you wish
so much?"

“ Curse
want an innocent bo

It was a direct
winced and said:

“Well, I will do as you wish.”

“Enough! where are the jewels?”

“ In an iron chest in my wife’s room.”

“And the key?” I

“I know one that will ﬁt it, though she has
the he : I will make her believe she left it un-
lock inadvertently.”

“ Tell her what you please, but get the
jewels.” r .

“When you have killed—I mean when the
boy is dead.” _

“ Get the jewels, put them in your desk here
and‘ 've me the key: then show me the youth,
and will do the work, and together, after
midnight, we can carry the bod to the shore,
takes. boat, and run out and rap it into the
lake. . ,

“A good idea; now I will get the jewels.”

He arose and left the room nervously, was
gone about ten minutes and then taggered into
the library as white as a corpse, crying in
hoarse tones:

“ The jewels are gone! the chest has been
robbed !’

your murderous heart, why do you
killed?”
low, and Vincent Vance

CHAPTER XIII.
A s'raa'rnme DISCOVERY.

“ VINCENT Vance, you lie I”

The words came from Judge Harvey Rupert,
and springing to his feet he grasped the shoulder
of the planter with a gripe of iron.

“ No, Rupert indeed I tell the truth: the
chest was unlooked and the jewels gone,” ear-
nestly said Vincent Vance.

“ You took them to keep from giving them

me.

“Why should I? The lace is worth more to
me than the jewels, an besides, I would far
rather have them go as security, than have the
e ure which you know would send me to
prison.” .

“ True, Vance, you have nothing to gain by
it, but who could have taken them?” and the
lawyer now felt convinced that the planter was
at least' innocent of taking the jewels.

“  as; v s. .. . ~

“ e servan sugges e awyer.

“Are old fan}in slaves that could be trusted
with an thin . ,

“ The; wegmust look elsewhere, but ﬁrst let
us see this claimant to the estate, and then we
Will decide what is best to be done, for I Wish
to help you out in this matter.”

“For gold?” .

“ 0h es: not from love of you I Will swear.”

“ Is t e house quiet?” _

“ I will dismiss the servants for the ’night,

and then we will 0 to see Horace Gray.’
He touched a 11 and a gray-haired negro
butler lEﬁilieared. _ .
“W' m, the ' dge and myself Will sit up

 

late to—night, so s at up the house and you can
all retire. ’

 

. “Yes, massa,” and the butler de arted, and
in a quarter of an hour the ma on was as
quiet as the grave. Having waited for some
little. time, the planter arose, took up the
massive silver candlestick, and said simply:

“ Come!”

Without a word the lawyer followed him. out
into the ball, up the broad stairs, along anarrow
hallway to what appeared to be the end of the
house, for a large maho any closet stood there,
ﬁlling up the space at t e termination of the
passage.

Taking a key from his ket be unlocked the
door of the wardrobe, w ch appeared to bea
rece tacle for clothes not worn in the warm
wea her.

These he pushed aside and touching a 3 ring,
the back of the closet swung open, revea ‘ng a
narrow hall beyond.

Ste ing through the wardro the two men
close the doors after them, an Were in the
wmg of the mansion known as “the prison.”

It seemed the oldest rt of the ancient man-
sion, the walls beln t roe feet thick, and the
windows that look out on the front and rear
were sealed up, air and light coming in/from
the roof.

There was a large room upon one side, and
two smaller ones upon the other, and within
one of the latter was a brick closet with an iron
door, the latter being closed.

The whole win was a dismal-looking lace,
and, whatever it ad been built for, it certpainly
was forbidding enough, and sug ested s ks
andghosts as nightly marauders t roughi do-
minions.

Another ke he carried with him opened the
iron door in t is brick closet, and a space ten
feet by four was revealed, with a' row of iron
chairs against the back wall, and chains at-
tached, which showed lainly how it had been
occupied in the olden me. -

But it was unoccupied now, and white as a
corpse Vincent Vance stood gazing at one of
the vacant chairs.
to“ He has gone too,” said the lawyer, in hoarse

me.

“Yes; but in God’s name how?” gasped the
planter. ‘

“.This may explain,” and the judge picked up
a wee of paper from one. of the iron chairs.

t had writing upon it, and holding it to the
candle, he read aloud:

“There is an old sayin
devil with ﬁre,’ Vincent
that method with you.

“ I suspected you of treachery when I came here,
and determined to watch you; but you were uiL-ker
in your tactics than I suspected you would e, and
byisknocking me down, got me into this dismal

r on.
p “ remained here until I had thought over a plan
of action and then, being “fully acquainted with a
secret on let of this pen a circumstance that will
prove to on that I am what I re resent, havin dis~
coveredt 6 secret in boyhood, slipped the runs
readily oi! my small hands and feet, and now bid
you farewell, with the promise that you will hear
again from Homer: GRAY."

In silence the two men stood regardin them-
selg‘es for some minutes, and then the awyer
spo e:

“ I wonder if he took the jewels?”

“Who else could have done so? If he knew
there was a secret outlet from this wing, and
which I confess was unknown to me, he must
have known that there is a secret way of get-
tingl into the iron safe, which is ﬁtted into the
we of a closet in my wife’s room.”

“ Then he knew that secret too, and your
prisoner and your jewels are one.”

“ AndI am ruined,” groan the planter.

“ So it looks now; but keep up your courage
and counterplot and all ma yet come well.”

“ And you wiil help me, upert?”

“ Yes—for gold.” .

that you must ‘ﬂght the
ance, and Iintend to adopt

 

CHAPTER XIV.

mam.

Ir ma be inferred that Planter Vance, as
he liked be called by the neighbors, slept lit-
tle that night in his ele ant home. ‘

The return of his 15y acts was .being paid
in with interest, an the iron of remorse was
entering deep into his soul.

It was growmg gray in the east when at last
he closed his eyes, and after a few hours of
restless slumber he sprung to his feet with a cry
of horror.

But it was only a dream, a. nightmare.

.He saw the sun shining brightly, heard the
birds singing merrily, and dressing himself
went down upon the veranda, where he found
the 'udge enjoying the beautiful scene spread
out efore him.

“Yonder comes a vessel, Vance, heading as
if to run into your inlet,” said the lawyer, point-
ing to a trim—looking craft that was tacking
into the small bay, the port of the plantation.

“Yes, and itis the Spray,” said the planter
quickly. ‘

“ The Spray?” echoed the lawyer.

“ Yes, our plantation boat; the one that took
my wife and daughter across the bay to their
kindred; now the secret must come out,”

“ What secret, man?”

“ The jewels.”

 

 

The Corsair Queen.

 

 

“Bah! let it come out; if you are innocent
all right: on are so often guilty, I believe it
reall frig tens you to be innocent for once.”

" me, let us go down to the shore and meet
my wife,” and oallin to the butler to have
breakfast ready. and p ates set for his wife and
daughter, Vincent Vance led the way down the
gravel walk leading to the inlet. .

The schooner had in the mean time run into
the bay, droplped anchor, and a boat touched
the shore, (pu ed by a negro crew, Just as the
planter an lawyer got there.

“Out of it sprung, unaided, a tall, slender
woman, with a beautiful face and well molded
form; but an air that was imperial in its haugh-
tiness. ‘

She was attired with taste, her face was
ﬂushed with the excitement of the sail, and she

reeted her husband with the air of one who

sit that she was mistress if he was master.

To the jud 9 she gave a kindly greeting, for
Mrs. Violet [Vance was a hero-worshiper, and
Jud 9 Harvey Rupert stood at the head of his
pro ession, and was universally courted, for
the world knew not of the heart beneath that
intelligent, handsome face, and suave manner.

There also Sprung out of the boat a perfect
little fairy of ﬁve years, a child with the
darkest blue eyes, fringed hy the longest lashe
arose-bud mouth, a velvet complexion, an
1011:} red-gold curls, that fell to her waist.

or form was faultless. willowy, and her
every movement was as graceful as a fawn’s,
and her voice, low and soft, was almost pathetic
in its tone.

“Zitelle, my daughter, this is your papa’s

1rticular friend, Jur go Rupert,” said Mrs.

'ance and the little maiden greeted him sweet-
iv, and with the air of a. coquetto so often seen
in prext children.

“ Zite e, what a strangename: where did you
ﬁnd ' Vance?” asked the judge, as the Went
' themansion, the negro crew to owing
with theuggage.

‘ “I’ll tell on, judge; the night that Zitelle
was born 1: ere was a. terriﬁc storm, and it
swept the bay of many a proud vessel.

“ nthe mornin I went down to the shore,
and a tiny boat been cast out upon the
sands.

“It was upgarently the ig of some vessel of
war, and yet have never n able to ﬁnd out
from whence it came; but, as it was thrown di-
rectly u :1 our shore, and was unharmed by
the mug waves 1 took its name, which was on
luf‘h bow in gilt otters, for my baby-girl.”

“ And it was Zitelie?”

it Yes.”

“It fsonod'd and pretty name, and I never
l win! it but once before.”

“And where was that, judge?” asked Mrs.
Vance.”

“ I visited a camp of Gipsics once, who were
cncamped on Long Island, and remember that
the neon, abeuutiful woman, called her little

girl italic.” ,

At the name of Gipsy Vincent Vance started
and turned e, but neither the judge nor his
wife notic it, and at that moment they ar-
rived at the mansion and went to the breakfast-
rviom for the sail on the Chesapeake had given
Mrs. Vance and Wells a appetite.

After smoking their gun on the veranda,
when breakfast was over, the udge and Vincent
Vance went into the library, or the former had
hinted that he had a plot to submit that might
work the nter out of his diﬂiculties.

While 1: e gentlemen adjourned to talk busi-
ness Vance went to her rooms, and each
moment her husband grew more restless, an-
;icipslizing the discovery of the theft of the

ewe

At last, as no cry of alarm oamefrom her
room, he said, excitedly:

“Judge, I must go and see, for she may have
fainted upon discovering her loss."

“Nonsense! she me. not ﬁnd they are gone
until the next ball is given, when she wishes to
wear them.”

“ No, she will make the discovery when she
i ates oi! the gems the is wearing and puts them
in the iron chest. I must reall go and see.”

‘The man was so nervous t at the lawyer
tnou ht it best to have the matter over With,
and inoent Vance ascended the stairs and en-
tel'l‘edlrlhkhmws bah id 1:

o s orror e 6 created infrontof
the iron chest, which was open, and in her
hands she held the [case of missmg jewels,

———

CHAPTER XV.
rm: Hermione mum

80 struck dumb with amusement wssVineent
Vance at theuiooopwry he made, thatrfor fun a
moment he stood mwgazi in silence at his wife,
she being no on: hll presence.

Thonitﬂashodt hhis mindthatshehad
taken the web over bay with her, or hid-
an them mother place and he washout
torotreotund tellt‘beiudget‘hattheyhadbeen
found, when his wife muttered: -

“ But how could he have gotten into the chest,
for I alone keep the key 9"

 

i

What did this mean?

She certainly knew that some one had been
in the iron chest, and she referred to himself
evidently.

Again he started to retreat, when once more
her words caused him to hesitate:

“ Then the rumors that he is embarrassed are
not true, for he could not afford to give me
such ’a present. I will go and thank him at
once.

She half arose, when her husband stepped
boldly into the room, for her words he must
have explained, or he would go mad, he feared.

“Ah! Vin, it is you. I was just going to
thank you for your beautiful present though
how you ever got into my iron chest, I cannot
tell.”

She went up to him, put her arms around his
neck and kissed him.

“ Why, what do you mean, Viol” he asked in
a constrained voice.

“ Now do not plead ignorance, for fear I ma
scold you for 0mg into the iron chest: but it is

rfectiy love y, indeed it is, and I will give a

11 especially to wear it.”

“Violet, in the name of Heaven. what are
you talkin about?” gasped the bewildered mun.

“ Why, ow well you no Vincent; what am
I talking about? why, the autiful medallion
with your miniature in it.” v

Vincent Vance could not have ken if his
life had depended on it, and thi ng he stood
confessed by silence, Mrs. Vance continued:

“I knew as soon as I o ued the chest that
some one had been there or the pearl necklace
was in the case where  alwa keep the dia-
monds, and things were genera 1y changed: but
I suppose you took a good look at the jewels;

et don’t wonder, as they are a goodl show;

ut, Vin, how in the name of wonder 'd you
got into the chest?”
“ How did I get into the chest?” he echoed.
“ Yes, for I had the key.”

“ You had the key 1” t

“ You know I always keep it in a pocket in
my undershirt.”

‘ True.”

“ Now, sir, how did you get the chest Japan?"

“ You mused nothing?” he ugly ask .

u “ 9n the contrary, I ﬁnd the utiful medal-
on.

“ You did not close the spring when you left;
it did not catch,” he said with reviving cour-
age, at still mystified.

“ ow uegiiggnt of me: I nevus-did such a
careless thing fore, and I will not be guilty
of it again, for some one else tbauyou may find
it open.”

“ Yes, and rob you.”

“I am not afraid of the servants, but then
they shall not be tempted again.

‘i‘ 136w sir, when did you have this miniature

n
paShe went to the chest, opened it and took out
the medallion. 4 .

it was of massive gold, in theshipe of a heart,
with a likeness on one side, surrounded by a.
circle of opdsrand upon, the other was a. dagger
of precious stones, the Hit being of diamonds,
the guard Oilﬁeu'll, and the blade of rubies.

The mod on was attached to A chain of
solid gold, and the miniature was a likeness of
Vincent Vance some half down before.

He gazed u itin almost orrdr his wife
2:31:11]; his i3: surprise, and

one of is
“Speak out Vi when was this exquisite
miniaturepoin’tedl'?’
“Seven years ago, Violet, when I was in

London,” he gasped. -
“ Doubtbss for some fair girl who diacarded

on; but If ve you, Vin, as the medallion is
or me; but t must lave cost a very large
sum.

“Yes alargesum.”

“ And, Vin, I have heard it wh of late
that you were ﬁnancially in trou e, yet I did
not see how that could be.”

" Of course not, Vio.”

“I knew that you had a small income of
your own, and the plantation has id well,
and there hubeen a large sum upeach
year as you know."

u ﬁes dear n

, .

“ Then how could these rumors get anti”

“ Talk, all talk, Violet; you know what wo-
men are.”

“ Yes, being one myself: but these rumors,
though told me over the buy by women, came
frommen; but I told them you oouldnot touch

threats or thebank account, oothutitmust
mistake.”

bea
113i swam "m" "if"
is n ave

me of that, and itgusthavcm
all of your income for can to ma; Ioif
Youwnutufewtho Vin,I signthe
lairx‘ilrdmftsfortheunIK‘SIIIIi‘J"5

o,no,m door one modem mane '
Imadeulittloylmilaﬂoudfofmypmpe Y.
inn-Minion.

“I am gladyou like t; now I must

, mm
e or ve _
roturntoth ml! Ibo bfthimgui:

auuoy Ind m mm row! I!

 

CHAPTER XVI.
A conrnssmn

“ RUPERT, what do on thinki” and Vincent
Vance took his stan opposite to the lawyer,
looking him straight in the face.

“That depends wholly, Vance, upon what
subject you desire me to think upon, was the
cautious re ly.

“I have {inst come from my wife’s room."

“Is that any thing peculiar?” asked the inw-

yer.

“And the jewels are there.”

it No x”

“ I tell the truth.”

“It is a blessing to know it.”

“ Which?"

“ The truth.”

“Yes, the jewels are all there,” went on the
planter unheeding the sarcasm of the lawyer.

“ Well?"

“ I saw them in her lap and it astonished me.”

“She took them with her to makeasplurge
with, among the lesser lights of the other
shore.”

“ No, she left them here.”

“Where?”

“In the chest.”

“,In some secret drawer you knew nothing

'“No, in the place where she always keeps
gigggrbut they had been moved,u she no-

“This is stran e.”

“ I have some hing stranger to tell; there was
another iece of jewelry with them.”

“Wha was iti’

“ A solid gold medallion with a miniature like-
ne in it.”

“ Of whom?"

“Myself, and taken some seven years ago
when was abroad.”

“ Whom did you give it to?” x

“ lady Ionceloved ande to marry.”

iii‘ilmw my I 3W if ' sin."

us as re n: w e s can

“The suicide?” y.’ y i '

n Ya.”

“Then if you gave her the medallion I su

it was sent with her eﬂ'ecta to you;- wifg;
er heireni”

“ No, it was then simply a miniaturein a. gold
frame; now the likeness is in a m that is
worth more than my wife’s jewels.” v

“You around me.”

“Itistruethough.” \ '

“ And it was in the jewel case!”

It Yes."

“ And your wife knows not.th of it?”

NShe suspects that I had it maﬁa and gave it
to her. and accused me of openhig the irou chest
and lplgcing it there, while she was absent, to

trnnge ; u t outh
this Horace Gray took the gempknowingsomé
way to open the chest, and then deci to re-
turn them, put them back in some way saving
the medallion which he had gotten from his

“ No. for they were not there when I retired

last night: the were there this morn , and I
gownt y oou d haveonly beenre while I
rm t have been done.”
“ But how ' '

“ There may be corners and secret chambers
in this old house you know not of.”
Vincent Vance turned pale at the thought,
“Willi? "h. if“ i them,rnnybe
is you now now
copt§aleg in the hdusei” n‘

“God forbid i"

“It looks so, for the jewels to be rammed,
and with them this trinket that he evidently in
some way got from his sister in the put.”

“'l‘hut could not be, Ru rt. for the boy was
lost. ten years ago, before met his sister. and I
tell on I only had that miniaturepninted in .
Lon on seven years ago.” ’ .

“ More mystery than.” .

“ Andthe medallion is a strange one.”

“Iamonalee more, for I cannot help you, .
Vance.” ,

“And more, my wife hinted that gouge
told her I was ﬁnancially in trouble; but a. '
WW.“ r "M i“ no “'9 Pm
o ewe s e supposes gave r. ,
:‘fsnucirimmemgnh some to '

am more. a me
her nameto duftaonthebankwgztho
“(crucify is deposited,and the crop nice,
on year. I ‘

.“Misgenmna,nuditmu tide on over
for awhile, for she would 10% O. few

eds least.” ‘

“Tide tit: devil over! maintains b no
intbebenk."

“ but!" ‘

“Obi Imihnndlmghtn well nuke a
clean breast of it, for you onecansid me." v

“ out, and when Imnotncting in the
dark an perhn, also how to steer rough
tinsebmkergbu tellyoufruakly thertillerf
Ihold mustbesgolden one.” ‘=

“Itshallbeifybucanaid me.”

41““.

- 1 3‘7.

4}... .

z

1‘:
s

 

 

10

4

 

hi

“Well, what hasbeoome of the money that
the bank held?”

“ Gone.”

“ Where.” 0

" I gambled it away.”

“How did ’you get it?"

“Drew it.’

“ But how?”

“ By drafts.”

“ Of course, but I thought that mono could
only' be drawn by your wife’s signature ’

‘ That is true. ’ -

“ And she gave it to you?”

“ Don’t be stu 'd; no, she gave me nothing.
I wrote it mysel ."

“ Forged her name, eh?”

ﬂ )sh__~ I”

“Don’t be silly; you are as frightened at
{writing another’s name, as you are at seeing

“ ’Sh—l”

“Listen‘ if your wife knew this her pride
would not let her make it known.”

“ Don’t believe that: she has found out from
some anonymous source, that I loved her
cousin, and married‘her for her money.”

“Which you did?”

“ Which I did; I could not starve.”

“True; well, she has changed her opinion of

on?

“ Yes, and I think she does not love me; but
this present of the medallion comes in well to

I soften her toward me."

" Strike her during this season of softness for
a few thousand.”

“ Where would she at it?”

“ True, I for ot the you had already struck
the bank for al .”

Just then a knock at the door caused the
guilty planter to start, and in answer to his call

to come in, his wife swept into the room.

CHAPTER XVII.
‘ a LAWYER’S PLOT.
‘ AT the sight of his wife Vincent Vance seem-
ed to lose thou-power of speech and motion, be-
lieving that was lost, and known. .

But her manner at once reassured him, as she
advanced to the jud e, saying pleasantly:

“ Judge-Karma, p ease, my intrusion; but I
was compo ed to ask Vin to do a favor for me,
and took advanta e of it to show you the mag-
nificent present I ave received.”

She handed the courtly lawyer the medallion
and chainyand rising, he examined it with a
minuteness and interest that could not but
please the recipient of such a small treasure.

“ It is grandly beautiful, madam, and most
generous in our good husband,” he answered,
calmly, han ing it back to her.

" It was indeed kind of him; now, Vin, I
wishyou toﬂll up a bank draft formeandl
will sign it.”

Vincent Vance started, and fumbled in the
desk for paper.

“ Poor old Mrs. Haskell, Vin, has gotten into

trouble through her wild boy’s extravwces ,
w

and her place is to be sold, so I told her oul
buy it for cash, and let her live in it.

‘ She cannot live long, as she has consump-
tion, and it is a ood property at the price—
onl four thousan dollars. ’

ur thousand dollars!

It horriﬁed the fglanter, ‘for he knew that

there was not the ﬂ h of that sum in the bank,
. when there should have been twenty times as
much. .

The cunning lawyer saw his trouble, and
blandly said:

“ Perhaps you would oblige me with the draft,
madam, and I will give you the bank notes to
send her, as I have that sum with me,*and do
not think it safe to carry it.”

“ It will do just as well, ‘judgeﬂ’ and at the
words of his wife Vincent ance gave a si 11
of relief, and wrote the draft in favor of t e
law er.

is wife then si ed it, and the judge count-
~ ed out the money rom his grivate purse.

“Thank you judge; the pray has to go back
again after a and of lumber, and I can send
this to Mrs. Haskell, by sailor Ben, who is a
’most trustworthy servant, judge.”

m‘glgubtless, madam; all of your servants seem
- With this compliment to her slave household,

Mrs. Vance de rted, and her husband" gave a
sigh of relief. t amounted alth to a cry of
' JOY-

,  A narrow esteem);i Vangei’id th pl m '
Judge. u an me 8 e an in a
choking veg: ’ '

“Quoted for! d, m friend: in genu-osity
alwa has a seli‘slbasisyto back it.’y

'“ ow whatistobedonel Yonsaidyouhad'

4‘ .
v :gho holds these mortgages?’

“The rich 0141‘)“:de merchant of Balti-
80 Tu.”

“ Haw are buy made out!"

“ Secured b notes.” .

“gun” httull saldthela
was i w-

“ Bow meagyouf'

 

The Corsair Queen.
“For certain moneys received I gave my
notes secured by the estate.” ,

“ he estate is not yours.”

H True.”

“ Then why did Ross take such frail security?”

“ How do you meanl”

“He must have known they were worthless
without your wife’s name.”

“ He got it.”

“Ah! like the bank did?"

i t Yes. n

“ o knows of this besides yourself and
Ross?"

“ No one.”

“ Are ou sure?"

“ He 1) edged himself not to put the notes out,
but to kee them in his safe.”

“ Well, 9 is a man of his word.”

“ Yes.”

“ Then I think there can be no trouble.”

“ How no trouble?”

“ Henry Ross lives at his old house out of
town?”

H Yes. 17

“ He has but three servants with him?”

“Yes, a butler, cook and coachman.”

“ The are all old?”

“ All cc of them.”

“ There is no other habitation withina quarter
of a mile?”

“None.” _

“ Then why do you not get possession of the
notes?”

“ What!”

“ And more too?”

“ What?” I

“ He keeps quite a sum of mone in his bones.”

“ In Heaven’s name! what 0 you mean?”
and Vincent Vance had become ghastly pale.

“ I mean, my dear unsophisticated friend,
that it is a very easy matter to enter that
house, kill old Ross and his servants, and get
your notes and what money he has.”

“ No, no: why kill him'i’

“ Duad men kee secrets.”

“ But why 11 it be knOWn who does the
deed 2” V

“ If he loses your notes by robbe _he will
make known ‘what was stolen from _ 1m: you
are a fast man: man suspect you are in trouble
for money, and—well you know all thatI would
sa . .

“ Harvey Rupert you are as cunning as a
snake.”

“Thank you for the praise you give me, and
I will add as venomous if I have to strike at a

foe.
“ But what do you say to the workl”

“I cannot do it.”

“Lost your nerve?” ,

“ I can neither kill nor rob.”

“.Where there isdanger. Well, I will hire it
done.” ,

“ Be careful.” _ ‘

“ Oh! I would be hot on the trail of the hire-
ling, and h would not live after accomplishing
the deed. t is the best way to keep secrets,

ance. « ‘ - .

The planter shuddered, for, vile as he was, ,

this man was even worse, and possessed a sour-

e to face any danger and meet any foe.

“ Well, you ,will do the work?” ,

“ Have t done, Vance, so go a to town with
me, and you can return with a eart at peace,
as far as the notes go; but you must pay for the
work." ,

“ I have no money." .

“ I’ll take your note, Vance, for what I want
for; the, job, at three years, indorsed by your
WI 6— .

“ Yy wife!”

“ es; you can write her name, you know
and in the time you can pay of! the sum and
put money in the bank off of the proﬁts of the
plantation.”

“ And what sum do you want?”

"Call it ten thousand.” ' «

“ Never!”

“Then our business being at an end, kindl
order your carriage for me to drive to the 
lage and catch the up stage.”

‘ I will ay it.”

“.Eno . Now show me your estate, for l
have ani ea I Will one day own it,” and the
lawyer smiled as blandly as though he had paid
the master of Graylands a compliment.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
, REDEEm. _

Ross Manon was an ale 1; old home in
Revolutionary days, for the brick thatjt was
built with were brought from England, and 1t
wasa structure erected to withstand for ages
the touches of time.

Its family, however had’ not been a long-
lived one, and, though they had wealth, seldom
had they enjoined happiness. ‘ ,

Somesaidt t a crimed ed theirname;
but, be thatas it may, a num had died on
the ,inseaiights,orinduals,untﬂ
oneonlyremained to re resent thename, and
he came to America and silt Boss Manor.

He married an American maiden, and just
afterthebii-thofason wasshotmaduahthere-

carrying out the destiny of his, name never

‘gdioinabed.

r
1

 

That son, born just before the death of his
father, was Henry Ross. who row to manhood
somewhat soured with the wor d and turned his
attention wholly to business, in a short time
doubling his wealth.

In bachelor loneliness he had lived in the
mansion built b his father, with only three old
servants aroun him, and occupying but one
wing of the building, allowing the remainder to
remain in solitude.

This man, who had stepped across the thresh-
old of half a Lunli'ed years, was seated in his
pleasant rooms the second night followin the
day upon which the cunning lawyer an evil
planter had lotted against him.

He had his cup of tea and plate of toast,
and the butler had gone to the kitchen to gossip

"with the cook and coachman, as had been his

wont for ears.

Present y there came a knock at the front
door, and it brought the three negroes to their
feet, for their master seldom received visitors,
and never at night.

The large brass knocker had been handled in
a style that showed the one without wished to
be heard within, and the three domestics went
(in single file, the butler leading, to open the

oor.

" Who are you?" was the cautious question.

“I desire to see Mr. Ross on a matter of busi-
ness,” was the reply in a pleasant voice.

. The door was opened, and out of the darkness
into the light ste ped a slender form.

“'W‘ho shall say, sir?” asked the butler
politely, while the ooachman and cook, no’. see-
in anything to fear in the visitor, retreated
be ow stairs once more.

“A messenger from Planter Vincent Vance.”

The butler departed, and soon returned to
usher the visitor into the presence of his master.

Henry Ross glanced up from a book he was
reading to behold before him an exceedingly
handsome youth of perhaps eighteen.

His form was s ender, slightly below the
medium hight and well—knit, and he was dressed
plainly but well.

His face however, riveted the gaze of Henry
Ross by its almost womanly beauty, and there
was that in it that commanded instant respect.

“ Well, young mambo seated, and say how I
can serve you?

, “I come from Mr. Vincent Vance, sir.”

‘fAhl he doubtless wants money on another
note: I fear he is oing ittoo fast,” muttered
Mr. Ross, while alou he said:

“ And what does he want youn air?”

“He has sent me tore eem e notes you
hold of his.” '

“ Indeed? then his speculations he told me he
was entering upon have turned out well?”

“Yes sir. ’

“And you wish to take them up to-night?”

“ Yes, sir, for I have the bank-notes.”

“You risk a great deal tocarrysuch asum
with yyouhﬂoung man.” .

,“ es, . Ross, but Ilwas sent by Mr. Vance,
and he trusted me.” ‘

“ And I would trust your face, sir, at any
time: but I mean there are dangerous men on
the watch alwa s to rob, and our life wouldbe
worthless did t ey know you such a sum."

“ I do not doubt it, sir; and I wish now to
warn you of danger.” .

“Me! why, what danger threatensme?”

“ There is a plot to enter your house at night
within the next few nights, I am conﬁdent, an
ro , ou.

‘ a! how know you this?” and HenryRoss
ﬁxed his keen e esupon the youth.

“ I overhear two men enter into the plot,
sir, but I was so situated that I could not learn
all that they said, yet I hope you will not dis—

regard my warmng,” and the youth spoke ‘

earnestly. .
“ I wi 1 not disregard it; but when did‘ you
hear this, and where?” i

The youth hesitated an instant and then said:

“In a house where I was stopping, sir- I
heard it through a crevice in the wall, and de-
termined to warn you.”

“ And I thank y u: they are welcome to
what'they can ﬁnd,‘ or I keep my fortune in
the Icity. 81;: all? W111 18 agfady Tillie, giving

own a poor so e we be ben-
exited if these fellows killed mg. .

“You 899. youn man, mine' is'a race to die
violent deaths, an I always live as thou h a
sword were hanging over me, for I shall on the
same: way.”

As he spoke Henry Ross went to a closet in
the wall, unlocked it, and took from an iron
box set in the brickwork a roll of papers.

“ Here, young man here are the notes, and I
am glad to get rid of them,” this was the only
unsettled business I had on my hands.” ,

“ And here is the amount, ear in bank-notes.”

“Yea'yes, the amount is ht: new, young
man. I amgoingto trustyou. - ._

arenas ... ~ ... ~ 3.. a. .1...

t we gerom me
money in the house aftonwhat you have told
me, so I will send'ny coachmanmithyoutothe
city,andask ou tocan'y these bank-notes to
my attorney aim-e, andhewill give you a re-
ceipt for them, which please send back by my
terms. , . i v ‘

i
The Corsair Queen.

11

 

C 1

 

“The bell-r0 is in the next room against
the mantle: wi 1 you give it a pull to on my
ooechman, please?"

The yout

crossed the ﬂoor, passed through
an open door into a dimly-11g ted room, and
had his hand stretched forth to seize the bell-
rope, when there came a ringing report, agrcan
and a heavy fall.

One bound and he glanced into the room he
had left, to see two men dart in one holding a
smokin pistol in his hand and the other clutch—
ing the nk-notes, while Harry Ross lay dead
upon the ﬂoor. , '-

“ Harvey Rupert, give me‘ those bills i” stern—
ly cried the second man.

“Never! they are mine, for I did the deed.
You can take your notes.”

“B Heaven! I will have the money too,"
and t are came another ringing shot, and the
man fired upon staggered back.

Clutching the mask from his face, that of
Herve Rigger-t, the judge, was revealed. But
he co d u r no cry, and sunk in his tracks.

Eagerly the assassin tore from his now pulse-
less hands the notes, and then bounded toward
the still open closet and iron box.

“Great God! the are gone! the notes are
gone! they ma bee sewhere in this old rook-
ery, and if so t ey shall never see the li ht.”

As he spoke he 00 dragged his mask rom his
face, and the countenance of Vincent Vance,
white, haggard and scared was revaaled.

Seizing a lamp he held the ﬂame to the win-
dow curtains, the bed-clothin , and then dashed
it u n the floor and darted rom the room.

A this the youth had been a silent witness
to, not raising a hand to prevent, even if he
could have prevented what had , so
swiftly did all transpire.

But, as the ﬂames darted like ﬂery serpents
up the curtains and over the bed, at the same
time sknrrying in burning waves across the
ﬂoor, he too bounded swag and disappeared,
while below stairs the t ree old gossiping
servants gossiped on, until they were at
last aroused from voices without, and dashed
from their cosey kitchen to find their home
in flames and their master dead for the
knew no mortal could be alive in the he I
of ﬁre that then enveloped the mansion, which
soon after was but a crumbling, smolder-
ing ruin, with no one suspecti the fearful
tragedy that had been enacted t ere, and be-
lieving that the lord and master had acciden-
tally set it on ﬁre and perished in it, they left
the walls a monument to his memory, for m s-
tories and stran deaths were not t en trai ed
to the bitter en , as they nowadays are.

CHAPTER XIX.
a vxnmm’s sOLILOQUY.

A mom had passed since the burning of the
Ross mansion, and the excitement had died
away, with another one to take its place, for
Judge Harvey Rupert, the tted lawyer and
general favo to, had mys oust disap .

He had returned from a visit to is in-
timate friend Vincent Vance, at Gra lands
Plantation, and had been seen in his o co the
two da 8 following his return, since which time
no one ad laid eyes upon him.

It was said his little sail-boat, in which he

often amused himself in the be. , had been seen
by ﬁshermen going out of the timore harbor
the morning following the burning of _the Ross
Manor, and as it was not at its moonngs, and
a storm had followed in the afternoon, the tiny
cm“, it was believed, had gone down and its
distinguished owner had sunk to an untimely
grave. ,
Many mourned him, and his apers being 0"
amine by his heirs, they foun such large sums
marked ‘ charity " that it accounted for the
fortune he was supposed to have had and he
was looked upon as one of the salt of the earth,
and his memory was accordin ly revered, as is
the case with many evil men of the present gem-
eration, whoso live that their sins never ﬁnd
them out, and their supposed virtues are en-
graven upon their tombstones.

And '0’ the ﬁrst Part of that month Vincent
Vance had lived in mental anguish, for daily
had he expected the clouds to burst.

To be ready to ﬂy should the stroke come, he
had remained in Be timore, watching and wait-
ing, and each day he felt relieved as he knew
that Henry Ross had been left to his “we in
the ashes and no one appeared with '5 notes
aggnsthhim. 3 d R .

o t row suspicion u n u e u
having been lost in the éﬁasapealge, the  1(1):
tied from the burning mansion, he had gone
. .v.vn to the harbor taken the lawyer’s boat,
which he knew we , and with a small skii!
drawn on board, had set sail just before dawn.

It was his intention to watch his chance,
when no vessel was in sight, scuttle the craft,
and then run ashore.

But the coming up of the storm aided him,
and opening the seams he let the tiller go free,
grit finto the skiff, and _ turned the sail-boat
or ii t. '

He was barely in time, for he had not gotten
wn .1i'n a hundred yards of the shore. when the
storm struck the sail—boat, Sent it over and down,

 

 

and swam ing his skiﬂ, he was compelled to
swim for b life.

A hard is it was and be believed that
death was upon him: bu at last he reached the
shore, and trudged on foot to Baltimore, arriv-
ing there foot-sore, weary, and with a dread of
coming danger.

But no pars had been found among the
lawyer’se ectsto criminate him, nothi had
been brought up to prove that he had any
business transactions with Henry Ross, and at
{last Vincent Vance felt a weight removed from

1m. \

Then to the bank he went, de ited the

,amount he had drawn out by dra ts with his

wife’s name forged u n them, and swearing

'never to gamble again, he started for Gray-

lands.

He had written his wife, explaining that he
remained to aid in the search for his dear friend
Rupert, and she was not alarmed about him.

At len h he reached Graylands, received an
almost a ectionate greeting from Mrs. Vance,
and a warm one from Zitelle, whose love for
him was but second to his idolatry to her, and
gave a sigh of relief.

Seated out upon the broad veranda the
following afternoon, watching a schooner of
rakish build and trim rig, tackin slowly up
the bay under a light breeze, he mu tered:

“Well, In mind is street in regard to my
debts; woul to God I could drive awa the
memories that haunt me, for I see that ol ruin
waking and aloe ing, as that accursed Gipsy
Kingsaid I woul , and the white face of Queena
Gray upturned and cold in, that gloomy
“tiers 1b .1 n n...

y eaven u was crue y ave up-
on ber, and if I can ever lay hands on that
brother of hers he shall go too.

“ I am no fool to let him come and drive me
and my wife and child out of this home, no, no,
Zitelle shall never be a beggar, but a queen
amo women.

“I ve sinned, but she shall never know it.

“ VyVhere can that youth, Horace Gray, have
gone

“ He has not carried out his threat, and if he
does he cannot harm me personally, though he
ma force us to give ulp Graylands to him.

‘ Curse him! he she never have it, and I be-
lieve be will not show himself here again; if he
does, he shall die.

“ My list is harassing, and each one blunts
my conscience more.

“ It nearly killed me when we—that is, Ru-
pert—murdered old Day for his mone .

“Then I thought I would comm t suicide
crossing the ocean, to shut out that old ruin in
Spain, and Queena lying dead in it.

“ I am a veritable coward, but I am improv-
ing, and hardly knew myself when I volun-
teered to go with Rupert to the Ross mansion;
but when deliberately killed him when I saw
he was go to take that pile of bank-notes, I
was astoun ed at myself.

“ How strange that those bills were the exact
sum, interest and all, of my notes, and as crisp
as though the had 'ust come from the bank!

“An how hat 0 d rocker burned! Harvey
Buglert got his burning in th s world as well as
m e next, ” and he smiled at his grim joke.

” Charit ! charity I” he went on.

“Well, shoald not liketodepend upon his
charity; all these sums marked charity in his
papers were de osits made inaNew York bank,

e told me, un sr an assumed name. I

“I wish I it: \w the name and bank, and I
would draw then out— Well, my dear do you
wiih to speak to me?" and he turned to his
M e.

“Yes, Vin for Dinah, in house-cleaning just
now, found this roll of pa ers in the room oc-
ﬁupied by poor Judge upert when he was

ere

“I glanced at them, and they seem tobebank'

receipts for sums deposited, doubtless for a
client; see here! and here is a letter addressed
to the judge.

Emceut Vance took the papers quietly, and

l .

“I will look them over and place them in his
executors’ hands, if they are valuable.”

His Wife turned away, and then he muttered,
With a strange glitter in his eyes: ,

“I am proud of myself; how calmly I spoke
and tools these pers, though I saw at a glance
they were the epcsits marked charity: ha! ha!
ha! the cunning fox was caught when he left
these here.

“ Rupert Judge! his own name and title; ha!
ha! ha! well, Rupert Jud e, I will draw out
these deposits, for well can write our hand.

“ Let me see: ten, three, one, thirteen, seven
and six—in all forty thousand dollars.

“Ha! ha! ha! we will not be beggars after
all, Zitelle, if Horace Gray does turn us out of
house and home; no, Zitelle, mylsdarlmg, the
gameis et in my hands; ha! i: ' is a otter

rom a ew York ship-builder; what!

“‘Can build you a schooner that will have no
equal on theseas for speed, and will be in every way
fitted for a privateer to cruise against British com-
merce in the war now brewing.’

_“Wh Ibelievo the ‘udge was going to turn
PM“; at me see wha else says this letter.

 

“‘Will arm and ﬁniphths vessels as wolLand
whole cost will be thi y ousand dollars.‘

“Ha! ha! ha! I may go backto the see. my
self, for privatesring pay: welL

“My dear, scorched upert, what do I not
owe cu?

“ es, I have half a mind to turn privateers-
man, and—no, no, cannon balls are too uncere-
monious, and English tars are not particular
who they strike; guess I’ll rest content as I am
and live for my beautiful Zitelle, for I am get.—
tin to be such a villain, I am afraid her moth: :-
wi not live long.

“No, Zitelle and myself are enough.”

“Pa , did on cal met”

The utifu child had heard her name spoken,
and bounded out upon the veranda. '

“ Yes, my darling: see that pretty vessel.”

” 0h papa! she is comin here.”

“I do believe she is heafiing for the inlet: it
is a cutter, I think, and some ofﬁcer on board I
knew, is doubtless coming to visit me."

“Papa, I do wish I was a boy so I could be a
sailor; I do love the‘ sea,” said the child with.
enthusiasm, and then she added:

“ Let me run down toward the shore and see

the retti‘shiip.”

“ es, 'te e,‘and I will send Nancyto fol—
low you, while pa writes some letters,” and
Vincent Vance is t the veranda, while, with
a glad , Zitelle bounded away down the
gravel pat leading to the shore, her eyes fast-
ened upon the trim craft that was now entering
1:2: diﬁulet that formed the little harbor of Gray.

 

CHAPTER XX.
nor sonoorran.

VINCENT VANCE englzliged in writingt his lot—
ters, to get oi! to the v1 age in time for has
to Baltimore, had forgotten all about the raki

locking hooner he had seen coming into the
inlet, an a wild cry startled him from his W
cu tion.

rung to his feet in alarm, and startled

e
beyonsd) his self-command leaned on his chair for ‘

support.

“ 0h massa! massa! come, sir, oh come!”

“ It is Nancy’s voice; some ill has hefailen my
child," he groaned, and, as a shriek came from
his wife, who had rushed from her rooms, 
by a violent effort gained his self-control, an
bounded toward the veranda.

There a scene met his gave, and worti reached.
his ears that ﬁlled him with terror, an. unused
him to reel against one of the columns uf the ve—
rauda for an port.

Upon the la the form of his wife, un-
conscious, and u ng over her was her maid,
Sue, while Nancy Zitelle’s nurse, was rockin
herself to and fro rom one foot to the other an
moaning: \

“ Poor Missy Zitelle! poor Missy Zitelle!”

Unheeding the prostrate form of his wife,
Vincent Vance cried in piteous tones:

“My child! oh, my child!” .

“ Yonder, massa, yonder in do ship,” shrieked
Nancy, pointing to the schooner wb ch was just-
thequutting about to soil from the inlet.

“ he schooner! my child on that vesseli”\be
gas forth. ‘

“ act, massai ’fore God, it"am a fact- she
ran down to de sho’ an’ as you tole me, I fol»
ler’d her; but afore I at dar day jist land from
a. boat and tuk her on . -

“ I call ’em ter come back, but do left, an’
den I run up for you, massa, an’ dst al I know,”
and Nancy again began her wailing while the
other house-servants, gathered by 'her cries,
came rushing out in alarm.

“ to our. mis Sue,” cried Vincent
Vance, and e bounded down to the shore.

The schooner had evidently dropped anchor
uppn entering; but on seeing the c l d had sent
a oat ashore, seized her, an then gotten under
we again immediately.

Sylvie was not very far away when Vincent
Vance reached the shore, and in ringing tones
he hailed:

“Schooner, aho ! ahoyl”

i A rxilockinglaug came back over the Waters
11 re . - .

“ u¥se you! why have you taken my child i”

A ' the response was a mocking laugh.

“ ring back my child, or I will unt you to
the ends of the earth i”

The same scornful laughter came, and the
grief-maddened planter turned away, an object
of pit to the sorrowin ‘ servants who had fol—
lowe him and gathers around him.

“ Here sutnin mama; it were stickin’ in ll“:
sand.” and a negro handed him a dagger, whirl:
had been stuck through a piece of paper, ano
then dropped on the sand.\

It was seized eagerly by the trembling hands
of Vincent Vance, an unfoldin the pa 1‘ he
tattered and almost fell at what 9 saw t ere.

“ Help me to the house, James- and mind
you all, not a word about ﬁnding this dagger,
to vour mistress or to any one.”

He slowl went toward the house, for he

seemed who y unnerved, and turned every few.

etc to gaze upon the receding schooner.
X: last he reached the veranda, sunk down in
a chair, and was told by a servant that his mis-

a; ~-.~T~.—v~vs. ~ —:

i.i,.__4__.‘,g.._h. n ...._ 

‘.."¢s~':' m

 

12

The Corsair Queen.

 

 

 

tress was still in a swodn, and that the doctor
had been sent for. >
“Go and leave me to my own misery,” he
0rd , and the slave departed.
Then, from his pocket he' drew the dagger
and  .
The ormer had a gold hilt, a long, narrow
blade, and no distinguishing mark upon it.
The latter he unfolded and read in a low,
' mumbling tone:
" Orr Gum Panoramas.
“ Vmcm VANCE:

“Bra: You thought you were forgotten, but or
visit to-day will prove to you that you are unforgo

ten.

“ You intended faithfully to kill me, but I thwart-
ed on by knowing the old mansion, which in
cu osity caused me to learn so well in childhood,
with all its croo

“ When you
when you sat in your libr
you in the wall, and I heard

“ Your wife‘s jewels I took, for I knew how the
iron chest could be opened without a key; but I
returned dime? with a trinket I had in my possession

care no or.

“ I took up your notes held by Henry Ross, so you
see I am not poor.

“The money I {paid him to redeem themf I saw
you kill Harvey upert to get possession o , for I
was in the next room.

“I also saw you set ﬁre to the house and ﬂy for

our life. Icould have killed you then, butI pre«
{erred that you should live.

“ Your sail-boat scheme to account for Judge

Epert's death, the public took as true; but I know

tter.

“ I could claim my property in law, but I prefer to
let you have it and make you suffer.

" Your notes, with your wife‘s name forged upon
them.l in my possession, as are the secrets of
your e.

" d now I intend to strike another blow, and
through your child whom you idolize.

“ I am headin for my home to d anchor in the
‘lznlu'etil near Gray ands, and to take rom you your

e e.

“ if you wish her seek her on the hi h seas.

“ Iﬁglou wish to escape my revenge, unt me down
and me.

crannie and secret passages.
ted thesprison wing I saw you:
plotting, I was near

“ Homes Gan.”

M,

Then, written in a hurry evidently, was as
follows:

“P. S.——I have captured your beautiful child,
Zitelle. Mark well my vessel, so that yon will know
should you cross her path, or desire to ﬁnd her.

, “ Home Giuv or Gmmuns."

“By the God above! I will mark well his
schooner: I will hunt him down, for by ‘
my child, my beautiful Zitelle, he has area
the bloodhound in my nature, and I will follow
him to the bitter end.”

He sprung to his feet, seized a glass and bent
it long upon the departing schooner.

Then, when his eyes grew dim from the strain,
he lowered it, and called for a servant.

“Well, in .ssa?”

“Order the carriage at once, James, and tell
Roe to pack my trunk.”

“Yes, massa. How am missus, sir?"

“ Go and obey me at once,” and he ascended
to his wife’s room. «

She was still in a swoon, but the doctor arriv-
ing he restored her to consciousness, and half
an ho after Vincent Vance drove away from
Gray ids, havin already formed his plan of
acti , by which 8 was determined to regain
2 lie and also consummate a terrible revenge
n the one who had stolen her from him, and
w o, by knowing his secret life, held him so
com leiel in his war.

at t at reso ve was, the reader will dis-
cover, after I have in the next few chapters,
brought back before them, other characters

, that ve ﬁgured in my romance.

CHAPTER XXI.

. rim (merits or m SEA.
- UPON a point of land, jutting out into the
Ch ke Bay, and with the St. Michael’s
river hind it, was a wild scene, for beneath
the spreading oaks was an encampment.

Although the tocsin of war had resounded
throu h the land, calling patriotic Americans
to re] y and defend their countr a ainst Great
Britain, it was not a bivouac 0 so diers, or of
sailors, though a number of vessels were at
anchor 'near by in the little bay to the south.

But it was an encampment of Gi ies.

Their dark faces and picturesqu clad forms
were seen beneath the spreading ranches of

the oaks, and a wild, ﬁerce looking'people they.

were.

Their tents were of canvas, covered with in-
numerable symbols, painted in red, blue and
black, and they were arranged in a semicircle
wrth the precision of a military camp.

.At either end of the tents was a small ﬁeld-
piece, a six-pounder, and around each one of
them were stands of arms ready for use.

In the center of the semicircle were two
tents larger than the other and one of these
was literal] covered with devices of a most
hideous kin

The other was unmarked, and above it was
ﬂying a ﬂag with a black ﬁeld and a reddagger
mg???" th ipsmes,

c o the tents were egrou ofG‘ '
fully three hundred in number, inofudiug men,
women and children.

 

 

And here too were the camp-tires before

which hun their pots for cooking, and around
which the ungry members of t e tribe were
gathered.

One gazing upon the Gi earn as it was,
would have been struck withs¥he airpof mili
discipline that rvaded it, and then with the
circumstance t at out of over three hundred
souls, onl about a third of them were women
and obil the remainder bein men of a
type of Physical manhood any nation might be
proud 0 .

They were as darkly bronzed as Indians
d in a picturesque garb, half sailor, half
Mexican were all armed to the teeth, and their
fierce looks indicated a dangerous body of men
to meet in combat.

The women too were armed, and a number of
them were really beautiful in face and form.

Hardly a hundred paces from the encamp-
ment was the little ba , jutting in from the
St. Michael’s river an here were anchored a
ﬂeet of as trim-looking craft as ever skimmed
the waters under sail.

They were all schooners, thirteen in number,
and ranged from twenty tons to one hundred,
the average being about sixty, and but one

lar .

15$ exception was a beautiful craft in build
her hull being long, lying low in the water, an
as unt as a hungry tiger.

er masts were single sticks, rose to a great
hight, raked suﬂcient to please the most fault-
ﬂnding cutthroat pirate, and carried canvas
enough one would think, if all was set, to run
her under in a six-knot breeze.

Not a soul was visible upon her decks, but
every rope was in order every sail neatly furled
and every block in its p ce. ‘

She was also armed, carrying seven guns, two
of which, a bow and stern pivot gun, were of
large caliber.

t the halyards running to the mizzen truck,
was ﬂying a ﬂag acknow edged by no nation,
for it was the same that ﬂuttered above the
large tent on shore, and at the fore was the
stars and stripes, and all the other vessels
showed the same colors.

The other craft, though not as large, were
also of perfect model an rig, and one glancing
over the ﬂeet, who had a sai or’s eye, would say
they could ﬂy like the wind in a good breeze,
an weather a gale like a line-of-battle ship.

The other vessels, like the large schooner
were painted black, even to their masts and
yards, and had a red ribbon mmning around
the bulls, which relieved their somberness in a
great degree. ,

They were also armed, though mostly with
guns of small caliber, and the smallest craft
of the ﬂeet, carried but two cannon, a bow and
stern chaser.

Upon the whole ﬂeet not a human bein was

,visible, all of their crews evidently being in the

encampment. .

Such were the Gipsies of the Sea, and their
rakish ﬂeet, which had for a year or morecar-
ried the roving race from land to land, until at
last they came, like a ﬂock of pigeons, to the
shores of Americ to fulﬁll the destiny that
led them through life.

CHAPTER XXII.
A KING’S Ramonsn.

A MAN stood upon the shore, just in the shed-
ows of the forest and gazing out upon the
moonlit bay spread out before him.

In his rear was the wooded int of land on
which the camp of the Sea i ‘es had been
pitched and the light of their s, and glim-
mer of their tents were visible in the distance,

Be and these were the vessels at anchor in
the ttle basin, and before him rolled the ma-
jestic Chesapeake.

He was a man of tall stature, wore a cloak
over his shoulders, and, as he stepped out into
the moonlight to get a better look at a sail far
out on the bay, t e face of Chandos the Gipsy
King was revealed.

His look was darker, and even more stern than
when the reader last beheld him in his encamp-
ment near the Haunted Ruin in Sgain, and
now, as he stood there in silence, his row was
contracted, his lips compressed, as though his
thoughts were loomy.

Presently his ips parted and he muttered:

“ I was a fool to love one not of my race, and
to behave that I could win her love.

“She became my bride sim 1y because she
loved revenge more than she a horred me and
was content to bind herself to me to wreak her
vengeance upon one of her own race who had so
wronged her.

“And from that moment the king has been a
ﬁgure-head and the queen has ruled, and to-
day the tribe fear her and love her more than
they do me.

“ Bah! that I should have been such a £001..

“My jewels went to bluld vessels, our tribe
became sailors, sea children, instead of remain-
ing as we were, a roving race of the forests.

“ And for what? .

“ To enable the Gipsy Queen to worry the life
out of a man from rave e.

“Wh notdrive akni etohisheartandthus
end his ‘fei ,

 

 

“ That is the Grips way; but she is no Gi ~
she comes of a civ' 'aed race and her redial
cruelty surpasses the murderous knife of the
forest child.

“ And now what is to be done in this war
that is bursting t‘eitripon this land, for our little
ﬂeet will be bun down by the cruisers and
destroyed, and the King Chandos Gipsies will be
wiped off the earth and sea.

‘ l have consulted Nana the Fate Queen, but
she says the stars are silent to her, and she
knows not what Will come.

“ Ohi that I had not let poor Nunah die, and
that today she were my bride I”

He buried his face in, his hands and groaned
aloud, for he felt that the Gipsy Queen had come
to rule the king.

From the day of her marriage to Kigg Chan- ,

dos, Queena Gray had become a chan being.

She knew that he would kill her ifs e refused
to be his Wife; but it was not the fear of death.
for, under ordinary circumstances, death would
have been preferable to being dragged down
fiéomGthe hight she had held to become the wife
0 a l y.

But er nature was a strange one, and be-
neath her beauty and good traits, slumbered a
volcano of assron, which the act of Vincent
Gray tows her, caused to burst forth in fury,
and turn its ﬁery course toward one aim—re-
venge on the man who had wronged her.

In busy action was her only refuge from
maddening thought, and she set to work to
engraft herself in the hearts of the wild tribe of
which she was ueen.

Was one ill, s e remained daily and nightly
by the bedside: she improved their mode of liv-
ing and mfact won them over completel .

o the king shewas ever polite, yet coil, and
yet she soon gained an ascendency over him
hat made him succumb to her slightest wish.

To keep busy, Queena had proposed that the
tribe should give up their horses and wagons,
for vessels.

With the one they could only go slowly
over the land; with the other they could sail
over all seas, trading here and there, and still
camp in many lands.

The tribe was a rich one, and swayed by their
ueen, and the moody acquiescence of their king
t ey went to a seainrrt chartered a. vessel and

sailed for the New W or d

On aypictureséiue. island on the Maine coast
the landed, an there they began their shi
bui ding, and one by one the vessels of the litt e
ﬂeet were launched and e nipped.

Under the tutorage of ine coasters they be-
came skillful sailors, and at last their ﬂeet was
read for sea.

0t er Gipsy wanderers had sought admission
to their tribe, which swelled their numbers,
until King Chandos really felt proud of his ﬂo-
tilla and, his command.

With Jealous eye the people on the coast, and
the cruisers of both America and England had
watched their growing strength, and wondered
how it would a lend.

Some said they were smugglers, others even
called them pirates, while many more claimed
that they would become buccaneers eventually.

But the claimed to be only Gipsy ﬁshermen,
With a ﬂs ing ﬂeet, and not one act of outlawry
could be traced to them.

One night the little ﬂeet set sail from the
island though still leaving upon it their cabins
and many 0 the old and decre it of their tribe.

Whither it had gone none ew, other than
those who remained on the island, and they
cared not to tell; but out at sea a few leagues a
large vessel was signaled, the ﬂeet hovered
around it, and within a few hours’ time the
Gripsy ﬂotilla was armed thoroughly, and once
more sailed on its way.

From one land to another they drifted aim-
lessly, it seemed, until at last the snowy ﬂeet
swooped down upon the Chesapeake, and the
crews landed and formed their encampment.

And had they no motive in this? ‘

Yes, their tireless, resolute, ,daring ueen,
l‘irad never forgotten for one moment Vincent

ance.

Queen of a Gipsy tribe, and outcast from

those she had known, and er own race and
land, she had dete ined to drown thought in
action, and beco e indeed a queen among
women. .
‘ She knew that her cousin, Violet Gray had
inherited her fortune and that Vincent ance
had made her his wife, thus, through her sup-
posed death, at his instigation, gaining the for-
tune_he had sought to win through her.

With each year that passed she had but added
to her hatred of him and of his wife, and thirst-
ed the more for revenge.

But she had allowed them to live on in peace
and security until she was ready to strike, and
then inch by inch she would torture the life out
gt Vlincent Vance and bring sorrow upon his
ami .

Thnss, at last, the Gipsies of the sea drgpped
anchor not far from the home of Vincent V ance,
and the wheel of revenge began tog-rind slowly,
but surely.

All this did Chandos, the Gipsy King, think
over as he stood there on the Chesapeake s shores
that night, gazing out upon the moonlit waters,

 

 

The Corsair Queen.

13

 

 

een ruled the

and he realized fully that the
e cry, ending

king, and from his lips broke
almost in a wail: .

“ Oh, Nunah, my beautiful girl of the Bonn
Race, would that my cruel words had not sen

ou to our ve.
y “ Thelrri, Nuﬁh, joy and sunshine would still
rest in my heart. ’

“ Who calls Nunah, the Gipsyi”

The 7o. :9 was hoarse and treman , and
starting back Chandos, the King, behe the
bent form of Hana, the Fate Queen, before him.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
'rrm orrsv mo’s oars.

“ Wno called the name of dead Nunah?"

The Fate Queen repeated her qtuestion, and
looked the Gipsy King squarely in he face.

“I spoke it not, Nana, though it was in my
thoughts; you are indeed a reader of the human
face, ’ answered Chandos, who had not known
that he had really spoken aloud.

“ I read the faces as I do the stars; but Chan-
dos, King of the Gipsies, what would you with
the dead ’

“Nnu ht would I, good Nana, for the ﬂesh
of r unah has crumbled to dust, her eyes
no onﬁer glimmer with life, and I would turn
from er skeleton form with fear,” he said,

sadly,’ .
“ hy didst thou cause her to die, king?”

“ Our law held that one must die.”

“True had you deserted her, or not wedded
her on the day set. But why didst thou not
make Nunah thy bride?”

“ Thou well knowest, Nana.”

“ Answer me i” was the commanding speech
of the woman.

“ I was fascinated with one I had been hired
to slay.” -

“Fascinated- on loved her.” .

“ No, Nana, I oved'her not, though I thought
I did' it was fascination only, for, since our
little hitelle was born, I care not for her.”

“ And yet she rules you as a subject.”

“ Hold! say not that to me, woman.”

“ do say it: she holds you with her iron
. will.”

“ It is a power she has. Nana, and I dare not
resist her will; but never breathe it to others.”

“ Others are not blind, king.”

H Ha I”

:: hmean iii.”kn ”

y peop e ow?

“ The see our weakness.”

“An at love her not.”

“ You ove your child.”

“ Ay, with all my heart,” he said, ﬁercely.

“ And not its mother.”

“ Stran .” '

“ Stay, aha, and I will confess to you, for I
believe you can read my heart: I hate Queena
as much as I love Zitelle, my child.”

“And yet she rules you.”

“ I fear her too.”

. “Bah! you, Chandos the (lips?r King, fear a
woman?” said the Fate Queen, w th a sneer.

“Nana, listen to me: on know that I fear
not death, and I would die by my own hand did
not the curse fall upon my tribe, for I am very
unhappy- but I do fear Queens, as she would
kill my child did I not obey.

“ Did she strike at me I would not care; but
'the idol of to heart must not die.”

1 “ﬁnd this 18 the woman you cast oi! Nunah

or

“ Poor Nunah i” he sighed.

“ Nunah loved you.”

“ Ay, and I loved her; a , love her memory
this nigll‘it even more than do my Zitelle.”

The ate Queen gazed 'ﬂxedly into his face
gr full a moment, and silence fell between

em.

Then Nana said in a low tone:

“ Nunah’s death haunts you, King Chandos.”
em:jAy, waking and sleeping,” he said, earn-

ls‘EVhat would you give to see her again as of
o
i: What would I not give, woman?”
But you are married.”
thL‘lIt matteerc'ls no: 5]}; would see, her were I
'ce marri cou e back to if .”
“ What would you do, king, to have 1116: come
back to life?” .
condemns.
onotrie 'n: as w twoul
do to have Nunah bacﬁi” ' d you
'3 “ She cannot, alas l”
ﬁrmware" .- .wtm.»
won 0 an rug ev ' .
“ Would you ta e life?”

“ , would I.”

“ Wyould you sacriﬁce the queen ?”

“By Heaven! woman on are in a strange
‘ umor this night,” he sal , in a sneering tone.

“ I have power you know not of, King Chan-
dos, and I ask you, if the queen’s death would
bring back Nunah from the grave, would you
‘take her ' i” -

.He trem led violently, she keenl watching
311m the while. and then he muttered:

“ She is Zitelle’s mother. ”

“ Then you love the mother of your child, the

 

daughter of a stran e race, whom on brought
into our tribe aga§nst the knowl ge of your
peep 9, who believed her a Gipsy—I my you love
or more than you do Nunahl’ .

“ No, a thousand times no. ”

“Would you do for Nunah what you made
Nunah do for Queens?”

“What do you mean?"

“Nunah took her own life that you might
have another bride l”

it Yes. 7’

“ Would you take the Queena’s life to bring
back Nunah from the grave?"

He was silent a moment; and then he said in
dee solemn tones:

“ es I would, sorceress.”

“Prove it, king.”

“ How can I?"

“ Do you believe in my power?"

6‘ es.”

“ Wholly?”

u Yes, m»

“ ’Iristen then and then decide how

“ I will hear, Nana.”

“ his woman—

“ old! don’t get angry, because! call your
queen a woman; I say this woman, you and 1
know is an American I”

“ ’Sh—let not the winds waft ltto my people.”

“She seeks revenge upon one who cruelly
wronged her, does she not?"

“ She does.”

“ She married you to gain that revenge?"

f6  n

“ She hates you.”

emrua..

e c t e ‘ves of our e,
turned them from children of they foresllzeclglto
children of the sea, and has impoverished the

you will

“ She has, for our savings are all nearly gone.”

“She says she will soon bring you riches; do
you believe her?”

“ She says so.”

“ True, and how?”

“ I know not.”

“Yes, king- she is an American, and her
whole sympat y is with this land in its war.

“ You and I our people acknowledge no land;
but we are to be sacriﬁced for America.” ‘

“How mean you, Nana?”

“ She will lead the ﬂeet against the British
gelslsels, and in action many of our people will

a . '

“We may gain riches, but few will live to en-
joy them.”

‘ How know you this, Nana?"

“I read it in the stars; it comes to_ me upon
the invisible wind; I feel it, I know it, for my
power is great, kingli;

“ I feel that it is, ans.”

“ Now, to save your people will you not take
the life of your queen, the. you may lead them
back to their old-time ways, and make them
once more children of the forest?”

“ No, Ngna, I will let them follow her where

thﬁ will.
e Fate Queen remained silent for a while,
and then asked in a low tone:

“To restore Nunah to life; to behold her as,
she once was, lovingmyou with all her heart,
woplg ygu not kill t Gipsy Queen?”

:: You ,r’nean it?”
:1 i3 the Gipsy’s oath you swear it?”
o.

“Enough; come to this spot the thirdni ht
from this, when the moon rises from you r
bay, and, if your queen is dead by your hand,
remember, call thrice:

“ ‘Nunahl Nunahl Nunahl’ ”

“Well, Nana?” he asked, eagerly.

“She will come to ou.”

“ Nunah wichome ”

6‘ Yes.”

“ As a spirit?”

(i No.”

Maillot my own Nunah?” he said, in a hoarse
is r.

“ es, Nunah as she was the night you bade
her take her ownJife.”

“Nana, have you this power?” he asked, in
awe of her.

“ Do as I command and you shall know.”

“Nana, Zitelle’s mother, the queen shall
die,” he said, in a low, savage tone, and draw-
ing his cloak around him he strode back toward
the encampment.

CHAPTER XXIV . .

. THE our or burn.

IN the larger of the tents of the Gipsy en-
campment, on the afternoon of the thirdda ,
following the strange romise of the Fe
Queen to Chandos the G psy King, there sat a
woman, her head bent low, and her whole atti-
tude that of deep thought or dejectipn.

Her dress was of scarlet velvet, trimmed with
Egid lag, sad the lslkirt was s'hqrt, falling 

0w e w ere i me eggrns o 9
that extendedeez’o a small boot. that was well-
made and shapely .

there to show

 

The bodice ﬁtted tight to the small waist
and well-rounded bust, and was out a lapompa-
dour, so that a neck of snowy whiteness was
half concealed beneath necklaces of gems of
rare value.

Her arms were bare to the shoulder and en-
circled b massive bands of solid old worn
above an below the elbow, and her , in
in hue, was conﬁned by acomb of pearls, whi
a soft hat, ornamented with wh ta, crimson
ﬁnegd black plumes, sat jauntlly upon her

In a scarf around her waist were visible the
ml butts of two small pistols, and the jeweled

of a. dagger.

She was seated upon a rustic chair, her hands
claspedinher la ,and her face bent downae
though in dee meditation.

Su denly, to the handsomely furnished
tent, that ooked like the marquee of some mili-
tary chieftain, bounded a little child of ﬁve
years of age.

Then the woman looked up and once more
the reader is face to face with the Queen of the
Gi es, she that was Queena Gray. .

an as beautiful as a picture, she had
chan even for the better,\and her,love‘ljy,
hang ty face had become imperial and

Bronzed by the wild life she led, in rfect
health, and with eyes that made one fee their
“:3 glance, she was a woman to win and
br hearts, to rule men as her slaves.

But the haughtinees of her face died away,
“itiyihmmm “ We?“qu “5
c , e very coon an
dressed also as was her mother.

“ What wishes my sweet Zitellei" asked the
Gi Queen in her low, musical voice, that
con] yet rise in anger and command to trumpet
tones. .

“Zita love mamma,”1isped the child, and,
with an im ulse, born of her ssiouate love for
her child t e woman seized t 9 little one in her
arms and held her to her bosom with a force
that made her or out with

Just then into he tent strode the tall form of
Chandcs the Gi y, and he said quietly. ad—
dressing the chil : ' _ V

“ , Zitelle, to the camps, and ask them
on the pretty ships.”
in your way?” imperioust asked

\

“ Is the chil
the woman.
“ No but I would speak with you.”

Zitelle ran out of the tent, and. the Gipsy .

Queen asked calmly:
“Wei what has Chandos, the King oftbe
Gipsies, say?” *
‘ I would say, Queens, that to-day isthe an-
niversary of the night you became the Gipsy
ueen.

“ Indeed! your memory is good,” she said
with sarcasm. . .

“By Gipsy ,law, Queena,” he continued, not
noticing her manner, “ itis the duty of the king
and queen of the tribe, to pra forgiveness of
each other for every wrong one, every 0rd
of anger uttered_to each other and to pl dgs
themselves anew m the Cup of Hope. .

“ Will you that we so do?” -

“ If it is your law, why not? ,

“ I am your wife, yet, 3) you know I do not
love on; I had hoped to so, or feared that I
we d do so, but you are built in the image of
your creator, a magniﬁcent man, with the
soul left out, and a stone where the, heart
“whit?” inth c ofH 1

es ' p you 9 u or
I live 01;. h ,eﬁg Chandoe.” p 0pc.

He was a most cowed at her words and man-
nfr, but said quickly, as if to end‘the inter-
v ew: .

“ I have ordered the cups prepared by Ham,
and will call for them.”

He a silver whistle to his lips and gave
a sh blast, and soonaftera ou girland
boy, dressed in white. and wllti bright,
smilin faces, en red the tent.

“grog itigre a silvgi solver,l and upon ﬁg“ one

eyoung psygir wasacu 0 gold;
uponbltrhe one on the salver held by {he youth.
was a silver on . ,

Both were 1 to the brim with red wine.

The bo assed his goblet to the queen. the
 herstoteking,whoaroeeand
5m .

“Queena,this redwine is ouremblem of a
pure race: the silver blet to you is indicative
of moo ' ht; the gol goblet to me, represents
the sunk} t.

“‘ Han ed to us by these pure children, it indi-
cates the hope they have of the future, seen in
their cloudless skies now, and be your feelings
toward me what they may letus pledge our-
selves now to hope for the ends to pan away,
the day to dawn. ’ >

She took the cup with a ﬁrm hand, glanced
down into its rosy depths, and said:

“Yes. I ledge myself to hope, Chandos,
King of the ipsies.”

She raised it to her lips and quoted the con-
tents, as he drained his cup to the dregs, and
then she turned quickly away without a word
while he left the tent with dark, trium l
face. for in his brain was one wild thought:

“She has quaﬂed the deadly poison, and are
the marrow will be dead.” ‘

 

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CHAPTER XXV.

m cram

WHEN Chandos tl~e Gip‘sy left the tent where
he had drank with the queen the Cup of Hope,
he wended his way toward the beach.

The sun had just set, and twilight followin
he stood looking over the restless waters un
it was too dark to see any charm in them.

Then he wended his way to the spot beyond
the forest where he was to meet the one whom
he told the sorcerese he would kill the queen to
have come back to life. I

Since her meeting with the king on the shore,
the Fate Queen had kept closely to her tent,
and few had seen her.

Several times the Gipsy King had gone there
to talk with her more regarding her romise
but only once had she seen him, and t on said

sternly:
“ A 1 that can be said, king, has been said; it
remains to act now.
“ Keep your oath, and I will my pledge.”
Nervoust be had turned away, and he seemed
surrounded by sorrow one moment, hope the
ﬁasciand then fear, until the time for action

v
Then the Fate Queen sent for him, and asked:
“ Will you keep your word!”

H

inted to his knife.

But 3 e shook her head, and said:

“No, there is a better way.”

“ How!”

2: guys the anniversary of your marriage.”

“ Your sixth ear.”

“ I had forgo ten it."

“ I had not.”

“ Well.”

“ Drink the Cup of Hope with her.”

“ It would be but moc cry.”

“ I will pre the cups. '

“Ah! Inn erstand you; sobe it.”

“ Send for them when needed."

The king nodded and walked awa , and the
Fate Queen set about her hellish wor

Fearlessly, mercilessl he had drank with the
G”? 0r“ Fact? new“ “SW”?
ing or or a as ywai or e
time to have the Fate Queen keep her pledge to

him.

A he stood there in the shadow of the forest,
gazing eagerly to the eastern horizon and watch-
ing fgr the rising of the moon, he murmured

, “Well, the deed is done, and new once more

I am kin other than in name.

“All he loved that I loved her, and anone will
believe that I put poison in her cup.

“ But Nuns ‘l

“Ahl' I will keep her hidden for awhile, and
then summon the Fate Queen to me up a
maiden for my wife, and with her incantations
shgncan bring me back Nuaah, and all will be
w

“ But can she keep her pledge?

“ It is said the Fate Queens can do anythin
they wish, and Nana is a strange woman an

done wonderful things, and may bring back
Nunah to life.

“ I haveheard of drugs given the dead that
keep them in perfect life, and so it must be with
my beautiful dead bride.

“ But will her heart be as warm after it has
been for six years in the grave?

{1:1 hope so; if not, I shall seek good Nana’s

a1

“ And then,with beautiful Nunah for my bride
I will ﬂy far from here, and once more we will
become rovin children of the forest—ha! the

we go en.

“ hes, the mﬁon is rising”

He trembled iolently, or his lfnorant, an r-
stitious nature caused him to fee that the ate
Queen had the power she claimed, and that soon
he must behold her he loved.

Bri hter and brighter grew the sky, until at
last, e vs the horizon arose a bright object,
and then up sailed the ring that mocked the

moon.
“Nunab! Nunah! Nunahl”,
He almost shriek-ed the name, and he leaned
against the tree at his side for support. '
“ I come i”
r The voice came from far out upon the moon-
lit waters, and gazing there he. saw a small
canoe, snowy white, and in it a form clad in

w bite.

It was oomin toward the shore.

It would lan almost at his feet.

He heard the dash of the paddle, and saw the
arms that moved it.

He would meet her at the bench.

But his knees failed him, and, strong man

, that he was he sunk down upon the award,

watching and waiting.

Nearer and nearer came the canoe, and again
he called out: ,

“ Nunah !”

“Iconic, King of the Gipsies.”

The answer came across the waters, and added
£619; strength ton-1m, and again he sprung to his

ee .

j ”" ;' TILL; WMJ*'—""”'H

The. Corsair Queen.

A moment more and the canoe had touched
the shore, a white form sprung out n the
sands, and Chandos the King bounded orward
to meet it.

Then, as he was about to clasp her in his
arms, the white robe was thrown off, and the
woman stood revealed in all her grand, im-
perious beauty.

With acr of horror hestartodbaok tottered,
reeled and ell in a. deep swoon upon the sands.

ItquQueenathe Gtpr that stoodbe-

CHAPTER XXVI.
aocusnn.

Wm Chandos the King of the Gipsies recov-
ered consciousness, he was startled at the scene
around him.

For a moment he did not recall all that had
passed; but soon there came back to him the re-
membrance of the cruel hoax that had been put
upon him by the Fate Queen.

At first it was his intention to spring to his
feet and wreak a fearful vengeance upon the
sorceress; but one glancearound him and even
his reckless, daring spirit was awed.

What he saw was a row of torches, thirteen
in number, and he knew that they were called
the “ Death Lights ” by his people.

its this row of torches stood thirteen
forms, clothed in black, and their faces hidden
beneath masks.

These were the Death Judges: but whether
men or women of the tribe none knew.

He understood the way they were sum-
moned.

All in the tribe who were of age—eighteen
bein the number of years to pass to reach man-
h and womanhood among the tribe—had
drawn from a bag to see upon whom the black
balls fell.

There were thirteen of these ominous—lookin
balls, and those drawing them kept the score
from the tribe, but Went quietly away, donned

, the death-garb all had in their tents, and assem-

bled in the center of the camp.

The king and the queen were the only ones
who had authorit to order this drawing of the
death lottery, an the king knew that he had
not done so.

Of course then the queen had and he looked
around, as he arose to his feet, to see if she was
present.

Soon she came, dressed in deepest black, and
took her stand before the torches, while she
pomted toward him.

Calm, with folded arms, he stood, but his face
, was pallid, and his teeth set. /

He spoke no word then, for he was a true
Gipsy, and knew well that one accused bad no
right to utter a word.

‘Death Judges, 1 called you here, I, Queena,
your queen.” ,

The voice of the queen was calm, and her
words fell distinctly on the ears of the tribunal
and king, and even reached the eager et intent
throng grouped back among the rees and
watching the dread scene.

“Judges, I bring you before your king, and
I, your queen, am his accuser.”

_ Again she paused, and as silent and motion.
less as black marble statues stood the thirteen
Judges. a

And as silent and motionless as they stood
Chandos, the Gi sy Kin .

Who were to hisJudges he knew not other
than that they were of hise‘people, and of what
he was to be really accus he knew not, yet
those thirteen black forms, those thirteen
torches told him that it was to be a charge pun-
ishable with death; in fact, a crime punishable
with death was all that could be brought
against a king of the tribe.

“ My accusation, Judges, against this man
goes back three nights from this.

“ I walked to yonder shore ere sunset, reclined
amongr the cedars, and dropped to sleep.

“I was awakened by voices, and beheld be-
gnre me your king and the one you call the Fate

ueen. _

“ The were speaking of the past, yet plotting
for the uture.

“ I was mentioned in that plot, and, as your
king had tired of your_ queen, she was to die by
the king’s handX and in return for it the sor-
oeress was to raise from the grave the Gipsy
maiden known as Nunab,”

A murmur went down the row of masked

tinued:

"It was agreed that your king was to take
my life, and then this night at moonrise he
was to stand at the same spot on which they

lotto]? and he was to thrice call the name of

una .

“Then she was to appear to him, if I had
been slain, and she was to be your queen the
king saying that the Fate Queen had raised her
from the dead for him.

“ I went to my tent, and I read the stars, for
I too read men and women, most august Judges,
as does the Fate Queen. .

“ And in those stars I read a strange secret,
which soon you shall know.

“ Your king, tn carry out, his part of the
deadly work, sought me today, this our sixth

 

l

Judges, but no one spoke, and Queena con-.

 

v ——».E_..L—.A._ ‘4...” . .

 

anniversary of m ' , and pledged me in the
0:: of Hope, which he knew the Fate Queen
b already isoned.

“ I knew ere was poison in it, but I had an
antidote which I took at once and the evil effects

passed away, while your king behaved me in
he sleep of death.

“Then he sought the tr stin ce and at.
hiscall I answered. y 3 pk! ,

“ And more, I rowed to the shore in the very
canoe the expected bride was to have one in.

“ But instead of Nunab, he claspe in his
arms it was Queena.

“ The shock caused him to swoon awa , and
I had him brou ht here and you, Death J’udges,
were summon to tr 

“ But there is anot£er for you to try at the
same time; wait 1"

She glided away, entered the sacred tent of
the sorceres, to their horror, and returned
leading a form hidden beneath a white robe.

Then, having placed the mufﬂed ﬁgure by the
side ofthe king she continued:

“ Death Judges you all remember several
.vears ago, when one the Fate Queen departed

row the encampment, while we were in Eng»-
land, and remained several weeks?”

They bowed as an answer in the afﬁrmative.

“She said she had gone to the wildernessto
gather herbs as medicines.”

A ain they bowed.

“ ell, I tell you here, Death Judges, that.
when Nana the Queen of Destiny of your tribe,
left it then, she died.”

They moved, as if in surprise, yet uttered no»

word.

“It is the truth; she knew that death was;
near at hand, and she left on that account.

“In a hovel on the mountains she died, and"
the one who nursed her in her last days came,
to this tribe, disguised as Nana, impersonated-.
her, and stands there before on.”

She pointed to the mu ed form, and even
the astonished king turned and gamd upon the-
unknown form.

Then Queena continued:

“Nana. the Fate Queen. breaking the law of
our tribe, by hi ht led by a bloodhound, fol-
owed the trail 0 thcse who hurried Nunah to‘

her grave.
“ he took her from that grave, for she was.
not dead, but in a deathlike sleep, and restor-
ing her, bade her ﬂy, but keep ever near our

peﬂplle.
hat command Nunah obeyed, and she it
was who nursed her grandmother in her last ill-
ness, and has been pretending to be your sor-
ceress and plotting for me to die, that she i
might become your ueen.

“Death Judges, I ave accused—behold!”

She tore the robe from of! the form, and.
Nunah, asbeautiful as ever, defiant and calm,.

. stood revealed.

CHAPTER XXVII.
CONDEMNED.

Tan swaying of the blackforms, the exclam--
ations from their stolid lips, the cry of sur rise,.
gly, dread, commm led, from the Gi sy ing,

ueena both saw an heard, and well new hovw
her words had fallen.

That she was looked upon as a sorceress, as~
well asa queen, she well knew, and she cared.
not to destroy that belief by making known
that when nursing the sorceress in her illness,.
her delirium had betrayed the secret, and her
spies had discovered all else.

As for Nunah she stood as stolid as though
she was not interested.

She had played her cards well, none doubting
but that s e was the Fate Queen herself, so
perfect was her disguise.

She had lost the game, and would take the-
conse uences.

She oved Queena for herself, and had WGPIP‘
ed many kindnesses at her hands: but she hated.
her because she believed Chandos loved her,
because, too, she was the'Queen of the Gipsiea.

Hatin her, she had lotted to destroy her.

She di not believe t_at she was suspected by»
Queena, because the king bad no idea she was
other than Nana.

Therefore, when Queena came into her tent
that afternoon, ave her a cup of wine, askin ,-
her to drink it, s e readily did so, for often ha
the same kindness been shown her before by the-

queen.

She had then prepared the Goblet of Ho ‘
with pomon, then arrayed herself to meett e
king, and more she di not remember, as she
sunk unconscious in her tent.

Recovering she found it dark, and then knew
that she was bound hand and foot, and glancing
out upon the » encampment her eyes ell upon
ti l torches and the udges, with the kin in
their midst, and then she knew that she
been caught in her own trap, and schooled her»
self tohear brave] what would come.

As soon as the t emotion was over, at the
fearful discovery that had been e, Queena
said in her clear, stern tones: - '

“ Death Judges, what is your will upon Chan- -
dos vour king? ’

“Dank pa

The word was uttered in chorus, and.wag-;
strangely solemn in its sound.

«4v

 

The Corsair Queeuw r

is.

 

 

 

But Chandos, the king, neither moved not
spike.

" Death Ju'iges, once more I ask you, what is
your will WiLm this woman?”

"’ Death!”

As before, the word was breathed with earn-
est distinctness, and each man who spoke it
meant it. ‘

But there come no tremor over the face or
form of Nunah and her gaze never ﬂinched.

“You have heard, Chandos, disgraced King
0“ the Gipsies, what fate has been decided upon.

" And you, Nunah, base traitress, unworthy
of the blood of the Roving Race, have heard your
dorm,” said ueena in a low, solemn tone.

Neither spo e, but both bowed.

“It is for me to pass sentence upon you as to
when and how you die.

“ To-night I will not do so.

“Place them in irons and conﬁne them on
board my vessel, the Merciless.

“ Lead them away i”

Four of the Death Judges stepped forward,two
placing themselves upon either side of the pris-
oners and with the others following, they
marched silently away in the direction of the
little bay where the Glplsy ﬂeet was, at anchor.

As the ﬂickering torc es faded inthe distance
Queeua, wretched, unhappy, revengeful, turned
and entered her tent. .

CHAPTER XXV III.‘
’ TAKING a szn.

A GROUP of men stood talking together in a
small port acouple of leagues from the Gipsy
encampment. '

Their locality was behind a tobacco ware-
house, and it was evident they cared not to be
seen by any one who might struggle near.

‘Thero were a dozen in the group,'and that

 

' the were awaiting the coming of some one was

evi ent. ,
At last a. quick, ‘ﬂrm step was heard, and a
man a peered, coming from the Village. -
Hal ad a. cloak around him, although the
night was not cool, and walked with the air of
one who had. an errand of ii'nportance to attend

“There’s the captain now?’ said several voices
in chorus, alluding tothe new-comer. , ~

Just then he joined the'grou'p', andvheai'lng
the remark, said: ' - " i 1.x w 

es men, I amrhere, but a little late;are

you all here? , - . t -
. .“ All of your boat’s crew, sinithe other.b9ats >
are waiting for us, down the 'river,” answered

one. ,.
“All told; how many,‘boatswain?” " “ ' ‘
“With us tWeIVe,'sir. sixty.”'"*" ‘~ i» ‘  A
“Theyaresufﬂcient."' I «5 w ' - '
“There Were aboutitwent men, sir come
down in a schooner'from B timore, and went

on board the judge’s schooner to-night,”si,ig-y ,

gested 0 ac. . .

“ My destination is not that way to-night,
boatswain, so I care not how many are'on board
thﬁlsnllhen' , twin I I thou lit-4".“ p I A

Y: 08 ' ' ' ' " " -‘ ‘i

“A sailorphas no r! hiigto think, sir,.remem-
bar that: but I willte ' ymnthat my'motivetfori
cutting out Judge Randolph’s ,lchooner ,was'
because I knew no other I couldvget th is won]
do as well, and it was my intention, "having
been successful at cards, to' leave for'hixn even
more than the value of his vessel, 59' that he,
could not accuse me of being-a pirate, should he‘
discover who took‘ the craft. . ’ r ‘ ' ‘

“ But I‘have found . a vase] that is far better,

fully armed, and .just, what I want, and the ..

judge can keep his schooner to go privateering
1n imself,.as I believe he intends to sendher
out on a cruise.” I ' '
“ Another vessel, captain?” asked several.
“Yes; there is an encampment of Gi sies
below here: they are known as Gipsies o :the
29a. and sail from land: to land in their little
set. _ ‘
“ I disguised myself. as an oysterman yester-
day and paid them a. visit.

“They have thirteen 've'ssels, and'vthetrini- ,

mest, most rakish lot [ever saw.

“one of them, evidently the ﬂag-ship of the
ﬂeet, is much Iarger’than the others; andithere
is not water enough for heu- to! anchor close in
the bay and she is die furthest out.

“ I leftJust before dark, and I noticed that no
guard was on any vessel, and though I waited a
long time, no one came on board from the
encampment, so 1 do not think there is any one
in charge. , V ‘ ~ ‘

“ We will mufﬂe oars, run‘hi quietlitglp the

“cable, and tow her cut into the ﬁt.

hue], c
then, when‘we es the woods between us “Id
men "we tosseiiﬁl‘har lads Iwin '
“ we ave 01‘ ,
that emu.Iii 3-  ' ' hp“
thThe mmsoem, ded  deltﬁgbeéedgy
eircomman'e'rwo an‘ .“Ve
shore they intoaboggin‘waitgg, m .r. ~.::‘; ;
Silently: y’puuedsuown 'th'o river-{form
short distantly-when other boats Mum,
from under the shadow :11 museum growing

oi demand... '-
‘iifmwmm eboamthe-leadermade

d ,irons.

The moon was shining brightly, but the boats
wont silently along, close to the starboard
shore, and unless a curious eye hap nod to
glance out upon the river, from some p antation
or cabin, no one would know of their presence.

Arriving in sight of the tapering masts of the
Gipsy ﬂeet, the captain called the boats around
him, told of his plan of action, ordered arms to
be ready for use, and once more moved forward.

Soon the ﬂeet was but a few cable-lengths
away. -

Then, not twenty boat-lengths away, and
still no hail came.

The largest schooner was furthest out, and
she was the prize the captain had in view.

As she lay upon the water, beautiful in every
outine, the men could hardly refrain from
exclamations of admiration. .

Nearer and nearer drew the boat, until the
captain ran alongside, and yet no challenge
from the schooner.

“Slip the cable, boatswain,” was the whis-
pered order. ‘

I Quickly it was obeyed.

“ Make fast, men, and we’ll tow her out.”

This order was also obe ed with promptness,
and a moment after, witli three boats towin
ahead, and one on either side the beautif
schponer began to move away from her sister
era t. '

Further and further, and yet no cry of alarm
from the Gipsy encampment. . ' ‘

Out of the bay, and then with her sharp be
turned down the river, she went. : ’

At length the forest cut oﬂ’. from the view of
those in thevboats the glimmering campﬁres,
and then the captain said in a. triumphant
voice: ‘

“ Lads, the schooner is ours l”

The men choked back the cheer that arose
their lips, s rung on board the beautiful vessel,
and instant y the white sails began to fall, the
wind ca ht them, and the swift craftglided

through t e waters at a e that showed she
 n10 laggard, and that r rakish rig did not
is ier. ‘ ' ‘

Rounding the point of land, upon which was
the Gipsy encam ment, the schodner began'to

ride 09mg: ef waves of the‘ichecapeake}
and. ended . open waterrundor a prom of
canvas. ‘

The boats not needed were then scuttled. and
left to sink to the b0

ﬁrsttime "tti'ng opportunity,'d dad to'thé
cabin us ‘asthesun roseovert Waters-M v
Hols ped gany down theoompauiouwayﬁj

entered t ecabin, and startod‘back with an eli-
clamation of surprise, at the some» time , draw,
ing a pistol from his, belt, as he discovered that .
he was not alone, and that .therelwere occu-
pantsthere. _ ‘ I ., H “L

CHAPTER XXIX: ‘ ' ‘1" ~ i
"  "'ALLms. 

THAT the‘ captain of the daring crew who;
had"boarded-' the schodner, was. a surprise to“
the occupantsnf the cabin was evident [for they
:goked upon him in amazement, as didhe at?

em. . v r' . . , I V, ,
There were two of them','and they were in

“One was ’C'handos, ‘the' Gipsy‘ Kin Lﬁancl he!
‘was seated in a chair, and chained to eﬂdol'.
The other was Nunah, the desy, half-reclin—
ing upon slots, and; also chained to the ﬂoor.
he one’upon whom they turned their gaze
,was aanan of perhaps twenty-eight. . . , 3 ‘
, His face was both reckless and sad handsome
and resolute, and upon him rested the an- ~01: "a
man (if refinement; " ' - e
Perhaps he was dissipated, for there was that
inihis’cc'mntenance to show that he was amen
governed by his passions. .
' He was well formed, and undoubtedly a man
of strength and‘nerve above the average. -
His dress was that of a sailor, jacket of blue
broadcloth, white duck lite and a soft hat,
turned up on one side will? an anchor-pin.
A scarf'Was about his waist, and in-it were
Eevrg several pistols, and one he held in his‘
a . v v I
Seeing the condition of those in the cabin, he
returned the weapon to his scarf, and said in a
frank freoand-easy way: , '
“ Well, lad, you are on the breakers it seems",
Chandos the Gi s King-returned in his deep
tongs, and in Eng is , though with a foreign ac:
cm : I , ' ‘ . . i
“ I was : but if this craft is not in'the hands
of the Gﬁsies of the Sea, I am not.” .
“Ah! ey are your toes?"
“ No, they are my h
“Youare a Gipsy an? ' '
.“. Idem 1Ch dos the Glpsy King,” was the
pro“. re _, .. - . _ .
‘ “Indegdimy schoonerthde bythe ,
once otlmyanyyts; z .; . _;. _ , ,,. ,, a,
ﬁrmer...“ '-...‘   r v i
‘ “i ' , 3 i 91.“ m
is- “f°.;°..f.ﬂ£“t“" use l“»‘.’:..
as , , , - m o e “a sea,
an.» my” ye -«v vi

.“Ul'i'der their“ it

 

n
ple.

 

known his "Tans, the oars were uniﬁed; and
they set oﬂ' down the river. ' *‘

. » .-. . r. ‘. .I .
"“ Bless ‘I ha n’t‘thou ht. Iamanawral
bwn sailzxgubut Fate tin-ago against 'mo,the

tt’om, the crew'were,'as:z
signed to their duties, and the Captain; for‘the '

. nous; as all i

‘ 'hadbeenigni

woman I loved took death as a bridegroom,
and I became reckless, gambled, quan‘eled,

cut my anchors an set meadritt out
navy, and I went ashore, high and drty. .
“ ow I am aﬂoat again, and tick may

has been on the black list too often to protect it
now, so I’ll give it to you—Adrian Amndel at
your service. Now who are on?”

“ ‘I told you, Chandos the ipsy King.”

“ 1 must say that you look every inc a king
but are at resent in difﬁculty it seems.” ‘

_“ Yes, I isobeyed the Gipsy laws, and am to
be punished with death,” was the 0001 reply.

‘ Not a bit of it; they may have intended to
make an example of you, to prevent other kings
from doing as you did, whatever that was; but
the '11 not do it now, as you are in my charge,
an I need just such a ﬁne fellow as you are, as
I have not a single lieutenant.

doubtless? ’ I

“ No, one of my tribe only.” _ , . ,,

“ Well, sheis pretty enough for a queen, and
if she wishes to stay with on we’llmalkea mid:
dy of her, for I have hear all you G'ipsiés are
sailors, even to the children.” ' ‘ ‘ '

“Would that we had never behold the sea;
but never mind, I am' not one to murmur
against fate." - v . » I . ~

“ That's right, for it will do no good; now
I’ll look a man up that, will knock those irons 08
of you and your sweet companion, andl‘ am in
earnest, if you will accept my offer.” f ’ 
. The Gipsy King turned to Nunah 'and 'spoke
to her for a few minutes‘in’ their-native‘itongue,
and what she said in reply seemed totiec‘ldemit
course, for he said to Captain Arundel', who was
watching them With interest. ; . i-. -  Vi. , ;

‘f You are a bold man andwe will if“, you;
bu: my fleet willsoon be in chase” theyare
,9 now. . . _. ..,,_ .
P “ No, we got the schooner vout‘witliougg‘ﬁiing
a feather or rousingl a dog, and "not a' his
s‘ightﬁ'but‘don’t ca it'your‘ﬂeet fol‘yddﬂare
no lon er Chandos, the Gipsy Eingibattneu’
tenant hamlet King of the schooner»th is
“enamel”. 4 » ,.. ii: , -: 3.”: mi,” .4,
' ‘i‘ Mercﬂoss'nl j .' ‘ i : l. 7n
 Airs erasure“! ed»
in tot—we. i'sv;  ‘
« Both Chandos and Nunaiiseenied 
thename, and it was evident 'that ' ‘

won whali- hearts, and r they
  we r Ali l as: i
w eirsi ion, 11.. espe. I‘m.  '1
know; but they  Gleam sniwonﬁ
have met their. somaunﬂinchindg-J, ..  
But, strangenbelieversiin dos iny, splpersti-
V 'orant rsonsore; the'y‘fb t't‘hat
they Were 11 in‘the nds straws tidth was
not intendedthefy should die for! the shin-they
. of andtheydeoidbdtmtbmn
themselves-in .. e stream.ot,.¢iroum§tancas
and ﬂoatVWith the tide. 1; , ,1.” < ,
, Making known this determiua' .Cii’ 0s
saw that it pleased the‘youn" ca 1: n, 0 at
‘once went on‘ deck to give eral forensic one
to come down‘and nock'thc idoasoﬂof the
hands-and feetrofthe Gipsies. 'ii‘,‘ ‘36: mm 1 u
. TH: was somndom, onmsmica-asythomms,
trained to show. no emotion.-tbey.bq$ligmqrmly

the matter, and ’11 assign ybutq
amon the tra we brought on be , :I‘chh
‘ﬂnd'a suit for idshipman Nuns}: here Earth
the life we will lead, breaches will bedmn‘il
.3103?” desirable r than petticoats; sands-s :Goo'l
‘ 0 hi ' .i .. 1". .r~.;...i‘.1'n 1.»:-
Iaiistﬁudden Cay fairly startled the two‘gipsie‘s,
.an  s gaze u _, ,minamazem ~, e
stood ‘whh his eyggiﬁted uponatﬁiaﬁefior-
trail that hub in the‘tabin' ‘ " " h» "
‘1: m
. “ Mineﬂiﬁ'ms." . i .i U; 8].:
" True,'«but~ Whose likeness, :Gipsyj'l masoch-
.tinued impatiently. .: «.;   my, t_,._.,;.r~.~..
“ It is a likeness of the Queen of the Giggles,”
_“>GreatG_0dl whataresoniblanoe. , M 3,, '
“It drove the blood in tqrfqnu’
heart," he‘muttered,’en’d with another 1‘ git};
look at the rtrait he; turned “leftth
cabin, eviden 1y deeply moved by..- whiteness
"of the Gipay Queen to some onehahum ,xu .
u»
-  CHAPTER5XXX.

r: main}. ?,

‘2 BthdO {the young I .9”.
. ﬂatten. omen, adasyouaroﬁgﬁi‘gﬂgm
, ._‘

_.
.l

  

 

J Winn :hwn broke. over the ,Gipgygmmr.
meat, and the schooner..was “scrotum.
a wail of woe wentnp from “imaging
her out to cookout Madonna...

'a. 32;... um: i

became too WM: doubt, as. mlmmoxnﬂair

 

traitors. ' _

fou tand killedm su ior oméer and-they
5“ W i of the

change; thus you have my history,and my name .

“Who, pray. is that lovely lady! Yourlqueen, r

 1

ea. mannerTand-looks of the- cu m tain ‘
haily y 135m 

organise asked v‘hoarselv "
P“ V I

A STRANGE 0011341,. , 3 - \ ‘

heard lay-Queens in; be: ; tent, quicklxgwmmht ,
~,.;.At ﬂntiahe cauldrnot. believe it; ,hiit,m,,in '

mating over. uni-oven again they. , mu
«Mathis-teen vessels, ands!” gems)! the ﬂea:
was missing' .' ; V  i .
v elm. “yd” W, ma “QM   mm:
and ordered all tunable umber, that-lie
might ﬁnd  who wares»

 

 

.‘Tl—va'd—e—N _...,.< ~.<.__A A a...

..“A we, m” ...

i

 

. s; «5:..4‘ ~ nuns—rm r. swan-xi;- 9‘1 %- A “3...; an...

16

 

The Corsair Queen.

 

But, men, women and children all were pres-
ent excepting two; those two were the king and
Nunah.

And they had been taken on board the
schooner and left there.

For them to escape from their irons Queens.
knew to be impossible, for the Death Judges
had brought her the key, after looking them
upon the prisoners and leaving them in the
cabin.

And, had they the free use of their limbs, it
would be impossible, all knew, for King Chan-
dos and Nunah to get sail on the schooner and
run of! with her.

Queena was a woman who acted promptly,
and at once she dispatched a smaller vessel up
to the St. Michael’s, in search of the lost craft,
and ordered ﬁve of the largest of the ﬂeet to
prepare for sea, determined to chase down the
fugitive, wherever it could be found.

Upon the ﬂeetest and largest of the ﬂeet, now
that the Merciless was gone, she went herself,
and then issued her orders for the government
of the encampment during her absence.

“Had there been guards on the vessels, the
schooner would not have been cut out as it
was,” she said, and at once commanded that
each mft should have a guard sleep on board
from that on, for it was a custom of the Glpsies
to have no sentinels.

The vessel sent up the St. Michael’s returned
in a few hours, reporting a fruitless search, and
then the little ﬂeet of ﬁve, selected for the pur-
suit, set sail and stood out of the harbor.

These ﬁve were the fastest ﬂyers of the ﬂo-
tilla, and like the very wind they went down
the bay, for Queens. felt convinced that the
Merciless, if in the hands of King Chandos,

chfnrtheplotofthekinghadreallygone
she could not tell, though she believed she had
discovered all; yet this cutting out of the
schooner so promptly after his being put in
imnaseemedtoprove thathe had been fully
prepared for the emergency.

in her own heart she had not intended that
King Chandos should die, though, by the law
ofhistribeshebsdthepower totake Ms life,
and Nunah’s; but she did intend to drive them
from the encampment, and let them seek other
bands of the Roving Race with which to dwell.
As he had ﬂed, anunpardonable sin, carry-
ing withhim the womanforwbomhehad
sinned,and thechoicevesseloftheﬂeet,it
roused vil in the nature of Queens, and
she was determined now that his punishment
besuch asths tribemightmeteout.

Under different drcumstancesQueena would
have gone through life, loved by all, and a
noble character; but a bitter fete had dragged
her from the pinnacle she hsdoccupied, and the
slumbering demon in bar nature had awahened
tosls'ikeatall whohad wronged bu.

,When Point Lookout bad besnpamed,the
ﬂve ve-els, like a ﬂock of pigeons, holding
closely together, the look-out at the mast-heed
reportedssailinsight, over underthseastern
sh

are.

instantly the course was changed forthe
stranger, and then another was discovered and
mum

Watching them attentively, the Gipsy Qieen
soon made out that there were two large
schooners in abuse of a brigantine, and that
they so had the wind of thechase thattbey
must bring her to action, or cause her surrender
without attempting to face herfoes with her

as.
g“ ngthat the Msrcilesawasnotone
of the venels,Queene bad giventheorderto
hold on thsirformer course, when shenoticsd
thsttheﬂagofthe brigantins w“.anAm.ﬂ.
can,andthatattbepeskoftheschooncswas
Mthh.

Instantly she made up her mind to aid the
craftofherconntry, andasshe did so, saw the
color charged to half-mast and union down,
while agnn,as a signal of distresswssﬂred
tromhstsrboardbow.

Sinaboohuveddrstthohrigsnﬂnqﬂwugh
strlmsailor,couidnevaresespehsrpursuers,
andmustsunsndsrormnasbosgforteﬂgh
thembcthwouldhsmsdnsss. ~

Quicklydisdscidedwlnt {commended
tooneofthsGipdesnear,whoactedassn

"Vutshsignsl the Greyhoundﬂpnyand
Buritoattsekllesmallsdofyonderschconers,
andtheﬂtellstofollowthsnuntmssina-sil-
ingtheother.”

between England and America?” asked the
Gipsy oﬂcer with surprise.

“ I intend to do as I please, Vestal: obey
me 1"

He knew the temper of his imperious queen
and obeyed.

It was evident that the strange order sig-
naled to them, surprised the captains of the
other Gipsy schooners; but they followed their
directions, and soon the little ﬂeet was divided,
the Greyhound, Spray and Surf heading for
one of the British schooners, the Zitelle and
Huntress laying their course so as to intercept
the other.

What they were both the Englishmen and
American seemed at a loss to know, for their
colors were such as they had never seen at the
peak of a vessel before.

But the British commanders were deter-
mined to bring matters to a crisis with the
brigantine, and then be ready to meet the pack
they feared were coming on to worry them.

With this intention they at once opened a hot
ﬂre upon the brigantine, which at once returned
it, and, putting about, boldly faced her foes,
conﬁdent of aid, as it was her signal of distress
that had caused the Sea Gipsies to change their

course.

With the ﬁrst broadside of the British
schooners, the Gipsy Queen called her crew to
quarters, and the signal was made to the others
of the ﬂeet to do likewise.

“Now, Vestal, set your iron dogs to bark-
ing," said the queen, her face ﬂushed with the
excitement of the scene.

“ At which vessel, queen?” he asked.

“ The British,” she said, almost ﬁercely.

The Gipsy oilicer shook his head, but gave
the order, and the Huntress reeled under the
discharge of her guns.

Oncetheﬂrst shotbad been ﬁred, and the
Gipsies entered into action with that reckles-
neu of consequences that characterizes their
natures. .

Theybadbeenonlytooanxiousforany
scene of excitement; but roaming unmolested
through many lands, they had looked upon no
country as more their own than another,
thumb their sympathies were more with Spain,
many of them having been born there.

Oacetheice of noun-slitbe been broken
by them, and they entered into action with a
spirit that made up in courage and enthusiasm
what they lacked in heavy metal, and the
British schooners that had at ﬁrst little dreaded
the tiny ﬂeet were compelled to turn their at-
tention to them as a pack that might have it in
them to worry them to death in an action
which they had deemed was a victory for
themaelves.

With a skill that was wonderful, the Gipsy
Queenhandled her vassland theothers,
watching the action with an eagle eye, and in-
stantly signaling if she deemed any of hu little
ﬂeet were going wrong. ,

Twice had an iron hail torn over her decks,
and several of her crew had gone down before
it never to rise; but her face had not ﬂinched,
nor her nerves quivered, and nearer and nearer
she drew tothe danger she had voluntarily
faced.

Thebrlgantine, nowseentobe as lightina
moment as were the Gipsy veuels, was stand-
ing the brunt of the battle bravely; but that
she could not last long was evident, and the
GipsyQueendecidedto bringthe matterto a
close as soon as possible, and instanﬂy' signaled
to her ﬂeet to board the Englishmen.

The British commanders at once recognised
that their foes intended to carry them by
boarding, and knowing that their safety was
in keeping them of! with their guns, as they
observed the Gipsies’ decks crowded with men,
fought hard to keep them at a distance by crip-

plingthem.

Buttheﬂre rained upon each vemel from
three different quarters confused their gun-
ners, who aimed badly, and several shots from
the Huntress crippling the larger of the two
Eaglishnnn, it was evident that ﬂiey were at
the mercy of their unilsnts.

To ﬂy was impo-ihle, fertbey would have
toruna severe guitlet, and then have upon
tbeirheelsaﬂockof rapidnilers. authode
but one course to pursue.

That course was to m-ike thdr ﬂag, and
after a signal had passed between the two
king’s craft, down from their puts ﬂuttered
the British ensign in token of snrrenda'.

A wild cheer burst from the lips of the

~ Gipsy crews, and was answered by the Ameri-

 

“Do youintendtojoinintheowlee, queen,

cans with a will, while the signal was given by

Queens for her little ﬂeet to lay to, repair
damages, and then hold on their course once
more.

But instantly the American brigantine sig-
naled to the Huntress, which had been noticed
as the ﬂag-ship of the little ﬂeet, that her com-
mander desired an interview, and the Gipsy
Queen ordered her schooner put away to grant.
the request.

The British vessels, having lowered their
ﬂag, lay motionless upon the waters, their
crews looking after their dead and wounded,
while the American had also come to, and. the
Gipsies were heading toward a common center,
evidently feeling they no longer held an in-
terest in the aifair, and only awaited the
pleasure of their queen.

When the Huntress was within a few cable-
lengths of the brigantine she luﬂed up into the
wind and lay to, and instantly a boat put oil’
from the side of the American.

In it, as it drew near the Gipsy schooner, the
queen saw several oﬂcers of high rank, and
her crew were ordered to receive them with
honor.

At the gangway Vestal, the Gipsy lieu-
tenant, met them, and a young oﬂicer, in the-
uniform of a naval captain, said Poliiely:

“ I have given myself the honor of coming
on board your vessel, sir, to thank you for
your kindly service, which has been great in~
deed, as these gentlenmn are Admiral Graham
and General Custis of the American Navy and
Army, who have escaped capture by your time-
ly succor.”

Vestal, who was a lnndsome, intelligent.
young Gipsy, bowed politely at the words of
the American, and answered:

“ It is our queen, air, that you have to
thank; I will lead you to her.”

“Your queen! this then is the Gipsy ﬂeet I
have heard of as hovering about the bayof
late?”

“Yes, sir, a part of it."

The oﬂcers exchanged glances with each
other, and Admiral Graham remarked:

“That accounts for your sable ﬂag, which
smacks of piracy, young sir; but lead us to
your queen, pray, that we may thank her,
and ask her to accompany Captain Lennox
here on his visit to the two British schooner-s,
which she «used to lower their colors."

Vestal led the way to the cabin, the oﬂcers.
remarking the while upon the discipline, order
and beauty of the vssael, emthey wereusbered
into the presence of the Gipsy Queen.

She was dressed in her picturesque suitof
crimson velvet, and looked grandly, weirdly
beautiful as she arose to receive them with an
easy grace and dignity that surprised them.

Enraptured. by her imperious beauty, they
seemed momentarily nonplused, and the hand—
some youug captain seemed to he suddenly
seised with speechlessnem; but the old admiral
came to his rescue, and said in courtly tones:

“ Fair queen, we came on board your vessel
to than]: its commander, whatever ﬂag he
might sail under, for his prompt acknowledg-
mentofoursignal of distress,and his manly
ﬁght in our behalf.

“ We ﬁnd that commander a beautiful
‘wcman, and our hearts as weli as our lips bow
in homage and thanks.”

“I am glad to have served you, gentlemen;
though Gipsies, we an friendly to America;
and I shall ever be.

“Be seated, please," was the calm, reply of
the queen, and more and more impressed with
her they obeyed, the admiral presenting his
companions, and adding:

“Had the British schooners taken our bri-
gantine, Lady Queen, they would have gotten
a most valuable prise, for the general here and
myself were on a tour of inspection, our staffs
accompanying us, and besides, the navy and
a); paymasten have considerable funds on

“Youseethen, wbatavaluable service you
have rendered, and you willnotﬂnd ourGov-
ernmentunappredative."

“Iseekno rewards, air; Ididbat my duty,
andbegtotnrnovertocaptainlmncxthe
twovesselsashisprhes.”

“No,lady,l could not tllbkof receiving
dramatyour hands, for yon .Wm “whim?
notI,”andtheyoangcaphin sued mun
admiration he couh‘l not restrain upon the
'beastii‘ulwomsn.

“Then, sir, you may well signal the

as
English‘eommandersto run their ﬂags up to.

 

thepukagainandstandomtougforl will
notaceepttbeirsim'ender."

 

(v.4... ‘

 

The Corsair Queen.'

17

 

 

They saw by her face she was in earnest, and
ﬁnding that she would in no way share, or al-
low her crew to share in the prize-money, they
soon after took their departure, greatly im-
pressed by the strange and beautiful woman
they had met, and they watched her tiny ﬂeet
with the deepest interest, as.it sped on down
t':e bay.

“Lennox, by my faith, but I believe you
are in love,” said General Custis as he joined
the admiral and that ofﬁcer, after the English
schooners had been manned by crews from the
brigautine, and headed for Baltimore, while
the American cruiser held on her way for
Fortress Monroe.

“I believe you are right, general, for I
have had to attend to all the negotiations, as
he was calling the English oﬁicers Captain
Queen, answering ‘no, lady’ and ‘yes, lady,’
and in fact steering wildly: yes, Lennox, with
the general I say you are in love.”

The young omcer ﬂushed crimson, and said
with considerable earnestness:

“I believe I am; if not, I certainly could
love that woman.”

“ Aromarkable being she is, and as beauti-
ful as a goddess; but, captain, beware, for
where there’s a queen there must be a king."

“It don‘t follow, admiral; at any rate I
shall know, for I will meet that woman
again.”

“You’ve been hit hard, Lennox; but don’t
strike your colors until you know what your
enemy is,” and the admiral turned away; but
it was evident that the Gipsy Queen had left
her impress upon the hearts and brains of the
elderly ofﬁcers as well as the younger one.

But Mortimer Lennox was not a man to go
wild at every pretty face, yet having found one
that he could not forget, he was determined-
to know more of a woman that so deeply im-
pressed him at one meeting.

CHAPTER XXXI.
A METAM‘ORPHOSIS.

AFTER leaving the brigantine and her two
priz -s, the Gipsy ﬂeet held on down the Chess.-
peuke with all speed, and gained the Atlantic
00mm without further adventure.

A Norfolk ﬁshing boat was brought to of!
Cape Henry, and reported having seen a
schonner, which from her desoription Queens
knew could be none other than the Merciless,
stand directly; out to sea. . .

With the start the Merciless had of fully
ciglteen hours, counting the delay of the com-
bat in the Chesapeake, the Gipsy Queen knew
that it would be impossible to overhaul her,
and reluctantly gave the order to put back for
the encampment. , d

“ He has gone back to Spain doubtless; well,
so be it, I will hide my time, and now devote
myself to the one aim of :my life, revenge on
Vincent Vance," she murmured, and then, as
if having decided to act at once she ordered
the other vessels to continue on to the little
harbor in the St. Michael’s, while she stood
away in the Huntress for Norfolk.

What her suddenly formed plot ,was the
reader has already discovered, though he may
not have recognized in the pretended Horace
Gray, the Gipsy Queen; but Queena it was, for
her brother had indeed been lost, and she took
this means of commencing her tactics of re
venge upon the master of Graylands.

Her adventure on a ﬁshing smack that was
carrying her to Annapolis, to prosecute her
plot, her going home with Vincent Vance, and
escape from death at the hands of himself and
the lawyer, through knowing the secrets of the
old mansion, her childhood’s home, and the
scene in the rookery of Henry Ross, the reader
will remember.

But upon leaving Baltimore she had at once
sought the retreat of the Gipsies, and, after a
short sin y there, she had set sail in her schooner
tor the other shore, where the reader will
recall the bold capture, or rather kidnapping
of the beautiful child of Vincent Vance, who,
by a strange fatality seemed to bear the same
name as the Gipsy Queen’s little daughter.

Back to her rendezvous she sailed with the
fairy-like Zitelle, happy in the thought that
she had struck a hard blow at Vincent Vance,
in letting him know that his secret of the Ross
and Rupert murders was not, as he had hoped,

 

unknown, and that she hadin her power the,

darling of his heart. _
Had Queens, in her bitterness, intended
harm to the little child, one glance into her
beautiful, innocent eyes would have held her
in check, for the little fairy seemed at once

if

 

drawn toward the strange woman, and after
the ﬁrst shock of surprise at her surroundings,
and the dark-faced people she found herself
with, had been seemingly contented.

But had her child eyes been able to read the
past of the beautiful woman who bent over

her so kindly; had the heart, and its hatred

for her father and mother been laid bare before
her, she would have shrunk away with terror
and fear.

But fortunately for the peace of mind of
mortals, the hearts and thoughts of those we
come in contact with, are hidden from us, and
thus we are content.

Arriving at the encampment the Gipsy
Queen surprised her people, and delighted her
own little Zitelle, by bringing with her a
perfect fairy child, who, with her golden hair,
dark blue eyes and marble-like complexion,
was in striking contrast to the raven-haired,
black-eyed, bronze-facedlittle Gipsy beauty.

But the two children at once proved the
truism that we love our opposites, and almost
immediately became friends.

Having brought the loose threads of my nar-
rative together, I will now trace, in the follow-
ing chapter, the fortunes of Vincent Vance,
after he had departed from Graylands, bound
on a daring enterprise, which he had been
tempted into by possessing the letter from the
ship-builder and the bank receipts he held of
the late lawyer in the name of Rupert Judge.

CHAPTER XXXII.
ran rarva'runn.

HAVING been reared in the navy, which he
resigned from upon the inheritance of a small
fortune, Vincent Vance felt himself capable of
commanding a vessel of war, and the kidnap-
ping of his idol, little Zitelle, atonce prompted
him to do so. '

The letter of the New York ship-builder to
Judge Rupert showed him that a most desira-
ble vessel could be obtained, and the receipts
which he held of the bank in favor of deposits
made by Rupert Judge he would boldly . at-
tempt to turn into gold. .

In his remembrance, the judge had not been
on to New York since the time “the receipts
were dated, and it was not likelythat he was
personally known at the bank, so that was in
his favor.

“No, the sly fellow, not wishing any one
to know what fortune he did have, marked to
‘charity ’ the greater part of his earnings, and
then sent the money to this New York bank
under an assumed name.

“That is the way of it, and I will boldly
risk the cashing of these receipts I hold, and
then be for salt water, and to wrest from that
devil my beautiful child, or, if I cannot re-
cover her, visit upon him a revenge that the
Inquisition could not surpass for torture.”

Such were the thoughts turning over and
over again in the brain of Vincent Vance, as
he was whirled rapidly on to New York in the
stage, which in those days was the only means
of public conveyance, as few packetrships cared
to risk the voyage between ports, with the coast
haunted by British cruisers. ,

Without delaying anywhere longer than for
meals and a change of horses, Vincent Vance
hurried on his way, his brain in a fever about
Zitelle’s fate. his heart in an agony of grief at
her loss, and with no thought for the wife he
had left prostrated with sorrow for her child
at Graylands.

And yet for himself the man had anxious
thought, for with Horace Gray, as he believed
the Gipsy Queen to be, in possession of his
deadliest secrets, he knew he had the power at
any time to turn upon him and ruin him.

“ Once he is dead, and I have my darling re-
stored to me, I will be a happy man, in spite of
haunting memories, ” he muttered, when the
bright sunlight was streaming upon him.

But with the darkness those phantoms of the
past would not lie buried, and then it was that
he suffered the agony of a crime-haunted con—
science.

Again, with the glare of day, he would feel
that one more blow must be struck, and that
one at his wife, whom he now both feared and
hated. ,

With Violet dead her fortune would go to
Zitelle, and he would be the guardiantohandle
it, and only his daughter to render an account
of his stewardship to. .

At last the stage rolled up to the Jersey
tavern, where the passengers were to leave it
to be ferried across to New York, and in a
short ,while after Vincent Vance was safely

 

 

ensconced in a fashionable tavern on Fulton
street, then the aristocratic portion of the city.

It was after banking hours when he arrived
so he concluded to go over and see the ship-
builder who had written to Judge Rupert, and
get a look at the schooner he had for sale.

He found the builder in his yard, was shown
the schooner, lying at anchor off shore, and his
sailor’s eye brightened with admiration at the
beauty of her outlines and rig.

Finding just what he could purchase the ves.
sel for, he told the builder he would call the
next day, and returned to his hotel.

But not to rest, for his mind was in too
great a whirl with grief and excitement for
sleep to come to him.

The next morning he put on hisbest looks
and boldly walkedto the bank.

The cashier was at his desk, and walkingup
to him Vincent Vance bowed with the courtly
grace he was master of at will, and said
politely: ’

“I believe you have deposits here, sir,
made by Rupert Judge of Baltimore?"

,The cashier bowed, when he saw the appear—
ance of his visitor, glanced at his books and
said:

“ Yes, sir, there are such deposits, sent us by
drafts from Baltimore; are you Mr. Judge?"

“ Yes sir, ” was the bold reply. ,

“ Do you wish to draw the deposits, Mr.
Judge?”

“I am making some large purchasas here,
sir, and will draw on you as I need the money."

“ They are payable, sir, only on presentation
of the bank receipts, and your indorsement.”

“ I have the receipts here,” and he took
them from his pocketbook, wrote the name,
Rupert Judge, boldly across one of them in the
handwriting of the dead lawyer, which he
could write at will, and handed it to the cashier,
who promptly paid him the money on it.

With a happy heart at his fortune, he left
the bank, went over to the ship-builder, bought
the schooner, left word at the dock for a ship-
per tc secure him a crew, and started to Wash-
ington city, where, upon his arrival, his name
and former service in the navy gained for him
the papers of an American Privateer.

Armed with this he returned to New York,
and one week after set sail for Graylands, his
plantation home, to learn if aught had been
heard from Zitelle, and to then start upon his
search for the kidnapper of his child.

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.

, ran FATAL MEDALLION. ,

ONE dark, stormy night, some weeks after
the sailing of the Bloodhound, as Vincent
Vance had named his schooner, a stench little
craft was standing into the little bay near
'Graylands.

All was tested close on board, and it was

'evident that the gale on the bay had been a

severe one; but the schooner had weathered it

ﬁnely, and at last ran for a haven into the

Graylands basin.

Dropping anchor, in spite of the storm, a
form enveloped in a long cloak was rowed
ashore in a boat, and landed at the very point
where little Zitelle had stood when seized by
the kidnappers.

“Await me here, lads,” was the low corn-
mand, and the cloak-enveloped personage start-
ed toward the mansion, which looked grim
and gloomy, as only one light was vi ble in it.

A moment the individual stood on he piazza,
and than, hearing no sound within, and as.
though fully acquainted with 'the mansion,
leant over and touched the panel of the door.

Instantly it opened, and quickly the cloaked
form disappeared within, the secret panel be-
ing immediately closed. I '

Once within the large ball and the form
stood silently listening; but only the sound
without, of the ﬁerce storm, was heard; no
one was seeming about the house, and‘ the bold
invader crossed to the library door and can-
tiously opened it. .

A dim light burned within, and what it re-
vealed caused the intruder to pause and gaze
earnestly before him at an object that seemed
to rivet his attention.

The heavy cloak slipped from the shoulders,
and the slender form of a youth was revealed
—nonot a youth, but of the Queen of the
Gipsies in her disguise of her dead brother,
Horace Gray. '

Cautioust she approached the object that
had so riveted her gaze and looked in silence

.upon the face of the dead.

Yes, the dead, for lying before her was the

 

 

'18

 

The Corsair Queen.

 

cold form of Violet Vance, the upturned face
strangely white, yet showing no sign of suf-
fering, the small hands'clasped across the heart
that had ceased to pulsate with every breath.

She was dressed in deep black, and only her
Wedding ring had been left upon' her ﬁnger,
but upon her breast, hung by its massive chain,
was the medallion with her husband’s miniav
ture, which kindly hands had placed/there.

“Violet Vance,” and as the woman spoke,
addressing the dead ears that could not hear,
her voice was hoarse with passion. V

“ Voilet Vance, in the long ago, when your
father had riches and mine had met with mis-
fortune, you treated me cruelly, and with
scorn; but when the tide turned, you fawned
upon me and for what? V

“ To win my regard once more, that you
might reap a reward.

“ I have not forgotten one night, when I lay
ill, how you slipped into my room at night,

when my old nurse was asleep, and dropped

poison into my cup.

“I never breathed it to mortal, Violet
Vance, but I let you understand that I held
you in my power, though I was a mere child
then. .

“Well, you have reveled here in my home, '

you have married the man who, like you, at-
tempted to take my life, and he thinks he suc-
ceeded. v

“ And you, Violet, lie dead before me while .

I liva; ay, dead by my hand, for this beauti-
ful trinket resting over your pulseless heart,
was made by my order, and the wearer of it
dies of the deadly poison it is steeped in.

“ It has done its work well, and now I claim
it once mere.

, “I thought not so soon to find you dead;
but it is as well, for it is another blow at the
heart of him I shall dog as long as life is left.

“I came here to-night to leave him just one
line, that he may not have rest night or day.”

,She hastily drew from her pocket an ink-
horn, quill and paper, and wrote as follows:

“ Vmcnxr VANCE:
“ This dead form will show you that I am yet on

ourtrail. .
y“The lsoned medallion has done its deadly
work an I claim it, but leave the miniature, as

your big-ted face is yengraven on my heart

‘n‘ggur wife isdeasihyour child is in my power,
but you yet live, and erein is myﬁoy.
‘ oaAcn Gmr.”

She pinned the paper upon the dress of the
dead woman, and taking the miniature from
the medallion laid it upon the white neck,
while she thrust the gem-studded trinket into
her own bosom. .

Just then a loud knock resounded without on
the door, and bounding across the room she
seized her cloak, sprung to the wall, touched
a spring, which opened a secret panel, and

‘ ’sprung out of sight into the narrow, dark

space revealed, just as a servant was heard
going through the hall to open the door, upon
which a second loud knock had fallen with an

/ l

impatient hand.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE RETURN TO GMYLANDB.

THE servant that went to the door, in an-
swer to the knock that had alarmed the Gipsy
Queen, and caused her to take refuge in the
secret alcove in the wall, was startled at seeing
a mnﬂled form step in without a word.

He closed the door quickly against the ﬁerce
storm, and in vain tried to speak, as he saw the
visitor going with rapid stride toward the
library;

That visitor he recognized as his master, and
utterance seemed to utterly fail him, so that he
might tell him what was in that room.

But on the master of Graylands went, opened
the‘door and stepped within.

He closed the door behind him, and then the
servant heard one long cry of horror.

It came from the lips of Vincent Vance, for,
not until he was alone in the library had his
eyes fallen upon the dead form of his wife.

The Gripsy Queen heard the cry and partially
opened the panel to look out, and discovered by
the dress of the planter that he had not been at
home, and had just discovered the dead form
of his wife. ‘ ‘

He was attired in a naval uniform, had
around him a heavy cloak, and stood like one
frozen with horror. ‘ '

He had not loved his wife, yet he had not
expected to ﬁnd her dead, and the shock had
wholly unnerved him, and he stood trembling
and silent. '

At last he gained courage and approached

 

 

the corpse and stood gazing upon it in abject
fear. ‘

Then'his eyes caught sight of the note left by
the Gipsy Queen, and the miniature which had
been taken from the medallion. '

Instantly seizing both he gazed ﬁrst on one
and then on the other, and then read the note.

Thrice he read it over, his hands that held
the paper trembling violently, and his face as
white as that of the dead wife at his side.

Then he sunk down with a groan by the
table, and buried his face in his hands, the
very picture of woe.

For some time he sat thus in silence, and
then rising walked out into the hall, where sev-
eral of the servants were awaiting, as though
alarmed at his long stay in the room of death.

They bowed to him in sad silence, and he
said sternly:

“James, why did you not tell 'me what to
expect when I came in?”

“ Massa, fore God I is ’shamed o’ myself fer
not doin’ so, but you corned in so kind 0’ sud-
dint, and I was lookin’ for you to be drest up
in uniform; then I couldn’t speak, sir, for my
heart were so full.” I

“ When did my wife die?

“ This morning, master,” said the house-
keeper.

“She just faded away, the doctor not know-
ing what was the matter with her, saving it
was grief for poor Miss Zitelle.

“She just faded away, sir, like a ﬂower, and
then we dressed her for the grave, for none
of the families from the plantations seem to be
home just now.”

 “And my child?” , ‘ ‘

“ Nothing has been seen or heard of her, sir,
and we is awful sorry for poor little Missy
Zitelle.” -

Vincent Vance bit his lip to keep down his
emotion, and then said:

“ Well, I will go to my room and sleep, if I
can, and in the morning I will bury poor
Violet. "

“'Your room is all ready, sir.”

“‘No, no, I will not go to the one next my
wife’s,” he said, hurriedly.

“Then the blue room is ready.”

“Where Judge Rupert slept—no, no,” he
said, with a shudder. .

“Then I’ll ﬁx the south room, sir.’

“All right, Phillis; cal me when it is
ready,” and he turned back into the library.

Ashe did so, and the servants left the hall,
one of the huge panels in the wall of the hall
slowly turned, and out glanced the Gipsy
Queen.

Seeing that no one was in the hell, she
sprung quickly out, glided to the front door
and out into the storm, muttering:

“Wherever you sleep, Vincent Vance, you
will not get rid of me.

“No, no, I live with but one aim now, and
thank Heaven I learned all the secret passages
of this old mansion when I wash child.

“Go to your room, Vincent Vance, and to
sleep, too, but you will not rest; no, you shall
not rest until the grave covers you.”

Rapidly across the lawn she went, and held
her way down toward the shore.

 

CHAPTER XXXV.

HAUNTED.

Minister“ at last rolled around, and still the
storm beat with unabated fury, keeping the
servants of the Graylands household huddling
together around the kitchen hearth, for none of
them would go to bed. \

The winds howled dismally about the cor-
ners of the large, grand old mansion, and at
every ruder gust there would is silence fell upon
the sable gossipers about the ﬁreside.

They were telling of the olden time, when
two-thirds of the present mansion had been the
home of a French exile, as, they had heard,
and ’twas said he had built the house after his
Own ideas.

“They does say thar are plenty 0’ secret
rooms and hallways in the house,” said the
coachman. ,

“ I know there is a great deal of space taken
up by three-feet thick walls,” added the house-
keeper.

“ Some folks say as ghosts were seen here in
the olden time.”

“If spirits was here once, they is now,” re-
marked another.

And thus it went on, the talkers each mo-
ment adding to their fright, while alone in the
library lay the dead, and alone in the south

. I

 

u

room Vincent Vance tossed sleeplesst about,
the taper on the hearth burning dimly and con-
juring up shadows and phantoms before his
excited vision.

At length tired nature asserted itself and he
dropped off into an uneasy sleep.

How long he slept he knew not; but he was
awakened by some sound in the room.

Perhaps it was from feeling the presence of
another person.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon a white form in
the other part of the large room, just opposite
his bed.

It seemed to come out of the very wall, and
was gazing directly upon him.

Was he dreaming?

No, he could not be, for he had his full senses.

He pinched himself and felt the pain.

Then he coughed and heard the sound.

Yes, he was assuredly awake.

Then this spectral form came nearer and
stood in the full glare of the taper.

There was no mistaking it now; it was a.
woman.

Quietly did Vincent Vance raise himself in
bed and stare, wild-eyed, at the specter.

And as he looked the form took full shape in
his eyes.

First he saw the trailing white dress, just
such a one as he had seen Queens Gray wear
in Spain.

Yes, there was the white lace, and the snowy
muslin clinging to the supple form.

It seemed the very dress that Vincent Vance
had beheld upon Queens Gray when he saw
her dead, as he supposed, in the Haunted Ruin
in Spain.

He would gain courage enough to raise his
eyes to see if the red stain over the heart was
there.

Yes, it was there, and one hand, the right,
was pointing to the red mark soiling the white
dress.

Still more courage he would gain and raise
his eyes to the face.

He did so with an eﬂort.

Yes, it was the face of Qucena. Gray.

And then, as he beheld and recognized, the
form advanced toward him, and from his lips
broke a cry so loud and long that it went
through every part of the house.

With that cry he fell back upon his bed un-
conscious.

Andeup the stairs, along the hall, came hur-
rying feet, and into the room dashed the
frightened servants. \

But with wild yells they started back,
knocking each other down in their haste, as
they beheld the weird form.

It advanced toward them, glided along the
hallway, descended the stairs, and without
unlocking the door went through it, so said the
startled servants, out into the storm.

Had the ghost remained in the mansion every
one of the negroes would have deserted it, and
left their unconscious master and dead mis-
tress to its tender mercies.

But as it went out into the storm, they
remained in the house, and as soon as they
could collect their scattered senses, set to work
to restore their master to consciousness.

This was a hard task to do, but at last the
man rallied, and upon seeing the sable faces
bending over him, he said:

“It was a dream then.” -

“ No, massa, it were no dream,” answered
James solemnly.

“ You saw it too?” he cried eagerly.

“ We seen it.”

“ And it was—”

‘1 A speerit.”

it Yet 7’

“ And a woman, massa.” ‘

“ Who?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“It were the image 0’ our Missy Queens as
kilt herself.”

“ Oh God!”

The cry broke from the lips of Vincent
Vance, as ' though wrung by mortal anguish
from his inmost soul.

“ It were older as a speerit, 'massa, than
when I seen Missy Queens. last, sir, afore she
went ter France, and—”

“ Silence!” ‘

The stern command ended the story James
was beginning to tell of his young mistress
that had been, and rising, Vincent: Vance
hastily dressed himself, threw his cloak around
him and said: - '

‘ “ I will return on board my schooner,
James, but to-morrow will come on shore and
bury my poor wife.”

 

 

l

The Corsair Queen.

19

 

 

“The ghost went out doors, sir.”

Vincent Vance shuddered, but walked out of
the room, and thus left the house wholly in
charge of the frightened servants.

The storm was still unabated in its fury,
but he cared not for that, as there was a
ﬁercer storm raging in his heart and brain.

But Suddenly he started and came to a dead
halt.

And no wonder, for bright, vivid ﬂashes
came from off the shore, and loud bursts of
artillery.

And by their blaze he beheld a small
Schooner gliding out of the basin, having evi-
dently come from the mouth of a small creek,
and upon his vessel were her guns turned.

Half a dozen iron messengers were sent
crashing into the privateer, riding safely at
anchor close in near the landing, and then all
was darkness, as the strange vessel stood on
out to sea.

But in one glance he recognized the schooner.

It was the same that had carried off his
child, his darling Zitelle. _

What could her presence there mean? This
mystery he could not solve by standing there,
and the sight of the schooner aroused him to
busy action, and swiftly he sped to the shore
and hailed loudly for a boat tobe sent for him.

The confusion on board was terriﬁc, for
every shot had struck home, and two men lay

. dead beneath decks, so it was along time be-

fore he could make his voice heard.

But at last he was heard and a boat came.

“What vessel was that, Lieutenant Rose?”
he asked of a young oﬁicer whose services he
had secured in New York.

“God knows, sir; I thought it was the Fly-
ing Dutchman, she came on usso suddenly,”
was the answer.

“ She was lying in the creek across the' basin
yonder, and has put out to sea; get the anchor
up and I will give chase, for, Rose, that is the
same craft that kidnapped my child.”

At once the crew sprung to their posts. the
dead, at the command of the captain, were
tossed overboard, and half an hour after the
Huntress, for the reader has recognized the
vessel doubtless, passed out of the basin into

the storm, the privateer was in chase, 

ing over the storm-lashed waters.

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
rnn reasons Possum.

Danr in the distance, when the privateer
gained an oiling from the harbor of Gray-
lands, the schooner that had poured such an
unexpected ﬁre into her, could be seen.

All the sail that she could carry was set on
the privateer, and the way she bounded over
the waters it was evident to Vincent Vance
that he had not been cheated in his bargain.

Duty called him back to the side of his dead
wife, to place her form in honor in the grave;
but he turned his back on her to hold on in
pursuit of his child, who he felt conﬁdent
was on the schooner ahead. _

The rough waves of the Chesapeake caused
the Huntress to labor severely, and the larger
vessel gained steadin upon her, until at last
Vincent Vance said:

“Mr. Rose, I think we are near enough to
open with our bow guns.”

“We are, Captain Vance; but I believe you
said that was the vessel whose crew kidnapped
your child?” politely answered the lieutenant.

“ I did, sir, and I shall show them no
mercy.”

“But the same ﬂre might kill your little
daughter, sir.” ‘

“My God, yes! I thank you, Rose, for the
suggestion. ,

“No, I will not use my guns, but simply
overhaul him and take him by boarding.”

“ It would be the better plan, sir, and in a
short while it will be dawn and then we can
see what we are doing, and just what caliber
he has.” ,

“ 0h, he‘ll ﬁght, if we have two guns to his
one and treble him in the number of crew,”
and Vincent Vance waited longingly for day
to break. ,

At length Lieutenant Rose said:

“He seems to be running for that point of
land inshore, sir; are there inlets there for him
to hide in?” '

“Yes, a small navy could ﬁnd refuge there:
ha! what means that signal?”

The last remark of the privateer captain
was caused by seeing a light ﬂash on the deck
of the Huntress.

/

 

" There it is again, sir.”

“ And again! What can it mean?”

That question none could answer, and pre-
sently there came a flash and report from a
gun, and a moment after the same signal as
before was repeated.

Dawn was now breaking, and in a short
while the Huntress could be plainly seen in the
morning light.

The gale had gone down, but a stiﬂ breeze
was blowing, and the waves of the Chesapeake
yet ran high, and it was evident the privateer
schooner could overhaul the Huntress within a
couple of hours more, as the rough waters
bothered the smaller craft far more than it did
the larger one.

But, as those on the privateer were begin-
ning to congratulate themselves that they
soon would be able to punish the daring crew
that had ﬁred upon them at their anchorage, a
cry burst from a score of throats, and all eyes
turned landward.

The Huntress, upon leaving the basin, after
running a couple of leagues out into open
water, had squared away directly down the
coast, and held on this course, though gradually
nearing the land.

The point of land, to which Lieutenant Rose
had referred, was not aleague away, just of
the starboard bow, and within a mile of the
Gipsy schooner. ‘ -

And the cry that had come from the crew
of the privateer, was at suddenly discovering
coming out from under shelter of the land, a
number of rakish-looking schooners.

It was the ﬂeet of the Gipsies of the Sea, and
right into their midst the Huntress was head-

mg.

Taken wholly by surprise at sight of such a
ﬂotilla, Vincent Vance did not immediately
give the orderto go about; but seeing the
Huntress suddenly put about, and the ﬂeet all
change their course, as though to attack him,
he quickly gave orders for ﬂight.

On came the ﬂeet, and away ﬂew the
privateer, having shaken out the reefs from
her sails to aid her ﬂight.

But the Gipsy ﬂeet still kept their reefs, and
seeming content with having saved their
queen, and given the privateer a scare, they
soon after squared away and gave up the
chase. ' '

But the sight of this ﬂeet, all alike, except
diﬂering in size, and aiding the very vessel
that had stolen his Zitelle, and upon which he
knew the supposed Horace Gray to be, added
another drop to the cup of misery which Vin-
cent Vance held to his lips.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
m consent QUEEN.

Moms have passed away since the night
the Huntress ﬂed from Graylands harbor, and
escaped by joining‘ﬂie ﬂeet of the Gipsies of
the Sea.

Violet Vance, the ambitious, haughty. mis-
tress of Graylands, was buried by her faithful
servants for mourners, for her husband was
away in his schooner, and the grand old man-
sion was closed up and left in solitude, with
only the butler and housekeeperto have an eye
on it by day, for they would not remain there
at night for a fortune, preferring to take up
their abode with the other slaves in the planta-
tion quarters.

Once or twice the privateer schooner of Vin-
cent Vance had put into the harbor, but al'
ways in the daylight, and then only to remain
a short time.

Then, on each visit, the old servants learned
that their master had no tidings of his lost
child, and yet that he had not given up the
search.

They heard, too, that he had been successful
as a privateersman, having sent several prizes
into Baltimore, and on one occasion fought and
taken an English cruiser.

But the faithful slaves thought that see. life
and battles did not agree well with their master,
as his face had become haggard and his eyes
sunken, and his hair was rapidly turning gray.

On these visits, too, they heard that a pi-
rate schooner had been piaying sad havoc
along the American coast. ‘

Some said her commander was a
naval ofﬁcer who had turned pirate, and others,
who professed to have seen him, represented
him as a. West Indian buccaneer, tall, dark-

 

faced, and with long black hair and ﬁerce

eyes.
Another rumor running riot along the coast
of the Chesapeake, and in fact from Long

 

Island Sound to Cape Fear, was to the effect
that there was a buccaneer ﬂeet aﬂoat, and the
admiral of it was a woman. ,

, She had not marauded the homes of Ameri-
cans, and was said to frequently aid the cruis-
ers of the United States in their combats with
English vessels of war; but the ships of othrr
nationalities, ’twas said, fell a prey to her
ﬂeet.

Always keeping together, the vessels of tLis
Corsair Queen as she was called, were too
strong to be met by any one cruiser, and con-
sequently she was seldom molested by the
English, and never by the Americans, who
knew her to be a secret friend of their. cause.

But the Corsair Queen struck boldly at the
British cruisers, and had sent several in as
prizes, to present to the American Government,
though merchant craft she kept for her own
beneﬁt. '

Who this Corsair Queen really was the reader
may well know, though many were the stories
told regarding her, and her purpose in becom-
ing a. freebooter. .

It was noticed that her little ﬂeet seemed
ever on' the watch, as though searching for
some one vessel; but that vessel eluded the
Gipsies of the Sea week after week and month
after month.

One pleasant afternoon, after the two ser-
vants had looked over the mansion of Gray-
lands, and given it an airing, they discOvered
coming up the coast, yet well of! from the
land, a rakisb-looking brigantine.

Hardlyhad their eyes fallen on this pretty
vessel, gliding along under full sail, driven by
a six-knot breeze, when up the coast, around a
bold wooded headland a couple of leagues dis.
taut, swept a schooner under a full press of
canvas. ‘

At ﬁrst they believed it was their master’s
vessel, but saw that they were mistaken, as the
strange schooner did not carry the stars and
stripes at its peak, but a blood-red ﬂag instead.

‘ ‘ Phillis,dar gwine ter be trouble now,honey,
fer yonder vessel am a inemy,” said James.

“ Which am de inemy, James?” asked the
negro woman. .

“ Waal, you sees that brigantine does carry
that stars and stripes?”

. “Which am de brigantine, James?"

“ Dar, de ﬁrst one we see.”

If  i)

“ Waal yer see t’other vessel don’t?”

“ Don’t what, James?"

“Phillis, you is dumb, honey; don’t carry
ther stars and stripes."

“What do she carry, James?”

“You has me, honey; but it look English;
no, they has hauled down the red ﬂag and up
goes a black one.”

“Oh, Lordy, brack means piratcs, James.”

“ We is brack, Phillis, and'we hain’t pirates.”

“ Dat am so; was], what do it meant” I

“it means dey is buccaneers—see, what did
I tole you?” ‘

A ﬂash and report from the bows of the
hrigantine caused this remark, and a shot was
sent over the schooner.

“Am that pretty play vessel going to ﬁght
that large skunner, James!”

“ It does look so; dat am de brigantine
Rover; you know Massa Cap’n Mort’mer Len-
nox am her cap’n, and he am ther man
ﬁght her, mum, for all them Lennoxes 
ﬁghters! Golly, see der skunner open toe.” 

And as James spoke the schooner luﬂed “it 1
sent a broadside at the brigantine. '

And a most disastrous one it was too, asit
tore across the decks of the brigautine, leaving .
a number of dead and wounded forms to mark
its merciless course.

The brigantine however rallied from the I
shock and again opened on the schooner, at the.
same time heading so as to close with her.

But this the schooner, although evidently
heavier in guns and crew, and by ﬁfty tons
the largest, seemed to wish to avoid, asshe
held straight on her course.

The brigantine had reduced her sail to ﬁght—
ing trim, and yet the schooner had not taken in
a stitch of canvas, which those on the American
vessel could not account for.

As the brigantine drew nearer the schooner
both vessels 0 ned ﬁercely, the brigautine with
a quartering e from her how and pivot guns,
and the schooner with her broadside. '

Both vessels ﬁred well and gave hard knocks
but it was evident that the brigantine was suf-
fering the most from the larger guns of her
1'

0e. ‘
But Captain Lennox was no man to back "

 

 

 

 

out of a ﬁght he had begun, and still held on,
determined to come to close quarters if in his
power.

This, however, the schooner’s commander
seemed determined to prevent, and lumng a
little he sent a terriﬁc broadside into the brigan-
tine, which brought down her foremast and
caused her to breach to.

Having thus crippled his adversary, and
having him at his mercy, the schooner changed
its course and headed straight for the wounded
brigantine, as though to board.

As the schooner neared the brigantine, Cap-
tain Lennox kept his guns, the only two that
could be brought to bear upon her, working
with a will, and his ﬁre was returned from his
toe with such good marksmanship that the
American became more and more of a wreck.

All this time the bind! in front of Graylands
was crowded with the slaves, who had been
summoned by the ﬁring, and most interested
watchers were they of the combat.

But suddenly a yell broke from them of
mingled alarm and surprise.

This was caused by seeing half a score of
vessels dart out of the mouth of the creek, that
emptied into the little bay, and head straight
out toward the combatants.

No one had suspected the presence of a vessel,
let alone ten, within the shelter of the Gray-
lands creek, and it was a surprise to the negroes
almost as great as had been the ghost in the
mansion.

But hardly had they recovered from this
surprise, when they had another, as around
the bold headland came three more vessels, just
like thOSe that had been hidden in the creek.

These three schooners, running under a press
of sail, showed why the ﬁrst vessel had been
unwilling‘to stop and ﬁght the brigantine.

That they were seen from the decks of the
schooner and brigantine was evident, but that
those in the bay had not been discovered was
also certain, as the jutting arm of the harbor
hid them from view.

A few moments more and the schooner would
have boarded the brigantine; but suddenly, out
into full view swept the little ﬂeet, and the
schooner’s commander was taken aback. , .

That he was amazed and alarmed was evi-
dent, as the schooner yawed wildly, as though

.the helmsman had received several different
orders in rapid succession.
,And there was cause for alarm, as the brig-

}, antine had not surrendered, but was keeping up

a hot ﬁre upon the schooner; the three vessels
had the windward of him and were coming
down the coast, while the ﬂeet running out of
the bay put him between three ﬁresand out
of! his escape to open water.

At last, having apparently decided as to his
course, the captain of the schooner put bar
about, and determined to run the dangerous
gantlet to open water.

“ Folkses, dat am de ﬂeet of de Corsair Queen
we has heerd so much 'bout, an’ new dar is
goin’ ter be trouble," said James with a serious

And his words were true.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
on a consam’s DECK.

Tim daring determination of the schooner’s
commander, who had been caught in such a

\ rous position, was at once carried out,

_ he headed for open water, his men at their

and ﬁring at any one of the vessels of the
t ﬂeets sailing to head him 03, while he also
spiwquy sent a shot or two at the crippled
brigautine, as it was the cause of his being in
such a. hazardous locality.

But the two ﬂeets of the Corsair Queen, that
is the three vessels which had rounded the
headland in pursuit of the schooner, and the
nine which had‘come out of the bay of Gray-
‘lauds, were spreading sail, and'making every
effort to head of! the foe, though they were not
ﬁring upon the ﬂying craft.

The brigantine, though crippled, and unable

‘ to join in the pursuit, kept up a ﬁre from her
how guns, and suddenly the schooner’s bow-
sprit was cut away, the jihs ﬂapped wildly in
the air, and under a full pressure of lower and
topssils she would not mind her helm and the
next moment lay broadside to, and at the
mercy of the numerous foes crowding upon
her.

And on those foes came at a slapping pace,
yet silently, as no gun was ﬁred,_though the

 

' schooner kept hers booming, and a crew at

work in a vain endeavor to rig and set a new
bowsprit. .

 

The liCorsair‘ Queen.

Nearer and nearer came the schooners, until
the largest of the ﬂeet, the Huntress, was laid
alongside the schooner in splendid style, just
astwo boat-loads of seamen from the brigan-
tine boarded on the port quarter.

Over the bulwarks sprung the Corsair Queen,
her face ﬂushed, a pistol in one hand and a
small sword in the other, and at her back came
her dark~faced Sea Gipsies.

The schooner’s crew withstood the rush, for
they fought with a courage that was grand.

But the Corsair Queen and her Gipaies of the
Sea had boarded the schooner to take it, and
her daring, dark-faced crew, who knew no
other duty than to obey her slightest gesture
and word, glance toward her for a sign of what
to do.

Through all other combats the Corsair Queen
had personally led her Gipsies in the thickest
of the ﬁght; but in this, the one ﬁght she had
longed for, she stood aloof, and pointed with
her sword for the men to break the determined
line that opposed them.

And in that line, in the very front, stood
three persons, upon whom her ﬂashing eyes
were ﬁxed.

Those three were, ﬁrst, the same dashing,
reckless young ofﬁcer who had cut out the
Gipsy schooner Merciless from her anchorage
in the St. Michael’s, and, having found Chan-
dos, the disgraced Gipsy King, and Nunah, the
pretended Queen of Fate, on board, had made
them his lieutenants. ‘

Adrian Aruudel, the young captain, whose
dissipations and wild acts had driven him from

,the association of honorable men, was certain-

lya gallant sailor, as well as a thorough one,
and, in spite of the overwhelming numbers
brought against him, and already upon his

"decks, Was not a man to tamer submit.

In his own heart he knew the struggle was
hopeless; but having that knowledge, he was
determined to meet his fate bravely, and, hav-
ing lost all hope, and seeing the noose of the
hangman before'hiseyes, he longed to be shot
down, to die fearlessly upon his own deck, even
though under an outlaw ﬂag, than submit and
be run up to the yard-arm as a pirate.

He held the center of the deck, and at his
back were the main body of his crew, all de-
pending upon him as to their course.

Upon the starboard side, and in a line with
him, his large cutless already reddened with
human blood was Chandoe, the Gipsy, the
second one upon whom the eyes of the Corsair
Queen were turned; in fact Queens had hardly
seen the central ﬁgure of Adrian Arundel, other
than to note that he was not a man to submit
without a desperate struggle, for her eyes were
more particularly-upon the one who had ruled
the Gipsies, and she who occupied the port
side of the deck, the third ope who had riveted
the gaze of ,the attacking w.

That one was N unah, un ‘ ted in the face
of danger, pale, but resolute,'a‘nd inspiring the
men behind her by her perfect contempt of
death. . ,

“ Hold! Gipsies of the Sea 1”

The cry of the Corsair Queen caused every
Gipsy to halt and half turn toward her.

" That leader is ,as brave as a lion, spare
him !”

“Ay ay,” went up in a hoarse response from
the Gipsies of the Sea.

“ And those two you know—Chandos and
Nunahl '

“ Let the hand of no Gipsy be raised against
their life.

“They belong to me.”

Another response from the Gipsies of the
Sea found that they well understood the mean-
ing of their Queen, who again shouted, and in
her clear, ringing tones:

“Now, Gipsies of the Sea, take this schooner l”

A yell from the wild crew, far wilder than
the pirates they fought, and they moved for-
ward with irresistible rush.

And bravely were they met, with pistols
ﬂashing in their faces, a stern stubborn front,
and a wall of steel cutlasses.

Down went many a Gipsy before that de-
termined wall of outlaw humanity; but on
they pressed, and by mere force of numbers
they drove the pirates back.

Like a king of battle fought Chandos, and
oiteu did he sweep a space around him.

Like a tigress fought Nunah, until before her
her foes shrunk back.

And Adrian Arundel, calm, reckless and
deadly he met his enemies, and one by one they
fell before him; but others rose in the places of

the' slain and rounded, and well he knew it ‘

 

was but a question of time, and a short time at
that.

At length there came a wild about in the
rear of the pirates.

, It was the regular cheer or huzzah of man-
of-war's men, and over the bullwerks and taff-
rail came a score of American tars.

And at their head was Captain Mortimer
Lennox, the handsome young commander of
the crippled brigantine, who, fearing the Grip-
sies, from the determined stand of the pirates,
might be beaten back, had decided to board
and join in the melee.

Taken in the rear, already suffering fear-
fully, the pirates of the schooner knew that
resistance was wholly useless, and turned to-
ward their young captain. '

But he had made up his mind to die right
there, and shouted: ,

“ Cut them down! die here, lads, for no
mercy will be shown you.”

A faint cheer answered him, and still his
crew struggled on.

But presently Mortimer Lennox sprung for-
ward, confronted the young chief, and ﬁred
upon him. '

With a groan the pirate leader, Adrian
Arundel, sunk to the deck, and then loud and
earnest went up the cries of his crew for quar-
ter.

Yet two stood there with folded arms, calm
and reckless, who would not cry ' for mercy,
and beholding them the Corsair Queen cried in
ringing tones: ' I

“ On your lives, harm not those two!”

“No, you will reserve us for a fate more
suited to your ideas of cruelty,” was the an-
swer of one. ‘

“Yes, Nunah, traitress that you are, and
thou, Chandos, disgraced Gipsy, I will reserve
you fora fate you deserve,” said the Corsair
Queen, advancing toward them, her sword and
pistol in hand, to suddenly start back as a cry
at her feet caused her to bend her eyes down-
ward.

And then it was her time to start back, for
it was the schooner’s captain, and he cried in
ringing tones,as he raised himself upon one arm:

“ Queens Gray, you are not dead then?”

"Who calls Queena Gray?” asked the
woman, trembling violently.

“I do, Adrian Arundel, your friend of the
long ago.

“No, no, do not say you are not Queens
Gray, for you cannot deceive me.”

"She is Queena Gray, an American, not a
Gipsy.”

The words were deep and stem, and were ut-
tered by Chandos the Gipsy King.

But unheeding them the woman said:

“ Yes, I am Queens, and you are my old boy
lover,Adrian Arundel, but now you are Adrian
the Pirate. ”

“ Ay, I am Adrian the Pirate, Queens
Gray, but believing you dead made me what I
am," he hissed forth.

“ Be you what you may I utter no word of
censure, Adrian,” she said softly, and then
turning to some of her Gipsy crew, she said:

“Bear that man on_board my schooner, and
see that he does not die.” .

“And, VEstBl, put that traitor and traitress
in irons on board the Huntress,” ‘and she
pointed to the Gipsy King and Nunah, aho
smiled and uttered no word, submitting quietly
to their fate.

“Pardon me, lady, but I again have to thank
youfor a service rendered,” and Captain Mor-
timer Lennox stepped forward and confronted
the Gipsy Queen. , ’ .

“I am ever glad'to serve my country, Cap-
tain Lennox, for. as you doubtless heard just
now, I am an American,” she answered in a
low tone, as though the remembrance was pain-
ful to her. I

“The Government shall hear of your ex-
ploit, in capturing the famous Pirate Adrian,
and in saving the brigantine a second time.”

“ Captain Lennox, I claim as my reward for
my services, Adrian the Pirate, and the two
prisoners I had put in irons; the vessel and

other prisoners are yours, and I pledge you. '

Whether the pirate chief lives or dies, he'll
never sail under an ou».1aw ﬂag again.”

“ I think I shall have to report him as dead,
or elseI will get into trouble for giving him
up,” said the ofﬁcer with a smile.

“Report him dead then, for what else can
you do, as I will not give him up, and you see
I am in the majority, sir,” and a bright smile
ﬂashed over the face of the Corsair Queen.

"’ True, I am powerless, and I might as well

 

;
i
i

 

l
i
l
x

 

' worked the two vessels into the bay of Gray—

 

 

 

make the best of it and say no more, other than
to thank you for the vessel and prisoners."

“ Yes, the vessel 1 give you, as it was stolen
from my ﬂeet; the prisoners you know best
what to do with.

“ Yonder lies a‘ pleasant and safe bay, and I
advise you to tow the schooner and brigantine
in there for repairs; if you need other aid
command me."

He gazed with increasing admiration upon
the beautiful woman, and thanking her, bade
her farewell and turned away, a deep pain at
his heart that she was not other than she was,
that he might lay his heart and hand at her
feet.

Going on board the Huntress the Corsair
Queen gave the order to her crew to cast off the
grapnols, signaled her ﬂeet to follow, and sped
away down the Chesapeake, while the brigan-
tine’s crew having secured the pirate prisoners,

lands for repairs, a circumstance that sent the
negroes ﬂying from the bluff in terror of “ dem
everlastin’ bloody coarse-hairs.”

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
GIPsY JUSTICE.

STRAIGHT across the bay sailed the Gipsy
ﬂeet, and before the dawn of the day following
the capture of Adrian, the Pirate, the anchors
were let fall in the St. Michael’s.

To those accustomed as were the Gipsies to
pitching their tents, it was short work to make
an encampment, and then the tribe of men,
women and children devoted themselves to
what work or pleasure they cared for, yet
all seemed to feel that the night would bring
some dire scene that all must witness.

As for the Gipsy Queen she was still on board
the Euntress, and in the cabin lay the wounded
pirate chief.

Though severely wounded, the doctress of
the Gipsies, a woman skilled in wounds and
medicine, said it was not fatal, and the tid-
ings seemed to give joy to Queena, who sat by
the buccaneer, nursing him devotedly.

Not allowed to talk himself he listened to
the Gipsy Queen, as she told of their past
when they were children together, and of their
hot meeting at the convent in Paris, when he
ha i called on her, his vessel having put into
Hsvre for a few days.

“ Adrian,” she said, in her soft, low tones.

“ How strange that we should meet thus.”

“ Strange indeed, Queena.

" Do you remember in that olden time, when
we were little more than children, how you
held me in bonds I could not break, and would
not if I could, and now I am again in bondage,
for I am your prisoner.”

" You are no prisoner of mine, Adrian, for'
you are free as soon as your wound will per-
mit you to go.

“ But I feel, for the sake of that olden time,
you will not again be what you have been of
late.

“Adrian, I have often thought of those by-
gone days. , g

“ In my saddest hours they have come back
to me, and I have wondered and wondered
what I would have been had fate not dealt so
unkindly with me.

“The old ,home where I was born, and
where I lived so happily as a girl.

“You remember reverses caused my father
to lose it, and then good fortune came to him
again and he bought it back.

“It was called haunted, and people feared it
as it was before my father enlarged it and
made it what it now is.

“ But I never stood in awe of the dear old
place, and. the explorations we made then as
children, have well served me since: yes, well
indeed, for I have struck terror to an evil heart
by what I then found out.”

“ But, Queens, where have you been all these
long years i”

“ Abroad.”

“ I know that, but where?”

“ My father placed me at a convent in
Paris, and there I remained.” .

,“Of that I know, for it was there I visited

on.
y “But after that, after you left the convent,
Queen?” persisted the pirate captain.

“Ah me! I went on the continent with
some friends, and was to‘ return home soon
again; but alas! then it was that adversity
overtook me, and to one man, he who dragggd
poor Lou Wallace down to her grave, I owe it
that I am what I am.

“I knew that he wanted my money, and I

 

The Corsair Queen.

 

did all in my power to fascinate him, to win
his love, that I might make him suffer, for I
was revengeful when I thought of poor Lou.

“At last I refused him, and bitterly did I' do
it, and believed we had parted forever.

“ But no; his nature was revengeful too,
and he determined to wreak a fearful ven-
geance upon me.

“And shall I tell you what he did?”

“ Yes, Queena.”

“ He made me what I am, Adrian.”

“And what are you, Queena‘l” he asked, in
a low, earnest tone.

“I am the Gipsy Queen, Mistress of the
Chandos tribe of the Roving Race.”

“And called the Corsair Queen?”

“Yes, by the British.”

“ And the Americans?”

“No; they know me as their friend; for am
I not an American?

‘f Have I forgotten my dear, native land
in all my wanderings?

“No, no; I am still an American, Adrian.”

“And a Gipsy Queen?” be said, more and
more' anxious to solve the mystery.

“ Yes; a Gipsy Queen, and made so by the
man I told you I was revenged upon in the past.

“ But, oh! has he not repaid that little debt
of revenge ten-fold?

“ And now it is again my time to strike; and
strike Ihave, strike I do, and strike I shall
to the bitter end. :‘

“ You ask me how it is that I, an American
girl, educated, reﬁned, inheriting a large for-
tune, am the queen of a Gipsy tribe.

“I will tell you, and I will show you,
Adrian Arundel, that I have been their queen
in everything; and their king, whom I cap-
tured on your vessel, which you took from
me, shall suffer as I desire for his treachery.

“ I have made the tribe Gipsies of the Sea,
instead of forest children, and, as I have, with
my fleet, served America, I am content to
have suﬂered.

“But let me tell you how it is I am what I
am, and then will I hear, Adrian, why you
have forgotten honor and kindred, and become
a lawless rover of the seas.”

In her calm, pleasant way, Queena then
told the story of the past, leaving out not one
atom of its bitterness, and not by one word
offering extenuation for herself.

In dismay at ﬁrst, and then with intensest
interest, Adrian Arundel listened to all. ‘

Then he said, warmly:

“Queens, no one can blame you, for you
certainly have been the football of fate.

“ I assuredly do not, and to-day I tell you
what, as a boy I told you, that you are the
one being I could love.

Adrian Arundel had always loved Queens.
Gray, and he had lived with the hope of 'one
day making her his bride.

And though there had been no love affair
between them, she had felt that he was the
ﬁle being whom she cared to be pledged to for
l e.

But the tidings that she had committed
suicide in Spain, and on account of her love
for a man who cared not for her, for so the
story had gone, had nearly broken Adrian
Arundel’s heart. '

To drown his sorrows he had taken to dissi-
pation, and drink had led him to do things
that brought upon him censure from all, until
at last he went to gambling away his inheri-
tance, and in the end brought disgrace upon
himself.

What he eventually became the reader
knows: but meeting Queens. once more, his
good resolves came back, and he had whis-
pered:

“It was kind of you, Queena, not to give me
up to be hanged, and if I recover from this
wound I'will never do wrong again.”

“ You will recover, Adrian, for I feel that
you will, and if you do, I will give you this
very vessel, and get you letters of marque that
you can go into an honorable service," was
her answer.

“ And you 3”

“ Wait.”

“Tell me, Queens.” *‘

“ I say wait,” and she arose and left him for
already were the evening shadows falling.

CHAPTER XL.
m DOOM.
Tn Gipsy camp, in spite of its well-trained

denizens to be unmoved under scenes most.

trying, was evidently eicitod as to what the
night would bring forth.

 

They knew that now no mercy would be-
shown their former king, and they felt that
Nunah would receive none.

Chandos, in spite of his ever stern mien, had
been a favorite with them in the past; but
they despised him for such a weakness in love,
when in all else he had ever been so strong.

Their queen they both feared and loved, and
they all felt their bettered condition since s'm
had been in power.

Her they did not condemn for having ctm 6
into their midst as the bride of their king, and
they felt, that though not a Gipsy by bl .0d
and birth, she certainly looked like a thorough
child of the Roving Race. and had proven her-
self one of them, ever devoted to their best in-
terests and ever self-sacrificing.

As to Nunah they felt contempt for her.

They believed that she had been afraid to
die, when at the Haunted Ruin, and had
feigned death.

They believed that she had urged her grand-
mother, the Fate Queen, to take her from the
grave after her burial; and more, they even
hinted that she had taken the life of the old
sorceress and fortune - teller, to the better
play her p; .r'.

Having deceived them with a pretended
knowledge of sorcery and star-reading, they
wished her to die, and not one atom of pity
was felt for her.

Thus, as night again approached, they were,
from children to old men, all excited over
what must transpire in their midst, and eagerly
stood apart, waiting and watching for the
assembling of the Death Judges, which they
knew had been summoned.

With darkness there was seen a man clothed
in deep black, wearing a mask and carrying a
torch, enter the encampmentand take hustund
near the tent of the Glpsy Queen. -

Then another came, and another, until the
thirteen Death Judges had assembled.

A few minutes after the Gipcy Queen on...
forward and said, simply:

“Death Judges, you condemned to death».
Chandos, once your king, and Nunah, a. Gipsy
girl; before they could suﬂur the penalty of
their crimes they escaped, through the aid of
allies, the punishment that was to be indicted,
and leagued themselves with pirates.

. “ That pirate chief begs for their lives, lay-
ing they have served with courage as his aﬁ-

cers; but Gipsy justice knows no mercy, and I I 
‘ ask you what shall be their dooml" ,

“ Death 1”
The word broke in chorus from their lips. ‘
“ Bring then the prisoners!”

Two of the Death Judges went after Chan- "I 

dos and Nunah, and in a few moments they
faced their Judges, calm and unmoved.
Chandos the king stood upright, his irons
seemingly scorned by him, for his arms were
folded upon his broad breast, leaving the heavy
chains to fall upon either side of him. ‘
As the red light of the torches fell upon him,
it was seen that his face was utterly motion-
less, and not a quiver of his frame denoted
that death held the slightest terror for him.
As for Nunah she was equally unmoved.
Once ‘before, without fear, the reader has
seen her face what she believed death, and

carry the fatal cup to her lips to save the man ‘ a

she loved.

Now, with that man by her side, with him
to die with her, it seemed that joy, rather than
fear or sorrow, rested upon her beautiful, face.

They truly loved, and for a short time, ale
though living upon an outlaw vessel, they had
been happy in their loves.

But the dream had been rudely broken, the
cup of happiness dashed from their lip- and in
its stead was the cup of death.

But, together, they would sip it: contents
as though it were nectar, and ﬁnd no bitter-
ness in the '

So Chanda: felt, and lo did Nunah feel.

Again facing them the Corsair Queen said:

“Death Judges, I had intended to pass sen;
tence upon these two traitors, but now will not
do so, but leave it to you.

“What shall be their fate!”

A moment the thirteen Death Judges com-
muncd together-in a low tone,and than in,
chm'us they laid: ‘

u M”

“ Who shall give it?”

“ They shall drink it from the Cup'of Hope."

“Enough! hringtho-e cups.” _ , 1‘

The order was obeyed, one of the Gipuy
Judges going after them. , .-

Soon he returned, bringing the gold undil- . i.

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ver goblet in which King Chandos had pledged
some time before.

“ Are they prepared?” asked the queen.

The Judges who held them nodded assent.

“ Give them to me. "

She took them in her hands, and advanced
toward the prisoners, and said:

“ In these cups are your doom; have you
aught to say?”

N unah smiled proudly yet made no reply,
and Chandos said in a low tone:

“I would see my child, my little Zitelle.”

“ Yes,” and Queena’s voice trembled slight-
] .‘I No I!!!

All started, for the deep negative came from
the Death Judges.

Queens looked toward them for explana-
tion.

“A king accused of crime can hold no
speech with a child.” said one.

“ Enough, I am content; give me the cup, ”
said Chandos, sternly. ,

The Gipsy Queen advanced and handed a
cup to each, the gold one to Chandos, the sil-
ver goblet to Nunah.

“Drink!”

They took the goblets, glanced unﬂinchineg
into the dark liquid that they knew was deadly
poison, and then turned toward each other.

One long look that spoke volumes they took
into each other’s eyes, and then slowly raised
the goblets to their lips.

Quaﬁng the contents, they dashed them
aside, and stood like statues. ,

A moment only they stood thus, and then
Nunah reeled and fell heavily to the ground,

Chandos glanced down upon her with a. grim
smile, then turned his gaze upon the Judges,
one by one. ,

Then he lookednpon the Gipsy Queen, who
stood but a few. paces from him, and suddenly
thrusting his hand into his bosom, he drew
forth a dagger and sprung upon her.

No, not upon her, for death caught him on
the way, and he fell at her feet a corpse, bury-
ing the blade in the ground to the hilt. _

, The'Corsair Queen had not moved, and had
not the poison taken effect as it did, she would
:3:er have died by the hand of the Gipsy

ng.
“ Is he dead?” she asked, calmly.
'. “Yes,” answered a Judge, whoplaced ,his

1 hand upon the heart of the king.

“ Is she dead?”

[4 Yes.” ' '

“ Let them have burial.”

So saying, the Corsair Queen turned away
and. eaten! her tent, while the Death Judges
raised the bodies of the dead in theirarms and
moved slowly toward the shore.

Into a boat they got and pulled out upon the
dark waters, into while, loaded with chains,
Chandos and Nunah found graves.

 

CHAPTER XLI.
ar LAST.

“Ross, wears lost! behold!"

The speaker was Captain Vincent Vance,
and he stood upon the deck of his swift-sailing
privateer, several months after the scenes re-
lated in the last chapter.

It was of! the mouth of the Cape Fear,
several leagues seaward, and he was returning

‘to the Chesapeake after a most successful

cruise, for ,he had captured several merchant-
men that proved valuable prizes.

After nightfall a calm had fallen upon the
sea, followed by a dense fog, and with the
break of day a breeze had sprung up, the soils
were set, and the schooner was just put on her
course northward, when the fog lifted from

‘ the face of the deep, and the eyes of the Cap-
‘tain had f len upon a sight that startled him,

and [iron t forth the Words:

“ Rose, we are lost! behold!" I

And no wonder that he was alarmed, and
every  on ‘board gave himself up as lost,
when‘their'eyes'fell upon a dozen vessels with-
in hailing distance. _ ,

Ahead, uponeither quarter, and astern they

,were, moving Quietly along under easy sail,

and wholly surrounding the privateer. . 
‘come‘, and now I tell you, up to the yard-arm

From a safe anchorage, inshore they had
seen the privateer becalméd at night, recog-
nized her, and when the fog came up, put
their boatsahead with mulﬂed'oars and pulled
out and surrounded her! . ,

All knew as well as their captain that they.
were the Gipsies of the Sea. , '
', And all knew there was no hOpe.

 

“ Ho! the schooner ahoy!”

The hail came in trumpet tones across the
water from the Huntress which was not two
cable lengths away.

“Ay ay, what is it?” asked Lieutenant
Rose, for Vincent Vance made no effort to
answer.

“ Do you haul down your ﬂag, or shall we
board you?” .

Lieutenant Rose looked to his captain for
reply.

“There is no hope: strike your colors,” he
said moodily. ‘

“We strike our ﬂag,” was the sullen an-
swer.

“ Bid your commander come on board.”

With a trembling heart Vincent Vance
obeyed, and the boat soon ran alongside of
the Huntress.

Vestal met him at the gangway and said
quietly:

“Our captain would see you, sir, in the
cabin.”

Silently VincentIVance followed the Gipsy
oﬂicer and was ushered into the cabin, the
companionway being closed behind him.

Seated at a table he beheld the slender form
of the one whom he believed to be Horace
Gray. ' V

“ What! you the commander of this craft l”
he gasped. I

“ Yes, and more, Vincent Vance, I am com-
mander of the ﬂeet; be seated, for your trem-
bling limbs will not hold you when you hear
what I'have to say.” '

Silently the man sunk into a chair, leant his
arms upon the table and gazed into the face
before him. ’

And the Gipsy Queen, looked upon his hag-
gard countenance, marked with lines of sor-
row, and his hair, now almost white, and
smiled triumphantly.

“Vincent Vance, my sister was revenged
upon you for wronging a friend of hers, and
she discovered you to make you suffer.

“ To revenge yourself on her what did you
do?" '

“Nothing,” the man gasped.

“You lie; you hired a Gipsy King to put
her to death; but he took your money, gave
hera drug that placed her in the semblance
of death, told you he had killed her and you
left satisﬁed, 'while he married the maiden up-
on one-condition from her. .

“That condition was that she’should have
revenge upon you. ' '

“You know that Violet Gray inherited
Queena Gray’s fortune, and you married her
to get possession of it.

“Now that oath which Queena Gray took
to be revenged upon you she has kept.”

“Kept?”

“Yes, for she pretended to be her dead
brother. Horace Gray—”

“Great God! you are Queens. Gray,” he
cried, trying to spring to his feet.

But his leg proved powerless to hear his
weight and he sunk back in the chair.

“Yes, I am Queens Gray, Vincent Vance.”

“My child! my child! what of my poor
Zitelle 2!” he groaned.

“Oh, I have her: I did intonl to wreck her
young life, but she learned to love me and I
spared her.

“She is now at Graylands, under the care
of her old nurse, and I wﬂl write the agent, and
guardian of your late wife, to see to her com-
fort and happiness, telling him you were
killed in a sea combat, in which your vessel
was sunk.” ‘ '

“Mercy, Queens!"

“Mercy! why‘ I am merciless toward you,
and you made we what I am.

“No, I have no mercy, for I know you as
you are, as I knew your wife before you, and
you are to die, I tell you frankly.”

“ I am not ﬁt to die.”

' “ Do you think you are worthy to live?"

“ 0h let me live, Queens Gray.” ‘

“I am not Queens Gray, but the Queen of
the Chandos Gipsies, the Corsair Queen, as the
English call me, and I have no mercy in my
heart. ' i '
“ I. have longed for thh moment and it has

of yOur ' own
hour.”

“ Mercy !” V

.“I fell you'I am merciless; now go with me
on board of your vessol.” ‘

She left the cabin, and a Gipsy guard, at her

vessel you hang 'within the

' command seized the trembling wretch, and

 

they entered a boat and were rowed to the
privateer schooner.

“Signal to the Surf and bid Captain Arun-
del come on board,” she said to Vestal who
had accompanied her.

All on the schooner gazed in amazement at
the woman, for she had resumed her Gipsy
garb, and calling the crew aft she said in her
clear, terse way:

“ Lads, I do not intend to take you prison-
ers, only to give you a new commander, and
one who will be to you all that you wish.

“Here he is,” and she motioned to Adrian
Arundel, who stepped forward and saluted the
‘crew in a way that caused them to feel he was
every inch a sailor.

“ Those,” continued the Corsair Queen, “ who
do not wish to serve under this ofﬁcer, can be
put ashore, for he commands this vessel, and as
before she will be an American privateer, and
render her government far better service than
under Vincent Vance and bring to you far
more prize money.

“ As for this man, your late captain, I shall
hang him to the yard-arm, for years ago he
wronged a lovely girl who took her own life,
and afterward paid a man to kill me; and
more, I saw him kill a fellow villain who was
serving him, and know him to be as black
hearted a wretch as lives.

“ Vestal, run that man up to the schooner’s
yard- arm. _

“Vincent Vance, at last I have my full re-
venge on you."

In vain the pleadings and struggling of the
poor wretch, he was seized, bound and hoisted to
the yard-arm, the rope cutting of! his shrieks
for mercy.

In deadly silence all stood, until at last, at a
signal from the Corsair Queen, the rope was
cut, and the body of VincentrVance dropped
with a heavy plunge into the sea and sunk
from sight forever. ‘ V

“Adrian, this vessel is your on now, and I
trust you to redeem the name you have lost.

“ When you have done so, seek at the
Haunted Ruin, near San Pablo, in Spain, the
Gipsy Queen.” ' “ ’

She turned away without another word, en-
tered her boat and rowed away, just as Adrian

'Arundel in ringing, seamanlike tones bade his

crew spring to work and get the schooner under
sail. '

Half an hour after the ﬂeet of the Gipsies of
the Sea was heading northward along the coast,
while the privateer schooner had laid her course
south, bound on a cruise under her new com-
mander, so strangely placed over her to con-
trol her destinies.

CHAPTER XLIL
CONCLUSION.

Tan war of 1812 closed with honor to
America, and fame to many a gallant omcer of
the United States navy.

And there was another class, of war-vessel
that won a fame which will ever cause a halo

of romance , hang about them, and make them
a theme for e author for ages and ages to
come.

Those vessels were the American privateers
the Letters of Marque, which, commanded by
bold men and thorough seamen, did much _to
add lanrels to our navy during the long and
hard-fought war.

' Some of them, under their dashing com
manders, so distinguished themselves that their
deeds gained pardons for their oﬂicers for
crimes done in the past against the Govern—
ment, for all of the priVateersmen were by no
means men of honor, and a few were men who
had once been in their country’s service, and
been dismissed therefrom.

And among the latter was Captain Adrian
Arundel, whose gallant services on his schooner
gained for him a pardon for his past sins, and
reinstatement in the navy. ‘

But, having a fortune from his prizes, he re-
fused this honor, and set sail for Spain, where,
beneath the shadovis of the Haunted Ruin, he
found, as in the days of Chandos, the Gipsy
encampment. ‘ '

After many wanderings, fromlland to land,
upon which "they ,had' pitched their tents,
and over the blue waters of many seas, whore
their ﬂeet had won admiration and caused
dread, they at last, toward the close of the
year 1815, set sail for Spain. ‘

Then, in one orthe seaports, they suddenly
sold their vessels, seemingly content to wander
once more asin the olden time. and witha

 

 

 

.Lﬁaw 

3"“:

Dime deiel’ Iattererter.

The Corsair Queen.

23

 

 

train of wagons, set oi! from the coast, to re-
turn to their old camping-place.

And here it was that Captain Adrian
Arundel sought them.

And queen of the tribe he found was the
one-time beautiful Queena Gray. ' ' "

Still beautiful she was, and a warm gusting

she gave him, which caused him to oﬂer her'

his hand in marriage, for his heart she had al-
ways had. - .

Need I say that it was accepted?

No, for I think the reader will surmise as
much, and so dearly did the tribe love their
queen that they gave their consent for her to
wed one of a strange race, and acknowledged
the American as Adrian, their king.

Little Zitelle, the Gipsy, grew to beautiful
womanhood, but as her mother had had her
educated, she cared not for the wild life of the
Roving Race, and ran off and married a Span-
ish noble, and was not again heard from, so
that the son of Queens. and Adrian became
ruler of the tribe after the death of his pa-
rents. .

And Zitelle Vance also grew to beautiful wo-
manhood, little knowing the story of her
parents’ lives; and, refusing many an offer
from young men, at last married Commodore
Mortimer Lennox, and never repented that she
was brave enough to become “an old man’s
darling.”

Thus mum, kind reader, the characters of
my romance of THE CORSAIR QUEEN, 01‘, Tim
GiPsms or TEE SEA. v . -

THE END.

 

    

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The Firesﬂe Library.

1 Wm SEE His WIFE? 8% Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.
2 FLEEING FROM Lovu. Harriet Irving.

9 DID HI LOVE HER? B le‘y T. Campbell.

4 A STRANGE WouAn. y Rett inw00d.
6 Two G‘lRLs' Lives. By Mrs. Mary Reed Croweii.
9 TEE WAR or HEART-s. B Corinne‘ .
11 TEE FALsE WIDow. By . Jennie D. Burton.
1243 Lou son LOVE. By Miss M. E. Braddon.
14-15 TOILERE or Tn SEA. By Victor-H .

16 THE QUADnooN. By Catharine A. Wa eld.
17-18 UNCLE Sl'LAS. By J. S. La Farm.

1990 DEAD-SEA FRUIT. By Miss M. E. Braddon.
21-28 LITTLE KATE KIIIBY. By F. W. Robinson.
23 Sowma TEE Winn. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.
24-25 Hume on PREV. By Mrs. M. E. Braddon.
26 TEAT BOY or NORCO'PP'S. By Charles Lever. .
27-28 CEARLO'rrE’s INEERITANOE. By Mia Braddon.
29 A GinL‘s HEART. B Rett Winwood.
30-31 RED As A Rosa is an. B Rhoda Broughton.
2 THE LILY or ST. EnNE. By . Crow.
33 STRANGE“ WED. B Mrs. JennyIDavis Burton.
34 TEE GIPSY BRIDE. 13' M. E. 0. alen.
35 ANNIE TEMPLE. By 'ev. J. H. In am.
36 WrrEmrT MERCY. By Bartley T. pbell.
37 BLACK Ens AND BLUE. By (.orinne Cushman.

iii BRAVE BAnnARA. By Corinne Cushman.

89 A DANGEnovs WOMAN. By Margaret Blount.

40 OUIDA’s LOVE. B Henrietta E. De Condo

41 LosT: A WIFE. y Corinne Cushman.
42 WINNING WAYS. By Ma aret Blount.

43 A WOMAN's HEART. By rs. M. V. Victor. .

44 TEE DEAD LETTER. By Seeley ester.

45 LORD LisLE‘s DAUGETER. By C. . Braeme.

46 A WoMAR‘s HAND. By Author of “ Dead Letter."
47 ViAi.s or WRATE. By Mrs. Magi-hyde Croweli.
48 A WILD GIRL. By Corinne On an.
49 TEE MADDEET MARRIAGE EVER WAs. By Burton.
50 Low: iN A MAEE. By Mrs. E. F. Eliot.
51 CATEOLINA; or, WALLED Ur ALIVE. By Robinson.
52 A RoIIANCE or A POOR YOUNG GIRL. B Mrs. Eliot.
53 TEE LOCKED HEART. By Corinne Cue man.

54 TEE PRIDE or TEE Dams. Margaret Blount.
55 A STRANGE GIRL. By Albert . Aiken.

56 TEE PRETTY PURITAN. B Parson's Daughter.

57 DE) SEE SIN? By Mrs. cry Reed Crowell. .

58 DOUBLY Divoncan. Bﬁers. Jennie Davis Burton.

. m man. .Wm. M. Turner

68 Wm: on WiDow. By Rett

64 Tim CREOLE Co P

85 PnnsUED T0 TEE LTAR.‘ Due

66 'I‘Es'i‘anumllnm.  annieDa . .

67 ELEGANT EGRERT.‘ 'By P p S. War-De. '

98 LADEBELEN’s Vow. By Mrs. E.- F. Ellet.‘

69 BowIE. TEE KNIGET or CEIVALRE. Bari; S.Warne.

70 Dan-more Rum. By Mary Reed well.

71 TEE PARsoR’s DAUGETER. By APaI-son'a Daughter
. Corinne Unshman.

7s WAs SEE A Win! Byltett lnwood.

74 ADRIA, TEE ADOPrED. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton.
75 PREm AND Pnorm.‘ 'By Corinne Cusbman.

78 TEE Brm‘FEUD‘. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton.

77 A Wom's WORK; By Mrs. E. F. Billet.

78 TEE BLACK RIDDLE. By. Corinne Cuahman.

79 Conn. AND Rear. By‘ Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton.
80 DivoacED BUT Nor Diwali). A Parson’s Daughter.
81 ALEosT MARRIED. By AParson’s Daughter.

82 Two FAIR Wom. By Win. Mason Turner, M.D.
89TH INEERITANCE or HATE. By Mrs. Burton.

84 PEARL or PEAius. By A. P. Morris, Jr.

85 Fon Honon‘s SAEE.‘ By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.
88 LANOE UanEAR'r‘s L'ovns. By Annie Thomas.
81 5.4va MARRIED. Bythe author of {‘Caste.“ ’
88 Fromm or TEE STREET. Bylngra‘nam
89 TEREE TIRES DEAD. By Miss M. E. Braddon.

90 FOR A Wom’s sin. By Watts Phillips.

91 “ ‘HE Coma Nor.‘SEE SAID." Annie Thomas.
92 TEE NEW MAGDAIEN. By Wilkie Collins.

93 AN OPEN VERDICT. By Min M. E. Breddon.

94 SWORD AND Gows'. By George A. Lawrence.

95 A BEGGAR on HossEEACE. ByJames Payn.

96 HER FACE WAs HER FORTUNE. F. W. Robinson.
9/.” JANE Eran. By Charlotte Bronte.

98 WRECEED n: PORT. By Edmund Yates.

99 TEE COLLEEI BAWN. By Gerald Grifﬁn.

100 AR Anemone GIRL. By A Celebrated Actress.
10:1 Fem. PLAY. By Chas. Reade and Dion Boucicault.
108 CARITA. By Mrs. Oliphant.

103 A Wow. HATER. By Charles Beads.

04 AFTER DARE. By Wilkie Collins.

105 HARD Trims. By Charles Dickens.

106 Gnir. By B. L. Farjeon. . I

107 FENTON's QCEsT. By M. E. Braddon.

108 TEREE FEATEEBS. By William Black.

109 JOEN HALiEAx. GEETLEEAR. By'Mis's Mulock.
110 MURPHY'S MASTER. . By James Payn. ‘
111'HEArs or MONEY. By W. E. Morris.
1121:: MORTAL PERIL. By MaryReed Crowell.
113 Tim, DEAD SEcRET. ,By Wilkie 00111115.

114 Owens AND SERaEiNE. By Charles Beads.
115 anis DWAL. By W. A. Thackeray.

116 Too Soon. ByKatba-ineﬁ. MacQuoid.

117 Tim Two Dunne.‘ By. WaldeOoilins.
118 Ar His Mm. . ByCorlnneOnshman. '
119 CECiL's Tam. By James Payn.

a
E
E
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‘ A new issue-every'wealc.‘
For sale by all newsdeale rice ten cents.
sent, postage paid, on receiptrgi Fwelve cents. or
BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William street, N. Y.

 

 

 

BEADLE’S

 

 

 

32 La rge Th roe-(1qu mn Pages.

1. A Hard Crowd. By P. S. Werne.

2. The Dare-Devil; OR, THE WINGEI)
WITCH or TEE SEA. By COL Prentiss Ingraham.

3. Kit Carson, Jr., THE CRACK SHOT 01“
m Wm. B Buckskin Sam.

14. The idnapper.

5. The Pire-Piends; OB, HERCULES, THE
HUNCEEACE. By A. P. Morris.

6. Wildcat Bob, THE Boss BRUISER ;
03, Till BORDER BnoonnOUan. B Ed. L. Wheeler.

7. Death-Notch, TEE STEOYEE; OE,
TEE SPIRIT LAKE AVENGEss. By 011 Coomes

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

. y dy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Vidoeqif THE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himse .

1 1. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar—

ryat.

12. TheDeath-Shot; on, TEACImn To

DEATH. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

18. Pathawag; 03,11ch WHIFFLES, THE

OLiim or TEE onTEWEsT. By Robinson.

Thayendane
15, The

HEAD To TEE REsCUE. B
16. The White

17. Nightshade, THE ROEBEE PRINCE

Oi" Howsmw HEATE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit. By Ned Buntline.
19. Red Cedar, TEE PEAImE OUTLAW.

By Gustave Aimnrd.

3?. mm 11:11“ at 33y. ﬁy Aimard.
. r’s ter‘ 0

TE: OUTLAw’s FAT-mpg; Custom. ’ R,
22. Whitolaw; on, NATTIE or TEE LAKE

Bron. Dr. J. H. Robinson.

. RodWal-rior. By Ned Buntlne.
24. Prairie Plover. By G. Alma-d.
25. The Gold-Guide; on. STEEL Ann,

m Bram-Ion. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Track. By F. Johnson.
27. The Spotter-Detective. By Aiken.
28. Three-Fingered Jack, TEE ROAD-
Jose h E. Badger, Jr.
E ARO KING; or,
By Philip 3. Warne.
. By J. E. Badger.
81. The New Yor ‘Sharp ;’ OB, TEE
or Liome By Albert W. Aiken.

82. B'hoys of Yale; on, THE Salmons
Ol'A HAED SET or COLIJGIANS. By John D. Vose.

33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.
34. Mountain Rob. By Aiken.
35. Kentnck. the Sport. By Aiken.
36. Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.
3?. rl. the Hunchback; on, THE

SwonnEAEEEOE-I'EESANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
38. Velvet Hand; on, THE IEON GRIP or

INJUN DICK. By Albert W. Aiken
39. The Russian Spy. By Whittaker.
40. The Longuﬁaired ‘Pards;' on,

TEE Tamas or THE 5. By .105. E. Badger. Jr.
41. Gold Dan; on, THE WEITE SAVAGE

or TEE GEEAT SALT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.
42. California Detective. By Aiken.
43. Dakota Dan. THE RECKLESS RANGEE;

or. Tn-BEE-HUNTEEs‘ ExcrmsIoN. By 011 Coomes.
44. Old Dan Rack . Oll Coomes.
45. Old Bull’s Eye, TEE LIGHTNING

Saar 03‘ Tu PLAINs. By Joseph E. Badger. Jn.
46. Bowie-Knife Ben. By OilCoomes.
47. Paciﬁc Pete, TEE PRINCE or TEE

REVOLVEn. By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom. THE YOUNG OUTLAW
or SILVEELAND. Oil Coomes.

49. The“? Demon. By A. W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit. THE PEAIEIE SPORT;

By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

51. Red Rob, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT.

By 011 Courses.
52. Death Trailer. TEE Cam or
Scoors. 13 Bon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buﬂalo Bill.)~_‘
58. S vu- sun; or, TEE MYSTEEY or
Deaiwoon CITY. By Col. Delle Sara.
54. Alw sonEnnd;or,TEESron'rIVE
Span-r or Tn: oar Hm By Philip SWsI-ne.
55. ThoSeaip Hunters. Mayne Reid.
56. The Indian By Aiken.
57. The Bile-tnmsor, TEE Scowx.

BALI. 11m. Pox-cynsu Olin. :
58. Silver Eli's. By Dr. J.H.Robinson.

ea. By Ned Buntline.
on, EAGLE-

By P. S. Warne. '

 

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

59. The Man From Texas. By Aiken.

60. Wide Awake; or, THE IDIOT OF
THE BLACK HILLS. By Frank Dumont.

81. Ca tain Seawaif. TIIE PRIVATEER.
By Ned Bun line.

62. Loyal Heart. By Gustave Aimard.

63. The W ed Whale. By Aiken.

64. Double- i§ht, the Death Shot.

1‘.

. 'ah. By F. Whittaker.
66. The S arqne. Mayne Reid.
6'7. The Boy Joe . By J. E. Badger.

68. The P htulﬁ r: or KIT
CARSON To TEE R‘EgSICUE. y CRPE?F. C. Aliams.
69. The Irish Captain. By Whittaker.
70. Hydrabad, THE STEANGLEE; or,
ALEmE, THE CHILD or TEE CORD. By Robinson.
71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THE MAN
SHARK OE TEE MISSISSIPPI. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
72. The Phantom Hand. By Aiken.
73. The K t ofthe Red Cross:
or, TEE MAGICIAN or EANADA. Dr. J. H. Robinson.
74. Captain of the Riﬂes. Mayne Reid.
75. Gentleman Geor By Aiken.
76. The Queen’s usketeer; or,
TmsnE, TEE PEINonss PALIIIsT. By George Albany.
77. The Fresh of Frisco. By Aiken.
78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GeLDEN
FEATEEE TEEBnCCANEEE‘s DAUGHTER. B Grainger.
79. doe Phenix. POLICE SPY. y Aiken.
80. A Man of Nerve. By P. s. Warne.
81. The Human Tiger. By Aiken.
82. Iron Wrist. the Swordmaster.
By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. .
88. Gold Bullet Sport. By Buffalo Bill.
84. Hunted Down. By A. W. Aiken.
85. The Cretan Rover. By Ingraham.
8B. The Big Hunter; or, THE QUEEN
on THE Woons. By the author of “ Silent Hunter.”
87. The Scarlet Captain; or, TEE
PRISONER or TEE TOWER. By 001. Bella Sara.
88. ’ Geor , TEE GIANT OE TEE
Gums; or In: FIVE w BEoTn'Ens. ByBadger.
89. The Pirate Prince. By Ingruham.
90. Wild Will, THE MAD RANCBERO;
or. TEE TERRIBLE TEXAN. B Buckskin San].
91. The Winning ar. By Aiken.
92. Buﬂ'alo Bill. TEE BUCKSKIN KING;
By Major Dangerﬁeld Burr.
93. Ca Dick Talbot. KING on
THE RoAn. y Albert W. Aiken.
94. Freelance. TEE BUOCANEEE; or, The
WAIT or THE WAVE. B Col. Prentiss In sham.
95. Ashort.THE II'AN. By A. . Morris.
96. Double-Death. By F. Whittaker.
97. Bronse Jack, THE CALIFORNIA
THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken.
98. The Rock Rider; or. THE SPIRIT
as THE SIEEEA. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
99. The Giant Riﬂeman; or, WILD
LIFE IN THE LUKBEE REGIONS. B 011 Coomes. I
100. 'lhe French Spy. y A. P. Moms.
101. The Man from New York; or,
RouANCE or A RICE YOUNG WOMAN. By Aiken.
102. The Masked Band; or, THE MAN
WITEOET A NAME. B George L. Aiken.
103. Merle. Mutineer. Ingraham.
104. Montezuma. the Merciless; or,
TEE EAGLE AND TEE sEanN'r. By Col. P. Ingraham.
105. Dan Brown of Denver, TEE
Roch MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
106. Shamus O’Brien, THE BOULD BOY
OE GLINGAL. By Colonel Dells Sara. ‘
107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar;
or, TEE BEOTEEEE or THE RED HAND. By A.W. Aiken.
' 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, TEE
FLowEE or OWL. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
109. Captain By Col. Ingmham.
110. The Ssilent 1 egan. By Herhlert.
111. The In ger aptain; or, an
Surrnn‘s CEIIIE. B‘ylged Bunuiue,
112. Joe Phenix, PRIVATE DETECTTVE;
or, LEAGUE or TEE SKELETON KEYs. By Aiken.
1 *3. The Sea Slipper or, TEE AMA-
mn ransom-Ens. By Pro . J. . Ingreham.
114. The Gentleman ﬁ-om ; or,
TEE GnosT or TEE CANYON. By Philip S. Warne.
115. The Severed Head; or THE
SECRET or CAsTLE COUCY. By Capt. Fred.Whittnker.
116. Black Plume. TEEDEVTL or THE
SEA; or, mSonEnEss or HELL-GATE. Bylngraham.

By Jose h E. Badger,
e Red

Each Number Complete.

 

Price 1 0 ell.

1 1 7. Dashing Dandy, THE Horsmm on
THE HILLS. By Major Dangerﬁeld Burr. '

118. The Bur lar Captain; or, TEE
\FALLEN STAR. By Pro . J. H. Ingraham.

119. Alabama Joe. By J. E. Badger.

120. The Texan Spy. By N. M. Curtis.

121. The Sea Cadet. By Ingraham.

122. Saul Sabberday,TIIE IDIOT SPY;
or, LULIONA, TEE SEMINOLE. By Ned Buntline.

123. Alapaha, the S new; or, TEE
RENEGAnEs OF THE BORDER. By ‘rancis Johnson.

124. Assowaum, the Aven er; or,
TEE DOOM as THE DESTROYERS. By Franc E Johnson.

125. The Blacksmith Outlaw; or.
MERRY ENGLAND. By Harrison Ainsworth.

126. The Demon Duelist; or, Tnn
LEAGUE or STEEL. By Colonel Thos. H. Monstery.

127. Sol Scott. THE MAstD MINEE- or,
DAN BEOWN’s DOUBLE. By Joseph E. Badger. '

128. The Chevalier Corsair; or, THE.
HERITAGE OEHATEED. By the author of “Merle.”

129. Mississippi Mose. By Ed.Willett.

130. Captain Volcano; or, THE MAN
0F TEE REE REVOLVEns. By Albert W. Aiken.

1 3 1 . Buckskin snmJHE TEXAN TRAILER,
or, TEE Mom or TEE BRAVO. By Col. Ingrehsm.

182. None. King of the Tramps; or,
TEE BONANY Gum’s VENGEANCE. By Whittaker.

138. Body. the Rover; or, THE R128-
. now or IRELAND. By William Carleton.

134. Darkie Dan, TEE COLORED DETEO
TIVE; or. TEE MISSISSIPPI MYsTEnY. By Ingraham.

135. The Bush RanFer; or, TEE
HALE-BEEED BRIGADE. By Franc sJohnson.

136. The Outlawnnuntor; OI, BE
JOHN, TEE Bvsn RANGER. By Francis Johnson. \

137. Long Beard, TEE GIANT SPY. P,
011 Coomes.

138. The Border Bandits; or, TEE
Hones-TEIEE’E TRAIL. By Francis Johnson
, 139. PMye. THE SEA HYENA: or,
THE BRIDE on A BUCCANEEE. By Col. P Ingrahsm.

140. The. Three Spaniards. By
George Walker.

141. Equinox Tom. TEE BULLY OE RED
Max. By Jo. E. Badger, Jr.

142. Cagtain' Crimson, THE MAN ON THE
IRON FACE. y Major Dangerﬁeld Burr. .

143. The Csar’s Spy; 01-, THE Nnnus-r
LEAGUE. By Col. Thos. Hoyer Monstery.

1 44. The Hunchback ofNotrecDame.
By Victor Hugo.

115. Pistol Pards. By W. R. Eyster.

146. The Doctor Detective; or, TEE
MYsTEEY on THE GOLDEN COEEIN. By Geo. Lemuel.

147. Gold 8 ur. TEE GENTLEEAN mom
TEXAB. By Colonel rentiss Ingrahsm.

148. One - Armed Alf. THE GIANT
HUNTER or THE GREAT LAEEs. By 011 Coomes.

.149. The Border Riﬂes. By Aimard.

150. El Rubio Bravo. KING or TEE
SwonnsuEN. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

» 15:1. The Preebooters. By Aimard.

152. Captain Ironnerve, TEE COUN-
nmrrsn CEIEr. By Marmaduke Dey.

158. The White Scalper. By Aimard.

154. Joaquin TEE SADDLE KING. B
Joseph E. Badger, Jr.’ y

, 155. The Grip-lee of the Sea. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingrahun.

156. Velvet Pace. By Major Danger-
ﬁeld Burr. Ready October 19th.

157. Mound. TEE MmLIan. P
Col. Thomas Boyer Monster-y. needy October mm. j

A new issue every week.
Beedle’s Dime Library is for-sole In

 

N ten cents copy 01' sent by 03
19121 t of Rielveccmm BEADLE& ADAMS,
l’uughers, 98 William Street, New York.