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BY MONSIEUR DEMOULH‘L The light here was alu on equal to that without, for the sky-light was very wide. The floor was sunken in like the deck of the ship He looked around to see where he might first search for the treasure. Suddenly his eye caught sight of something which drove away every other thought. _ . 1 The Turning of the Long, Long Lane. A; one end was a seat. and there, propped up against the wall, was a. skeleton in a sit- ting posture. Around it was a belt with a sword attached. The figure had partly twisted icself around. but its head and shoulders were so propped up against the wall that it could not fall. Brandon advanced. filled with a. thousand emotions One hand was lying down in front. Helified it. There wasa gold ring on the bony finger. He took it 03. In the dim light. he saw. out in bold relief on this seal ring. file crest of his familyâ€"a. Phoenix. dare he had calmly taken his seat when the ship was setting slowly down into the embrace of the waters. Here he had taken his seat, calmly and aternly. awaiting his death â€"â€" perhaps with a feeling of grim triumph that he could thus elude his foes. This was the man, and this the hand. which had written the mesage that had drawn the descendant here. Such Were the thoughts that passed through Brandon’s mind. He put the ring on his own finger and turned away. His an- cestor had summoned him hither, and here he was. Where was the treasure that was promisad? , u Brandon's impatience now rose to a fever. Only one thought filled his mind. All around the cabins were little rooms, into each of which he looked. The doo’rs had all fallen away. Yet he saw nothing in any of ‘hem. He stood for a moment in deep thought Where could he look? Could he venture down into the dark hold and explore ‘3 How could be hope to find anything there. amidst the ruins of that interior Where guns and chains lay, perhaps all mingled together where they had fallen ? It would need a longer time to find it than he had at first supposed. Yet would he falter ‘2 No 1 Rather- than give up he would pass years here‘ till he had dismembered the wholo ship and strewn every particle of her piecemeal over the bot- tom of the sea. Yet he had hoped to solw the whole mystery at the first visit ; and now. since he saw no sign of any thing like treasure. he was {or a while at a loss what to do. “his ancestor had summoned him. and he had come. Where was the treasure ? Where 7 Why could not that figure arise and Show him ? â€"§neh were his thoughts. Yet thesa thoughts. uhe result of excitement that was now a frenzy, soon gave rise to others that were calmer. He reflected that perhaps some other feel. ing than what he had at first imagined might have inspired that grim old Englishman when he took his seat there and chose to drown on that seat rather than move away. Some other reeling, and what feeling ? Some iseling which must have been the strongest of his heart. What was that ‘2 The one which had inspired the message, the desire to secure still mote that treasure for which he had toiled and fought. His last act war- to send the message, why should he not have still home that thought in his mind and carâ€" ried it till he died ? The akelecon was M one end, supported by the wall. Two posts projected on each side. A heavy oaken chair stood there, which had once perhaps been lustened to the floor. Brandon thought that he would first examine ‘hat wall. Perhaps there might he some open ing there. He took the skeleton in his arms reverent.- ly, and proceeded to lift. it from the chair. He could 110:. He looked more narrowly. and saw a chain which had been fastened around it and bound it to she chair. What was the meaning of this? Had the crew muninied. bound the captain, and run ? Had the Spaniards seized the ship after all? Had they recovered the spoil, and punished in this way the plunderer of their galleona, by binding him here to the chair, scuttling the ship and sending him down to the bonom ol the sea 1 The idea of the possibility of this made Brandon sick with anxiety. He pulled the chair away. put it on one side, and began to examine the wooden wall by running his hand along it. There was nothing whatever perceptible. The wall was on the side farthest from the stern. and almost amiduhips. He pounded it, and. bv the feeling. knew that it was hollow behind He walked to the door which was on one side. and passed in hehihd this very well. There was nothing there. It had once perhaps been used as part of the cabin. He came back disoonsolmely. and stood on the very place where the chair had been. " Let me be calm," he said to himself. “ This enterprise is hopeless. Yes, the Spaniards captured the ship, recovered the treasure, and drowned my ancestor. Let me not be deceived. Let me cast ewey hope, and search here without any idle expecm- “on.” Suddenly as he thought he felt the floor gradually giving way beneath him. He started, but before he could move or even think in what direction to go the floor sank in, and he at once sank with it downward. Had it, not been that the tube was of ample extent, and had been carefully managed so as to guard against any abrupt descent among rocks at. the bottom of the 563, this sudden {all might of ended Brandon’s career forever. As is was he only sank quickly. but without accident. until his breast was on a level with the cabin floor. In a moment the truth flashed upon him. He had been standing on a trap door which opened from the cabin floor into the hold of the ship. Over this trap door old Ralph Brandon had seated and bound himself. Was it to guard the treasure? Was it that he might await his descendant, and thus silently indicate to him the place where he must look ? And now the fever of Brandon‘s conflicting hope and {ear grew more imense than it had over yet been through all this day of days. He stooped down to feel what it was that lay under his feet. His hands grasped some- thing. the very touch of which sent; a thrill sharp and sudden through every fibre of his being They were metallic bars I He rose up again overcome. He hardly dared to take one up so as tonee whet it might be. For the actual eight would realize hope or deexroy it forever. PlTCHERY-BIDGERY. Once more he Mooped down. In a sort of (my be grasped a bar in each hand and raised 1! pp to the»mzh}. Down under the sea the action of water had not destroyed the color of those bars which he held up in the dim light that came through the waters. The dull yellow of those rough ingots seemed to gleam wuh dazzling bright- ness before his bewildered eyes. and filled his whole soul wilh a torrem of rapture and tri» umph. u. mu u it waé his anoestof himself who was before '77:;an emofiions overcame him. The bars of gold fell down from his trembling hands He sank back and leanedragainstithq will}. Bufi what was it that lay under his feet? What were all these bars? Were they all gold? Was this indeed all hereâ€"the pluu» der 0! the Spanish treasure ships â€" thl wealth which might purchase a kingdom- the treasure equal to an empire‘s revenue â€" the gold and jewels in countless store. A few moments of respite were needed in order to overcome the tremendous conflict 0! feeling which raged within his breast. Then once more he stooped down. Bis outstretched hand felt over all this space which thus war piled up with treasure. It was about (our feet square. The ingot:- lay in the center. Around the sides wre boxes. One of these he took out. It was made of thick oaken plank, and was about ten inches long and eight wdie. The rusty' I waited there for nearly half an hour, nails gave but little resistance. and the iron during which time no notice was taken of bands which once bound them peeled off at a ' me. I heard my father and John walk down touch. He opened the box. the piazza steps and go away. They had Inside was a casket. evidently forgotten all about me. At last a. He tore 01821 the casket. man came toward the door who did not look It Was filled wnh juwelfl ! like a servant. He was dressed in His work was ended. No more search, no black. He was a slender, pale shamb~ more fear. He bound the casket tightly to fling man, With thin, light hair, and a fur- the end of the signal line added to it a bar of two eye and a weary face. He did not look gold and clambered to the deck. like one who would insult me, so I asked him He out all the weight that was at bit} where I could find Mrs. Compton. 7 “ He cast ofi the weight that was at his waist, which he also fastened to the line. and let it go. Freéd from the weight he rose buoyantly to 9716 top of ther wqter. The Boat pulled rapidly toward him and took him in. As he removed his helmet he saw Frank’s eyes fixed on his in mute in- quiry. His eyes were ashen, his lips blood- less. Louis smiled. “ Heavens! ” cried Frank. “ can it be ? " “ Pull up the signal-line and see for your self.” was the answer. And, as Frank pulled Louis uttered a cry which made him look up Louis pointed to the. sun. “ Good God I what a time I must have been down 1" BRANDON HALL. September 1, 1848 â€"Ps.olo Lenghetti used to say that it was useful to keep a diary ; not one from day to day for each duy’e events are generally triVIal, and therefore not worthy of record ; but rather a. statement in full of more important events in one’s life, which may be turned to in later years. I wiahI had begun this sixteen months awo, when I first came here. How lull would have been my melancholy record by this time 1 Where shall I begin ? Of course, with my arrival here, for this is the time when we sepsrted. There is no need for me to put down in writing the events that took place when he was with me. Not a word that he ever spoke, not 8. look that he ever gave, has escaped my memory. This much I may set down here. “ Time 1" said Frank. “ Don't my time «it was eternity " Alas! the shadow of the African forest fell deeply and darkly upon 1110. Am I stronger than other women, or weaker? I know not. Yen I can be calm Whlle my heart is breakzng. Yes, I am at once stronger and weaker ; so weak that my heart bresks, so strong that I can hide it. IWKi'll begm from the time of my arrival here. I came knowing well who the man was and what he was whom I had for my father. 1 came with every word of that despairing vov- ager ringing in my ears that cry from the driting Vishnu. where Deapard lay down to die. How it is that. his very name thrills through we? I am nothing to him. I am one of the hateful brood of murderers. A Thug was my father â€"and my mother who ? And who am I, and What? At least. my soul is not his though I am his daughter. My soul is myself, and life on ea.th cannot last forever. Hereafter I may stand Where that man can never approach. _ The one who was standing was somewhat elderly. with a. broad, fat face. which ox- urossed nothing in particular but vulgar good- uature. He was dressed in black, and looked like a serious butlnr‘ or perhaps still more like some 0! the Dissenting ministers whom I have seen. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at me with avaosnt smile. How can I ever forget the firm eight which I had of my fmher. who before I saw him had become to me as abhorrent as a. demon ! I came up m the coach to the door of the Hall and looked out. On the broad piazza. were two men ; one was sitting, and the other standing. The other man was younger, not over thirty. He was thin, and looked pale from dissipation. His face was covered with spute, his eyes ware gray, his eyelashes white. He was smoking a very large pipe, and n tumbler of some kind of drink stood on the stone pavement in his feet. He stared as me be- Lween the pufls of his pipe, and neither moved nor spoke. I! I had not already tasted the bitterness of despair I should have tasted it as I saw these men. Somethmg told me that they were my father and brother. My very soul sickened at the sight v~the memory of Des- pard‘s words come backâ€"and If it had been possxble to have felt any tender natural afieo- tion for them, this recollection would have destroyed It. “ I Wish to see Mr. Potts," said I coldly. My father slated at me. “ i’m Mr. Putts." he answered. “ I am Beatrice," said I ; " I have juat ar~ rived from China.” By this time the driver had opened the door, nndl got outaud walked up on the piazza: “ Johnnie,” exclaimed my father, “ what the devil is the meaning of this ‘2” “ Gad, I don‘t know,” returned John with a pufirqf smoke. “ Didn’t you say she was drowned ofl the African coast ?” “ I saw so in the newspapers.” “ Didn’t you tell me about the Falcon res- cuing her from the pirates, and then getting wrecked with 8.21 on board ?" “ Yes. but then there was a girl that ass-- capeq.”_ 7‘ on he !" said my father. with a long whisfle, “ I didn’t know that ” he turned and looked at me hastily, but in deeprperplexity: "-Sâ€"o ybu’reâ€"the girl, are you ?” he said at last. He walked up and down for a. few minutes, and at last stopped and looked at me again. ‘- Tnat’s all very well," said he at last. “ but how do I know that you are the party ? Have you any proof of this ?" “ No.” “ You have nothing but your own state- ment ?" II No." “ And you may be an imposter. Mind 5cm ~ I'm a magistrateâ€"and you had better be careful.” “ You can do what you chose,” said I coldly. “ No I can’t. In this country a man can’t do what he onosea.” I was silent. “ Johnme." said my father, “ I‘ll have to leavq her to you. You arrange it‘" " I am your daughter,” I answered. I saw tum look at John, who winked in re turn. John lookéd at me lazily, still smoking, and for sgme time gaid‘rgorxhingr. “ I suppose," said he at last, “ you’ve got to put it through. You began it you know. You would send for her. I never saw the use of it." “ But do you think this is the party ‘2” “ Oh, I dare say. It don't make any difi- erence any way. Nobody would take the trouble to come to you with a. sham story." “ That‘s ‘a fact,” said my father. “ So I don’t see but you’ve got to take her. 'v‘ I don‘t think anything of the kind." re- turned John, suappiehly. " I only think that ane’fi phe pgrbyryour sent for ” ” Well.” said my father, “it you think so, wbyrrall rugby? _ “ If you‘re the girl," He said. “you can get 1:]. 11th up Mrs. Compton, and she’ll take charge of you.” Compton ! At the mention of that name a shudder passed through me. She had been in the family of the murdered man, and had over aince lived with his murderer. I went in without a. word, prepared for the worst, and expecting to see some ev11 faced woman, a. fit companion for the pair outside. “Oh, wéll, his all the snme,"said my father. who then turned to me again, I stood quietly. Had I not been prepared r"or some such fining as this I mng perhap» nave broken down under grief. but I had new be MS., and nothing could surprise or wound A servfint was passiué along. “Where is MrsiOompton ?” I asked: “ Somu‘vhere or other, I suppose," growled he man. and went on. CHAPTER XXIV. BEATRIOE'B JOURNAL He started as I spoke and iooked at me in wonéer, yet 7 respectlvely. “ I huie juau-come 'from China.” said I, “ and my father told me to find Mrs. Comp- ton.” He looked at. me for some time without speaking a word. I began to think that he was imbecile. “ So you are Mr. Pott’s daughter,” said he at last, in a. thin, weak voice. “ lâ€"I didn’t know that you had come â€"Iâ€"I knew that he was expecting youâ€"Jami heard you were lost at 523â€" Mrs. Comptonâ€" yesâ€"oh yesâ€" I‘ll show you where you can find Mrs. Comp- ton.” He was embarrassed, yet not unkind. There was wonder in his face. as though he was surprised at my appearance. Perhaps it was because he found me so unlike mv {other He walked toward the great stairs. from time to time turning his head to look at me. and ascended them. I followed and after going to the third story we came to a room. ” That’s the place,” said he. He then turned, without replying to my thanks, and left me. I knocked at the door. After some delay it was opened. and I went in. A thin. pale woman was there. Her hair was perirctly white. Her face was marked by the traces of great grief and sui- fering, yet overspread by an expression of surpassing gentleness and sweetness. She looked like one of those women who live lives of devotion for others, who suffer out of the spirit of self sacrifice. and count their own comfort and happiness as nothing in com parison with that of those whom they love. My heart warmed toward her at the first glance ; I saw that. this could not be altogether cor- rupt since she was here. She stood mute. An expression of deadly fear overspread her ooumenance, which seemed to turned her white face to a grayish hue, and the look that she gave me was a look as one may cash upon some object; of morml fear. 2' I am Mr. Potta' daughter,’ said I; “ are yoqers. Ugompton ‘37” “ You look alarmed," said I, if! surprise ; " and why? Am I then so frightful ? " She seized my hand and covered it with kisses. This new outburst surprised me as much as her former fear. I did not know what to do. “ Ah I my sweet child, my dearest l ” she murmured. “ How did you come here, here of all places on earth ? ” 1 was touched by thé tenderness and svm- pathy of her tone. It was full of the gentlest love. “ How did you come here? ” I asked. She started andturned on me her former look of fear. “ Do not look at me 80," said I, " dear Mrs, Compton. You are timid. Do not be afraid of me. I am incapable of inspiring fear. I pressed her hand. Let us say nothing more now about. the place. We each seem to know whm in is. Since I find one like you living here it will not seem altogether a. place of de- spair.” ‘ “Oh, dear child, what words are these? You speak as if you knew all.” “I know much.” said I, “ and I have suffered much.” “ Ah, my nearer-n! you are too young and too beautiful to suffer.” An agony of sorrow came over her face. Then I saw upon it an expreseion which I have often marked since, a strange struguling desire to say something, which that. excessive and ever present terror of here made her incapable of uttering. Same secret thought was 111 her whole face, but her faltering tongue was paralyzed and could not divulge it. She turned away with a deep sigh. I looked at her with much interest. She was not the woman I expected to find. Her face and voice won my heart. She was certainly one to be trusted. But still there was ths mystery about her. Nothing could exceed her kindness and tenderness. She armuged my room. She did everything that could be done to give it an air of comfort. It was a very luxuriously furnished chamber. All the house was lordly in its at.er and arrangements. The next day I spent in m) room, occu- pied with my own sad thoughls. At about three in the afternoon I saw him come up the avenuo. My heart throbbed violently. My eyes were riveted upon that Well-known face, how loved 1 how dear I In vain I tried to conjecture the reason why he should come. Was it to strike the first blow in his just, his implacgble vengeance? I longed thal I might receive that blow. Anything that came from him would be sweet. He staid a long time and then left. Whm’. passed I can not conjecture. But it 1nd evidently been an agreeable visit to my father. for I heard him laughing uproariously on the piazza. abou‘ something not long after he had gone. I have not seen him since. For several weeks Iscaroely moved from my room. I ate with Mrs. Crompton. Her re- serve was impenetrable. It was with pain, fear and trembling that she touched upon any thing connected with the affairs of the house or the family. I saw it and spared her. Poor thing, she has always been too timid for such a. life as this. At the end of a. month I could live here in a state of obscurity without being molested. Strange that a daughter‘s feelings toward a father and mother should be those of horror. and that her desire with reference to them should me merely to keep out of their eight. I had no occupation, and needed none, for I had my thoughts and my memor es. These memories were bitter. yet sweet. I took the sweet. and tried to solace myself with them. The days are gone forever ; no longer does the sea. spread wide ; no longer can I hear his voice ; I can hold her in my arms no more ; yet I can remember “ Dns sussehte Gluck fur die truuernde Ernst, Nuch dcr achoneu lnebe verachwundeuer Lust, Sintl der Liebc Schmurzeu uud Klageu." I think I had lived this sort of life for three months without seeing either my hubs: or brother. Al the end of that time my father sent for me. He informed me that he intended to give a grand entertainment to the county fumlllies, and wanted me to do the honors. He had ordered dreaamakers for me ; he wished me to wear some jewels which he had in the house. and informed me that it would be the grandest thing of the kind that had ever taken place. Fireworks were going to be let OK; the grounds were to be illumin- ated. and nothing that money could efiect would be spared to render it the most splen~ did festival that could be imagined. I did as he said. The dressmnkers came, and I allowed them to array me asxhey chose. My father informed me that he would not give me the jewels till the time came, hinting a fear that I m pht steal them‘ At last the evening arrived. Invitations had been sent everywhere. It was expected that the house would be crowd (1. My father even ventured to make a. personal request that I would adorn myself As well as possible I did the best I could, and went to the draw- ing-room to receive the expected crowds ‘1' She‘s a dâ€"â€"â€":-d bad inveszment," I heard him say. The hour came and passed, bu» no one ap- peared. My father looked a little troubled‘ but he and John waited in the drawing-room. Servants were Eenz down to see if any one was approaching. An hour passed. Still no one Game. Three hours passed. I waited calmly, but my father and John, who had all die mime been drinking freely, became furious. I: was now midnight, and all hope had leh them. They had been treated with scorn b3 the whole county. The servants were laughing at my father‘s disgrace. The proud array In the different roomq was all e. mockexy. The elaborate fire works could not be used. My father turned his eyes, it anger and among drink, gownrd me eyeg, inflamed by “ Itold you 50.” said John, who dld not deign to look at me ; “ but you were deter- mined.” They then sat drinking in silence for some time. " Sold 1” said my father. suddenly, with an oath. John made no reply. “ I thought the county would take to her. She’s one oitheir own sort.” my father mut- tiered. “ If it weren’t for you they might," said John; “but they ain’t overtond of her dear father.” “ No go anyhow." “ I thought I'd get in with them all right away, hobnob with lords and baronets, and maybe get knighted on the spot." John gave a loud scream of laughter. “ You old fool," he cried; “so that’s what you’re up to, is it? Sir John â€"â€"ha, ha, ha 1 You’ll never be made Sir John byparties, I’m afraid.” “ Oh, don‘t you be too sure. I’m not pr” down. I’ll try again,” he continued, after ‘ pause. “Next year I‘ll do it. Why, 8119’" marry 11 lord, and then won’t I be a lord‘s father-in law ! What do you say to that ?" “ When did you get th'isse notions in your blessed head ?” asked John. “ Oh. I’ve had themâ€" It’s not so much for myself, Johnnie. but for you. For if I‘m 3 lord you‘ll be 8 lord too.” “Lord Potts. Ha, ha, ha I” “ No.” said my father, with some appear- ance of vexation , “not that ; we’ll take our mle the way all lords do, from the estates. I‘ll be Lord Brandon, and when I die you’ll get the title.” “ And that’s your little game. Well. you’ve played such good little games in your life than I’ve got nothing to say, exceptâ€"‘ Go in! ’ ” ” She’s the one ahat’ll give me a lift.” “ Well, she ought to be able to do some- thing.” By this time I concluded that I had done my duty and prepared to retire. I did not wish to overhear any of their conversation. As I walked ou$ of the mom I still heard their remarks : “ Blest if she don’t look as if she thought herself Queen,” said John. “ It’s the diamonds, Johnnie.” " No it ain’t. it’s the girl herself. I don’t like the way she has of looking at me and through me.” “ Why. thaw the way with that kind. It‘s what the lords like." " I don’t like in then, and I tell you she's gotjq he took dpwni’: This was the last I heard. Yet one thing was evident to me from their conversation. My father had some Wild idea of effecting an entrance into society through me. He thought that after he was once recognized he might get sufficient influence to gain a. title and found a family. I also might marry 3 lord He thus dreamed of being Lord Brandon, and one of the great nobles of the land. Amidst my sadness I almost smiled at this vain dream; but yet John’s words affected me stronglyâ€"“ You’ve played such good little games in your life.” Well I knew with whom they were played. One was with Despard, the other with Brandon, During these months Mrs. Compton’s ten- der devotion to me never ceased. I respected her, and forbora to excite that painful fear to which she was subject. Once or twice I for- got myself and began speaking to her about her strange position here. She stopped me with a look of alarm. This then was the reason why he had sent for me from China. The knowledge of this purpose made my life neither brighter nor darker. I still lived on as before. “ Are you not afraid to be kind to me 5’” I asked. She looked at me piteously. “ You are the only one that is kind to me," I continued. “ How have you the courage?" " l (Hunot help it.” she murmured. " you are so dent to me.” She sighed and was silent. The mystery about her remained unchanged ; her gentle nature, her tender 10ve, and her ever-present fear. What was there in her past that so influenced her life ? Had she too been mixed up with the crime on the Vishnu? She ! impossible. Yet surely something as dark as that must have been required to throw so black a cloud over her life. Yet what â€"-whet could that have been ? In spite of myself I associate her secret with the tragedy of Des pard. She was in his family long. His wife died. She must have been with her at the time. The possibilities that have suggested them- selves to my mind will one day drive me mad. Alas. how my heart yearns over that lonely man in the drifting ship ! And yet, mercilul God ! who am I that I should sympathize with 'nim ? My name is infamy, my blood is pollution. I spoke to her once in a general way about the past. Had she ever been out of England ? I asked. “ Yes," she answered dreamily. “ Where ?” She lookediat me and said not a word. At another time I spoke of China. and hinted that perhaps she too knew something about the East. The moment; that I said this I repented. The poor creature was shaken from head to foofi wrth a sudden con vulsion of fear. This convulsion was so ter- rible that it seemed to me as :hough another would be death. I tried to soothe her, but she looked fear-fully at me for a long time after. At another time I asked her directly whether her husband was alive. She looked at me with deep sadness and shook her head. I do not know what position she holds here. She is not housekeeper ; none of the servants pay any attention to her whatever. There is an impudent head servant who manages the rest. I noticed that the man who showed me to her room when I first came treats her dil ferently frem the rest. Once or twice I saw them talking in one of the halls. There was a deep respect in his manner. What he does I have not yet found out. He has always shown great respect to me, though why I can not imagine. He has the same timidity of manner which marks Mrs. Compton. His name is Philips. I once asked Mrfi. Compton who Philips was, and what he did. She answered quickly that he was a kind 0! clerk to Mr. Paths, and helped him to keep his accounts. For more than the three months I remain- ed in my room,but at last. through utter despair. I longed to go out. .The noble grounds were there, high hills from which the wide sea was visibleâ€"that sea which shall be associated with his memory till I die. A great longing came over me to look upon its wide expense, and feed my soul with old and dear memories. There it would lie, the same sea from which he so often saved me, over which he smiled till he laid down his noble life at my feet, and I gave back that life to him again. ‘ . “ Yes. 9. considerable time,” she said, but I saw that the subject distressed her, so I changed it. I used to ascend a hill which was half a mule behmd the Hall within the grounds, and pass whole days there unmo‘estud. No one took the noun e to notice what I did. at least I thought so till afterward. There for months I used to go. I would sit and look fiXedly llJOIl the blue water, and my imaglnation would carry me far away to the South, to that island on the African shore. where he once reclined in my arms, before the day when I laumed that my touch was pollution to him ‘IHas he beexf with him long ?” I con- tinued. to tha: island where I afnerward knelt by him as he lay senseless. slowly coming back to lifeI when if I migln but touch the hem 0! his garment it was bliss enough for one day. All me. how ofien I have we: his feet with my tearsâ€"poor, emaciated featâ€"and longed to be able to wipe them with my hair, but dared not. He lay unconscious He never knew the anguish of my love. One day the idea. crime into my head to extend my ramble into the country oumide, in order to get a wider View. I went Then I was less despairing. The air around was filled with the echo of his velce ; Icould shut my eyes, and bring him before me. His face was always viaubte to my soul. But I sent out the invites in her name to the gate. The porter came out and asked what I wanted. I told him. ‘ You can’t go out," said he rudely “ Wuy not?” " 0h, them’s Pott’s orders, mars enough, I think.” ” He never said so to me," I replied, mild~ " That’s no odds; he said to me, and he told me if you made any row to tell you that you were watched, and might just as well give up at once.” “Watched !" said I. wonderiugiy. “ Yes-for fem- you’d get skittish, and try and do something foolish. 01d Potts is bound to keep you under his thumb.” Iturned away. I did not care much. I felt more surprise than anything else to think that he would take the trouble to watch me. Whether he did or not was of little consequence. Il I could only be where I had the sea before me it was enough. That day, on uomg back :0 the hall, I saw John sitting on the piazza. A huge bull dog which he used to take with him everywhere was lying M his feet. Just before I reached the steps a Malay servant came out of the house. He was about the same age as John. I knew him to be a Malay when I first saw him and concluded that my father had picked him up in the East. He was slight but very lithe and muscular. with dark glittering eyes and ghstaning white teeth. He never looked at me when I met him, but always at the ground, without seeming to be aware of my existence. The Malay was passing out when John called out to him. “ Hi, there, Vijal! " Viinl looked carelessly at him. “ Here ! ” cried John, in the tone with which he would have addressed his dog. Vijal stopped carelessly. “ Pick up my hat. and hand it to me.” His hat had fallen down behind him. Vijal stood without moving, and regarded him with an evil smile. “ Dâ€"n you, do you hear ? " cried John. “ Pick up my hat.” But Vijal dil not move. “ If you don‘t, I’ll set the dog on you," cried Jolm, starting to his feet in a rage. Still Vijal remained motionless. ‘ Nero 1 " cried John. furiously, pointing to Vijal, " seize mm, sir.” The dog sprang up and at once leaped upon Vijil. Vijil Warded off the assault with his arm. The dog seized it, and held on, as was his nature. Vijal did not utter a cry, but seizing the dog. he threw him on his back, and flinging himse‘lf upon him, fixed his own teeth in the dog’s throat. John burst into a torrent of the meal frighlful curses. He ordered Vijal to let. go of the dog. Vijal did not move; but while the dog's teeth were fixed in his arm, his own were still fixed as tenaciously in the throat. of the dog. ..... ..u John sprang forward and kicked him with frightful violence. He leaped on him and stamped on him. At last. Vijal drew a knife from his girdle and made a. dash at John. This frightened John who fell back cursing. Vijal then raised his head. The dog lay motionless. He was dead. Vijal sat down, his arm running blood, with the knife in his hand. mill glarinz at John: During, the {rightful scene I stood mated to the spot in horror. At last the eight of Vijal’a suffering roused me. I rushed forward, nnd, tearing the scarf from my neck, knelt down and reached out my hand to stanah the blood. He looked at me in bewilderment. Surprise at hearing a kind word in this house of hor- ror seemed to deprive him of speech. Pasn sively he let me take his arm, and 1 bound i1. up as wall as I could. . . ,. r Vijal drew back: “ Poor Vijal," said I, “ let me stop the blood. I can dress wounds. Hqgv yourdq sufier 1"" All this time John stood 'cursing, first me and then Vijal. I said not a. word. and Vijal did non seem to hear him, but, sat regarding me with his fiery black eyes. When at last I had finished, he rose and still stood staring at me, I walked into the house. John hurled a. torrent of impression after me. The last Words that I heard were the some as he had oncesaid before. " You’ve got to he took down ; and I’ll be dâ€"â€"d if you don’t. get took down precious soon! ” I told Mrs. Compton of what had happened. As usual she was seized with terror. She looked at me with a glance of fearful appre- hension. At last she gasped out : “ They’ll kill you.” ” Let them,” said I carelessly ; “ it would be better than living.” “ Oh, dear l ” gronned the poor old thing, and Hank sobbing in a chair. I did what I could to soothe her, but. to little purpose. She aherward told me that Vijal had escaped further punishment in spite of John’s thre its, and hinted that they were half afraid of him. The next day. on attempting to go out, Philips told me that I was not to be permitw ted to leave the house. I considered it the result of John’s threat, and yielded without a word. After this I had to seek distraction from my thoughls within the house. Now there came over me a great longing for music. Once. when in the drawing room on that: famous evening of the abortive fete, which was the only time I ever was there, I had noticed a magnificent grand piano of most costly work manship. The though} of this came to my mind, and an unconquerable desire to iry it arose. So I went. down and began to play. It was a little out of tune, but the tone was marvelously full and sweet. I threw myself with indescribable delight into the charm of the hour. All the old joy which music once used to bring came back. Imagination, stim- ulated by the swelling harmonies, transported me far away from this prison-house and its hateful associates to that happier time of youth when not a thought of sorrow came over me. I last my self therein. Then that passed, that life vanished, and the sea voyage began. The thoughts of my mind and the emotions of my heart passed down to the quivering chords’ and trembled into life and sound. I’do not know how long I had been playing when suddenly I heard a sub behind me. I started and turned. It was Philips. He was standing with tears in his eyes and a rapt expression on his emaciated face.his hands hanging listless, and his whole air that ofone who had lost all senses save that of hearing. But as I turned and stopped, the spell that bound him was broken. He sighed and looked at me earnestly. “ Can you sing ‘3” “ Would you like me to do so 2" “ Yes.” he said, in ahint, imploring voice. I began a low songâ€"a strain associated with that same childhood of which I had just been thinkingâ€"a low, sad strain, sweet to my ears and to my soul ; it spoke of peace and innocence. quiet home joys, and calm de- light. My own mind brought before me the image of the house where I had lived, with the shadow of the great trees around, and gorgeous flowers everywhere, where the sultry air breathed soft, and beneath the hot noon all men sank in rest and slumber. “ I came up to say togyou,” said he, after a little hesilamon, "that I can‘t stand this in farm! squall and clatter any longer. So in future you jmt s_h}1t_ up." ‘ ‘ ‘ *With these worda he rushed out of the room. I kept up my music for about ten days, when one day it was stopped forever. I was in the middle of a piece when I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I turned and saw my father. I rose and looked at him with an efiurt to be respectful. I: was lost on him, however. He did not glance at me. The year ended, and a new year began January passed away. My melancholy began to uflect my health. I scarcely eVer slept; at night, and to eat was diflicult. I hoped that [was going to die. Alasldeath will not come when one calls. Wheini stopped I turned again. Philips had not changed his amtude. But as I turned he uttered an exclamation and tore out his watch. Heavens, two hours 3" he exclaimed. “He’ll kill me for this.” "'Hreifilme'd and left fine. I closed the piano forever, and wenfit t_u my _room. One day I was in my room lying on the couch when Mrs. Compton came. On enter- ing she looked terrified about something. She spoke in a. very agitated voice: " They want you down stairs.” “ Who? ” “ Mr. Potts and John.” “ Well," said I, and I prepared to get ready. “ When do they want. me .9“ “ Now,” said Mrs. Common, who by this time was crying. “ Why are you so agitated ? ” I asked. “ I am afraid of you." “ Why 80? Gem anything be worse ? " “ Ah, my dearest! you don’t knowâ€"you don‘t know.” I said nothing more, but went down. On entering the room I saw my father and John seated at a table with brandy before them. A third man was there. He was a thick set man of about the same height as my father, but. more muscular. with a strong, square jaw, thick neck, low brow, and stem face. My father did not show any actual ferocity in his lace whatever he felt; but this mans face exâ€" pressed relentless cruelty. - u ‘ w.” r'bfir entering the tom}: I walked up a little distance and stood looking at them. A > W 7“ There. Clark; what dog'ou think of that ‘1” said my father; The name, Clark. at once made known to me who this man was-â€"â€"that old associate of my fmherâ€" his assistant on board the Vishnu. Yet the name did not add one whit no me abhorrence which I felt, my fanher was worse even than he. "filéixhan Clark looked at me scrutinizingiy for some time. “ So that's the gal," he said at last. ‘5 That’s the gal," said my father. Clark waved his hand to me. “ Tum round aidewaysi‘ sai-1 he. ' Iloo’kéd m him quietly without moving. He repeated the order, but I took no notice of it. “ Dâ€"n her," said he. “ Is she deal ‘3" " Not a bit of it." said John; “but she‘s plucky. She’d just as soon you’d kill her as not. There isn't any way of moving her.” “ Turn round I” cried mv father angrily. I turned as he said. “ You see,” said he. with a laugh. “she‘s been piously brought up -â€"she honors her father.” At this Clark burst into a laugh. Some conversation followed about me as I stood there. Clerk then ordered me to turn round and face him. I took no notice; but on my father's ordering it, I obeyed as be fore. This appeared to amuse them all very greatly. just as the tricks of an intelligent poodle might have done. Clark gave me many commands on purpose to see my refus al, and have my father’s order which followed obeyed. "MWell," said he. at last. leaning back in his chair. " she is a showy piece of furniture, Your idea. isn't a bad one either.” He rose from his chair and came toward me. I stood looking at him with a gaze so fized and Intense that it seemed as if all my being were cemred in my eyes. He came up and reached out to taka hold of my arm. I stepped back. He lookeJ up angrily. 13m. for some reason. the moment that he caught sight of my face, an expression of fear passed over his. Isaw my father look at me. The same horror passed over his countenance. Au awfulthought came to me. As the men turned their faces away from me in fearI felt my strength going. I turned and rushed from the room. I do not remember anything more. It was early In February when this occured. Until the beginning of August; I lay senseâ€" less. For the first four months I hovered faintly between life and death. 7‘7‘7Haévens! " he groaned; “look at that face 1 ” Why did they not let me die? Why did I not die? Alas I had I died I might now have been beyond ‘his sorrow; I have waked to mess it; all again. Mrs. Compton says she found me on the floor of my own room. and that I was in a kind of stupor. I had no fever or delirium. A doctor came who said it was a. congestion of the brain. Thoughts like mine might desxroy the brain forever. For a month I have been slowly recovering. I can now walk about the room. I know nothing of what in going on in the house, and wish to know nothing. Mrs. Compton is as devoted as ever. I have got thus far, and will stop here. I have been several days writing this. I musfi atop till I am stronger. CHAPTER XII. THE BYZANTINE nymmsrs. Mona than a year had passed since that visit to Thornton Grange which has already been mentioned. Despm-d had not forgotten or neglected the melancholy case of the Bran- don family. He had written in alldirectione. and had gone on frequent visits. On his return from one of these he went to the Grange. Mrs. Thornton was sitting in the drawing room, lacking pensively out of the window. when she saw his well-known figure advancing up the avenue. His face was and, and pervaded by a melancholy expression, which was noticeable now as he walked along. But when he came into the room that mel- ancholy face suddenly ligmed up with the most radiant joy. Mrs. Thornton advanced to meet him, and he took her hand in both of his. “ I ought to say, Welcome back again,” smd she, with forced livliness, “ but you may have been in Holby a. week for all I Know, When did you come back? Confess now that you have been secluding yourself 111 your study instead of paying your respects in the proper quarter.” Despard smiled. “ I arrived home at elevlâ€"n this morning. It is now three P M by my watch. Shall I say how impatiently I have waited till three o‘clock should come ‘2” “ Oh no ! don’t say anything of the sort, I can imagine all that you would say. But tell me where you have been on this last visit '2" “ Wandering like an evil spirit seeking rest. and finding none.” “ Have you been to London again?" “ Where have I not been.” By this time they had seated themselves. “ My last journey." said Despard, “like my former ones, was, of course. about the Bran ion afiair. You know that I have had long conversations with Mr. Thornton about it, and he insists that nothing whatever can be done. lint you know, also. that I could not sit down idly and calmly under this convic~ tion. I have ful‘ most keenly the presence of intolerable wrong. Every day I have felt as if -I had shared in the infamy of those who neglected that dying man. That was the reason why I wrote to Australia to see if the Brandon who was drowned was really the one I supposed. I heard, you know. that he war- tho same man, and there is no doubt about that. Then you know, as I told you, that 1 went around among different lawyers to see it anything could be done. Nearly all asserted that no redress was possible. That is what Mr. Thornton said. There was one who said that if I were rich enough I might begin a prosecution, but as I am not rich that did me no good. That man would have been glad, no doubt. to have undertaken such a task." “ What is there in law that so harden the heart; 27" said Mrs, Thornton, after a pause. “ Why should 1|: kill all sentiment, and destroy so utterly all lhe more spiritual qualities ?" “ I don’t think that the law does this neces sarily. It depends after all on the man him self. If I were a. lawyer, I should still love music above all things.” 7“ But did you ééer know alawyer who loved music ? ” “ I have not known enough of them to answer that. But in England music is not loved so devotedly as in other countries. Is it inconceivable that an Italian lawyer should love music 7 ” “ Why so, more than medicine? The fact is.where ordinary men are concernau any scientific profession renders Art distasteful. I'VI don’t know. Law is abhorrent to me. It seems to me a profession that kills the finer sentiments.” At least this is so in England. After all, most depends on the man himsnlf. and one who is born will) a, keen sensibility. to the charms of art will carry it. through life, what- ever his profession may be.” " But suppose the man himself has neither taste, nor sensibility, nor any appre~ ciation of tho heuutifui, nor any Hyn'patby Whatever with those who love such things, what then ? ” O Mrsx’l‘homton spoke earnestly as she asked this " Well,” said Deapnrd. “ that question answers itself. As a man is born, so he ii -, and if nature denies him taste or semibili'y it makes no dxfierenco what is his profesâ€" siou.” Mrs. Thornton mads no reply. “My last journey," said Dospard, “ was about the Brandon case. I went to London first to see if something could not 05 done. I nad been there before on the same errand, but. without success. Iwas equally unauc‘ cessful this fime. “ I tried to find out about Potts the man who had purchased the estate. but learned that it was necessary to go to the vill age of Brandon. 1 went were, and made inquiries. Without exception the people sympathized wnh the unfortunate family, and looked with detastation upon the man who had supplanted them. “I heard that ‘ 9. young lady went (here last year who was reputed to be his duughaer. Every one said that she was («xirflnrdinarily beautiful. and iooked like) a lady. She stopped at the inn under a care (if 9. gentle- man who accompanied her, and went to the hall. She has never come out of it since. “ The landlord told me that the gentleman was a pale, sad looking man, with dark hair and board. He seemed very devoted to the youuglady, and parted with her in melan- choly silence. His account of this young lady moved me very strangely. He was not at all a sentimental man, but a. burly John Bull. which made his story all the more touching. It is strange, I must say, that one like her should go into that place and never be seen again. I do not know what to think of it, nor did any of those whom I spoke to in the village.” and there.” ” Yes, no they do." " Why do they not take some steps in the matter ‘2 ” “ What can they do 1’ She in his daughtmz Some of the villagera who have been to the hall at dilferent tunes any that they heard her playing and singing,” “ That does not sound like Imprisonment.” " The caged bird sings." f‘ Then you thmk she is a prisoner ‘2" “ I think it odd that she has never come out, not even to go to church.” “ It is odd ” “ This man Potts excited sulllcient interest in my mind to lead me to make many in- quiries. I found, throughout the country, that everybody utterly despised him. They all thought that poor Ralph Brandon had been almost mad. and by his madness had ruined his family. Everybody behaved that Potts had somehow deceived him. but no one could tell how. They could not bring any direct proof against him. A STRANGE COINCIDENCE. A Woman Leaves Her New-Born Babe at. Her Deserted Husband’s Door. CHICAGO, May 9,â€"Ab 1 30 yesterday morn- ing Mr. George W. Dmkwardm, who is angi- neer of engine No. 29 at the corner of Thirty- firnc and Halstvd arrests, and who lives at 88_ West Thirteenth street, was mowed from hisl slumber-s by u loud ringing of the front door- bell. He first apprehended some burglarious encounter, but; reassuring himself wiuh a deadly weapon. descended the sin in. half clothed, carefully opened the door and sur. veyed his midnight visitor. Lying on the alone steps, scantily covered from the chill night air, was a. tiny waif, wich a note pinmd to iis breast A terrible suspicion dawned upon the mind of the gallant engineer. He put by his deadly weapon and picked up the child, the note attached reading somewhat as follows, in Elie German language: â€"'1‘here was a sound of revelry at the Palace of Versailles a law nights ago. the ( o- casion being a few in honor of M. de Lcrsq a, who was born 11) that city in 18U5. A guest having drunk to the complelion of the Pa: 8.- ma. Canal, M. de Lesseps replied ; "I inwte you all m the openmg of the canal. In Will make place in 1888 and I feel convmced that I shall be there too.” " Charles Gross, 86 West Thirteenth street 2 This child belongs to you Charles Gross ; you are the father of it. and you shall take care of it. The preacher says: Be humble before God and acknowledge all your sins, as you yourself pray: ‘ Almighty God, charitable Father, I, a poor human being. acknowledge before Clhee all my sins in thoughis, words and deeds, which have caused Thy just displeasure, and for which I have deseived timely and eternal punishment.’ This is my condition, and it is you, Gross, who have destroyed my happiucss, and for your sakeI have become unfaithlul to my husband.” -â€"Dresden has: had an exhibilion comprisâ€" ing.mora than 1,500 periodicals, printed in 55 diffetrnt languages. There are 29L in Gen man, 12; in English, 155 in the Latin lan- guagus (French, Dalian, excl). 31 in Slav din. lecls. 7 m Fluvial), and 75 In Asiatic tongues and others. Among them are 99 illustrated periodlcals. 60 comic papers, and 592 scientific and indusmal Journals. â€"There is 'a large movement cf emi- grants of a high class from Scotland to Man- itoba. This note wasin the familiar handwriting of Dankwardt’s wife. According to the police. this finder of abandoned waife was severul yeure two married to a handsome but flighty German girl, with whom he lived happily for some time, till one ill fated night, about a year ago, Dunkwardt went on a drunken spree, and when reason returned he found himself guilty of some offense, which, how~ ever, is not cleurly defined in the memory of the police. I: was during this enforced ab- sence from home that Dunkwnrdt's wife, yielding to the solicitations of Gross, her next door neighbor, became, as so nuthetically confessed. unfaithful to her husband, and the newly born child of this shameful union was left by a strange mistake at the door of tho despairing mother’s husband. instead of at the door of her seducer. Dunkwardt, on being released from imprisonment, suspected the desertion of his wife and the criminal complicity of Gross, and instituted suit for divorce, which is now pending in the courts. [‘he abandoned little one, a girl but five days old, was taken by Dmkwardt to the Humane society. The suffering mother lies at the house of her parents, a. penitent Magdalen. The infant was grimly christened, by the police, Mary Gross. ~-â€"Tenders for doubTe the amount of the recent corporation of Lwerpool loan for $7,500,000 at pq cont yore Hpesdily made. -1<‘or a block of land comprising 4,917 square miles in the north of South Australia only M 75 a. mile was lately offered ; for an- other of 5,058 square miles only $3 75. ~â€"Cincinnati has its firstfour-iuhand drag. and describes it. of course, as the finest in the world. Even the Whip cost $50, the hat- ness once took a. prize at a. fair. and the monogram of the owner â€"n theater manager â€"is must gorgeously multipiied. â€"After sawing up a poor widow’s wood pile, a. lot of Harvard students discovered that they had spoiled 3.10: of timber she had bought to build an addixion to her coatage. l‘heyl never made such a mistake before and they never will again. â€"Tbe total number of persons lately evicted by Lord Cloncurry was 400. His grandfather was almost the last political pris- oner confined in the Tower of Londonâ€"as an Iriah patriot. Do you suppose that she really went there never came back ? ’ That is what they say.” Then they must believe that she is kept