, w a l , r n 5 g , a fi 4 Corrmour. 1882, BY BEADLE & ADAMS. Emsasn as Srcosn Cuss Manna 41 ran New Your, N. Y.. Pos'r Orr-nos. Published Ever; ‘~ Month.f No. 1030. November, l899. M. J. lVllllS & (30., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN. PROPRIETOR), 379 Pearl Street. New York. \ 10 Cents a Copy. $1.00 a Year. 0 s The Creole, Cousins; on,‘\. FAISSE AS fFAIR. A Romance of theo'rropics.‘ BY PHILIP S. .WARNE. CHAPTER I. . m BEAUTIFUL PRISONER)- The time, a midsummer afternoon} The scene, a harbor at Havana. In the foreground, rockin on the waves, a skit! with two occupants, 0 core of the Ameri- can corVette, Avalanche, undergoing repairs af- ter a rude bufletin by a tropical storm; first, Ldeutenant Hazelt no, a young manJor so re- :gonsible a position, ta! , erect Jand,broad~ ouldered, chivalrous to 'impulsiveness and true as steel; second, Ned Taunton;_a_ merry midshi man, just at that period of adolescence when is greatest solicitude was the tardy de- velopment of a downy mustache. In the background: right, the Spanish town, with its strange-looking, flatroot'ed houses-— left, Nature in all her tropical loveliness—cen- ter, a gloomy stone structure against whose base the waves beat ceaselessly. “ The convent of St. Celestine?” pursued Mid- shipman Taunton, lookin at the grim building we have indicated. “ here are on! three dead-lights in all the broad side of the o d hulk. The old barn looks like a prison." “ Reverently, Ned!” cautioned his friend, with mock awe. “ A distinction without a dif- ference. There are a great many prisoners in that old pile, too pretty to be buried alive, when so many of us r fellows would give a month’s pay for a smi e from their rosy lips. ” “ La! the gallant lufl is getting spoony!” laughed Taunton. “But what is that at yon- der window! Hurrah! it’s one of the fair pris- onersl—and I claim her by right of discovery!" “Age before beauty, Ned,” objected his friend, directing a glass somewhat eagerly to- ward the convent. “ She has a pensive air. She is leaning her elbow on the window-ledge, with her cheek in her 831m." “Pensive is she? hat’s the proper thing. All prisoners look pensiver out over the se don’ they? She’s sighing for liberty and al that sort of thing. Give me another squint old fellow, and I’ll write her down for you rom keel to pennant. Didn’t know I was a connois— seur in the sex? No? Well, modesty prevents me from aflirmin the fact, though it is well known to all my iends. Meanwhile, lest you look the unfortunate one out of countenance, I’ll take my trick at the glass, ' you please 1” Lieutenant Hazeltine yield the instrument rather reluctantly to his chattering friend. ' “By old Nep and all his nymphs!” cried the latter, “ she's weeping!” N No!” “See, now that the light falls full up‘on her face.” “cousin ma. I CAN’T cam wounsamo ar m manor: some): IN YOUR ml." I ‘ 1:»- 2 ‘ ' THE CREOLE COUSINS. And again the glass chan hands. t. “Taunton you’re right!’ admitted Hazel- me. He gazed earnestly at each lineament of the 'rl’s elicate beauty, and his changing color owed that he was moved by no ordinary emo- tions. Taunton, on‘ the other hand, continued in the up ' of banter: , Steamy in tears! Can gallant tars stand aloof? Rouse, ye slu gards! Pull to the rescue! Pick her up lively, is s! tub flin gra her, decEs! XEast, ye lubbers! flag—a petticoat, in this instance !—or we’ll blow ou out of water!” An seizing the sculls, the rattle-brain was about to pull toward the convent, as if fora prize~sbip. . “ Not so precipitately, Ned,” interposed his friend, more gravely than was his wont. “Let usget a. nearer view; but if we row straight for the convent—and especially in that fashion —-we may frighten her away from the window.” Approaching the shore diagonally, until they came perhaps within a hundred feet of it, some distance above the convent, our friends then changed their course so as to row by the build— ing assuming a careless air, yet keeping an eye on the window at which the object of their in- terest still sat. She was in the simple dress of a novice: yet the rudest disguise could not hide her exquisite beauty, enhanced—at least for masculine eyes— by her evident distress. As the naval officers came nearly opposite, the girl started, hastil brushed the tears away, and thrust her head orward, fixing her large, liquid eyes on Lieutenant Hazeltine with an ex- pression of strong, eager admiration, which soon chan ed to a 00k of piteous appeal, while she cla5pe her hands, and her nether lip trem- bled rceptibly. Chivalrous by nature, and of a profession whose allantry is proverbial the piteous glances nt upon him went straight to the young lieutenant’s heart. In that moment he was readyto brave all the world, if need be, for this woman in distress. His eyes told her this, as he half-raised his hat to her. A gllad smile of eager, tremulous hope broke ‘ over or countenance, and flutterin a hand- kerchief, she disappeared from the Window. “Sweet Cupid! Here’s an adventure. She’s signaling to us. Ehi—our fairy has vanished into thin air!” cried Taunton, under his breath. “ Messmate that’s a place of enchant—” But- here he turned and caught sight of Harry Hazeltine’s flushed face. “ Whew I” he ejaculated, his surprise finding vent in a prolbnged whistle. “ Shiver my starry top-lights, if the gallant lull isn’t hit hard be- tween wind and water!” “Belay, there, on our red rag!” protested Haseltine, coloring ill more deeply. “ Don’t attract attention. She wants to communicate with us. Look over the side, as I do, as an ex. cuse for our stopping.” Half-smiling and half-earnest, Midshipman Taunton did as requested; and the two, to all a pearances, became interested in something at t 6 bottom of the bay, while their skiff remain- ed motionless. A moment later something white fluttered through the air and alighted on the water near the base of the convent. A few strokes sent the skit! close under the building, and the missive—.—for such it proved to R‘s—dizas picked up by the lieutenant’s eager n . ‘ It was traced in pencil on what was perhaps the flyoleaf of a pro er-book. The chirography was ex uisitely da nty as might be expected from so air a scribe. it read: “Smoss Assurances: “The most wretched of unfortunates salu you acupplicates you! You are brave; you are gs. nt; ou dare all things for the women of your lessed {res country. Can you turn a deaf ear to one more helpless than the i Alas! I, so oung. who love the free air and suns ins, am out o from them foreVer, unless you compassionate m pitiable condition and help me to escape. Thevlc im of a cruel parent, who, to satisfy his rid would have linked my oung life with deco ng 0 age, I fled to the ro- zection of the Chum . But, alas! can I languis in this living tomb while my youth fades away, when I the wide, free world is all so beautiful and so full of happiness? I canwrite no more. Myhoart is break- If you are brave en'o h and generous enough to help me—and oh! you 100 so brave and strong i— oome beneath in window to-night after the moon has gone down. {fake no noise, and expect no light in my window or other from me. I will be on watch and let down‘ a charm-bell at the end of a fie tinlde of the bell will direct you to the dofi.’ by this means we can communicate in Lay alongside the old ‘ ling-irons, board her and sweep : Strike your ‘ ' hostile passions an your hearts may be moved; and the blessed Will surely smile on you. Munro“. ' On reading this appeal Lieutenant Hazeltine grew pale With rage; and it must he confessed that he 1nveighed somewhat rofanely against an institution of which be r ly knew nothing except from popular rumor. The merry midshipman on the other hand, i looked upon the situation less seriously. “ I’m a fish,” he cried, “if this ain’t the reatest lark! It takes me back to the Arabian ights and Jack the Giant—Killer. Here’s the \ donyon, and the Princess in duress vile, guarded , by an ecclesiastical dragon. But how the deuce are we to help the matter? That’s what lays me b the heels.” “ ow?" repeated the lieutenant, with ener y. “ “Thy, she herself has pointed the way. ' v matching her from the infernal grasp of this—J” “ Softly, my boy! This is the nineteenth century, remember—an age of detectives, and search—warrants, and other inconvenient legal 3 appurtenances too numerous to mention. We 1, can’t run her off to our castle, and bid defiance , to all comers, since the onl castle we have no- ; cess to is the forecastle of t 10 Avalanche-mot a. 1 suitable place for a lady, as you will——” i “ Ned, stop chatllng, do! If you are afraid to ‘3 join 1110—” I “ Afraid! I scorn the imputation !” cried the x,’ midshi man, with mock disdain. “ To be sure, i we will)in all probability be caught and shot, 1 without judge or jury, by the outraged authori- , ties. A mere bagatcllc, however, hardly worthy 1 of consideration, where duty or beauty calls. j But here is a practical uestion: when we get her on our hands, what t e dickens shall we do with her?” “ It will be time enough to think of that when ' we have her outside of these walls!” “Hal,” observed the midshipman, looking ; with a half smile into his comrade’s excited face , “ you have got it bad, and no mistake.” . “ Admitting that, if you will have it so,” said the other, with a touch of as )erity, “ are you ‘ for I 1cape!” “Hal,” said Taunton _ ness, “ you know me. I never flunked m In ,life! If you are shot for sacrilege, demme! 1’ am determined to attempt this lady’s es- renew the covenants of friendship. _ “ Ned,” said his friend, “ we have no time to lose. Go on board and smuggle away a suit of your clothes. I think they are small enough to fit Donna. Inez. place to take her to. Rendezvous here at mid- i night. The moon goes down a little after one. 1 Before morning that vampire shall be robbed of ; its prey i” i Immediame upon reading Donna Inez’s note , they had rowed away from the convent. They : were now arrived at their landing-place. Once more claspin bands, they parted company. 3 At miduig t they were again together, _ nah i tine in the meantime having prov1ded himself with a. long to . - ' The moon ad sunk below the horizon; the silence of the grave reigned armmd; the skiff , : rested motionless on the water beneath the con- g I vent wall! CHAPTER II. m4 sum Tim scenewas as beautiful as the eye need Iwish to rest upon—the Caribbean Sea with its 9 foam-cap illows running high, and borne J on its bosom two noble shi under full spread ‘ :of canvas. Only apuif 0 white smoke rising i 1 om the deck of the corvette, far astern of the ' rig, marred the ‘picture by its suggestion of , bloodshed. _ - , But on a nearer view the deck of the Black 1 “Swan presented a. s tacle well calculated to fill the beholder With misgivings and repul- ‘sion. In her mottled crew, more than an honest , .ship’s complement, ever nation of Europe ; ‘seemed re resented, and t at, too, b its worst Itypes. o pirate’s hell-do were 0 more for- ' bi ding aspect. But, dev' as they were, not a man but nailed before the glare of Ca t. Gas- kill’s wol h eyes and the vid set of ' im- placable face. I The, Black Swan was a clover—her crew were 1 ocean outlaws—the corvette was the hand of } civilized humanity stretched forth to crush a I [pinessl , i “Our onlvhono htbeLittlo Gut channel”; 1 «on! though you are strangers to me 1 pm that ' laid the captain '01 the flavor, anxious! . “in. irgin corvette dare not attempt the pass, an it will give us five hours’ start. _ The Gut was reached at last, and it seemed as if the smaller craft were goin bows on to the breakers, where the sea was churned to foam by the jagged reef. But, though tossed about like a cookie—shell, the sport of the surging waters, she sped on un- harmed, until she entered a tortuous channel between two islands, so narrow that the - aims that overhung the water on either ban left scarce room for her spreading canvas, and- through which the water coursed like the rapids of some river. Beyond the islands the slaver emerged into- comparatively smooth water, safe at last from her pursuer though her rigging now hung in tatters, and her hull had received some unsight- ly rents. Before tempting the winds and waves. of the broad Atlantic repairs were sadly needed ;. and the brig was brought to anchor in a little cove shut in by a group of palm-embowered islets. One day Capt. Gaskill was “ stretching his legs on shore ” in company with his mate who!) on the further side of one of the islands 9 dis— covered a canoe drawn up on the beach, and at a little distance three human beings who, proved to be natives of the Antilles. Two—a man and a woman—were as little at— tractive as savages are apt to be:_ but the third ——perhaps their daughter—«a. maiden of scarce LWclve or thirteen years of age, yct with the premature develo ment of the tropics, was a picture to warm t e heart of an anchorite. Her {mute figure was perfect in its symmetry; its bur ding charms set oli‘ rather than concealed by the short/skirted tunic of White cloth which was the only garment she wore. In marked contrast, her long black hair fell unconfined be— low her waist. in her olive cheeks was the a ruddy hue of health, the exquisite mantlin’g of with sudden serious- : ; be shot too!” They clasped hands on it, as men are wont to Meanwhile I will look up a ' , The man stepped ‘ resistance ' little imp! , or she’ll leave us in the lure the hot tropical blood thatcoursed through her veins. Her delicately-molded face was lighted by flashing black eyes and small white teeth, or are you not with me in t is adventure?__ that ShOWCd when her full ripe lips parted in A smile, or, as now, in sur rise. On this embodiment o innocence and beauty fresh from the hand of bounteous nature, fell the evil eyes of the slaver captain, with a gloat- ing expression of reckless covetousness that needed no interpreter. “ By the Eternal!” cried the heartless ruillan, stopping dead still with astonishment and admi- ration—“ a Venus in bronze! Kedrick, that: gir’ shall be queen of the Black Swan! I swear I C? o.- u The older woman was heard to utter a few chattering words, to which the man responded in guttural tones. Then the three Indians set OR at a run for their canoe. (C “ Head them oil?!" cried Capt. Gaskill. all the furies they shall not escape!” Ca tain and mate ran at the top of their speed ; to in rcept the fugitives, and bemg nearer the canoe they were successful. Seeing this hope cut off, the Indian women unhesitatingly plunged into the water to swim. at the water’s edge to cover their flight, resolutely opposing Capt. Gazikill with a cudgel. The slave captain was in no mood to brook Drawing a pistol, he ruthlessly shot the islander, and leaping over his fallen body, plunged into the water after the object of his desires. The pursuer was no mean swimmer; but these amphibious dwellers in the midst of the sea are eqlually athome on land, or in the water, and the untsmsn was no match for his agile I quarry. She was fast increasing the distance between them, when he cried to his mate: “ The canoe! the canoe! Perdition seize the I’m a Dutch lugl er to her. Quick! , as it is.” The mate pushed oil? the canoe, sprung in, and began. to ply the .ddle, a little awkwardly, yet With sufficient s to outstrip the most ex- pert swimmer. “ Hurrah! Now you have her!” cried the strugan cagtain, as his subordinate urged his frail1 or t the very side.of the fugitive man en. But, even as the mate dro his ddle and extended his hand to clutgmer, slit: dove be- 118?“! the water, and swam away like an otter. ‘ After her! Keep directly over her! She’o got to come up for air!” shouted the ca tain. Atgg resuming his paddle, the mate id as di- rec . , . nefarious trains in human life and human hap- mT‘m’OI‘ kept ihgugm beneath the water 1111 e was nearly coated. and spurred her w in" ‘.&&~ Aw,” (my 7 rr‘rtqrr. w .WJ’» .. z W‘— -\ W-W. ,r r W .J'lw.‘1u . 7&4” W THE CREOLE COUSlNS. 3 :3“ frantic eflorts to outstrip the canoe; but strug- gle as she might, it was ever just at hand. Witkthe last remnant of her flagging strength the poor creature resorted to strategy. Turning suddenly she came 112) under the ca- noe and made an effort to ove urn it. If she could but throw the man into the water, she mi ht easily escape him. ghe succeeded in caisizing the crank craft. But the mate divined er urpose, calculated the point at which she wo d come up, leaped into the air as the canoe went over, and de- scendin at her very side just as her head emerg from the water, clutched her long hair in his iron 'pe. Finding erself a prisoner, the girl uttered shrill cries of dismay, and attacked her captor with a fury for which he was ill-prepared. In this he was aided by her mother, who swam to the rescue of her offspring. With afair field, in open water, and free from interruph'on, these women might eventually have drowned their enem '—a fate well deserved ——their skill more than alaneing his su rior strengfi. But, clutching the canoe wit one hand, the mate managed to keepl his head above w r apart of in time, while 9 clung to the thick hair with a ipe which her wildest exertion of strength con (1 not relax. Yet, with this advantage, he was fain to s ): 8a“IFor God’s sake, hurry! or these she-devils wil drown me l” “Hang on! hang on l” shouted the captain, who was swimming to the scene of conflict with all his might. “One moment, and I will be with Here I am! Now, by the seven devils, ot the fairest prize in the Antilles!” Re ieved of his captive, the mate turned on the mother with an oath, but uttering a terrible cry of maternal anguish, the poor creature dart~ ed away beyond his reach, where she sustained herself, 10th to leave her child, though she could render her no further assistance. The girl ceased to struggle. Fixing her ter- ror-distended eyes on the face of_ her brutal ca tor, she rested in his arms, panting. . . loating on her beauty, while he regained his breath he alternately felicitated himself and prai the zeal of his coadjutor. Clingin to the canoe, they swam ashore, the mother to owinor at a little distance. On the beach the wretched father lay, breath- in heavily, with the blood welling from his ed breast. His eyes, fast lasing in death, turned toward his helpless child and her cap- tors. The terrible anguish in his face showed that the heart of love beats as warmly in the savage as the breast. The maiden extended her arms toward him with a cry which in her native tongue may have been the name of father' but she was borne hastily away, never to see him again. Still the mother followed, until ca tors and captive had crossed the island, enter the jolly- boat, rowed to the vessel, and been taken, aboard. While her child was thus torn from her, the mother crouched on the beach like ~ some animal in her voiceless, tearless grief. Though many eyes witnessed this infamous outr e, not one chivalrous emotion was awak— enedafin the breasts of the abandoned crew. Those who did not look on in stolid indifference attested their utter baseuees by a smile of den- sion, or a heartless jest. . . Into his cabin the captain bore his prize; and, the repairs now being com leted, the anchor was weighed and the snow-w. 'te sails let fall. On the shore crouched the figure of a woman, who watched the shi until it sunk down. under the horizon. Then 0 rose, crossed the island, and sat down beside a stark, still body, stretch- ed supine on the beach, its glassy eyes turned heavenward, as if appealing there for venge- anoe. The widowed and child-bereaved uttered no moan, let 'fall no tears, but, with her mantle thrown over her head, sat motionless, the pic- ture of inconsolable grief. . Night came, and with it the fury of a tropi- cal tempest. The rain beat upon the bowed head' the winds lucked at the envelopin man- tle; the angry b' ows surged high on the ach. She rose, dragged her dead beyond their reach and crouched over it as silent as before: . I The terrible night passed, and the iuVisible sun reached the meridian, giving Just light enough to reveal the awful grandeur of the bat- tlin elements. Then on the tossing waters appeared a canoe, and in it a youth, standing erect and peering anxiously through the gloom, while he plied a paddle with inimitable skill, avaiding the top- pl' wave-crests that threatened at every mo- mfi to swamp his frail bark. His keen black eye caught sight of two ino- tionless objects on the beach, and a cry of blended cxultation and despair his lips. With giant strokes he forced is canoe on the crest of a wave which bore him toward the shore with race-horse speed. As it broke with a booming roar on the shingle the canoe was filled with water; but its agile navigator leaped out, caught its prow, and held it against the re- ng wave. With a skillful turn he tipped boat and him high u on the beach. A moment, and e was beside the figures which the storm could not rouse, his hand on the woman’s shoulder, his voice calling to her, his eyes, filled with horror by the ghastly dead, seeking explanation of the living. The story was soon told. Then, kneeling beside the dead, the youth swore a terrible oath of vengeance, and sealed it with a kiss on his dagger-hilt. Meanwhile the Black Swan sailed on; but in her cabin was a poor creature who neither ate nor slept. to shrink within erself, and, quivering in every nerve, gazed at them dumbly, with eyes whose abject terror thrilled even the heart of the slaver captain. Almost since her coming on board a terrific I storm had raged. The superstitious crew began , to shake their heads and mutter together with ominous frowns. They behaved that the Indian girl and her people had wrought a spell for the destruction of the vessel. In vain the ca ain swore. The very help- lessness of his victim baffled him, And, at last, disgusted With his bootless victory, and perhaps fearful of mutin , he said to his mate: “ Well, I’m ed of the infernal little fool! As soon as the blow is over I’ll put her in an open boat and set her adrift. You may let the them, but as my own motion.” abatement of the storm, which soon followed, as the result of the captain’s resolve Then, when the sea was calm enough so that a boat could live, a human being was abandoned to the tender mercies of nature—not less kindly, :éiorely, than the man whose heart was turned to ac And as the night settled down over the waste of waters the ship sailed on, leaving the boat to rock on the waves, drifting whither the winds listed, and for the first time the captiva tive no longer—slept. CHAPTER III. m CREOLE comma. Imam, if you please, a trellis-work arbor, overgrown with a. grape-vine, loaded with bunc es of luseious fruit, within easy reach of the hand. Beneath it a silken hammock, and reclinin therein as languidly-graceful a beauty as ever pted the brush of Oriental painter. Her sloe-black eyes, her red lips her molded arm, her daiutily-slippered foot, or soft dra- pery, the scarlet shawl hanging from the ham- mock in such 0X(¥51lsil}e harmony with her bru- nette beauty— ut the pen falters. Word- pictures are always tame. 'dly she watched the occupation of a girl of not more than twelve yea rs of age, who, seated on a tiger-skin with her lap full of flow- are was weaving a cha let. The beauty of the gir was striking by reason of its contrasts. Her blonde hair and fair com- lexion she OWed to her- Saxon mother; but her ark eyes, her vividly—scarlet lips, the molding of feature and premature development of figure showed that tropical blood mingled with the colder current of the North. “ Cousin Nina,” she said, looking up from her work; and the animation of her face was in marked contrast with the dreamy laSSitude 'of the other—“cousin Nina, I can’t cease.wonder- ing at the strange romance in your life. It is so oddtohave you back among us, after we have believed you dead for solong. Just think! —a whole year almost within stone-throw, and we knew nothing about you X” “There is but one thing more tiresome than trying to forecast the future, and that is dwell- in on the tl”yawned thalanguid beauty. “ aola, I s ould think your unremitted eu- thusiasm would keep ou unpleasantly warm.” “Ha! ha l” laugh the little miss. “ Coz, you’re too lazy to fan yourself! I wonder that you eVer mustered the energy to. run away from your old lover. How romantic to have a rich old Don making eyes at you. Hal ha! ha!”— and her merry lau h run out like a chime of silver bells. /' ‘ Won dn’t tease the old gra — heard! I wouldn’t run away from him—not I! the water out, so that the next wave bore his i If any one touched her, she seemed ' crew know it indirectly—not as a concession to 5 The crew were well pleased, and took the I j I’d stumble over his gouty foot, and tickle his bald head with a feather when he fell asleep— I’d take the glasses out of his spectacles and put pepper in his snuff—I’d trick him out like a gay young gallant, so that everybody would laugh, and Promenade him up and down in tight boo ; unti he could hardly stand for pain; then would insist upon his being my cavalier, until , evgg 'oint was rheumatic, and he had to be , lif rom the saddle. In a week my old beau would have a new ache at the mere sight of me; ; in two he would commit suicide, or fly the , island 1” And again her merry laugh rung forth. “ But, Nina,” she pursued, more soberly, “ you should not have doubted us. See how papa’s influence has freed you.” “I owe Don Alfonso a debt of gratitude I can never pay,” said Nina, with apparent feeling. “ Nonsense! Your own mother’s brother? It is the same as if he had acted for me. Instead . of vegetating in that fisherman’s cot for a year, ' Eu might have been hap y with us, all a 011g. '0 mio ! how wearisome it must have been for one loving luxury as you do I” “You are all too kind—” ' And Nina ended by putting her lace handker- chief to her eyes as if much affected. “There haveI made ou weep, my ’00? sis ; ter?” Paola, immediately on her ; read with a caress. “ 0 not mind my weakness, cousin Paola,” . said Nina with seeming grateful affection. The roll of a carriage interrupted these sister‘ ly interchanges of love. “You are decided not to accompany us on our little excursion?” asked Paola. “Yes; between my book and a bath I shall manage to dispose of the afternoon.” “You coquettel you are husbanding our re- sources for the evening!” laughed Pao a, teas- invly. “Well, adios!” l 3nd like a ray of sunshine she was gone, bean ing her floral treasures in her arms. Now a change came over the languid beauty. Her eyes flashed with sufficient animation as she glanced after her departing cousin. The muscles a moment ago lax were now tense, as she sat upright in the hammock, dropping her feet to the ground. “ Little fool!” was her soliloquy, “ I hate her for her baby innocence and sweetness! There is no blot on her past, no shadow of doubt over- hanging her future. She hm no thought nor care beyond the little pains a‘ pleasures of the present! “ Ah! I was once like her!” And the woman threw herself back in the hammock, pressin her hands over her eyes, while she struggl with a throe of emotion. “ Now I am fierce and vindictive defiant of Fate, and envious of those less wretc ed than I. Her very lightness of heart fills me with savage resentment. Bah! why should I be singled out for a wrong that cannot be repaired? I hate him! I hate him!” “ Without 1a ing myself hopen to a charge of unwarranta le curiosit , may I hask ’oom it is you ’ste so bitterly, my ady?’ In the speaker's voice was a strange blendin of humilit and familiarity, of deprecation an menace, o )oliteness and sarcasm. The lady ad heard no warning footstep, and the words which assion had goaded her into utteringnloud ha fallen upon the ears of one whom she was far from lovmg or trustin ; yet with her imperturbable self-control she did not start. Removing her hand from her eyes, she said. “ I dislike a. spy.” The choice of words was in keep with her languid tone, It was as if she were listless to entertain an antipathy stronger than dislike. With seeming perf indifference her e es condescended to rest upon a man of the Eng ' h t . YE]: was of full habit and florid com lexion, with a scant cr0p of hair owing over is ears and at the base of his sku l, leaVin the crown of his head bald. Wiry, sandy whis ers aw in a line scarcely more than an inch wi e from the temples to the base of the aw; cheeks, chin, upper lip and throat bein can shaven. He was dressed in a style w ich showed the in- fluence of coc ey irth and breeding, and mopped his (1 poll, face and neck with a fia red bandanna hankkerchief. He bowed and smiled, as he replied: "‘ Perhaps you are more haocurate than com- glimentary in your designation of me, my lady. at if spies are ’ated, they may halso sometimes be fearedl” “Indeed!” cried the lady, with the formal politeness with which one treats a bore. eet alld' 4 THE canon]; COUSINS. “Yes! I’ve found you heat I” ‘ u Ah :7, “ Hif I must speak plainer, I’ve hascertained view and ’ow you spent your year of—let me ea se restration I” The $nglishman was triumphant, exultant. The woman was outwardly unmoved. Only ahand hidden away in the folds of her dress ‘ clutched the fabric spasmodically. “ Pleasant information !” she said indifiereni? .lyl to all seeming. ‘ Valuable hinformation, my lad !” For the first time the lady took t e trouble to retort: “Accept my congratulations that you have something about on not worthless.” The sneer lay in her words. There was no trace of emotion in her tone. Angrin the Englishman retorl'cd: “ ’Ave a care, my lady! You carry yourself with a mighty igh ’ead; but it’s lucky for you that the hinformation fell into ’ands so discreet as mine.” “Discreet! That means that you would ac- cept a bribe?” “ I’d scorn a bribe !” “ ‘A rose by any other name.’ Let us call it e. ctmm'deratwn.” “You’re wrong. I ain’t hatter 'ush money, at all.” “Terms?” “ Well I’m ho n to terms.” “Ah! thong tsoi” “But I ain’t no blackmailer. All I as is "An’ds of!’ You wink at me, and I’ll win at “ You’re in the resonce of a lady. Reserve your slang for fe ows of your own stamp.” “ You know w’at I mean. You’ve come ’ere a hinterloper, so to speak; and in two weeksl time ou’ve wormed your way into Don Hal- ton s ou’ve come between me and ’im. I know it, and you know it. You could serve me a dirty trick, if the ’umor seized you. But now I’ve got a ringin our nose; it’ll stand you in ’and to be frien rather than henemies.” “ Oh, I am not afraid that you will betray anything you ma know.” ‘ ’37 not, I’d ‘ e to know!” “ I count on your loyalty.” “ To you! I don’t hows you nothink.” “ Your loyalty to self is the onl thing I lace any reliance in. However, I aha now per a’ps placeoyou somg'what under obligatiene to me.’ ‘ we my “First by a warning. Your rascality has been discovered.” The languid lady laid no stress on his start~ announcement e man was struck breathlem. “ My rascalitfio!" ‘ ‘ Exactly. n Alfonso has sent a messenger to look you up. He may Ind you here at any moment.” “ Mv God! I’m ruined!” ‘“ When you go into his presence this alterna— tive will be laced before you:-—a rison-cell and a convict 3 chain, or affluence an honor in the e es of men.” “ ’ w the latter halternativef’ “You willhave a chance to sell yourself to the devil.” The man stared in amazement at this woman who‘spoke with the nonchalant ease of society “ Ipdon’t catch your drift," he said “ If Don Alfonso livos an hour longer, you will go to prison. If he is dead one hour hence, you will assume control of his wealth as sole executor and guardian of his daughter." “ ’Ow do you know?” 11 is” “ “ his!" at to t “ He must die.” ., “ And 1—” “ Bah! You have done as bad inthe past." {it this chance thrust the man turned ghastly " W’at do you know of my life!” he asked, 'trem .ilousl y. “Nothing. Here comes the nt Balso, mow. Evergbod knows his sul-llelnogzposltion. If he uni on case are slain in 9 same acorn you can swear that in resentment for :punis ment the slave killed the master, and that you visited swift vengeance upon him. There «you have your cue. Hush 1” At this paint a mulatto appeared at the door of the at r. He had an intelligent face, and re but few traces of his African admixture of iced. His hearing was a strange blending of pride and humility, and in Rs, eyes appeared a smoldering fire, as if one who chafed under the Ignominy of his position. He was the Spanish Don's valet. “ Senor W etherby, Don Alfonso awaits you in the library,” he said; and his words and ac- cent showed cultivation. ! Bowing defercntially he made way: and, plin- ple in the face, James Wetherby preceded 'm toward the house. “ The train is fired!” cried the woman, fierce- . y. “Now, if he has courage equal to his vil- lainy!” Suddenly covering her face with her hands, 1 she sunk back. 1 “Ah! the arch fiend has taken possession of 1 me! Ever since that hour! We never know ‘ 5 what is in our natures until they are put to the i‘ test. Bah! I did not make myself. I am as I i . am! I rest in the hands of Fate!” After a few moments she arose and proceeded g with all her affected languor to the house. Before the library door she stopped to listen. ‘ From the room came a cry of dismay and a * groan of mortal anguish. g “ There’s devil’s work within. Perhaps it ' will be the better for a witness,” muttered the woman, and threw open the door. On the threshold she stood like a beautiful fiend: but the spectacle within froze her blood, and swaying, she fell forward in a swoon. CHAPTER IV. LOVE BLIND. IN profound silence the lieutenant and mid- shipman of the corvette Avalanche waited be- neath the convent wall. “ Can she have failed to discover us?" whis- pered the latter, with the impatience of youth. 1 Hal Hazeltine clasped his arm to enjoin si— ence. Presently a faint tinkling sound reached their ears. “There it comes!” whispered the middy. “ Hush l” breathed Hazeitine, and his heart 1 stood still. The sound slowly drew nearer, descending the wall. Lieutenant Hazeltine stretched forth his hand in the darkness, directed only by the sense of - hearing, until he felt a little charmsbell drop into his lm. The cold metal thrilled him like an elect c shock. , He gave two slight tugs on the string to which 5 the bell was attached, and its further descent was arrested. ~ ' Hastily be fastened to the thread a piece of pa r and the end of a piece of twine, and sig- i na ed again by two tugs. The missive, drawn upward, disappeared in the darkness. The uncoiling twine, showed g when it reached the hand of the lad above. Will rapidly-beating heart an trembling hands Inez Mentoza carried the note to a taper ' which burned faintly in her cell. It read: “ Fm LADY: “Your appeal has not Igone forth invain. One who counts 12 a blessed p vilege to lace his life at . mu- service awaits you below. It erythiug has i n arranged for your seen. from your detestable im risonmeut. Draw up t twine, towhich ou find attached a rope andabundle of clot es. It is imperative that on den these unaccustomed garments that our i entity may be the more suc- E cessfull lost. on you have made this obs in ' your at ire, draw the rope through the staple w ich secures your shutter until the end returns to in hand. A moment laterIwillbe with on. Then defy the world to take you from me be ore my hand is ed in death! “I need not admonish you to make haste with ' caution. I await your 0.1 with throbbing heart. I May God requite meal guard the sacred trust of i your life and honor! many Hartman." “Ah! he is as gallant as he ishandsomel" , breathed the woman, her cheeks flushed and 3 he? 05’“ sparkling. “Such as he would not have shamed the knights of chivalry. Not like Elie 'gowardiy— Bah! perish the thought of , un. At the end of this brief seliloquy the beauti~ ful face of the woman underwent a marked. chan Its sweetness of expression gave place ‘- to a rown of bitter aversion, which chased the rich color from her cheeks and ii and hardened the vivacious flash of her eyes ntoa vindictive glitter. The change was a perfect metamor- phosis. She was scarcely recognizable as the same being. . Q As auickly another change took place. With ‘, a 100 of defiance shgsplressed the note to her 3 lips, cryiiég, as if in up ophe of the object of 1 her hatr : I - “I shall love him; and I know that I can win lhim. He is brave! He is generous! He is e worfiy of that which a dastard poltroon cast 5 true him at the first breath of adversity. Sal- . magpie! Ilytothee!” ' ' eeler wee again lowing soft! in cheeks gunning mil . as with land lips, and the eyes 1, Creole turn . and placed himself beside her. i in front. de ilengthof w '01: he had calcul : makin ‘mde I " an eager smile she turned to the bundle of clothes so unlike what she was accustomed to. With suppressed laughter at her awkward at- tempts to adjust the several garments to her person, she made the exchange, and stood forth a. youth whose beauty of face alone would have exposed the imposture. hen she drew the rope through the staple, and scarlet with embarrassment, yet withal dis- posed to laugh at the sorry figure she cut, awaited the coming of the gallant lieutenant. Hand over hand, in true sailor-fashion. he as- ' cendcd the rope, and presently stood within the chamber breathless, not with exertion, but at the vision of loveliness that met his view. With her shoulders drawn forward, and her hands clasped befor» her breast, in an attitude of shrinking timidity—with her red lips apart, and her eyes gazing upon him in a searching scrutiny, s e stood. Oul for an instant. Then, advancin with both ands extended, and her beautif face lighted by a smile of perfect trust and eager gratitude, she cried: “Salvador mic! how can I thank you?” With the words she sunk upon her knees at his feet, and pressed his hand to her lips, before he was aware of her purpose. In painful embarrassment, yet thrilled by a sense of ecstasy that he had never before ex~ perienced, Lieutenant Hazeltine raised the bean- tiful woman. “ It is more fitting that I should kneel to you,” he whispered. “ But, come! Every moment is an age of danger. Let us lose no time. this ’ And he thrust a sheet of paper into her hands. On it was traced: “ It is m u so to make it a rthat you have committulspulc do, and so gain t p3,), divertin the pursuit. That my voice in dictation might no he- . tray my presence to any chance listener, I have writtenw at I wish you to copy and leave behind you. It is as foilows:—” A pended was such a letter as miaht be writ- } ten a desperate girl in Donna Inez’s situation ‘ on 1; ing leave of the world, with which, how- ever, we need not tax the reader. Having co ied it, as directed, the beautiful to Lieutenant Hazeltine. “ Salvador mic, I attend your pleasure,” she said sweetly. “ l’urdon me. I shall have to lift you in my ‘ arms,” said the lieutenant, flushing in spite of himself. “I trust myself to you as to a brother," ‘ breathed the girl with a smile that brought the blood again to his forehead. “Atrustassacredas it is precious to me,l ‘ beg you to believe!” ifting her, he sat her on the window-led Front:h his use , nded a 100 of r , e proper p :fid at a ven- ture. “ Put your feet in this loop and your arms about my neck,” he whispered. “ You can thus easily sustain your whole weight, which is ne- cessary, as my bands will both‘bc employed in the descent.” She 'das directed and he thrilled with de- light at the clasp of her arms, and her warm I breath on his check. Swinging clear of the window-ledge be de- scended rapid] to the boat, and then drew the rope through he staple, so that there was no trace of Donna Inez’s mode of escape. Silently the boat glided away, bearing W palpitatin with more than one emotion. Lieut. aseltihe communicated the rest ofhis plans to his fair char , when she in 1 “ I have a place 0 refuge alread mind, with the rents of a former mi of mine. They are hers, and live in great seclusion on the shore of the see, not many miles from Ha- ' vans ” “Wecan then t ho and placo you in safety, tmni ht,” file all?” And this an was acted upon. Leaving nna Inez not far from the boat- landing, the lieutenant and middy went for horses, and returned. Ned Tuunton now dismounted, to Five place to Donna Inez; and as many Spanish adios ride ‘ with ease in the saddle generally assigned to the sterner sex, our heroine had no difficulty in carrying out, even in this unusual fashion, her assumed chamber. Two hours later she dismounted before a lowly cot, whose tenants, when aroused. receiv- ed her with unbounded surprise, yet with tears ofu‘oy which attested their devotion to her. Leavin her with them, Lieutenant Hazeltine toward the city, until he met his faithful friend, Ned Taunton, who had walked some distance on the deserted road. that he r<~.~,-3'--_ ‘ ‘(v-‘rf'w, nwsfe‘fikmgéi‘fyu‘. .fl‘ var-I" v—V;v- - m. -u l . «a ~Mflicw-wqwiqw" "5‘ “gm—‘4“.W” . 5w . .1. . 1". w.) . — u:- nmyfih- (V; on...“ ..,,,.,.;_...<.'~.,..,ur,-:e.:;:.,‘4: ‘.—v.; M‘— r- . «L», ;:u;:;r,~— mafia—9.; A '3; aura-Livy :‘ ._..,.:.-. w4~s~..~,,;..,.w.,x3 .J < u-m— . . ... #L-mxr, N A. ( THE CREOLE COUSIN S. 5 might ride into the city with his friend, as a led horse might awaken curiosity which they wish- ed to avmd. “ Ned ” said Hal, with feeling, “ I’ll never forget t is servicc!” “Tut! tut!” laughed the middy. “Didn’t I at f you into the scrape by discovering the auty? If you get out of it half as easy as you got in, I lose my guess!” And Taunton proved to be a true prophet; for, of course, the “salvador” had to carry to his protegee the newspaper accounts of her sup- posed suicide, and afterward return at least every other day to assure himself of her safety and to apprise her that suspicion of impostura was not yet aroused, though the bay had been dragged without success for her body. Over this so aration the merry middy sighed with mock dolxdr: “Hein! hein! behold the inconstancy of friendship! A new face—a smile—a word, and I am forgotten!” Just before the Avalanche was ready for sea Lieutenant Hazeltine tendered his resignation, to the nnhound