DONALD'S PLOT.

A STORY OF

Unfaithful Guardian.

B y *LVANUS COBB. Jr.

CHAPTER XI. IX C.Uir.

tha way Bertram stopped, being miZ g«st pump wbich 6tood in tho [th 6 village green, and beyond he ° Cnen ending. They wore enveloped < s c l oa k» their backs towards him, 5 "eigtobecnga«ed in earnest «.«»■

U°,? h the man there who wishes to see me ?" Bertram asked, coming up by tho si.lo of his ijuide. k\o ■"'•■ Those iUe men ° vll!a Ke' Th i him over there,'• pointing to where o ' roan could be seen rtandiuj; at the far j, re of the green. They moved on, George now walking by v, t-uido'a side, leaving tho two men in Iks upon thoir Wr hand TllOy had but a short distance further, when our heard a rash of feat behind him, a ' . 0[ - jtrontr arms were thrown around to^ck, aß.rbef.ro he could utter a cry , thick sack had been drawn over his head SD d Ms anas lashed behind him. He was then led away, a man upon either • I, j rl ',,,rii|tr him ulotis^. ■ 4"CoS 0"' Co-aeon! If you hold , ~ i t 'U be worse for you ! T n ' voice was strained! and the thick „,. M out most of th<> .--oun.l ; nevertlie- S?to«i sure ho had heard it before. Tf it M> not the voico of Jacob \\ ouzel!, it They walked, perhaps a hundred yards „, i 0 and tlien the c: 'Ptivo felt himself lifted'into a veniclo, and driven swiftly ' Struggling1 would be i^eles?—pro biw worse than useloss-and crying for ■■^Ip waa impossible ;so 1m suffered himself to be borne on without an etfjrt to stay the knavish proceeding. For a little time tho road \va? compara tively smooth and the riding easy ; but by .inl-bv tho way became rough and didicult, and anon it begun to ascend n fteep incline. I'o up up, for a full mile, or moro, and then down, down, down about the same dis tance length tho wheels seemed to have struck the smooth sward, and shortly aiterfitrdsthe waggon stopped,and tho cap tive was lifted out and set upon his feet. "Anew recruit, Colonel," he heard a nun say—the same voice that had addressed "Veil, off with his masquerade, and let's hive a look at him." The sack was lifted from his head, and upon casting his eye 3 around, Bertram found himself in tho midst of a military encampment. A scoro of tents, moro or lea, werepitched around, and a camp tire mis'mouldering close at hand. He saw this, and then turned his gaze upon a man who stood bsfore him, and who had appar ently given tho order for his release from the suffocating hoodwink. Tho bright moonbeam?, resting upon tho stalwart form, sufficiently revealed it to his view. He was v man of powerful frame, tall and muscular; a face strongly marked, partly covcrcd-by afuli flowing benrd of an auburn hueja man of middle age, not over forty; blue eye?, bright, am! large, and full : hair oi the colour of the beaid, clustering about the well shaped head in carefully kept curlijn man who could not, by any un biased person, bo called else than handsoaie. lls ™ clad in a uniform of dark prey colour, with the straps of a colonel of cavalry upon his shoulders. "My good fellow," the officer said, when he had giveD the captive n re-isonable time in which to view his surrounding*, "I am Jack Eenwick, colonel of cavalry, in the r ervice of the Confederate Statesof America. May I ask who you aro?" George answered, respectfully but pioaily: "lam George Bertram, a subject of the (Joan of England ; an Englishman by birth; and ray birthright I have never for ieited or dishonoured. Will you kindly til ns why this un?o;mly outrage has been cacted against me 5" ".Uy(fear/ellow," paid tho colonel, with a cheery smile, "these are times when a ' msn may claim any nationality ho p!ea?e3 to fancy. HoM! Ido not mean to intimate yon would willingly deceive me. Before wo go further will you answer me this: Have you not come to this country hoping tn legally claim property here-property in real estate?' Ho could not deny it, "Then," pursued the colonel, "you should be willing to help us protect your rights and privileges an a Southern lund one: and gentleman. Know, my dear sir, tiut orders have been received from the jam's that bethat we shall fill up our ranks D? (trait; and the draft i* now in process of accomplishment. Look around you. lw will tee many man who havo been mW as you are called." "Sir I"exclaimed tha captive—hi? arms "era siill bound -"do you say that I have kmcalled' I have been cruelly throttled, Mgigged, and bound, and torn from my ;<«e by brutal force. Call you that draft- J? lell me-and'tell me truly—l J,, not t!> »t yon will blacken yu ,,r tongue with Uilshood-is there another here who has MM^rooght icto your camp as I have "So, there wsu not another man whom W MrfeJ to bring. My dtar man, we «*d you. I have a strong fancy that J!:5?, n., mi,litar y man. I do not think a.eta 0( i, N , Jlr> angwor me tr *, ~a vo J'»»ot enjoyed a military education ?" "v ,notc denyif ' sir- I even now-" „ »™? Speak on." «ml" a- 3ab-utto!laV that I still hold a ™H !Sl°f\ In the Brifisl' a™y i hut it ! "° T b?/Wetly true. I would not t ye? t I?ftit with a very dear friend, n Ittollls son should tho youth grow bff I- P,°' nt the colonel took a knife tt ?° C, ket' and with to °«-n hands S a Xi CJ u? ed' with abnratofunmia "WWe K oo-1 feeling • Wnt^.-T 0"1 Bertrai». let's bo friends. I SL mfrjw What,ay you?" fc H^ Si ook 1 hUhcad- Ho could not do tZlt "S about it; and, above all else, i,!S*»»y from a youn.; wife W< ?h f H Pre^"co, and from a buii 9*?"^ in his absence. \CJ?V "'ho -'Peaks to wickedly wronV C;° J «P«'at. Ho baa planned «»» do? °T r f hi3foulw<>rk- No%ir-I ''jobcan-" y°U bavo a heart to feel " fcrth'i'V" jntDm 'Pted Renwick, putting 21^ asl">^ke. "Do not im "'I L,li ° ? ot the P°wer to ?et you frco P'.v w !, ! ""{I 1 lioubt if l wo«W were the Ko* ,„ 'i - We «-antf-03d men too much, in bondf i m° : l d'in>t wUh >-°v t0 bePllt to Pll ™J caP>ain.», and I shall advise him 'hall!" On y°UT honour. But one hint I ba Jour dS : Au attempt to escape will «ivorf , v' h" warr""t- cur, as fate ! -Not tth'le IW °']owero" eartli oan set you fees bound!" P you' atul i 0 k^P yofi I am Rilv c "w£ fl1"! Bpokon> he Pl(»ced a small call, *kuK 9*Pbia "P"' a^ blewa shrill Ch4 by^g^ i ;r<o" iCkly. anßWere(l by a TfH!.im'T Se"d.V'!' ptain Errinpton to mo. ffhl9lL! anthim Particularly." situation V!i"^ne ™ hero studied the to"et off i ae- aw clearly that ha was not "onald Owen I"''^'' °f Psrsua*ion That "'■""Kf h7 "St dlreCt "Uth«r Of th€ i;v Col* j ZV S uml Ue knew it a, ')JU=dtoK»r %, enwick. ho was not only m 3 tt er Va° f 'l d,« et- "i- interest in tlu ilo^' to li-'J^H ," Tli«,l>avouotme,' kc -p^- Ilb- r a?^ they intend tc lbo,' HU -r'J 1110 t'^with another of"mani ' Ul' y raleis- Theshoollnf J/o nTuChtlVe^t- " rUii'i. lj' («=ap3. oTh?.', eaU!. XK T fjf a Present attempt't< H Don "ffiJ Bnli I' MI- Jf 1 could onl ;)Mleiu ?,,„'. h" r WI" to much for me ' 113 <umoTl must tubmit; but who, fc*<»Ldth o .oP?U!(' Wlien l^ m:U'CI to bilt t:o ]>~' var '°u3 mnvc-mo^f-i itjciileu S^:*«-»v baoppo, 'aittill ~ m :10 ' U t ,,t s , I mus " *'" come." I;r°I"tIou3 time than this ven-v'ek hart "il™ hal b2en thinking, Col ■"^ in tlltu P^ intr t0 a»d f™ "I* f« wha could B h i; n i! avi, D« laid down- 6 mcl» his plan C f action, ho raiso

warSmf" 11 8™ th° C°'Onel coml"g •» Bl^rTiSTuSH'.:' h8 «'M, "wi.l you "I will lenvo it for you, sir, to send tho word as you may think fit.; but, iimplo o you, «co to it that the message goes chect to tho omo for whom it i 3 meant. Will you send word to my wife—Mrs Doris Oil on Bertram, at the residence of Donald Owen, Esquire of Owensville-that her husband is ~ ranV' e '• and in no unusual danger?" I wiU do it with pleasure, Mr. The message shall be in her possession before the morrow 13 passed. You have my word " ■I thank you, sir, from my heart I matter" ask-Ba*. no-it does not "That's right. I wouldn't ask it, because the chances are ton to one that I should retu.se to answer." " I was only going to ask, sir, if Jacob \\ enroll and Jonas Hotter wero with me on tho road tins evening ; but I think I know woll enough already." The colonel nodded and smiled, and in a moment more tho black messenger returned accompanied by Capt. Tom Brrington! George looked up, and behold a man so nearly like himself in form and feature that ho might, at first glance, have thought he was looking upon a reflection in a mirror. As the man c.inio nearer, however, ho ex hibited minks of more years than our hero Lad seen, but that was all. Ho might have been thirty, and had evidently lived a stir ring, adventurous life. "Captain Errington, thisis Oeorgo Ber tram, just coma in. I assign him to your troop You will find him not lacking in soldierly ability if lie lias a disposition to do his duty." Tho trooper compressed his lip 3, and was evidently upon tho point of saying that ho know how to bring men to a sense of theii duty, or words to that effect, but before tho words had been spoken ho had caught a fair view of tho youthful, '.•andsomo face as tho slanting moonbeams fell upon it, and his feelings seemed to change. Ho put out his hand, tho stern look softened into a kindly expression, .and when ho spol-o his voico was low and cheory. " Bertram, I hope we may get on well to gether If wo don't, it sha'u't be my fault." As tho Captain spoke tho moon dropped below tho distant tree tops, and camp and men wore in semi-darkness. A strange, weird feeling came over thoyouthfulcaptive. So far as lie knew, these men wore banded together in behalf of liberty. They would Free themselves from a yoke which had come to chafe them. So far as ho know or could judge, their cause was as just as tlio causo sf revolution ever can bo. The camp had a 3harin for him. l\a was carried back to tho hours and days and weeks he had spent ivith his father in n camp where all were sager for strife, and where tho tocsin of battle was stirring music. Under tho im pulse of that feeling be spoke, in answer to Errington's last remark : "Ah, gentlemen, I fear you will win my ieart, in spite of me. I am almost sorry yon freed me from my bonds." "Tush! tush ! Take him along, Tom Yon know the story, don't you ?" "Yes." " Then open his oyes. You know what 1 :n-omised. By tko heavens above me ! I tvill give tho old rascal no more than iva3 nominated in tho bund." " Como !"' said tho Captain, taking Bert •am by tho arm and hading him away. "Come to my tent. You shall find a blanket there to-night. '■' They walked 0:1 between lv 0 rows of ton fa 'or a short distance, and then turned oil' nto a romantic nouk—into what might be :ertned a great roofless cavern in tho face of 1 perpendicular cliff of gay rock. Here, ipon a floor of moss, and lichen, shut in on ;hroe sides by towering granite walls, stood ;wo tents, o;;o of which was lighted and occupied, the other being dark, and appar :ntly empty. Into tho latter Captain Snington conducted his companion, md having struck a light, ho pointed to m ieat. It. was a conical tent cf doublo canvas, :bo centrc-pulc held in ijHco by guys out ride; tho furniture1, four camp stools, a ■ mall table, and a pilo of clean, white straw. I3c?ide the straw was a camp chest, which Errington opened after hi' had lighted the :andle and set it on tho table. "Bo frank, now, my dear fellow," the :nptain said, reaching down into tho chest. 1 l'vo got a bottle of good sherry hero, and ['ye got as good old whu-ky as you'll find :his side of tho Alleghanics. Which, if lither, will you have?" "I think," returned tho guest, smiling •rifhout knowing it, "a drop o: whisky .vou'.d suit me test, as 1 now tcei, though, )rdinurily, 1 caro little for intoxicants in tny form." "Good! That's mo. I never was fond )f it ; but in a camp lifo a drop of stimulant jftcn comes very pleasantly into play. Hero fou have it. Here's sugar and water." " A drop of water—no sugar." "That's mo again. And here's to our setter acquaintance, and a good under handing between n»\" Bertram nodded assent to the sentiment, md drank tho small uieasnro of spirit ho lad allowed himself; and us ho sol down :ho empty cup he remarked that ho had sever tasted a better distilled liquor. Erringtm viforwcd him that it was Mon sngahola whisky, undo by the Pennsyl vania farmers ; "that it was very old. "I can givu you my word," lie added, "that the pi[ 0, and tho liquor in it, from which this was drawn, went a full cruise in tho frigate BrandywhiO, It ought to be good." Ko then brought out n box of cigars, and when they had both lighted, and wero com fortably smoking, he s.-.id soberly asd seriously : "Now, my good friend, befuro wo arc broken in upon—and I expect my tiist lion tenant back era long—l havo a word to say to you. You heard what Colonel Jack said to mo. You know, of cDur.-c, who sent you to us." "Yes—l know very well " "Well. I do not think you will betray any confidence 1 may reposo in you." " You may trmt mo fully " " I bolievo you. lioally, Bertram, I like yon My heart wont out to >ou the moment I saw .you, Would you believe it, tho far.cy struck mo that you looked enough like mo to bu my brother ; and if you'd bean as old as I am we'd havo passed for twins." " The s.une thought occurred ta me, sir " " I thought so. I saw it in your eyo. It's curious. Bop told mo what tho colonel wanted mo for, and I must confess that I came prepared to take you a.vay and put you in irons tho first thing. I don't think my feolinf's were ever more quickly and more radically changed than they were when I set eyo» on your faco. We've got no rxcuso to otter for having listened to Donald 0 iveri's proposition ooncorningyourself. We wanted men, and when ho had promised to send us a good one, who, ho thought, had scon ser vice, wo promised that we would keop him." " Allow mo to a-k you a question at this point," said George, beseechingly. "Did Owen tell you why ho wished mo out of his " Only this— you were in his way. That was all. We ask no question". Hoununiod all tho responsibility, though, of course, wo wore ready to assumo our sharo. But, my dear follow, give mo your ear for just ono moment." . Errinpfton leaned forward, laid tho index finger of hU right hand into the palm of his left, and in a lower lone wont on : "Colonel Renwick promised Donald Owen that, ho would shoot you down on the instant should you attempt, to desert. Can you see through that ? Both Jack and I gained tho idea that you wero a stuck-up popinjay, to shoot whom would not give us a bit of un ea-in«-s Can you not sec ? Owen fancies you will bo shot within four-and-twenty hours after your arrival in our camp. Aye, ho stipulated that you should not bo hod in bonds, but that you should bo closely watched : but wo didn't premise not to confine jon. What do you think of it! Bertram bent lii.-i htad, knowing not what " Look you," pursued En in,iton : "Sup pose you droul.l return to Owornville, hovv lone would it. bo before your enemy woulc make a decided stroke? How long would you bo safe;' Think of tho forces i.t his command as compared with jour opportune ties of foU-protectioii. Keally and truly, n.-iu't you tiler hero with us? Let him think you aro in d,adly peril. Let him think you dead, if you will.1 " O !" cried tho youth, ea»criy, " i my wife could know that I<u Jnfo V 1 110 could beto'd, or.d mode Hi understand that 1 I had found friends who would be as ! brothers to me .'' , ~ , •- By the heavens above us, she snail ' Bepuo shall bo sent upon tho errand. _ Ho ! you may trust him to pull ir,y quantity of ■ wool over old Owen's e)M ; aid ho will not 1 leave until he has seen your wife, and torn 1 her all you shall r.ivo him tn tell her. Jhis t 1 promi-o on my honour as a man ami a ■ soldier." t Bertram arose and took two or trace ■ turns acmjs tho narrow space. '■A)," said Errinston, as a foottall ■ sounded outside «'Here comes my Heu -3 tenant " . J Our hero started forward and put out his 1 hand, which the other grasped.

"Captain Errington," ho said, in tones (loop and iervont, "I am a soldier ; I have held an officer's commission, and I havo seen service. Tako mo for wliat I am. Trust me, and I will keep the faith.' "Bertram !"tlio captain oxclaimod,return ing the hand-grasp with heart-pent ardour, " I will bo as true to you as you will be to mo. As I live, ido not beliovo, under the circumstances, you over did a better thing." A moment later there entered a tall, muscular, handsome young fellow, with a florid face, sparkling blue eye?, and golden, curling hair, whom Errington introduced aa Lieutenant Frank Oakland, CHAPTER XII. BBPfOS MESSiUK.

Ix her chamber s&b Doris, with a book in her hand, waiting for her husband to return. He ,had said that ho would not be gono a great while. Nino o'clock had struck, and tho half hour after, and sho begaii to bo anxious. As tho half hour struck, sho went to the window and looked out ; and sho heard, and not far away, towards tho centre of tho village, loud

shouts, as of people in wild excitement. What could it bo. She knew that Goorgo had walked in that direction, and her first thought, woman-like, was of danger to him. Perhaps this shouting was on his account. In somo way ho had mado himself obnoxious to tho rabble, and they had turned angrily upon him. " Hark !" sho cried to her maid, who was closo by her side. "0, Leila, I wish you would go and ascertain what that noiso means." Before the girl could leavo tho room, Su.-an Draper ontored, and was able to toll them all about it. News had come by tolo graph that Virginia had joined tho Southern Confederacy. "O !" sho cried, ia subdued tones, "master won't have to hido hia feelings any morn, though nobody could tell which .«ido ho was on ; but it's easy enough now. Ho has ordered a big bonliro to be made on tho hill, and two barrels of beortobo served out. And yet"—she cast a furtive glance wound, as though afraid that tho walls might hear — "I know he's been sending money away out of tho Stato—l think to Philadelphia ; I heard Walter say so. Hut— You won't breathe that I said so. If Mr Owen should know that Walter let me into his socrets, I don't know whit ha would do." " Uiivo no fear on that score, Susan. I boliovo you are my friend, and bo euro I will nover betray your confidence. Ia it much, do you think, that bo has sent away ':" "i don't know how much ; but Walter said it was away up into the hundreds of thousands ! 0 ! Master W very rich." A strange emotion shook the unfortunato orphan to tho very depths of her being. Shu had understood that when hor dear

papa had left Owensvillo ho had loft his cousin Donald as his agent. All Donald Owen had ho owed to Ralph—SO she had been toll. O! what did it mean?

But there was a matter ot graver moment than that on hor mind at tho present time. Where was her husband? Sho went to the window again, and the uproar had increased. She was suro George hud gono in that direc tion. Was ho in danger? What did Susan

The girl did not think there was any cau.-o for fear. Of course, Mr Bertram would not s^y anything calculated to excite tho angry toolings of the multitude. No ; there was no danger of that. Then there could bo no danger at all. Ton o'clock, and no sign of tha absent one. Poris was now in agony. He hud not in tended to bo gono so long ; and, so far ns this exciting in t el 1 igor.ce wan concerned, that should have brought him homo sooner. At half part tor-, a bright light burst upon the village. By Donald Owen's order, a largo quantity of combustible material had been carried to tho summit of tho hill ju-t outside tho village, and there sot on tire jand an eld brass twelve-pounder cannon had been hau'oJ upon the villago green, and ammunition supplkd for a grand salute. In tho midst of tho thundering of tho gun and tho bright glare of tho bsmtiro poor Doris sat in an agony of unrest, now moved by tho wor.<t "of fears. Something had happened, sho knew. At eleven o'clock she sent Leila to mako inquiries for Susan. Susan had gono. and had nut returned. By and-b'y Leila eamo back, and uitli her Came Undo Donald. " My dear child," ho cried, advancing and taking her hand, " you must not givo way to your fear?. I have sent out my servants'to mako search. 1 cannot imnpnc whore George can bo Did ho givo you any intimation that ho might leave tho village';" l: 0, no ! no ! Ho did not think of being gono more than an !>our. Ho told me so. The last words he said were, that ho would be back very soon. 0! uncle, wlioio where cm he be ':" "Surely, I cannot tell. Vet, I cannot believe ariy evil has befallen him. Let us wait till my messengers come in They will bo euro to learn something. Keep up a good heart, dour child. I will come to you just as foon as any word comes to mo 1 will go down to my ullieo and wait. I toll them to report to mo there." Ho bent, and touched his traitorous lips to her fiuro white brow, and thon wont out At midnight Donald Owen came to tho waiting wife, in her chamber, with hypo critical tears upon his chaoks, It. is more than possible that ho had wet his cheeks with his linger, for he had applied his ker chief to Ids lips before ho began to wipe his eye?. ■'O ! undo ! What is it?''

"Hush ! Dear child, lot us still hopo. I think I can tell you whore George is, ond I think I cm promise you that I will set him free. I will tell you what I havo learned. This evening a waggon, containing two men, was driven into the village, while another -porhap?, two or three others—stopped outside. It was a press gang—a recruiting party, they claimed it to bo —peeking men to servo in tho Confederate army. Thoy were stout, powerful fellows, and happen ing to come across your husband, walking alone and unprotected, they soized him and carried him off. Hush ! Do not take on so. Tho tirst thing in tho morning I will myself go and find him ; and I havo not a particle of doubt that I shall bo ablo to bring him back with mo. He is in the hands of a regularly commissioned oflicer, who, I am sure, will bo glad to win ray goodwill and good word. And, further, I will leavo no mcatip untried. If monoy can accomplish anything, be suro I will pay it out without stint." "0, uncle! Can you not sond at oncoV Have you not man enough to bring him back ?" " Ah, my poor child ! you know htUo of these times, and tho men with whom wo have to deal. But I will do tho best I can I will ha-ttn away to tho l'ost-oliice, and sco what I can find there. Keep np a good heart. You shall pco him back again if ho lives." And with this Donald Owon turned and hurried from tho ipartmtnt, his man ner showing that ho was only in haste to get away from tho fullering wife. A dark and dismal night was that to Doris. Leiia bogged of her that sho would retire, but she could not Sho could only sit by tlio window, and g.'iza out into tho pale moonlight; and when tho moon had gone, f-ho gazoJ out into tho darkness, listening to evory sound, and watching eagerly every human form that came in eight And so the night pa?.;ed. "When day was comu Doris descended to tho lower floor, and aaked a servant whom sho mot if Mr Owen was up. " Yes, Missua —he's up and off. I guess ho's gwino arter do poor young man dat do sojers carried away las' night." Sho went to tlio breakfast table, and drank a cup of coffee, but sho could not cat, though both Leila and Susan plied her with the rarest dainties.

At nine o'clock sho was suro flic saw Don lid Owen liJing away from the house on horseback. Could it bo pos^iblo that sho had been deceived ? -that he had been at berne all tho morning, and had denied himself to her, She tried to banish tho possibility of such a thiug. As tho little clock upon hor mantel struck tho half hour after nine, sitting at tho win dow overlooking the street, she taw a negro who had just .stopped upon the sidewalk, and was looking up at her. Fc was a quaint little follow ; stubby and bright ove 1 ; bowkgaed and broad shouldered, very primitively clad, with a head-covering that resembled tlio French Liberty cap.

Certainly tho boy .va-< trying to attract her attention. By-and-by. when ho had seen that she had observed him, ho leaped the fence like a cat, and came up under her window. " Say ! Is you Massa Bertram's Doris ? "O ! yes ! >' CJ !" n s ],a! Don't make a noise ! I

want'r come up find tell ye suml'n. Can't ye send somebody down ?" Fortunately, Susan was within call, and Don- asked her to go and bring the boy up "And dear Susan, if there should beany secret to keep, you will keep it I know." The girl readily and heartily promised,

and shortly thereafter she conducted tho black mesongor into her lady's presence. " Who are you ? Who sent you to me ?" cried Doris, eagorly, something in the boy's look totting her heart in a wild flutter. " I's Boppo, Missus ; an'l've got sum'f'n foryer own henrin'." " You neod not fear theso two girls, my good boy, They are my dear friends, both." "No, I isn't afeard ob 'cm, Missus; but Imuat hab yer own ear, all de same. You can tell 'em what yer please when I'm gone." There was certainly nothing to fear in tho lad, so Doris asked Leila and Susan to with draw for a little time. They, too, were inclined to put confidence in the open-faced messenger, and they retired without further question.

As soon as the lad had seen the girls do part and the door cloaod bohind them, ho cast a sweeping glanco over tho rest of the room, and then eamo close to the lady, drawing from an inner pockotabit of paper and handing it to her. " Dats for you, Missus. Job' you read it, an' den I'll tell yo all I know." Doris caught the paper—there wero two pieces, closely folded, which she recognised at once aa having been torn from tho small blank memorandum which her husband carried in his pocket book. They wore numbered —"1" and "2." She arrangod , them with trembling hands, and had just mado ready to read when she romcrabercd that the boy might bo tired, and that she had not asked him to sit. Sho motioned him to a seat, after which sho seated herself and road as follows : " In Camp, Midnight, April 17, 1801. "My Pbkcious Wife—l am safo and well. 1 was seized within half an hour after I left you, and brought hithor by force. Donald Owen was tho author of tho outrage. Boliovo me, I shall bo safer here than I could bo at Owen's house, or oven in his neighbourhood. Ho fil mly believes that I shall bo shot as a desorter quickly ; but he will be deceived. Let him think of my fato what lie will. Of my position I dare not write. The hearor of this, whom you may implicitly trust, will tell you all you may wish to know. I havo only to say to you this : Donald Owon means no personal harm to you. With mo out of hia way, he hope} to hoodwink you, and bend you to his" own purposes. Mo ho intends to disposo of summarily. It is a wonder that ho did not havo mo assassinated ; but ho has dono tho next thing. As I said beforo, he e\ pocts that lam snro to bo shot. So, darling, you see that I had best remain whore am. In fact, 1 mini remain hero. I havo pledged my word. He brave, my Doris, and look on The bright side Keep your eyes opon ; watch every movement; and appear to trust Undo Donald, if you can. But, above all, do not mako a sign by which ho can bo led to mistrust that you havo heard from mo. Ho must think mo out of tho way entirely. Kemomber this—romombor ! and act upon it. " Darling, you shall hoar from mo when I can find opportunity to communicate with you. Know that I am safe ; and if I can feel that you will bo bravo and hopeful, I shall bo comparatively contont. At all events I regard my present situation as tho saving of my lifo. It ha-* turned out vastly different from what its author expected. Once more, keop up a good heart. " With love and God's blojsing. Okorck. " P. S. —It will bo best to destroy this as soon as you havo read it. Bo euro. G." Somo portions of tho closely-written missivo Doris road a second timo ; then sho crumpled it in her hand and pressed it to her lips. " Bi3Dpo,"f>he cried, turning a beseeching gnze upon the honest ebon visage, "tho writer ■my dear husband—says you will tell mo all I may ask." " Missus, I'll toll ye what 1 can, and 111 tell jo do tint." "I know you will, or you would not havo been trusted. Now tell mo —who is my husband with ? Where is he V" " Missus," casting a quick, furtive glanco around, and loweiim;hin voice almost to a whisper, "you won't tell a lib'n soul any t'ing 'at I tell ye 1" " I will not whisper it to a soul, Bcppo : only to my own trusty maid. I may tell her."

"Yes, you may tell her. Hi! Ma?sa Bertram is «id Colonel .lack Ronwick ; but

he's gwino tcr be in Ctip'n Tom Eninton's company, an' 1 Vpecs he'll bo a hos-ifer. Ho tolu mo tor tell yo dat he'd found men dat'd bo go:)d to him. lie likes 'urn, an' doy likes him. Dey hit it smuck-do fust ting. Golly !'f yo'd seed 'em rhook hands, yo'ii n fought 'at dey wor' b udders. Hi ! bat's so. Yah !"

At this point Doris asked Beppo if she hould cull fur her innid to bring him somo cako and wino. Thennsver was quick, but respectful ; and when Leila had brought in tho decanter and a plato of cako, sho was suffered to remain. Aflor this,while tho boy ateand drank—ho was not at all greedy, nor did ho oiler to drink freely—Doris questioned him keenly ; and she learned all that could haw been told by Georjjo him-elf: for Buppo was bright and luen, and thoroughly under stood hiimcif. She learned that her hus band had unexpectedly, and in a really wonderful manner, fallen among thoso who would bo his true and jtcadfast friends ; nn<l she CJine to under.-tanil, also, that he would bo far safer where ho was than ho could bo olsewhoro. Further, she saw that by keeping faith with those to whom ho had b^cn con-igncd with evil intent, he would bo gaining a friendship that might servo him in tho time, to como. Of course, there Mas the over-present danger of a soldier's life in time of war; but -he was used to that, and. moreover, fho was brave. "Do you really think, Beppo, that Mr Bertram will bo an Olliccr?1' eho askcrl earnestly. " Vo.», Missus," tho boy replied, conlid ontly. " I can tell you, 'cause ho cin't know it. Ye toe Oap'n Tom haint got no second loftenant, an' I heord Colonel .lack toll 'o c-ip'n'atho might givo do commission to Massa Bertram. Vnhidat'sso. Ha! d'ye know't yer husband was an 010 eojer ?" " i knew that he had received a military education, and that ho had peon service where the fighting was most sovoro. Ho is a bravo man, Beppo, if 1 do say it." " Yah ! dats bo, ebery time. An' do roit ob 'em seed it, too." When Doris could think of no more to ask eho olToredEVppo a small sum of money, in silver, but, he shook his head regretfully. "No, Missus, I can't take it. Golly ! I wish I could ; but I sworo't I wouldn't ; and I mus'n't. Massa Colonel told mo 'f I took a penny ob your money hn'd tako my ears oil', an' he'd do it, suah. Hi! I darsn't tell a lie, 'nd I daren't take yer money." " All rieht, Bep. Tell tho truth always, and keep your word. Perhaps in somo time I shall ho able to repay you in something of moro worth than money." "Ha I Dor aint, no need ob dat, Mi-am. Do sight ob your bright oyoa an' yer jojful look.", an' do chance ob tellin' yo good new?, is pay ouorgh for Beppo.' !sho finally dismissed him with a ble ho having at tho door stopped, and once more impressed it upon her that his visit to her must be kept a secret from Mr Owen if possible. Once mow leftalono with her maid, Doris went over with tho story which Boppo had told ; and though her hubind was certainly in bodily peril, clio felt more easy on hie account than she had felt beforo since their arrival at Owo Hville. She had fo=n from the lirst that her undo did not like his presence ; and since sho had como to fuspect tho old min'a honesty, sho had felt uneasy on her loved one's ac :ount. What might bo her own lot sho would not consider. Sho would wait, (uid act a* circumstances would prompt her. The whole subject matter was comprehended in a question diked by tho Hindoo maid. " D^ar lady." said Loila.breakingin upon a silence that had lasted for a considorablo time, " what do you think is your uncle's intent towards, you ? What object has he in view in thin seeking yoar husband's destruction V For that certainly is what ho means ' " Leila," answered her mistress, her promptness showing that tho subject had been (.ccupyinj; her mind, " I have thought the matter over calmly and deeply, and I think 1 have arrived at a just conclusion. My unclr, as I call him, has certainly in possession a large amount of property. v\hic!i, by right, belongs to mo, and ha wishes to retain it. lie will rob me of it if he can. Or, I may say, ho Ins a'ready robbed mo of i<\ Such b-ing tin case, he dares not have such a man a^ (ieorKd on his track. He thinks ho c.-in manage me if he can fir?t deprive me of my friends. Do you under stand?" " Yes, lady, I understand very well ; and I think you are right. Tell me, do you know how much Mr Owen owns '!" " No, I have no idea. Have you ?' " i res. Tho poor woman whose little child I ricked up in the street yesterday, and carried to her door, gavo me a hint which led mo to make inquiries until I had gainod the whole B!:ory. Her husband was —and is now. 1 think—one of your uncle's overseers in the coal mine, and he knows all about it. It seems almost incredible, but her etory was very direct, and phe s^id she knew whereof she spoke. She waa very bitter because her hueband, was treated quite.

shabbily. Mr Owen pay 3 him poorly for sorvices that are valuablo ; and he cannot; leave because his present employer could make it impossible for him to get work elsevvhoro. Doris, Donald Owen owns this whole township, and evory houso in it And tho coal mine is his, too. His income must bo enormous. As Waltsr Tarbell lot drop to Susan, ho is Bonding vast sums to Philadelphia, besides other sums to Eng land. Ho owns a fortune in English bonds, and I shouldn't wonder if he had invested in othor places," Doris was surprised. At first she could hardly credit tho story; but upon further thought it appeared more than possible. " 6 ! how much of this is hone3tly mine V" sho cried. "0! if my father could have spoken bofore ho died !" " Dear lady," said tho maid, winding an arm around her lady's, "I have faith that Jack Clearstar U living. He knows all about it. Something will happen to undo tho great wrong I cannot beliovo that such a monstrous wrong will bo sufforod to remain uncorreclcd. 1 btlievo your father owned a large portion of this proporty, and I bolievo it is truly yours now. But you must not lot that bad man suspect that you know anything. You will be caroful," " Fear not, Loli.i. My eyes aro opened. 0 ! how can men be so wicked ? What en joyment can thoy find? Hois not happy. Ho does not enjoy his wealth. 0 ! give me poverty for over rathor than such a state." Donald Owen had not returned at dinner timo, but ho came late in tho afternoon, and shortly thoreaitci sought his niece. Ho entered hor chamber with a very long fuco, and with what ho intended should bo a sorrowful look, though it was, in fact, simply grotesque. " Doris, courage ! courage ! I have not succeeded in finding your husband, but I am on his track. In fact, I know where he is."

"Where? Where! 0! Where?" cried tho betrayed woman, assuming as much eagerness as sho could. "Itis as I thought. Ho was seized and carried away by a press-gang. He's some where beyond tho mountains, held by a man whom 1 do not know."

" I thought you said you knew him." " So I did, my dear ; but I was mistaken. Keep up a good heart, Doris, und I will do tho best for you 1 can. Promise mo that you will not worry. I will certainly set him free, if the thing is possible. Thero ! You must excuse mo now. A man is wait ing for mo. But 1 wantod to sot your mind at rest. I will tell you more as soon aa I can." Sho could not try to detain him. Of her husband's fate she had nothing to ask him, It was hor own fato gavo hor anxious thought.

(To be VonlinuKl)

MARY MARCY.

I. It was a terriblo night. Snow had fallen thick and fast during thoday, and with the evening n liuico storm hail sot in from the north. The wind swept up tho bay, struck against tho stalwart cliffs of Grand Menan, leaped cxultiugly upward to tho dark forests which crowned thorn and roared triumphantly among the pines. Where tho lino of clill'd was broken the etorm rushed into tho coves ami harbours, hurling the \Yivveg romorsolcgsy against tho strip of shore an.l heaping up the snow in drifts. There vero but few lights to be sent at tho settlement near the Swallow's Tail Point beacon. The lulling folk had fastoned tho rudu wooden thiUtora securely, and a stranger might have thought tho houses deserted had not a chink here and there allowed a streak of light to glisten on thu snow. But there iva< ono liouso at tho cove a littio nput fiotn tho rest, which, com parutively -peaking, was billiantiy illumi nated. The tliuttere weiothrowu back, and tho light fill through tho littio square win d.nv pane.-' across the load. The house wan not In great favour with the sturdy fishermen of the neighbourhood. It hud been shunned by thsm for many years, and to its tradition* were not ot tho best, it had for a long time boon tho head-

quarters of the various bands of smuggleri which from tiir.o to time had mado Unuid Menan thoir bano of operations. The owner went among its habitues by tlio nnrao of tlio Squrro—not that lio had any legal claim to t\ c title, but members of tho smuggling bands usually Fclcclcd him ».■; nrbitrator to distribute tlio profits of their vnrious enter

prices according to tlio risk which each took therein. In such muticra his word was law. Moreover, his advice was often sought before a bit; operation was undertaken. Some thirty yearn before, whilo Iho liouso whs ftiil in tlio hands of its original owner, the Squire had been himself o bold, dashing smuggler. Ho kne.s every nook and cranny of the island, and ho delighted to narrate how when the customs officers would be watching for him .'it .Northern head ho would bo casting oil' hia boat from ono of tho coves near the Southern Cross. His skill in taking a craft safely through any weather had been wonderful, and many a time when tiio Government agents, had sus pected ho was carrying cooked gooda over to Eustport tliey had been afraid to bravo the storm and follow him. Hut tho Squire's nciivo smuggling dtys wore over. To smuggle in tho Bay of Fundy requires strength, activity, and pluck. Tho Squiru still hud plenty of pluck-that had never failed him-but he was getting old now, ar.d was content to have tho young smuggler.-- gather round him and listen to hia bro^.y etovies of exciting adventure. Those young smugglers wero a splendid set of follows-muscular of limb, largo of heart, and open of countenance, and as square ill thoir dealing-1 with one another us any of the Judges before whom thny would be tried, if ever caught, was reputed to bo. But thoy were never caught, thanks to tho Squiro'fl long head. For they always consulted him before planning their enter prises. He commanded and they obeyed, with tho result of achieving an unbroken series of successes. Indeed, so great was his influonco that thoy listened with marked deference and apparent interest ovon to his etoriea, as though thoy wero new to them, when, in fact, they had heard thorn over and over again. But spinning yarn? was h|d ono weakness, and they liked him too much not to encourage him in ib. The young fel lows were in the habit of leading the talk up to a point when ono of his stories would coino in handy, and when they heard him knocking tho ashes out of his pipe thoy settled themselves around him near tho huge open chimney and listened, for tho hundredth time porhap?, to tho story of some adventure in which ho had taken part when liowasas youngasthey. Visitors from tho State-* dropped in now and then, for theSquiie ha<i the reputation of nncrr.'; in'; tho tinest French brandy in Cliarl. tfce ln ty—a fact worth knowing on a tempi r j ...,i.c island like Grand Menan. Tho thick weather that evening had driven a number ol young fellows to tho Squire's, and just a-i a gust of wind struck tlio house (mother entered. " Still stormy out, Jim !" questioned tho old man. •' The wind's goin' down a bit, Squire. It's only cumin' in groat gusts now," was the answer. " An' has the steamer got in from East port yet?" "Aye, Squiro ; but sho didn't try to round Fi.-h Head in tho storm. She came to anchor in Whale cdvo, an' I take it if there's any passengers aboard they'll stay aboard till mornin'." Just then a man strode cut of tho deep shadow of tho chimney into tho light of tho blazing logs, lie was tall and lank, with a thin, bronzed, weather-beaten face and gn y hair. " You're not goin' home a night liko this, aro you, Al ?" asked the Squiro. "Stay horo till mornin' an' v. oleomo. Why don't you i" "Why don't I?" he an=T">r-rl fiercely. " Because,'' and his eyes i.i. uy v i'h a wild fire, " ho might coma back u.^u i'd not be there to n.oot him !" Wit!*out another word ho opened the door and vanished in the darkneps. A great gust of wind howled down the chimney and made the shutters rattle. Tho Squiie aid tho young follows HOrosilentafowmoiii. n s. Then the-o'd man said : "Thero's no use talkin' with him, v.Jxti he gets on that tack. It only makes l.nn wilder. Tho wonder is ho don't get fruz to death those winter nig-lits " Ho whom the Squire had called Al had been gone but affor«r minutes when a stranger entered. Ho was protected by a long grea! coat with a capo hanging in generous folds over his shoulders. A large black slouch hat almost hid his features. Without romiving the cloak or hat ho took a se:it. a', tiie lublo in tho deep shadow of the chimney «hieh h\ bad just left, and called for a pl,i« of brandy. As tho Squiro brought it to him ho a?ked : " Who's that onme out of here just now and went down the road ? He must be a tough ono to go out a night like this with out a hat or a greatcoat." " Who was it?" said the Squire, "It was only Al,"

" And who is Al ?" asked tho Btranger,

"Well,"answered the Squire deliberately "Ican't tell you that in a few words. It'i somewhat of a story as is to bo told aboir him."

Now the Squiro had a weaknoss not only for tiling stories in general, but also a spe cial weakness for tolling the story about Al in particular. Tho young fellows know this, and nudged each other till one of them spoke up:

" Tell us about it, Squire f

'JL'ho riquire needed no further urging. Ho knocked tlo ashes out of his pipe, threw a log on the fire to keep up the blaze, settled himself in his chair, and began :

" It's this wise concerning Al. You young fellows mustn't thing bo's always boon queer in his head as ho is now. Twenty-four yoars ago ho was known all the island over, was Al Carlton. There wasn't a halor, heartier fellow hereabouts than he. Not a cove, nor a landing place among the cliffs, nor a path through the woods but what he knew. There ain't been any ono liko him since, I can toll you. Ho wu3 swift afoot, strong at tho oar, and a better sailor than you could ha' found even among tho fishin' folk. It choers my old hoart now to think o' tho rigs ho used to lead thorn Customs ollicern. He would sail his boat through currents anil rips nhoro they never dared ollow, and aa for tho woods why they had to sond out a party to find the officer who lirst tried to hunt him down in there. You see he knew the woods so well that ho could take a shortcut to tho other side o' the island while the officers wore goin' it blind. "Al and I and some other young fellows joined forces just about that timo, and I guoss I ain't boastin' overmuch when I say that a more successful gang never operated on Grand Menan. Wo managed things so they could never get any evidence against us. They might run us down sometimes, but thoy'd never find any contraband, and if thoy ever found any boodlo thoy'd never find up. It was because we knew tho lay o' the land. They'd take an hour to reach a point wo could reach in twenty minutes, Whon thoy'd think themselves red hot on our track, we'd turn up at the store at Grand Harbour or at ono of the houses along shore, and when they'd pass by we'd be sittin' thero smokin'. Al had a groat way of run nin' for a houso as was owned by a man as was named Marcy. This Marcy wastn't a Grand Menaner. Me came from some where down South in the States. Why ho ever caino up to theso cold cliffs no ono could guess, and he never gave any reasons. He didn't know anything about fishin' or sailin', so ho built himself a small houeo, right square on top o' tho north cliff, and mado a clearin' around it. It was pretty poor fanniti', I can tell you, and I guess it was just about all ho could do to make ends meet for himself and hiu daughtor, so I tako it ho wap glad whon we made his house our headquarters for this part o' tho island and gnvo him a share of the profits for it. The houso wasn't far from Indian cove, so wo'd bring tho contraband in small lots to Marcy'a anl load it from there onto our bout in tho cove, or of a calm night wo could bring our boat right to tho foot o' the elitf and let tho goods down by ropeß. Marcy and his daughter Mary, had beon thero about fifteen years when wo began operatin', and Mary had grown from a tod in' child to a tall", handsomo girl. You know, boys, I'm an old bachelor, and never ha' been much of an authority on girls, but 1 could tell she was different liko from our Grand Monan women. She looked as if shod been born in parts where women ain't accustomed to work, for she was smooth and poft like, and quiet in her ways. You know most of our girls are fair complocted. But Mary Moray was dark-black hair curling over her forehead and large brown eyes. She didn't go about much among the fishin' folk, ami sort o' bore herself aj if she thought ahe was a bit bettor than tho others. 1 ahvaya took It that tho Marcys had seen better days in tho States. Marcy himself didn't POOtn to tnke kindly to fnnuin'; he hadn't the hands of a workingman whon ho came here—and Mary, though sho did all .-he had to do quiet and gentle like, with out compluiuin', looked as though she hii' fitted bolter into ono o' tho gentry mansions at St John than tho small house on the North Cliff.

"As I was sayin', sho wasn't on special good terms with tho ehoio girls anyhow, and when they found that Al was going up to tho North Cliff so often they wore more down on Mary than over. You see Al was a handsome, dashin' young fellow, and as easy like with tho girls as i was sheepish, lie could ha' had any of 'cm for tho askin', but ho never took it into his head to ask.

" \yc hadn't made our headquarters up at Mary's long beforo I know Al would never have eyes for any of tho shore girls. I was suro when I'd seen him and Mary to<jothor half a dozen times that ho was soft on Mary and Mary was soft on him. Woll, boys, I felt good over it, for I thought a heap o' Mary. As I was tolliu' you, sho bore up so (.'ontlo and quiet liko, and was such a helpin' hand to Marcy, though you could soo as it was again hor naturo to work hard, that 1 couldn't help resijoctin' hor. Many a time wo got to Marcy'a beforo Al, for ho knowin' tho woods so well used,to bring the valuable contraband by a roundabout path to our headquarters. Till he came Mary hadn't a quiet moment. Sho was all tho timo for join to tho window and peopin out into the darkness and listeniu' for his footsteps. An'-the moment shod hear thorn she'd fly out to meet him, no matter how thick tho weather.

" So you can fancy wo wasn't much sur prised when ono night, just aftor wo'd put out from Indian cove, Al told us that he an' Mary Marcy was go'.n' to be marriednext spring. When I'd passed around my ilask and wo'd each had a swig in honour o' the event, I couldn't help tellin' Al I thought ho had tho nicest girl on Grand Monan." "'An' that I have,' ho replied. 'And wl-on wo'ro settled in the houso wo'll mako tho hoadquartera a littlo livelior for you.'

11' May be then, Al, Mary'll give U3 a bit of attention 'stead a lookin' out for you all the whilo. Have you told tho news to Black Bob yet?" " ' Black Bob can go whore ho belongs,' paid Al.

'' And whore's that ?" I asked

'"To tho devil I'

" That wasn't tho first time wo'd spoken o' Black Bob.and ono or tho other of us wishod him to tho devil. Wo'd had a harder time smugglin' that winter than over before. In tho fall tho Government had increased tho number o' custom officers, and placed in command one o' their crack men from tho border—a man called Black Bob, by reason o' his raven hair and oyos. Wo soon found out that in Blaok Bob wo'd met somethin' like our match. Ho was strong, hard as a rock from exposure to all sorts o' weather, quick as the lightnin' and a genius in his way. Ho spent the first threo weeks ho camo horo gettin' the lay o' tho land. Most of thotimo he was in tho wood?, compass in hand, makin' marks hero and thoro on tho trees. Quick running through the woods had always been a strong point with up, especially with Al. It linrl saved us nn.ny a time. But after Black Bob had been heio a month wo didn't find ns much safety in tho fnrcats ns before. Agaitj and again he was right on our track. " You may think it was his idea of duty as put him so hot after u=. But it wasn't that so much as his hatred of Al. Ho found out soon after comin' to Grand Monan that wo made our headquarters at Marcy's. Old Marcy told us ono night that Black Bob had been there that day tryin' in a roundabout way to bribe him to give us away. The trouble was Black Bob saw not only Marcy, he *aw Mary too—an' Chris topher, didn't lie take a shino to her. From that timo on ho hung around tho house and tried to bo sweet on Mary till she told him ono day plainly he'd better pave his line speeches for some one else, as she'd already promised herself fo Al Carlton. 'Al, is it?' ho exclaimed (so Mary told us afterwards) ' I'll run him down some day yet.' Ho kept his woH, (00, and if Al lia-in't been such a gamo ono Hob would ha' brought him down ill a fortnight. I'll do Blank Bob justice Ho was'quick and reckless to danger and ns fearle;s as any of us.

"The 2i!nd of December twenty-four years ago was as stormy a day at thia a fierco wind howling up the bay and whirling tho snow over iho roads. It was just the kind o' day a3 suited us, and late in tho after neon, when thete were no signs that the storm was goin' down, we me: and arranged to cross tho bay that night from Indian Covo. Tou sco we thought even Black Bob would hug the fire on a night such as that promised to be, and, at all events, we were pretty sure in rcckonin' that if wo once trot off from Indian Cove, no ono would dam follow us over the water, for no ono on tl c Ultmd but Al could handle a boat in such a storm. I and tho others was to be at Mar cy'a about half after S, and Al waa to bring some contraband through the wood?, calculating to get to Marcy's about 9. Wo were right in thinkin' the Etorm would hold on into the night. The wind was howl

ing over tho north oliff when we reached Marcy's, and it seemed as if the house itself might bo carried away by one o' them great gusts. " It wasn't more than a quarter to !) when Mary Marcy, who'd boen watching at tho window for Al, said quickly and nervously : ' Something's gone wrong. Al's making for tho houso at the top of his speed !' A moment later we heard fast footsteps and Al, Hushed and heated, rushed in as Mary opened the door. With a girl'a swift wit sho shut it as quickly as possible, even before he'd spoken. " ' It's all up,' he said hurriedly, ' if they find me hero. Black Bob and his gang'a right down on me thia time.' " The.c was no time to lose. Even while ho was speakin' we heard their tread comin' up the galk from the garden gate. "Go in there, Al,' said Mary, pointing to the door of her own little room, oft the room where ho was. ' Maybe you can get out by tho window while they are in here or soarohing tho rest of tho house.' "But the door had barely closed on Al, before we knew that escape by the window was impossible, for we heard Black Bob stationing soma o' kis men around the houso. We were sittin' unconcerned like around the table when Bob and the rest o' them entered. They was a little taken aback at first, seeiu' us so quiet, but in a few moments the leader said, with a sneor : 'Nono o' your Grand Menan games now. Al Carlton's in this house. We saw him enter. Wo'vo found the goods ho threw away when wo got down on him, and now we want him !'

" Mary rose, and lookin' him straight in the face, said: ' If you think he's here, why don't you look for him ?' " 'That's what we're going to do, Miss Mary,' he answered with a sneer,' 'an'if we find him I guess there'll be a weddin' postponed a couple o' yeara or so. Now, men, four o' you stay here an1 see these folks don't stir. The others search the house with me.'

"The sittin'room and Mary's little room wero built out from the main house, and Black Bob left us with the guard till he'd searched the main building. They returned without findin' Al, (Hid my heart was be ginnin' to feel easier, for they made as though they waa about goin', and I thought Bob might think the man he left with us had searched Mary's room. But I guess he mado believe he was goin' just to make things harder for us, for he turned when he reached the door and said, pointin' to Mary's room : ' we haven't searched there yet, Miss Mary, so we're not quite ready to

' Mary rose. She stepped between him »nd the door o' her room and faced him ike a queen. 'That's my room,' she said, 1 and I don't choose to have any one enter.' "' But Miss Mary,' said Bob, with a sneer, 'it would be a pity if we went away without a look at your weddin' dress. We want to sco if it's rich enough for Al Carlton's bride. Stand aßide !'

" Sho remained standing where she was. " ' Stand aside, I say !' he repeated ; and then, as sco remainsd motionless, he seized her roughly by the arm and tried to push her aside.

" ' Unhand me Black Bob !' she cried, her face flushed with anger. " ' Unhand her you, bloodhound !' It was Al's voice. He stood at the door of Mary's room, palo and determined looking. A momont later he had Black Bob by the neck, had mado him loosen his grip from Mary's arm, and had flung him on tho floor. But Black Bob was on his feet in an instant; somothing glittored in his right hand, there was a sharp report, a cry of anguish—a heavy full,

" When tho smoke had cleared away we all ftood strickon dumb with terror. Black Bob had been swift with his deadly weapon, but some one had beon swifter. When the pistol had glittored in his hand there had been a clear spacs between him and Al Carlton, but Mary Marcy had stood between tho bullet and her lover.

" ' Mary !' murmured Al, ' Mary !' " Then when he saw that she neither moved nor answered, he drew himself up to his full height between the officers w h were holding him, and his eyes flashed with

shriekod at oathe i ml/ i 1: mi / Mary Marcy follow you whorever you go ! May you hoo if in your dreams! May it drive you from place to place like a haunted man till it drives you back to Grand Monan I An' when you come back, Black Bob, you'll

•'Well, boys," continuod tho Squire, " there ain't much moro to tell. The next morn in' Al was taken aboard the steamer by Black Bob and his mon, Stragglin' re ports came to us from Fredericton how Al had never been tried, but sent to an asylum, bocauso when he reached Frederioton the doctors all said ho was stark mad. I can't say I wonderod at it much, for I thought thero was tho fire o' madness in his eyes when he hurled his curse at Black Bob, The latter never returned to Grand Menan. If ho had, no ono would ha' guaranteed his life for five minutes. We buried Mary al most on the edge o' the cliff on which her fuher's house ctood, and put a white cross over her mound. Old Marcy was all broke up. In a year or two he moved away from Grand Monan, and we've never heard of him since. About eight years after he loft .vord came aa Al had sort o' quieted down, had boon lot ont and on his way back. Ho did come back, but he wasn't Al Carlton. Ho was a wreck of him. Hia mind was a wanderin', his face thin, his figure lank and hi? hair sparse and grey. He had one lixed idea thon as ho has now—that some time sooner or later Black Bob would be driven to seek out the spot where he slew Mary Marcy. Tho fancy's grown on him since ho's boon back, for he's been livin' all alone for years in the old Marey's house on the North cliff."

" When did you say it happened, Squire ?' asked ono of hia listenere. "On the 22nd o' Pecember ?"

"Ay, Jim. On tho 22nd of December, twenty-four years ago, at about quarter past nine."

"Then Squiro," said Jim, "it will be just twenty-four yoars in half-an-hour, for this is the 22nd of December."

" Before tho Squire could answer there was tho sound of shivered glass from the table in tho shadow of the chimney. As the Squiro stopped over in that direction tho stranger said quickly :

" I've drunk your brandy and broke your glass, but I gnoss this will cover tho damage and more," and ho threw down a piece of silver.

Then he rose, and with his hat still slouched over his face, stepped hurriedly to the door. As he opened it the last gust of the dying storm swept in and carried hia hat back into tho room. Ho made a hasty grab at it and slammed tho door after a quick exit.

WHBJf Al Carlton left the Squire's the storm was already subsiding. It was dying away in groat gusts, which ewept the snow in his faco and would have caused another man to turn back to the Squire's hospitable roof. But ho went steadily on, bracing himself against erery gust and when it was over hurrying rapidly forward. He kept along the road for a whilo, and then plunged into tho woods to the right. Through these he continued alout half an hour until he camo to the cleaving on the North Clift'. The little house stood at the very edge, almost orerhanging the water. To the right also, near that terrible descent into the depths of the bay, was a mound su'mounted by a whke cnvs. There wore no footprints in the snow. No ono could have been there since Al had loft in the inorning. Al crossed the clearing to the house, but just as ho was about to enter hesitated, as though changing hie mind. A moment afterward he turned from the house to the mound. Ho stood at its head by the cross awhile, and then crouched behind it, his eyes fixed on the point where the wood path emerged onto tho clearing. He re mained perfectly silent, scarcely stirring for some twenty minutes. Then he raised his hand a little and listened like a hound that hears a faint sound. Suddenly he crouched down once more behind the mound and tho cross, and again fixed his cye3 on the point where path and clearing met.

Aftei; the departure of the stranger whose query had loosed the Squire's tongue and drawn from him the story of Mary Marcy's fate, the Squire filled hie pipe, lighted it with an ember from the fire and eat silently gazing into the blazo. He had started when ho had caught a glimpse of the stranger's face as the latter hurriedly removed his slouched hat, and his face wore a perplexed air. The young fellows carried on a low-voiced conversation, as if afraid to disturb the old man's meditations. For though the events related had hap pened so long ngo, he always relapsed into a thoughtful serious state, after telling about his old pal Al Carlton, and his sweetheart. He had proved himself in many ways a true friend to Al, He had

bought the clearing and the little house from Marcy when the latter left Grand Menan, and when Al returned with his mind unable to fix upon any idea but van goance for Mary's death, the Squiro quietly turned the place over to him. Al was at tho Squire's most of the day, and some times until late into tho night. He always found tho place in tho shadow of tlio chimney vacant for him, ancl a hearty "wei como.

The Squire had been ruminating in silence for some minutes when, with a quick start ho sprang to his feet, his bands clenched and his teeth set. The group at tho table looked at him in amazement.

" Good God ! Squire," exclaimed Jim, "you look a3 though you'd seen the devil!"

"Ive seen somo one worse than the devil," shouted the Squire. ■" I've seen Black Bob—not more than ten minutes. That man who sat there—there in Al's placo drinking my brandy—l, who would ha' choked him if I'd known him—if I'd recognised his cursed face then—that man was Black Bob ! There's not a moment to lose, boys. God knows what may happen if we don't get thoro in time. Black Bob has travelled tho path to the Marcys' hun dreds of times. Follow me. We must bo quick !"

A few moments later tho party had plunged into the woods to tho right of the road. Headed by tho Squiro, who seemod all at once to have regained the strength of his youth, they passed swiftly as shadows over the path. They had almost reached the clearing—a moment later their lanterns flashed over tho white snow, illuminating it from the fringe of pines to the edge of the cliff. What they saw made them double their pace. A tall figure in a great cape coat and slouch hat stood near the mound. As tho Squire and his party rushed forward they heard a shriek like that of a wild beast driven to desperation, and saw a form leap from behind the cross and close with the h'gure in the great coat. A short, fierce struggle — then both suddenly vanished. There was a cry of despair, ringing loud above it a a triumphant shriek, and then naught was heard but the booming of the waves against the ledges at the foot of the cliff.

When tho party reached the spot they found tho snow trampled down all around Mary Marcy's grave and from there to the very edge of the cliff. Some of the young men stepped to the edge and looked down. Theysaw nothing but the angry, hissing sea. The Squire stood by the white cross at the head of the grave. As they gathered around him he uncovered his head, and, raising his right hand, said solemnly:

"Boyß ! when Black Bob came back' to the spot where he killed Mary Marcy twenty-four years ago, Al was a-waitin' for him!"— August Kobbe in "Mail and Ex press."

PROFESSOR BALDWIN ON THE SCAFFOLD.

A Reminiscence.

TiiEfollowing interesting narrativeappeared in the "Newcastle Morning Herald" re-

cently :—

" I was present the other evening at a certain social gathering, when Professor Baldwin, the eminent thought-reader, who was one oi the party, was called upon to contribute an item to the evening's enter tainment. Ho did so in the following words, so far as I can recollect: ' The other night one of the gentlemen present asked me to tell you a good American lie as my contribution to theevening's programme. I don't know that an American lie is any different from an English lie, a German Ho, or a French lie; but what I am going to tell you is a true story of something that occurred to myself many ycara ago. The facts are so terrible, or were so terrible to me at the time, that they wanted nothing added to them to heighten their effect. The story was brought to my mind by a lady expressing her wonder how a certain condemned crimi nal felt when on thescaffold. Well, thestory I am about to relate is of a man who was sentenced to be banged ; who had the rope round his neck, and who was only saved from his dread/ul death by a miracle. I was that man, and so far as I am concerned I can answer the question how a man sen tenced to bo hanged feels on the scaffold. It was during the time of the great rebellion some twentylyears ago. I was attached to the Northern Army, and in the couree of events it fell to my lot, when in the State of Ohio, to proceed to one of the Southern towns for the purpose of obtain ing a plan of their fortifica tions. I was to act as Bcout; or, aa you call it, a spy. But 1 was not successful. I was arrested by the Confederates, was tried by drum-head court martial, and, the proofs being co plain against me, was within the next five minutes sentenced to be hanged. The execution was to take place within a few hours. A clergyman was sent to me, and he administered spiritual comfort - which, under the circumstances and in the way it was given, only proved a bore. I was asked whether I had any last request. I said "No," and awaited my fate with calmness. The execution was to take place in the afternoon. It was a lovely day, and the sun shone gloriously. I was led to the scaffold, which had been hastily constructed. There were some hundreds of troops present, and a number of private detectives had come out to see the fun. I remember when the executioner spoke to me, giving him some directions how to fasten the rope. I told him to put the knot close under my left ear, my knowledge of physical science teaching me that in this position, when I fell, my neck was far more likely to break than if tho knot was behind, which often leads to a comparatively lingering death by strangula tion. The man did bo. Then my hands were fastened behind me, and there I stood, separated from eternity, as I thought, by but an instant or two of time. I have read, and doubtless you have read also, of tho feelings which come upon people under theso circumstances—how scenes of their past life,' long forgotton, rise up before thorn with tho clearness of a panorama or kaleidoscope and the rapidity of lightning. Butit was not ao with me. My principal feel ing was an intense desire that my strength would keep up till the final scene, that I would not faint or show the white feather ; and I whispered to the executioner not to further delay. But at that time I felt con scious as it were of two distinct beings— one with my hands tied behind me, as they actually were; the other with my arms folded across my breast gazing far into the distant plain. I cannot account for it, but so it wbb. Nothing of my paßt life rose up before mo ; but the one absorbing thought and fear was, as 1 tell you, that I might not be able to keep up my spirits to the end. Then aa I looked into vacancy, as it seemed to me, there arose a cloud of dust, and a second or two afterwards there came tearing towards ub two horsemen, without either saddle or bridlo—nothing but a rope twisted round their horses' mouths, and their horpes a mags of foam and sweat. We all looked curiously on the scene before us, and my practised eye showed mo that among the cloud of dust was a body of cavalry. Then I prayed them to hurry to its close tho awful ceromony in which I was tho chief figure, for I thought the approach ing troups woro only coming to add to tho already large number of spectators ; and I wished to doprive them of the pleasure of seeing me oxecuted. Quicker than I can tell it you, there was a flash in the inidet of that cloud, and a shell exploded over our heads. At the same instant two civilian horsemen, who were now close upon us, cried out in a voice of shrieking terror that General Wilson and fifty thousand northerners fl ere upon us. At once the scene was changed. 1 was apparently forgotten, and a general stampede of both troops and crowd took place. Then a great revulsion came over me. My heart beat fast; tho blood combed fiercely through my veins, and now that there was a chance of life I feared to look on death. The rope was still about my neck, my hands bound behind, and I stood upia Ilia trap ; the bolt once drawn, would launch me into eternity. The people were running pell mell around and underneath me, but I feared to attract attention, lest by accident or design one of those now stampeding away might do for mo what tho executioner would have done in another moment, but for tho alarm described. I tried to shift my position from off tho trap ; but I could not move, for I felt paralysed. Then I tried by moving my head to shift the knot to the back of my head, so that if I fell my neck might not break. I might hang and choke, it was true, but the approaching host might cut me down before the life was actuary out of me. I heard the tread of many horses as the cloud came down upon me, heavy squadrons, too, accompanied by artillery, for their guns flashed again and thundered on the ear, and their deatii dialing missiles hurled through the air. Bub none touched me. I was like a man in a dream, and in a state of dreadful terror for fear my deliverance might not bo carried out— that the bolt would yet be drawn, and the fall through the trap follow. Then someone —1 could not see who, for my eyes were cloudy, and colours of blue,

red, and green filled them — Bomoono sprang upon the scaffold, cut tho ropo which bound my hands, and placed a knife in them. From that day to liiis I never knew who did that kindly act, I tried to raise tho knifo to cut tlie rope from round my neck, but could not lift my hands ; then a vision of many forms swam beforo mo, UiOi'O and, praying for reliof from dent h, for my head was dizzy, and my brain was whirling in hope and fear, I foil forward, and only camo to myself at the end of seven weeks, during which time I had suffered from brain fever, brought on by tho intense excitement through which I had passed. I was thon among friends and northerners." Professor Baldwin then resumed his sent amid loud applause. That o/ory word (if the story was true we all folt convinced, and thinking itinight interest yourreader?, 1 have reproduced it from memory, as far m 1 have been ablo to do so.

ELLEN TERRY'S HUSBAND.

A Sad, Shadowy Tale of a Woman Who Tripped, and of a Broken Heart.

Ox Friday last, saya tho Philadelphia "Bulletin's" London correspondent,after twodays'illness, Charles Clavering Wardcll, better known as Charles Kelly, tho husband of Ellen Terry, died, to the great grief of a wide circle of friends, not a few of whom loved tho dear follow with an affection that never can be nurtured on sjur, ill-favoured, ungenerous soil. He was a dear old friend of my own, and I doubt not yesterday and to day many a pen found itself writing words very much to tho same purpose, so thoroughly did he captivate those who came within the range of his delightful iulluonce. Charles Clevering Waniell was tho son of a County of Durham clergyman, a person high in the Church, who wa? twice offered a Bishopric. The boy was educated at Rossal, one of our most distinguished public schools, and in tho fulness of time ho entered the army, the Sixty-sixth (Berk ehire) being the regiment in which ho received a commission. Then, imbued with a passion for the stage, he adopted the dramatic profession, determined to sink or swim as an actor, making his pro fessional debut as Montana in "Othello" at Hull. Ho was fortunate in hU friend and mentor, Fred Villiers. Villiers was a splendid actor, and ono of the best stago managers that ever lived. I need not folio w Kelly—as lam call him—step by stop H& marriod a bright little Irish actress named Kelly. She acted as Miss Kelly for years, and enjoyed while she lived, poor thing, a poriod of true happiness. It was during her last year that 1 first came to know my friend —he, a most dovoted husband, nureinp liia wife through her last illness with the tender ness cf a woman, and, as it were, living only in and for her. Years after, when ho had been associated with Sothern, had been allied with Charles Reado in tho production of Borne of his pieces, and had otherwise made a name as tho best of what are now called tho Reserve Forco School of Actors, he met with Ellen Terry. Ho mot hor, as actors cay, "in business." They were both acting at the Court Theatre in " New Men and Old Acres," She was playing the part of the young girl who, in spite of herself, yields to tho charm of her rough, plain, honest suitor's simple and yet noblo mature, while ho was figuring as that suitor. What might almost have boon predicted happened. Those who have met Ellon Terry know' her invincible power. She is the most fascinating woman in the world— when she cares to throw her spoils around. She threw them around Kelly—-it may bo single-heartedly, I cannot say. It may be that she appreciated some of his good quali ties—eho could not help that, I should imagine. Anyhow they were engaged. I knew and saw a good deal cf poor, dear Charloy at that period, and I woll remember how full of rapture he was at tho thoughts of his future We—some of us, at any rato —were dubious. Wo—some of us, at any rate—remembered Tennyson's poem, "Tho Grandmother," and applied it. Nelly had tripped in her time; would she "trip" again ? We hoped not; wo believed not. If ever the woman had had a chance in life it was hers, when tho strong, bravo-hearted man and she engaged themselves to be man and wife. He would keep her together if any one could. The case of Watts against Watts and Godwin was tried in the divorce court. J. F. Watte, R.A., charged his wife, Ellen Watts (born Terry), with having committed adultery with Mr Godwin, F.S.A., and friendly witnesses, amongst the rest tho late Tom Taylor, were called on behalf of the prosecution. It was a short case, and it came to a foregone conclusion. Sim obtained "a decree nisi" in the course of the allotted time, and the legal separation of the ill assorted pair was made complete, and Charles Clavering Wardoll, the actor, married Ellen Terry, actress, the two there upon going into business as actors for their joint and several benefits. I cannot say when the little rift within the lute was first apparent, but there came a time when it was borne in upon us that Charles Kelly was not happy. I make no accusations ; I murmur no innuendoes; I merely state facts. From the time Ellen Terry became a member of the Lyceum company, and her name got to be, 88 a matter of course, pro fessionally associated with that of Henry Irv ing, the unhappiness of Kelly's married life began. Ellen Terry isflighty; thatisadmitted on all hands. Her own mother has been heard to speak of of her as "my mad Ellen." She is greedy of praise ; that is aIEO mani fest. You cannot lay it on too thickly as long as you apply the brush and trowel with somo regard to artistic effect. It was obvious that there was more money to be made, more kudos to be gained, by acting with her husband. Gradually tho gulf widened. Kelly himself, although nevor a drunkard, as foul-tongued slanders have avouched, not a tippler in any sense, may have sought the solace in tho society of sympathising friends at his club (the Savr.go) which ho found not elsewhere. Anyhow, tho gulf widened still moro. Then wo heard that he and his wife were living apart from each, other. Following this wero tho triumphal tours through the provinces of America, one man dying the while, as much of a broken heart as of any other malady ; and then, almost on tho day of Ellen Terry's return to England, tho big-hearted, noblo souled gentleman, tho steadfast friond, the bright, honest, sternly straightforward man and true artist dies. I Ehall never bo liove aught but what it was tho prospect of her imminent return that killed him.

HANDEL.

Why tho English go into Ecstasies ovor

his Music. The fact is that though Handel's character as a man, says tho "Magazine of Art," is acceptable to the nation, and Ids music has come to be associated with its religious theory and practice, hia art in an unadul terated state has not for long been found palatable to tho true Anglo-Saxon tempera ment. But for such ijy-ends as I havu men tioned, ho would have won no moro than that barren siicce* d'cslimc which .so many great classical artists Ehaiewith Milton and Gluck. That more alluring path cf mystery and transcendental^ eontiinont which Beethoven opened upon tho lines of Haydn and the Viennese better suits tho English taste. It is our nature to demand immense endeavour?, far-reaching aims, and a vast programme ; and wo arc not easily repulsed by ugliness, obscurity, or inoompletenofa of method. Kcithcr do wo like- to think wo aro cheaply pleased, to that an artist who works for Ei.gland is tempted to aim boyond his own power and the natural understanding, to give uh (ho plou sure of priding oui aelvos on tho fact that we aro serious enough to enjoy his obscurity. Utilitarian in our sports, wo English demand effective rather than beautiful athletics ; equally gluttonous and fastidious as to the raw matter of sentiment, -wo aro indifferent and insensible to tho preparation and service of art.

Now Handel's Music is Direor, simple, grand, unaffected; and curtain sacrifices and graduation of force arc inevi table- in its £D3thotic fclicmo, to the end that it may legitimately achieve variety and effect. But with its operation we havo never beon contented ; and in our mad wish to make ever/ moment, sublime, wo have piled on force till every light is equally white, and all the strong points arc at war with each other. For wo like to blink the degrading fact that artistic imagination deals with a concrete limited stu/i', and ia therefore a separate special faculty in each art. The sophistry which implicitly con founds imagination with sentiment is dis astrously common ; I have heard an art critic openly assert that an imagination could bo conceived which should deal neither in words nor colour, neither melody nor clay, and yet might afterward be ex pressed in any of them without tho inter1 vention of any special faculty between f.'io abstract thought and the technical execu tion. Such art and artists exist and affect us on the presumption that every man tcels a sentiment simply in virtue of being a man, but when he conceives in image of it in the material of any art, ho then becomes an artist, and is guilty of an ac!; of imagina tioH, or artistic creation.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1885

3