Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (v. 2) (1880 10 12)
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c- Shee 7 . ‘ ae | SreRs ~ +. fhe Only Young Ladies’ Library of First-Class Copyright Novels Published! Price, but 5 cents exch. — — Bee So eee ee rene ae ' ; Sends wy Guas wuvered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. October 12, 1880. PRICE, 5 CENTS, — ee \ \\ \ NN ; SS . NN ERY S 3 ‘ : z OF ¥, A sd te © Ae ee ee en ee ~ _ 4 Lice readme nares te Sieiecmemaien tee ee LAYING BOTH HANDS ON THE ROCK, SHE UNITED ALL HER STRENGTH IN A SUPREME EFFORT, IT WOULD NOT BUDGE. i , : over, are not over-fortunate or numerous, A paltry hamlet, of a dozen In Spite of Herself; or, Jeannette s Reparation. | erssieuss cian: sem al" coast tee he villag is amos or five fishing-smacks, which they drag up on the beach by means of an . De old capstan planted in the soil. int eee Yet this place, so sad and so solitary to-day, appears to have been of CHAPTER I considerable importance at those distant times which followed the early : settlement of the colonies. At the time of the American Revolution it THE MASTER OF BELLE ISLE. was a hamlet of some note, and belonged to one of the most illustrious THERE is, somewhere on the coast of Maryland, within a cannon-shot | Catholic families of the ig ome It is true that this family, which of the main shore, an isolated island, of a league, more or less, in cir- | assumed to date back to the conquest of the Gauls by Ceesar, had been eumference, which is called Belle Isle. ‘ : somewhat despoiled of its pristine splendor. After having possessed ' The aspect of this place is poor and sterile. The inhabitants, more- | numerous eastellanies and marquisates, its patrimony had been reduced, ae ees, af, Bae bs : ce we. ae ae =} 5, ~ ts a - ie : = i SN Pe i eee : — za es _ i ee
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* 2 a he : 4 € > « ’ ascent behind him. The young man was followin ois, A A ee Sener = little by little, till it was forced to emigrate from the mother country and take the proprie- tor-ship of Belle Isle. It came about, at the time of which we are writing, that the head of the _ direct branch of thisfamily, the Chevalier Hugo Prevost, departed life at his little manor of Belle Isle, leaving as heir to his name and the remains of his fortune his nephew, Gerald » Prevost, a young man of twenty years, whom _ he bad adopted and always treated as his own _ child. When the good old chevalier, overcome y age and infirmity, felt his end approaching, rald was at Baltimore, completing his studies William and Mary College. Leaving there .. the greatest haste, in order to receive e@ last adieus of his venerable relative, he rived just in time to close his eyes; and the “profound grief which he evinced at his bereave- - ment testified to his instinctive nobleness and goodness of heart. He took possession of the iodest heritage of his uncle, and installed him- f in the little manor which its neighbors ersisted in calling the chateau of Belle Isle. - This manor, of severe aspect, rose at the = - northern extremity of the isle, and seemed to have been constructed at an epoch when the advantages of comfort and salubrity were never taken into consideration ‘by architects and proprietors. In the season of storms the ele- ments would unchain themselves, with all their fury, on the surroundings. Save the memory of his uncle, which came occasionally to sadden his thoughts, Gerald ac- cepted, without misanthropy, the solitude and Sulktion of his home. Never had lighter, gayer, or more heedless youth trod the sands or heaths of Belle Isle. Although absolute master of the rock on which he lived, and all there were dis- osed to accord him boundless respect and obe- ience, the joyous Gerald did not of tak- -ing advantage of his position with his poor tenants and followers. His ambition was to surpass the young men of the vicinity in those hysical exercises observed in the country; he Bid not disdain to iningle with the humblest of his neighbors in their games and fetes, where he ‘was always welcomed with the highest joy. In proportion as the young master of Belle Isle was charitable and indulgent toward his inferi- _ors, he was cold and reserved toward the better classes of the vicinity. Opposite Belle Isle, on terra firma, was a hamlet of some importance, * called Bristol, where resided a number of Eng- lish landed proprietors in easy circumstances, and a few English revenue officers and small public functionaries, with their families, con- stituting what was considered and termed society at that time and place. Gerald Prevost articipated willingly enough in the reunions of the good people of Bristol, to whom he was con- strained to listen as they praised his ancestry and the qualities he had derived from them; _ but he felt no sympathy with these people, whom the traditions of his own family and race had taught him to dislike. Yet, while intrepid, disdainful, ofttimes ‘“‘ cutting” with the men, he observed toward the ladies, of whom many were young and attractive, only that exquisite man- ner and graceful tone which were natural to him. _ $uch, then, was the physical, moral, and ial position of Gerald Prevost, the master of elle Isle, at the time of his introduction to the eacder. _ One clear morning in October, equipped for the chase, Gerald issued from the bouse to pens ) his favorite exercise. As he walked along — ummed a hunting air, while his spaniel danced wr a path which around him in circles, as if sharing his gayety. 7 % - eonducted to the principal sattleniniit of the island, when, arriving at a wooded hight, whence he could perceive the hamlet with its Gothie church and the little port with its barks idly resting on the sandy beach, he espied, on looking backward, a man rapidly climbing the Our hero awaited the new- comer, who appeared to be about sixty years of age, and wore an old Frénch costume, that distinguished him sufficiently from the common _ people of Belle Isle. Gerald recognized the ven- erable Victor, a domestic grown old in the ser- vice of his family, who had become, since the death of the chevalier, his major domo, his factotum—in short, the prime minister of his -—~goyernment in miniature. “Well, my brave Victor,” said he, gayly, with the rough tone of voice in which he was accustomed to address the old man, ‘‘ whence comes that wry face of ill-omen? I would wager that you have again been talking politics below there, with tne loafers of Bristol. Come! open your budget. What news to-day?” > MS uncovered his white hairs and bowed IN SPITE OF HERSELF. * ‘The news I ig es morning is not to be smiled at, Master Gerald,” he said, gravely. “We should rather weep. They say that France has become the ally of the rebels, and that no Frenchman is safe, surrounded, as you are, by colonists of Tory sympathies, without having declared your loyalty. Nor is this all. The rebels are now beaten on all sides, and have just been terribly whipped by General Howe, at Germantown, with a loss of forty thousand men. “Let us go! let us go!” laughed Gerald, com- pletely reassured by this exaggerated sum total. ‘**T will answer that this slaughter will not be repeated on the rocks of Belle Isle. But I must be off, for I count on some capital shots before high tide.” ** Alas! master, master,” said Victor, sadly, ‘this is no time to dream of duck-hunting. You do not believe me; 1 see it, and yet many things are passing around you. Your neigh- bors of Bristol are talking of the strangeness of your delay in espousing the British cause, and some of the old families of French extraction, of doubtful sympathies, as, for example, the Lavilles and the Du Ponts, are repairing to Bal- timore, New York, and other cities now held by the English, to escape the scrutiny with which they are watched at home.” “You tell me, my good Victor, of old men apd women, whom the least event frightens, because they are rich and defenseless. But, who would dream of molesting me on this ster- ile rock in the ocean?” “ And yet, master, what would you do, some fine morning, should a band of Tory adventurers descend upon and destroy the chateau and murder you?” “What would I do? I would arm my six servants, name brave Victor Tassaint my cap- tain-general, and, at the head of that army vigorously charge the enemy. It would require more than a robber force to preserve itself from being driven back into the sea in the twinkling of an eye!” F Gerald’s countenance glowed with another smile; but the old intendant did not now appear to take, in bad part, his master’s gayety. ‘“‘That thought belongs to you, my young master,” replied Victor, with a satisfied air. “ And a siege would be a good thing, and would redound to the credit of your name.” Though quite accustomed to the eccentricities of his major-domo, the young master of Belle Isle could not conceal his surprise at seeing a joke thus taken in seriousness. “What! Victor,” asked he, ‘if that idea of resistance really o to me, do you think I iri find any one here disposed to defend me The eyes of the old man sparkled as he an- swered: ‘“‘By Saints Paul and Victor, my worthy patrons, I can always respond for one! As to the fishermen and your tenants,” continued he, shaking with a menacing gesture the baton he held in his hand, ‘‘I would like to see them hesitate. But to do them justice, they all love you, as they have good reason, Ba spoil them so much! You do them so much honor in allow- ing—but you wish no one to speak of that!” d the old man uttered a sigh. “Bah! You are always venturing on this disagreeable theme,” replied Gerald, with a slight expression of discontent. Very well, master; you have control of your own actions. But I—l cannot approve a de- scendant of the Prevosts gr BA a A treach- erous craft, as I saw you do in the last sto when you were returning from fishing with ol Peter, or, stiil worse, your consenting to receive those thumps in_the head from Sailor Joe, at the festival.” “ Really, a saint with your exalted idea of my _ personal aniy, coe lose his patience. Re- member that w below, in the middie of the channel, it was a matter of life or death to pee? the bark in that frightful squall; and if I had not worked my best with old Peter and his son, I, the de- scendant of the Prevosts, would have perished like a numskull, and served as food for the fishes. As for Sailor Joe, from whom you say I received those thumps at Bristol, I am proud at having honestly returned his blows with in- terest, e lesson I taught him, will subdue his confidence, I assure you; he appreciates very little, I gage, the honor he experienced in measuring with me, although 1 abandoned to him the prize of the combat, which was, if m memory serves, a superb pair of cow-hide shoes,” At this stage of the conversation, which, as we have said, took place on a solitary land- en I was maneuvering there ical scape, exposed to the impetuous wind that blew _ from the offing, the old man directed the atten- tion of our hero to two small boats, just depart- ing from the village of Bri8tol, as they appeared struggling with an effort against the waves of the channel. “There, master!” said hey ‘‘ It looks as if we were going to have visitors to-day.” ‘*Visitors!” said Gerald, turning quickly. ‘Yes, egad; itis true. And liad forgotten all about it! On my soul, if I had been caught hunting, I should have been in a pretty mess with the good ladies of Bristol.” ‘““What do you say, master?” asked Victor, disturbed. ; “Well! Three or four days since, I met a number of ladies at Squire Brown’s, who mani- fested a strong wish to see and put to test the Rocking Stone of Belle Isle, which, as you are aware, we do not permit every one to ap- proach.” “The Rocking Stone! The talisman of your family!” repeated the old man, reproachfully. “That seems almost a profanation!’ “Pshaw! superstition has turned your head, as well as others’—I know better than any one the legend of the Rocking Stone. So I invited all who were present on the occasion to which I alluded, to come to-day to Belle Isle, to see its curiosity and souvenir.’ ‘“‘And to take dinner, perhaps,” suggested Victor. “No: be assured—yet we can hardly expect to escape offering them a modest collation of some kind. They will be indulgent for my boy- ish forgetfulness; and you, Victor, must assist to ‘por my mistake.” “T will do my best. But you, master,” in- quired the old servant, with solicitude, ‘‘ are you going to receive the company in that dusty dress and hat?” “What's the odds?—yet, on reflection, this b is hardly appropriate for the reception of adies. Let us go in quickly.” He threw his gun across tis shoulder, and re- | sumed his homeward march with such rapid strides that Victor was shortly out of breath. ‘One minute, Victor,” said he, pausing, ‘and you may follow at your ease. Tell me, you, who know all the saints of the calendar, with their different attributes and special provi- dences, who is he that protects the lover?” ‘““Why do you ask me that, master?” said the honest old man, simply enough. “Because I will offer him a candle as high as a ship’s a !” said the thoughtless youth, laugh- ing aloud. nd he ran in the direction of the chateau, followed by his French spaniel, which appeared surprised enough at_the sudden change of pur- pose. CHAPTER II. . AN ESCAPADE. AmoNG the aboriginal monuments of Belle Isle was an enormous rock, destined to play an important vole in this Mistory which stood on the slope of a cliff, at some distance from the chateau. It was oval in form, flattened, and so singularly placed that the feeblest hand, even that.of a child, would suffice to produce in it an oscillatory movement, very perceptible, which, considering its ponderousness, made it appear a veritable promiey to those ignorant of the laws of mechanics. By reason of this marvelous cir- - ei it received the name of the Rocking me. The ancestors of Gerald had brought with them from the mother country a legend, trans- mitted from the priesthood of ancient Gaul, that a rocking stone would servesto test the in- nocence or guilt of women suspected by their friends, lovers or husbands. If the stone, after long and solemn invocation, obeyed the impulse of the person who submitted to the test, and visibly moved, suspicion was allayed; but if the rock remained motionless, as it might happen when the accused had not won the sympathy of the spirits stationed to guard the monument, woe to the unfortunate one! Since their emigra- tion to this continent, it had been customary for the Prevosts, on the day of the marriage of a gentleman of that name, for the new husband and the new wife to come in great pomp, to the chateau of Belle Isle, where the newly married submitted to the test of the Rocking Ston the midst of a crowd of invited guests. stone had never been known to fail of complais- ance for these noble ee and we are even assured that at the marriage of a sire of the Prevosts, with one Blanche Devereaux, who assed for a prodigy of virtue and piety, the king Stone oscillated of its own accord, be- fore it had been touched by the beautiful bride, e, in.’ The
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| the ‘ } > ; ‘as ifto render her homage. A monument of such importance could not be left at the service of mere curiosity-seekers; so one of the more ancient proprietors of Belle Isle had sarrounded the stone with a wall surmounted by iron pick- ets to defend it from approach. The key of that inclosure was solemnly presented to the suc- ceeding master, the day he took possession of his property, and he was enjoined never to con- fide it to any one. Now, it was especially to see this marvel and to test its celebrated experience, that the good people of Bristol had taken Gerald Prevost at issword and thus corre to visit his domain. Gerald was so expeditious in his toilet that the company had not yet appeared in the narrow avenue of oaks that led to the manor ere he was dressed and prepared to receive them. He now wore a velvet habit, from which the deli- cate sword of chased steel, that depended hand- somely, relieved the basque; a satin vest, above which floated a shirt-frill loaded with jewels; and breeches of black silk. A touch of powder had restored allits freshness to his head-dress, and his hat, laced with gold, was borne careless- ly under his arm. In that elegant costume, the charms of the master of Belle Isle were display- ed to their best advantage. A numerous group was entering the path at the extremity of rat avenue. Victor, mutter- ing, went forth to assure himself that his female aides-de-camp had omitted nothing that could impart to the visitors a lofty idea of the splendor of the chateau of Beile Isle. Gerald, leaning his forehead against the glass of one of the little bay-windows that lighted the hall, was examin- ing the strangers with lively interest. The latter were from fifteen to twenty in number. At their head, as guide or pioneer, advanced a personage in black riding-coat and silver-gr ay wig, who was Brown, the Bristol lawyer. e was a tall, dry man, of certain pre- tensions to historical erudition, living in high estimation in the surrounding country. Of all the visitors, he was the most intimate with young Prevost, he having been charged with the liquidation of the chevalier’s estate and with otier interests of Gerald’s. Among the Squire’s complacent followers first came his son, a lean, cadaverous, stupid youth, whose too straight arments set off still more palpably his sharp joints; then his clerk, Ralph Anderton, one of the characters of the village, in a dress exag- erated in his effort to follow the burlesque sahtaee of the day. Though he passed for a shrewd man, his forked countenance wore an expression of malice and causticity rather than genuine intelligence; but the moment he was placed under the eye of his patron, he affected a modest, respectful air, and seemed full of ad- miration for the immense erudition of honest Brown. The other men of the company, for the most part small proprietors and merchants of Bristol, do not merit particular mention, save the custom-house officer, a good-looking fellow, with long mustaches, rather stiff in his black and red uniform, who passed for a furious Tory par- tisan, and was constantly declaiming against tbe assurance and injustice of the rebel causa, and predicting the success of the British. Among the ladies of importance was Miss Martha Brown, the notary’s sister, a bitter and arrulous old maid of forty, and Madame and iss Jeannette L’Estrange, the widow and daughter of the merchant of that name, who was well known in his calling, and had acquired a considerable fortune from the commerce of the mother country. The widow L’Estrange was an illiterate woman of strong prejudices, and therefore showed to no advantage in the society of Bristol, meager as that might be; and she was countenanced as much owing to the special protection of the notary, who had charge of her business affairs, aud who, it was said, se- eretly nourished the gee of marrying his son to the daughter of his client, as to her great riches. Tn marked contrast with her mother appeared Jeannette L’Estrange. Talland slender, with a dark brown velvet eye, a brunette complexion and a smiling mouth, the latter possessed a grace and dignity full of charms. She had re- ceived a careful education abroad, whence she had returned scarcely a year since; it was gen- erally conceded to be impossible to find in the en- tire colony a musician more accomplished or a voice more ravishing. But the ee and talents of this beautiful girl were studiedly con- cealed under an extreme reserve; either from natural timidity or regret at her position, Jean- nette always appeared under a painful con- straint. Gerald Prevost, alone, despite his ap- parent lightness, had divined what treasures were vailed under that chaste melancholy, and IN SPITE OF HERSELF. et we shall see anon how falsely he interpreted er. Jeannette still wore her school-girl costume, a dress, or rather a frock, as they were then call- ed, of blue silk, with a floating girdle. Her beautiful dark hair brushed plainly from her forehead, was held by a ribbon, and escaped from under a little straw hat. The wind occa- sionally exposed to view her delicate black shoes with silver buckles, and her light embroidered stockings. She at times almost entirely disap- peared under the vast folds of her mother’s cloak, from which she smilingly disembarrassed herself. When Gerald recognized her in the midst of the crowd, he wished to advance to her side; but he apprehended such a proceeding might be ill-interpreted. It was only after the visitors had crossed the inclosure and entered the court that he stepped forward to receive them. He welcomed the gentlemen in a few words, and then kissed the ladies, one after another, as he was expected to do, according to the custom of the time, touching lightly the old and furrow- ed cheeks, and dwelling longer on those more fresh and red. Ending with Jeannette L’Estrange, he whispered in her ear: “Charming! You have pardoned, then, my audacity in loving you and having dared to tell you of it?” Jeannette blushed; but Brown, who had just at that moment addressed the master of the house a long and pretentious compliment, made to order for the occasion, diverted attention; the company pees entered the hall of the chateau, to rest for an instant. After a delightful romenade on the strands and heaths of Belle Isle, the guests were subse- quently joined around a well-ordered table, owing to the exertions of Victor. When it was time to repair to the Rocking Stone, a few of the invited, including the learned Seat him- self, were not ve in their knees, thanks to the excellent wine drawn from the caves of the chevalier. : It was with extreme joy, on going from the chateau, that Gerald saw the company divide itself into small groups, and even into couples passably distant from each other. To his great delight the young daughter was alone with her mother, and when he offered his arm it was ac- cepted. : Our hero pressed tightly to his side the arm of Jeannette passed under his own; but he did not speak, and the young girl, quivering, held her eyes down. Two steps behind, Mrs. L’Es- trange followed; but either because she was not vexed at the marked attentions of which her daughter was the object on the part of Gerald, or because she was alioacthier occupied in pick- ing her own way in that obscure path, she re- mained far enough behind not to render com- letely eee a confidential communication tween the young people. : Some minutes ela before Gerald, a novice in the business of love, profiting by bis favorable opportunity, observed in a tone of affected care- lessness: “T have been all day annoyed at these im- vag es 2 that have prevented my being able o say to you a word in secret. Meanwhile, my thoughts have been only with you. I owe you so nee thanks for haying come to-day! Can hope the words of love I dared address you at our last interview haye been pardoned? You are as good as you are beautiful!” : “Do not of ascribing such motives to this indispensable visit,” stammered Jeannette, timidly. “*My refusal would have given rise to wrong interpretations; again, I must obey my mother.” . as Oh! Jeannette, Jeannette, why not let me te) ' “Well,” bee abe ‘sa the young woman, more firmly, ‘‘ I will acknowledge the truth; I have obeyed without reluctance my mother’s wishes, and have not submitted to ceremony in coming bere, for I had something to say to you, a per to address an ive: speak?” rayer—you 7 he yashed to conjure you, Mr. Prevost, to reflect upo- the immense distance which separates you /:om a girl of my obscure origin, and to en * that you will cease these as- pote whic may provoke gossip and scan- da Gerald remained a moment silenced by the low. “So then,” replied he, at length, with an ac- cent of grief mingled with spite, ‘‘you do not love me?” : Jeannette y reserved silence. : : §*In .-fins,’ continued Gerald, growing ani- 5 pee oe ee ee , eee - eee = SSS ee Ee Rr mated, ‘‘I have long remarked and should have remembered the kind looks you bestow on the ridiculous son, and the clerk of the squire. One of them is undoubtedly the chosen—” “‘One I pity; by the other I am inspired with fear,” interrupted Jeannette, with vivacity. “Mr. Prevost esteems me little enough to be- lieve that I could so ill place my heart.” ‘Well, then, some other more worthy.” ‘*No, Mr, Prevost,” responded Jeannette, with a sigh, “‘no one has inspired me with the sentiments ae suggest; I even believe that if heaven had not interposed between us barrier of position, perhaps—” She paused as if frightened at what she said, 75 “Thanks!” exclaimed Gerald, with warm “Finish! What. obstacle can that be between us? We cannot surmise what response Jeannette L’Estrange might have made, when the noise 0 a violent altercation suddenly arose be them. It was Victor and the custom-house = ~~ officer, who, in talking politics, had become — kindled with excitement and rage. es The officer was bitterly weap GROW OL "Kes Victor’s tirades; but the quick reply of the latter will suffice to explain the nature of his adversary’s response: ‘“The poverty of my master! His family’s decay! hat means all that? By St. Michael and all the other saints of the parish! Do you pretend to say that the master of Belle Isle is not more respected than any of your British blockheads of Bristol, or the entire provinces, for that matter? His family was illustrious be- fore the crusades, man! As to his poverty, he is not so rich as he might be, I confess; but if he possessed merely this barren rock, do you sup- ose his hospitality would be less genuine, or is servitors less devoted than in times past?” This appeal, which bore directly upon the good cheer of the little manor, was undoubtedly _ understood, for the pony appeared to be in a x. sweeter and more amiable tone; but despite all =» that could be said, Victor’s wrath remained un- x appeased. ‘Your protection! that of Mrs. L’Estrange!” replied he, indignantly. ‘‘ And what need, man, has my master of your protection, or thatif any one? I know you to be in collusion with smugglers, and that the money of Mrs. L’Hs- trange is of essential service in your contraband culations. When are you coming to attack . Prevost’s property? I expect you. Tell your crew that we are not afraid here; bring them on, I defy them!” At this Fines! of the dispute some one inter- fered, and nothing further was heard but a con- fused wrangling. “What say you, Jeannette, at the manner in which the old fire-cat maintains the privileges of my position?” inquired Gerald, with a smile, addressing the young woman. “His devotion may make him exaggerate them, even to your ridicule,” responde i L’Estrange, who, during that pause, had suc- | ceeded in moderating her emotion; ‘‘ but the duties you im on your position, Mr. Pre- : vost, are not less sacred; they especially inter= = dict what might be called a low marriage.” So ‘* A low marriage!” cried Gerald involun eas ly. ‘* Jeannette, do you not think [ love si pei a devotion profound, absorbing, unreserv- e ; hoz ‘* Enough,” interrupted the young girl at- Sense tempting to disenga Shavit ee ee pak ‘Listen tome! Do! Letmeatleast—” - ‘No; it is useless!” added she, witha choked = voice, recalling Victor’s disparaging allusion to her mother. ; “Do you think I entertain an emotion of — pride that would produce an unnatural reserve or make our lives any less happy, Jeannette?” continued Gerald, forcibly detaming her hand. “But this is neither the time nor the place for a conversation of this nature. Consent to meet me Sunday evening at Bristol, in your way to chapel service. I can then speak—” : Jeannette uttered a sharp cry and disengaged her arm with an effort. ‘What is the matter? Are you hurt?” asked me Mrs. L’Estrange. Jas ‘“* What is it?” echoed the entire company, ar- rested by the cry. ; “ Nothing, nothing!” stammered Jeannette. “What have you done?” growled Victor, turning toward our hero, The latter, his forehead covered with per- spiration and his face flushed, lost countenance, 5 while he stammered: a ‘1 do not understand; I can not explain.” ras “* My foot turned on a stone in the shade, “‘in- a4 terposed Jeannette, quickly. “lt hurt me,amd rt ‘ ay ? 2 z ba | “ct - 4 z +. = ~~ td c=
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; 7 ‘ . . _ on the slope of this cliff, inclosed by an iron 3 x ating, in a sort of semicircular recess, which ae acd eg med to be the work of nature. their intelligence; _T i I could not repress a cry; it is nothing more; I am even now better—I am well.” CHAPTER III. THE TEST. __.. Tur company soon arrived in a little savage , ed chiff. The celebrated Rocking Stone was situated » valley, separated from the sea only by a ruin- Some stones covered with moss, and without any adher- ©, still served asa wall in the paths where the declivity of the ground did not sufficiently - protect it; bub in front of the valley rose an iron inclosure, surmounted by a cross whose presence added to the melancholy character of this deserted place. The company paused, and Victor tried to turn the enormous key in tie rusty lock of the gateway. While he was thus ainly employing all his strength, the assistants ast their looks eagerly across the barriers, to es Leena beforehand the marvel of Belle sle, The lawyer of Bristol, who arrogated the privilege of fulfilling all the functions of cice- rone, continued, in the midst of the contempla- tion, a dissertation originally commenced at the chateau. “Yes, gentlemen; yes, ladies; yes, girls,” said he, with emphasis, ‘‘I am not of those who _ pretend to be able to explain everthing; I am not of those incredulous spirits who would measure tyebibaite 3 with the straight line of believe, I am convinced _ that the pagans of old, by their intercourse with the spirits of darkness, operated some veri- table prodigies, and you are soon going to wit- ness a striking instance. Has not the Bible said, in its own peculiar phrase, that the magi- cians of Pharaoh accomplished the same pro- digies as Moses? Hadem portenta fecerunt, says the text. Does not Cesar affirm, in his Commentaries, that the fairies of Gaul had the power of rendering invisible and calming with a word the winds?-.I conclude, then, that the [Indian soothsayers were quite able, by the magic art, ars magica, to construct a talisman, the'virtue of which has been propagated from age to age till to-day.’ “But, Mr. Brown,” asked timidly, a little * brunette, with a lively eye and frolicsome man- ~ * Do you hear, ladies?” cried the 1 ners, ‘if this talisman is the work of a demon, is there no danger to good Christians in putting the rock to the test?” “The expression of such a doubt is an offense to my family,” exclaimed Gerald, with irony, “and I will not thus suffer our Rocking Stone to be calumniated. Do you consider what you have said, Miss ——? If there had been an danger in accepting the test, would my grand- mother and my other female ancestors, during I know not how many generations, have resorted hither? No, no; whatever Mr. Brown, or any other distinguished authority muy say, the _- Rocking Stone is not a diabolical work, and to Ls © Hee such an opinion would be to make be- aF ve that one has reasons for doubting the re- tof experience?” x-eyed Anderton; “upon my word it is a challenge!” . “Well, we accept it,” said Miss Brown, with ‘an air of haughty prudery. ‘* We accept it,” repeated the other ladies. “ All?” asked Gerald. ‘en? “Then so much the worse for those who have resumed too much of themselves!” replied he. ‘The rock is not gallant, I assure you; but I _ wash my hands of the result.” These words were pronounced with an artifi- cial and almost feverish gayety. Gerald, since _ his conversation with Jeannette L’Estrange, dis- played no longer that pleasantness and natural- ness of manner which had theretofore charac- terized him. His movements were abrupt, his cheeks red, his voice altered. Evidently he had not been able to overcome the sentiment of hu- miliation and of rage which he had experienced on seeing his pretensions so harshly repulsed by the pretty Jeannette. Victor had finally sueceeded in turning the key in the lock, and in shaking the gate on its rusty hinges. As soon as the passage was open, the men entered the inclosure, the women fol- lowed more cautiously. Gerald, with a smile on his lips, advanced toward the upper extremity of the rock, which was a blackish flint stone, fifteen feet long, by seven or eight in hight. Our hero seemed to caress for a moment with his hand its polished sturface, then, pushing without apparent effort, the stone, he communicated 2 IN SPITE OF: HERSELF. SSS SS EES movement, followed almost immediately by five or six slow and perfectly sensible oscilla- tions. Although they had been forearmed, most of the witnesses could not withhold a cry of aston- ishment. ; The young master of Belle Isle amused himself for some minutes in accelerating the movement of the Rocking Stone. At length he moved awa saying: : , * You see how docile it is. My neighbors will find it equally obliging and complaisant. They will find in experience a sure test; the stone has no occult virtue for men.” - “That is to say, sir, what I do not yield,” cried the notary, in an assured tone: ‘‘T can not prove by authentic and precise texts, that stones of that species serve equally to expose men who have committed some great crime; still, if the Rocking Stone bas preserved its property in regard to the sins of women, why has it not also preserved it inregard to men? This is a point which must be cleared up, and I regret very much that we have not here a great criminal, a ida for example, or even a simple assassin. am 3 ese to be main nae ole eakae> our reasoning may , my friend, replied Prevost, with a serious air; ‘‘but we are, unfortunately, obliged to leave in suspense, for to-day, that truly interesting question. We are especially concerned with the ladies. The redoubtable moment has arrived; let the incred- ulous look out for themselves!” On his recommendation the company formed a circle around the stone, at a sufficient distance not to obstruct its movements. Although few believed in the secret virtue of the talisman, most of the ladies could not avoid manifesting asort of anxiety. They looked at one another without daring to communicate otherwise than by a glance the invincible repugnance with which that experience, so delicate in public, had inspired them. Only two of the number did not seem to share this general impression; these were Mrs, L’Estrange and Jeannette. The yellow and furrowed features of the mother expressed simply a Rhy be curiosity. Thedaugh- ter, seeking to lose herself in the crowd, sat down to one side. Her eyes, turned toward the sea, appeared to be observing with a dreamy air the waves that were br: g in silver spray against the beach. ‘“How calm she is!” thought Gerald. ‘“‘We shall soon see how well she can preserve this superh indifference!” he first person who presented herself to sub- mit to the terrible test, was Miss Brown, the sister of the notary; it wasshe who had accepted the challenge, and this honor, therefore, be- longed to her, Hardly had she touched the stone, before the latter stirred without difficulty, and oscillated very respectfully, ‘ ‘Bravo! Bravo!” cried the witnesses, clap- ing their hands, ‘The stone has said truly; honesty and purity are hereditary in the family of Squire Brown.’ The ice once broken, the other ladies of the company advanced successively to try their experience. The obedient rock renewed for all its oscillations and_ its balancings. This trite complaisance ended Wg exciting the suspicions of the major portion of the assembly. “Parbleu!” grumbled an old physician, ‘“‘ It is impossible that among so many women there is not at least one—my daughter, very well! but Miss ——, or Miss ~—!—the senseless stone!” . ‘* Decidedly,” concluded an old bachelor, with a coarse antl e, “your Rocking Stone; Mr. Pre- vost, is like my little dog, who tries to please ey e atience! gentlemen, patience!” said Gerald, “ biting his lips. Mrs. L’Estrange and her daughter remained. The mother had observed, with marked curi- osity, the different trials of the other ladies, but without testifying any desire to take part. As for Jeannette, still seated to one side, near the grating, she hardly turned her head, even when the gayety of her companions was at its hight. the notary endéavored to persuade Mrs. L’Estrange to imitate her companions. — ‘‘ Well, neighbor,” said he, ‘‘ do you not wish to try your fortune? You will never have a better opportunity to prove that your husband ae good selection in taking you for his wife! “Faugh!” replied the old lady, with a grim- ace meat for oy smile, ‘‘ what have I to do with your jugglery? I have faith in what is true; that answers me. But to please you all, J’ll do te it a sudden, ! as others have done.” = tx} oe pr Ben oa = : . ’ s > 7 *e J Bie. oe ~ are * - Bos ate 4 + >. - - Placing herself before the rock, she moved it with so much vigor that the enormous block appeared almost ready to rebound to the foot ot the cliff; it preserved its oscillations for more than a minute after having received the first impulse. * Allin good time!” they cried on all sides. “Honor to good merchant L’Estrange!” The widow regained her place with a look of pride. \. A moment of repose ensued the signal victory of Mrs, L’Estrange. . “One of our number has not yet submitted;to the test,” said a voice. ‘‘That is Miss Jeannette L’Estrange.” “Very true; but of what use?” said Gerald, ironically. “Jeannette is undoubtedly anxious to sin- Jarize herself!” remarked in quiet tones, a ° iend of Jeannette. ‘ “Step forward, Jeannette,” said the widow, in a voice of authority. Jeannette had risen at the first appeal to her name; but, despite the precision of her mother’s order, she still hesitat The idea appeared to her ridiculous, absurd. ““So be it!” said she, at length, in a half voice. ‘ ‘* Since all the rest have submitted, so will I,’ And she advanced slowly toward the post in- dicated before the stone. Every one was silent; nothing was heard but the noise of the cascade or the cries of the sea- birds, which were returning to land at the ap- proach of rego. The young woman, her eyes drooping, had yet an air of modest as- surance. Drawing from her white and slender hand an elegant silk glove, she leaned with all her might against the stone. Jt remained mo- tionless, All those who had seen the rock repeatedly balanced at the lightest effort could not credit at first its sudden fixedness. Jeannette turned set but she returned to the charge, and her eth closed tightly, while she strove to impress the block with its habitual motion. Zhe same es sane and desperate result followed ! eannette cast about her a look of anguish; raillery and wicked pleasure were written in every feature. So, laying both hands, at the same time, on the surface of the rock, she united ; all her strength ina supreme effort. Jt would not budge. Jeannette uttered a cry, and her forehead was bathed with a cold sweat, as she fell swoonin a the arms of the women who surrounded er. This event threw the company into trouble and confusion. The women crowded with a hypocritical air of pity around the inanimate form of the young girl; the men no longer laughed. Amid the general agitation, the countenance of Gerald was remarkable. He trembled and stammered; his look was wild and staring; one might reasonably have imagined he had commit- ted a crime. soon as Jeannette reopened her eyes, he advanced to the midst of the circle and said, in a voice loud enough to be he above the noise of the different conversations that were ee ‘‘ My friends, my dear neighbors, listen to me, Ientreat you. Do not misinterpret what bas taken place here. 1 alone am guilty; 1 wished to play ajoke, and I sincerely deplore the serious consequences. By means of a secret known only to myself, and which was revealed to me by my uncle, the chevalier, itis easy suddenly to arrest the motion of the Rocking tone. ere is no sorcery in the affair; let those who have alread put the rock in motion again try the experi- ment, and they will discover their efforts use- less. I declare, then, that it is I, I alone, who have done this. I humbly implore Mrs, and \Miss L’Estrange to pardon my error!” That frank and generous avowal, which had cost the pride of the young man who made it so much, was received with silent incredulity. The company were convinced that Gerald had im- provised a falsehood, with the laudable purpose & of diverting the ridicule or stigma that might fall on Jeannette L’Estrange. While Gerald was speaking, the young girl, lifting sadly her head, fastened on Jim a look full o cf peeps and grief. The mother had lis- tened with a somber air, and when she compre- hended what had been done, rose with fury. ‘* You did that, young man!” said she. ‘‘ You have made the character of my daughter the one of your jests and smiles! May the angels of heaven and the demons below punish you!” Gerald’s eyes fell before that expression of rage, 50 legitimate. “Yes,” said the widow, throwing around her i os # 29 w«
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I N. ‘SPITE OF HERSELF. a look of hatred; ‘‘ they are silent. But to-mor- row, Pat this evening, the town will be full of scandal, They will gabble of this, and concen- trate all their venom on us. Ah! young man, may punishment be’ visited on you, who have condemned us to this outrage! ou have been beedless, proud and insolent in prosperity ; ma you, in turn, fall so low and becomeso miserable hat you will be an object of compassion for even hg ra To-day you are still rich and re- spected; but your hour is plSvenaperss The curse of a mother will bring you misfortune! ‘ Come, child,” continued she morosely, ‘if you can not wallr, I will even carry you. We must not remain here, where we are insulted. Alas! if your father were still living! But we shall not be the less avenged. Come!” The company was dumb at the result of that : scene. Gerald, who was the first to recover his presence of mind, said, with despair: ‘*Let us follow them! Do not let them depart thus! My good neighbors, assist me to calm the resentment of that poor woman. Let Miss L’Estrange again try the stone. The rock will move. It will move, I swear it!” ; He darted forth himself to rejoin the mother and daughter, who were crossing a little brook, ona bridge formed by the trunk of a tree, and were moving with all their speed. Thanks to the weakness of Jeannette, he had no trouble to reach them. But at his instances and supplica- tions, Mrs. L’Estrange responded only by a wicked silence. ‘Jeannette! Dear Jeannette!” continued he. ““May I not hope that you, at least—” ; The young gir] turned her head, and fixing on him her beautiful eyes, filled with tears, said: * Gerald, I loved you, and you have destroy- ed my peace of mind.” CHAPTER IV. PUNISHMENT. DvuRiNnG the evening of the tenth day follow- ing these events, a frightful tempest broke on the shores of Belle Isle. Around the manor the elements burst furiously; the robust trees that lined the avenue bent under the effort to uproot them; and the overwhelming continual noise seemed to be an omen of ruin and approaching ; destruction to the old habitation. Yet the chateau, at that advanced hour, had not the ct of solitude and abandonment which was habitual to it. Lights gleamed from all its windows; wreaths of smoke, immediate- ly dispersed by the wind, escaped from all its high stone chimneys. From time to time a 3 window was opened on fe and a figure, with long locks and a broad hat, would advance 3 cautiously to scrutinize the depths of the tem- pestuous night. : ee A a The kitchen of the chateau seemed to be the center of agitation. There, about a large fire, clustered a dozen or fifteen young fishermen, whose appearance betrayed their calling. Some were young, others old—the former preponder- ating; but all appeared vigorous and determin- ed, and each bore, in addition to his picturesque local costume, an old-fashioned musket. But, what characterized still better that re-union, were the ample cockades, of rebel significance, sas . which were attached to the straw hats. : Victor was incessantly going in and out, to 4 bear orders, or to assure himself that those he had given were executed. He represented the | upreme authority of the young master of Belle Isle, who, at the i of the opening of this chapter, had withdrawn to his chamber in the rst story. The good old man’s face wore an animated expression, which did not exclude an air of secret contentment and satisfied pride. That long iron rapier, which we have irrev- ' erently compared to a - was beating his limbs with unusual vigor; ut, for the occasion, he had added to that weapon, quite formidable enough in itself, a horse-pistol of fabulous di- mensions, suspended by a list-string from his left shoulder. j ? Despite these preparations, which were not rare nor surprising during the epoch in which these, scenes are laid, the conversation was neither sad nor ae peri : “Soho! Sailor Joe,” said one of his compan- ions to a robust seaman, clad in whaler’s cos- tume, with the great boots, the large girdle, and the formidable cutlass of the profession; ‘‘ then our shoulder is healed? How many tapers on you promised Saint Joseph for this mira- cle 3 ‘“‘T have promised him one,” naively respond- ed Sailor Joe, who owed his surname to the cir- cumstance of bis having followed the sea for years, ‘‘and that is quite enough, for may I be cleaved if the cure is complete. When I move my arm, it is as if a thousand pounds of swell- —_ ee ing weighed ‘me down; but this will amount to nothing, for the moment these devils approach, who would assassinate Mr. Prevost and burn hi chateau, I will return from the other world!” “And yet,” said Aleck, a drummer, who sat shivering in a corner, ‘‘master gave thee a famous public whipping.” * Ay, ay; I can not conceal that; every one knows it,” replied Joe, with a sort of pride. ‘But is it not a great honor that master should even have wished to wrestle with me? And, again, how he bore himself! What magnificent passes! what superb feints! There is no shame in having been thus earthed; and then, I have been paid. Look.” And he advanced his two feet, sumptuously clad in the heavy shoes that Gerald had aban- doned to him after the contest. * Our young master is generous,” continued the seaman, with asmile; “sucha prize isnot often my lot. I know little enough of your land- lubber exercises, but I believe,” added he, throw- ing his head back, ‘‘ that if these as brigands should come to-night, my talent will be more useful to Mr. Prevost than all the passes and feints of the parish! But silence!” cried he, sud- denly, holding his ear. Every one was hushed with attention; yet nothing could be heard but the wailing of the wind and the beating of the rain against the slate roof. “It is nothing,” renewed Joe, after a pause; “vet I thought I could recognize the tocsin which the people of the village sound when they see the skitfs of Bristol approaching the isle. It blows a hurricane, and the scoundrels would not come so early. Pass my glass, John. Aleck, my boy, what is that you were just singing?” ‘** A new song, called the Rocking Stone ; it is by Anderton, the clerk of old Brown, and they no longer sing any thing else at Bristol.” And he continued his song. They repeated the refrain in a formidable chorus, and Aleck, enchanted at his success, was about entering ona third couplet, which would have been at least more personal than those preceding, when the major-domo entered the hall in a fury. “* Blockheads! have you lost your senses?” cried he, shaking his fist at them. ‘‘What do you mean by singing such an abomination in the house of my master?’ “* Listen, Master Victor,” responded Aleck, Wageing his head, ‘eo should not speak too lightly of the new chant; although it may be the work of an old scrub, it is better than no song let me tell you.” ‘“* But,” replied Victor, ‘do you not know that this foolish rhapsody of that backbiter, Ander- ton, is precisely the cause of all the dangers that menace us at this moment? That song is a cow- ardly drive at Miss L’Estrange, who is seriously ill in consequence, and her old fool of a mother, in order to ae herself on our master, whom she accuses of being the author of her sorrows and misfortunes, has enlisted against us all the bullies of the coast.” 3 “Hold!” said one of the party. “Tt is not, then, because our young master is of French descent, and in sympathy with the colonists that they dislike him so much?” > ‘« There is a little politics and something be- sides in this affair,” replied Victor; ‘‘ but if m master, who is writing in his chamber beyond, had heard your railleries, he would never have pardoned them.” av! Saying this, he left the apartment to rejoin d, leaving the defenders of the chateau to discuss, in a low voice, the evils which the im- mobility of the famous stone announced. Gerald was alone in his vast chamber, filled with its heavy tapestries and its old oak-wood furniture. On a table with crooked feet, where two tapers were burning, lay several letters sealed with red wax stamped with the Prevost arms. The young man was walking sadly and grin back and forth, pausing at intervals listen to the distant rocking of the sea. He was el et equipped, with sword at side; a pair of pistols reposed with his gloves and hat on a table near the door. } “Well, Victor, what news?” asked he, with a distracted air, before the intendant had achieved his profound and methodical salute. : is going well, master; our people are ready and very resolute; arms and munitions will not be wanting. We are sure of ened And that silly custom’s officer, who believes the family of Prevost without influence or power— he will see, by St. Peter, he will see!” And the old man clapped his hands together. Gerald, meanwhile, had hardly heard him. “ Victor,” replied he, in a low voice, ‘have Lyou heard nothing yet from the poor girl? You '- Lf v2 ls 4 ah: x: v : an. + y “ ‘i ae a epee eee oo ae : pa ee a = wT OD Oe Ss aes 5 ee } announced to me yesterday that she was quite ill, and Iam mortally disturbed.” “Nothing, Master Gerald,” replied Victor, with an expression of humor; ‘* verily, since yesterday 1 have had more important duties . than to think of the health of a jade.” ons. oe “Be careful, Victor!” cried Gerald. “Ifyou respect me, do not speak thus of that unhappy girl, whose sufferings are my work!” 2 The old man shook his head. oe ‘*T will speak as “phe wish, master,” — as he; “‘but you are absolutely persuaded, t = that it is your fault the stone was not comp = sant for Miss L’Estrange?” -* “Ttis the truth, the pure truth, Victor; and my conscience orders me to proclaim it aloud. — ho could have foreseen that a joke would re- sult so seriously? Yes, it isI who, abusing,in «| a miserable spirit of vengeance, a family secret, made the talisman fail, and subjected a lovely girl to ridicule.” ae nce, however, he abandoned his reverie. An old man, bearing the aspect of a fisherman, was . re-entering, after long sentry-duty, the outer door; he approached the fire to dry his gar- ments, which were drenched with rain. . ** My brave Peter,” asked Prevost, moving to make place for him, ‘‘ where is your bark at this moment?” “Not very far off, master; I was going out to-day to drag for oysters, when they came to apprise me that the people from the other side were going to make a descent upon you; then I threw the grapnel into the creek leading from the little bay, before the Rocking Stone, “Well, Peter,” replied Gerald, lowering his voice, ‘‘ what would you say if I should propose to put to sea and to sail southward?” ons Sore Lean — sea is in a terrible fury, en, ave neither provisions nor board the Ariel.” = math “‘ Two solid men, with you, will be enough—” sboalls ~ 7 = A “Tt is necessary, then, that they and I sacrifice our lives—” “Tf it was for me?” “For you, master,” replied the fisherman, 7 9. OO ve eee |
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i St en s awakening with vivacity; ‘if this is for you, - the thing is possible; the bark and the master, are all yours. John and Sailor Joe would ask for nothing better than to follow me. Come, shall we break her moorings?” & Gerald answered the brave man only by a 4 shake of the hand. Most of the assistants were sleeping on the naked " flag-stones, in the midst of the comparative si- Jence that had succeeded the fracas of the hur- __ vieane, when theslow and lugubrious striking of ES the village clock resounded in the distance. The « sleepers awoke. : “This is the tocsin! Holy Virgin! This is the tocsin!” cried Sailor Joe, shaking himself as if for the approaching combat. “Yes, yes, it is they! They are coming!” was __ the ery from all parts. They rose, and hurriedly seized their guns. Gerald, the leader, who was standing, bore in hand his pistols; but all his demonstrations of resistance ended there, He became a prey to -__ grievousirresolution. Victor ran to him. What are the orders of Master Gerald?” in- quired he, with ill-concealed ardor. Gerald did not respond for a moment. “What shall we do?’ said he at length, as if he were speaking to himself. ‘‘ Must I let so many people be destroyed for my folly? Yet I am right in legitimately defending myself. Again, is not my cause to become that of a people struggling against British intolerance? Be it so, my friends,” added he, in a firm tone, BY eat) his partisans; ‘‘let each man repair to the post which has been assigned him. Only, o ember my recommendations. Do not let us S e the first blow; let us be content to de- fend ourselves. To your posts, then, and suc- — cess to our cause.” “ Success to our cause! Success to our good master, Prevost!” cried the assistants, waving ; their hats, with white cockades, They were about going out, when a woman of coarse form, bronze features, callous hands, and ——- ¢jad in dirty tarpaulin, was introduced. She 2 was wrapped in a red cloth cloak which shed : _ the water. oa “This is mother Geary herself,” muttered several voices. oa ‘Well! yes, it is myself,” replied the rough + woman, in an undertone. ‘“‘Good-day, boys; ___-g00d-day, my good master. What a beautiful hour and a splendid night for an honest woman so be running about! But it is necessary, for so pretty a young master, to risk something. _ * Be seated, good mother,” said Gerald, with- out appearing offended at the familiarity, ‘‘ you appear quite fatigued.” = ‘Me seated!” repeated the woman. . “* Youdo not know then what is brewing below? You = have not heard the clock? The people of the other side will soon be here!” ‘Have you seen them, mother Geary”, asked - Rs ae rald. + “HavelI seen them! I was below there at the - $f. Thomas drinking with the others who did : - not distrust me. Toward four o’clock in the morning, the widow L’Estrange herself roughly __ entered the St. Thomas. ‘It is time; it is time!’ __- eried she. ‘ Let us go; the old followers of the Sea Dog must lag the daughter and widow _ of their captain! Immediately all my compan- ions commenced shaking themselves. But I, more active than they, 6 ided into the obscurity, ran. to the place where I left my long-boat, and ‘shot. into the channel with my oars, although _ the sea was terribly rough. More than once the -——s waves almost got the start of me, for the night twas ( ; but I said, ‘ this is for Master Gerald, and I must succeed.’ At the moment I entered to give the alarm in the village, more than oH twenty great skiffs were crossing the channel. Ho, ho!” laughed the old woman, ‘to think that all this rampus comes of a joke! The wid- ; ‘ow is constantly crying aloud, that it was you Ae who killed Jeannette!” ‘‘ Jeannette,” repeated Gerald; ‘‘ but Jeannette ~ is living!” a ‘She died during the night they were singing R _ vnder her window that song of the clock; you pow it.” And the woman chanted, in a rank and dis- fe cordant voice, the satirical verse that referred Es particularly to Jeannette. f __ -Vietor interrupted her and_ imposed silence with a threatening gesture; Gerald appeared te struck as if by a thunderbolt. ers “Dead! Jeannette L’Kstrange!” stammered ee he. ‘Is it possible?” e young man fell back in a seat, and his By __- pistols escaped from his hands. : “Tt is I who have killed her!” murmured he. es ' Then, concealing his features, he succeeded in “ag xf stifling his convulsive sobs. : ; 1 ‘he. Gh Sa bat = shee * hes ee : A iceproe eal Peon ‘ Rohe Desk ea a Yee S| ee “ — a. ep. i IN SPITE OF HERSELF. _ i, ‘*Master Gerald, my excellent master,” at length said Victor, in a low voice, ‘‘ recollect that they are looking at you and that they may ill interpret this weakness.” Gerald, trembling, passed his hand over his forehead, and arose. ‘* My friends,” said he in a firm tone, although his features were still disturbed by a piercin emotion, ‘‘I have reflected, and decidedly I wil not suffer you to peril your lives against these people, maddened and ten times more numer- ous than you. Even in case we should succeed in repelling the attack, it will serve as a pretext for dislikes and vengeances of which you must become the victims. Let my fate be accom- plished; I have perhaps merited it, and my con- science prevents my engaging in that impious strife; they will now only worst themselves.” ‘‘ But then, master,” cried Victor, ‘‘ they will pitilessly murder you.” “T have foreseen that,” said Gerald, with a bitter smile, ‘‘and I will not await them. Peter,” continued he, addressing the old fisher- man, ‘‘ go and prepare your bark. In five min- utes I shall be with you; one of our boys will accompany us.” ‘¢That will be me, master; that will be me!” | exclaimed all the aspirants. Gerald thanked them with a grateful sign. “Sailor Joe will suffice,” said he, ‘‘if he is willing to maneuver the bark; I owe him atone- ment for having so ill-treated him a few days since.” ‘* But his wound!” said Peter. ‘““My wound!” cried Joe, snapping his fingers; “ that for my wound! May St. John assist you, master; you will see how we shall manage the Ariel!” ‘But Joe and I will not suffice,” said Peter, ‘if, asI presume, we must push to sea south- ward; we must have a third to—” ‘The third will be myself,” said Gerald. ‘‘ Go quickly, time presses.” eter and his companions rushed out precipi- tately. “Master, master,” replied Victor, with de- spair, ‘‘ you depart when the enemy approaches; they will say that you are afraid.’ “Tf I thought it,” said the young man, clos- ing his fingers; ‘“‘but no, no, Victor, they know very well that a Prevost cannot be a coward. Let us go; the die is cast. Let my friends,” continued he, turning toward the consternated assistants, ‘‘ open the gates and disperse without delay. Receive my adieux. I leave my modest possessions to your care, Victor,” added he, pre- senting the old man with the letters he had written during the preceding evening. ‘‘ Here are the preparations I have made in anticipa- tion of what is happening; one is a power of attorney, to manage and administer my affairs; the other is my will. You will confide these in- struments to the care of Brown, the notary, who will direct you according to their contents. Although he may be timid and ‘irresolute and cautious, I have faith in his probity, and in his gratitude to my family, who have done him many a good service. I never return,” added he, in an altered tone, ‘‘ I rely on your watching the religious observance of my last wishes.” “Oh, you will return, master,” cried the good man with a look full of grief; “‘ what would I doin the world if you should not return? When the storm is past you will find here, in your Belle Isle, many long and peaceful aan. #2 “* Let us hope that this return will take place, and that it may be near,” responded Gerald. ‘‘Embrace me, Victor, embrace me, also, m old Julia, and think of me sometimes when all the rest have forgotten me.” The two old servitors folded him in their arms, weeping. ‘** Master! my child,” said Julia, in a broken voice, ‘‘I have prayed that you might never quit us till your last day; but the saints have not answered my prayer. Alas! the Rocking Stone had predicted this misfortune!” This mention of the Rocking Stone threw a sudden shadow over the countenance of our hero. The young man was about to respond when a distant tumult, mingled with furious creas rose in the midst of the silence of the night. be young man, with a solemn gesture, point- ed to heaven and disappeared. Five minutes after, the little manor resounded with cries and imprecatious. At the same instant a bark was silently glid- ing from the bay out upon the high sea, despite the continued agitation of the waves. A man, standing at the stern, was looking at the land which was gradually disappearin in the mist. At intervals ferocious elamors an maledictions reached him, despite the moaning of the waters. Suddenly a vivid and brilliant flame shot up in the direction of the chateau, like a sinister phantom. The devastators had piled in a huge Sent the furniture of the little manor, and having set fire thereto were dancing round the blaze, and uttering cries of furious joy. It was by the light of that incendiarism, of which the brilliant reflection shone out upon the waters, that Gerald Prevost quitted, as a fugitive, the domain of his ancestors. Alone, with two poor fishermen for his companions, without money, provisions or baggage, he was abandouing his home in a frail bark, which it seemed momentarily would become submerged under the monstrous asperities of the ocean. CHAPTER V. THE STRANGER. Tne war of %6 had closed. At the moment we renew this history, America, relieved from her seven years of martial strife, had achieved her independence, and was now occupied in cde- bating bow best to preserve the political ad- vantages bequeathed by our revolutionary fa- thers. Though local hatreds remained, inmany instances intense, all sections of the common- wealth recognized the established order of events, and the proscribed of all shades and differences were countenanced, so long as they concealed their Tory sympathies by submitting to the new ordination. At noon, during a magnificent spring day, an old. man was reposing in solitude on the sea- coast, at the northern extremity of Belle Isle, not far from the Rocking Stone. Behind hint stretched the verdant and smiling island, with its fresh fields, its oak groves, its plantations, its Indian monuments, clad with moss and ivy, its white strands, alive with oystermen and birds of motley plumage. Before him the sea, immense and majestic, though calm, reflected an azure heaven and a glorious sun. At length, the eye of the old man, which had hitherto wandered distractedly, became fixed on the coast. The barks, with their white sails, that were riding so peaceably through the waves a moment before, were flying in different di- rections and with all possible speed. The cause of their sudden terror seemed to be a distant ship, of which the high sails could only be per- ceived. Nevertheless, one could already judge that, without having the dimensions of a vessel of war, even of the smallest kind, it was near enough like one to frighten the peaceful fishing- smacks. “ Aumph! bumph!” grumbled the old man, “is it an English man-of war that would dare ride so near our coasts? See the people of | Bristol running away—the poltroons, formerly the worst Tories themselves! The English do not sppen to be very fearful, though. If they only had the heart—if they would only punish their own friends, to whom we owe ce de- vastation of our young master’s dwelling!” Meanwhile, the scene had completely chanred. The ship, of which one could now distinguish the massive dimensions, was about lying to and hoisting the Spanish colors. The barks had ceased their flight and resumed their pea’ eahle and careless occupation. A long-boat, detach- | ing itself from the anchored vessel, was directed | toward the outlet of the river with ull the im- petus that four vigorous oarsmen could give it, ‘Bah! this is not an enemy,” soliloquized the observer, in whom the reader-has undoubtedly pe a recognized Victor, the old intendant of Gerald; ‘‘ but, then, what can bring that honest Spanish merchantman to Belle Isle? Bah! what matters it to me?’ continued he, with a bitter accent. ‘‘I no longer care anything for this world, sand I am little disturbed by passing events, Yet, in spite of himself, the old man followed attentively the progress of the small boat which was gradually approaching the creek. Victor differed little from what we beheld him at the beginning of this narrative, except that a tinge of melancholy had invaded his countenance, the furrows of which were more numerous and deeper than formerly. His long hair was entirely bleached; his erect stature was bowed, and everything in his appearance announced approaching decrepitude, He had assumed a position in the shade of two or three trees which rose near the mouth of the river, whence he could easily observe the for- eigners without being himself remarked. The debarkation seemed to be nothing more than the launch of a modest merchantman’s long-boat. In addition to the four oarsmen, of whom we have spoken, a man in the costume of a sailor _was seated in the stern and held the rudder; but no officer could be seen on board, nor any mer- ~ ; z 6 . »f | Ps
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> } t ~ ean such a condition! But why not?” chandise, nor any signals, and the mission of the long-boat on that solitary coast, and with- out resources, could not yet be explained ina satisfactory manner. The bark soon touched the shore; the sailor at the helm arose, covered bis head with an old cap, and, taking from the seat at bis side a little packet wrapped in a handkerchief, prepared to and. But, before moving, he shook hands with each of the rowers and appeared to be saying hisadieux. His companionsreturned his marks of affection with an air of sadness—almost of respect; then the sailor leaped with an effort the space which separated him from a sand- bank, then dry, and while he again addressed those who had brought him a few words of adieu, the boat, leaving him upon the shore, resumed, without delay, its route on the high sea, Victor did not press forward to show himself, The stranger remained motionless on the beach, with his modest packet in hand. He was a man still young, but of whom fa- tigue and suffering appeared to have prema- turely destroyed the vigor. His forehead was devoid of hair; his complexion had a sickly pal- lor, which was set off still more by his thick, dark beard. His heavy sailor’s costume was in a state of dilapidation, calling for pity. Never- theiess, there was in the manner in which he wore these wretched vestments something noble and dignified, which prevented his being abased by them. His entire person betrayed misery and despair. At the noise which Victor made in eee ing, the voyager passed his hand rapidly over his face; then he turned toward him. Hardly had he beheld the features of the old intendant when his emotion appeared to increase; he blushed and became pale by turns; but he did not pronounce a word. Victor did not remark this agitation caused by his presence. “My friend,” said he, mildly, ‘‘ this place is pasar ra toes: 3 new to you. Do you seek some one’ : “YT seek no one,” replied the unknown, in a sad voice, lowering his head. The honest old man felt a violent commotion in his breast; the sound of that voice recalled to him a cherished accent, which many years of separation had been unable to efface from his memory. “May Our Lady assist me!” murmured he fixing on the traveler an ardent look; ‘I would have believed at first—it seemed to me—but no, no; the dead do notredescend to earth to fright- en the living!” The unknown preserved silence. “You appear to have come from a distance?” continued Victor. _ “From Vera Cruz, where I sojourned on quit- tinge e stopped abruptly. “Tf you come from Mexico, tell me if you have never heard mention of my former mas- ter, Gerald Prevost, from whom we have re- ceived no tidings for over seven years?” Victor awaited with a lively anxiety the re- sponse of the unknown; the latter appeared to hesitate what he should say. ‘When one would be informed of those who withdraw to foreign soil to avoid a revolution in their own,” at length replied the stranger, “he must expect to learn of cruel misfortunes. I have heard, indeed, of a person who bore the name of Prevost; this was a young man who gave fencing-lessons for a living to the Spanish youth of Vera Cruz. He lived in comparative misery and seclusion—” : _ “This can not be he!” cried Victor; “he, the eldest and heir of a good eel reduced to e continued, with bitterness, after a moment’s reflection. ‘He was without resources, and he would not— In pity’s name, sir, tell me all you know of my unhappy master! What became of him? Is he still living?” : 5 “T know that, worn out by fatigue and priva- trials.” “So it is true, then, that he is dead!” said the old man, bearing bis hand to bis forehead; “in spite of myself, I would still preserve a little hope. Yet, why doubt longer? 1 never again see bim! My good master, my child, I shall never more see you! God have pity on him! Saint Peter pray for him!” And the good man seated himself on the river’s bank, half-choked with sobs. “Courage, friend,” replied the voyager; “if our master should still be living, a victim to | a. FR Spr re pews 8 no ee te ee ene ee - ee eames = = OF HERSELF. hunger, cold, abandonment, then only would it be necessary to weep over and pity him; but, death is the end of all our ills; it should not leave regrets when it strikes a wrétch who has been overwhelmed with human griefs.” Victor at length succeeded in subduing his emotion. ‘You are, perhaps, right,” replied he; “for it would be better for a Prevost to be entomb- ed than live in a condition unworthy his name and his race. This was once a great and proud family, which never hesitated in its choice be- tween a dishonorable‘act and a glorious death. But, sad as are your tidings and consolations, I thank you; although you seem a little strange, your | voice recalls to me— _ But let us go! This isa fantasy; but if poor Victor could ren- der you _a service, he would do it with good heart. Where do you propose going?” The unknown named, as if at hazard, a little port of the vicinity. “You are still very far,” replied Victor, ‘fand you do not appear to me to be a great walker. Again, you are pale and you seem ill; hold! your hand. trembles!” (The old man had seized the hand of the poor stranger.) “Your teeth chatter as if you had a chill.” “It is true,” replied the unknown, with an effort. “Iam tormented with an intermittent fever, which I acquired in the dews of Mexico. it had almost disappeared during my stay on shipboard; but the fatigues of the last journey have made it = or) with new force. My emotion in setting foot on my native soil, which T left so many years ago, has perhaps determin- ed a new crisis. 1 certainly feel uneasy; I am dizzy, shivering; I must hasten to Bristol, where I may find aid.” “Bristol! repeated Victor, with a sort of in- dignation. ‘Bristol! That nest of Tory de- scendants and abomination! Come!” added he, in a cordial tone, ‘‘ You have the air of an hon- est youth, though a little odd, and then you have some religion; you have furnished me some tidings of my master, and though they may be bad I owe you not the less an acknow- ledgment. We will ask you nothing in return, Julia and J, to whom you can relate what you know of our dear master, for Julia also loved him very much, poor old woman! Come; let me lead you.” The traveler seemed undetermined how to re- ceive that proposition. ‘*Excuse me,” replied he; “TI possibly appear foolish to you, but if you knew with what rough and sudden changes, with what strange con- trasts my life has been filled! Yet, do not im- agine that I refuse your offer; Iam not in the habit of disdaining the pity of any one; b will follow you to the chateau of Belle Isle, and will accept your hospitality.” _ The old man picked ve his baton, and took a little path, which, winding across the valley, directed him toward that portion of the isle where the habitations rose; but, after a few steps, he pergeived that the unknown had diffi- culty to follow him. 3 ‘““Give me this packet you carry,” said he, taking from him the wretched handkerchief, which contained the beggage of his guest, ‘Lean onme. Although my arm has not its former vigor, it may still be of some service.” “Thanks, Victor,” sighed the unknown, whose head ie swayed on his shoulders; ‘vou have always been honest and good!” ‘‘ Victor!” repeated the intendant, with sur- prise. ‘‘How did you know my name? Who told you—” : ‘ “Did you not pronounce ita moment since, yourself?” “You are right. I bad forgotten it. May St. Victor protect me! I am losing both reason and memory.” : : When they had turned the point of the cliff, where the cascade plunges, the old Frenchman felt the arm of his companion resist their pro- gress, and his limbs became stiff and rigid. ‘v * “The Rocking Stone!” stammered the un- known, in a husky voice. ‘This is the Rocking Stone!” They stood, in fact, before this celebrated monument of Belle Isle. . The rock had survived human revolutions as well as those of nature; but the inclosure that formerly surrounded it had been destroyed. Every thing bore witness to a barbarous van- dalism, to an implacable desire for the destruc- tion of all that surrounded this venerable relic. “You know our Rocking Stone?” asked Vic- tor, with a new expression of astonishment and defiance. ‘ How is that, if you have never been here?” The stranger made a strong effort before he could answer distinctly. . Re se ED Ae wee: Sake “T have told you I was born on yonder coast. Are not the sailors lereabout in the habit of showing afar off the Rocking Stone, when they pass in view of Belle Isle?” “That is true,” replicd the old man, striking. the earth with his staff, ‘“‘and if my poor brain had uot been suddenly turned, I would have re- 3 membered. Well, yes,” added he, with a mark. ype ed expression of melancholy complaisance, ‘look at your-ease; this is the stone of which #.F they speak so often, and to which they sayis.~ » attached the lot of the old family. Since the”. 44 war first broke on this country, and my mas- ter’s flight, it has remained motionless, and Julia assures me that this is a sign of heavenly wrath. ‘““A short time after the departure of our oung master,” he continued, ‘‘there arrived ere more than two hundred Tory plunderers and contrabandists, ‘to put an end,’ in their own language, ‘to the superstitions of the Rock- ing Stone.’ So they surroundgd the rock with ~ cables, to which they attached a score of horses; ~ though the latter pulled with all their strength, they could not succeed in moving it. They labored to no purpose for an entire, day: men and beasts exhausted their breath ih the ef- fort. Obliged to renounce their project, the devastators withdrew, promising to return-on the morrow with powder and miners, to blow up the rock. But, Heaven was undoubtedly watching for its preservation; on the morrow, — the furious woman who had ordered these vio-» © lences, did not obs: rve the word she had pledge pce to come back and acccmplish the work; they = were delayed, therefore, in. destroying ths = ~~ Rocking Stone. The widow L’Hstrange, after te having caused all the evil she could on the ~- island, withdrew to New York, where she died five or six years after, they assure us, while it was yet in the hands of the British.” While Victor was speaking. the stranger seem- ed absorbed in his own reflections. “Tt is there the fault was comnsitted,” mur- mured he, in an inarticulate tone. ‘it is there the curse was pronounced. God has answered the imprecations of an offended mother. Alas, yes! it was necessary to avenge that holy victim - of an idle jest; that beautiful girl, so noble and so good!” j And a tear rolled down his cheek. RN a Victor had not caught his words, but thissign = of emotion did not escape him. : “You have a good heart, my friend,” said he, ‘‘that you thus take part in the misfortunes ~ of a family you never knew. But, let.us go! “ae If your strength should fail, I would not know at how to carry you to the chateau.” BEE? = “Yes, yes, lead. me on,” said the unknown, - opr leaning heavily on the arm of his guide. Fe He advanced with a sort of impatient pre- cipitation, bis intellectual faculties vividly over- excited, still struggling desperately against the -~ . — fever that was gaining on him. The moment ~ he was about entering the plantations, he re- = marked a number of fields, covered with har- vests, in a place where, from time immemorial, __ had only existed furze and heather. = **'Who has done this?” exclaimed he, withan ~~ effort, extending his hand toward these richly- cultivated fields. “Ah, ab! then you must have been formerly — at Belle Isle to remark these changes!” querie a é Victor, with surprise. ‘“‘ Well, you would see — many other iruovations. if you could walk a : pe little over ovr lands. They wished every foot ae to be productive, as they say, the misers! I. 7 tell you they would have cultivated the place, = to the very court-yards of the manor if they 7 had dared. As to the chateau, I admit it has : been very well repaired, as it had need tobe. If you could see the substitute they have placed me in the parlors, for the massive and splendid old furniture of dark cak which was demolished or burned at the departure of Master Gerald} Gilded furniture, my hoy, of silken material, ornamented with great flowers—rerhaps to hu-. miliate the old family to which the others be- : longed.” i The good man, carried away bythe pleasure of narrating—a mania quite frequent with old. ~ men who live in solitude—had forgotten to whom ° he was nn The stranger, nevertheless, +. listened with a lively interest to these details so a trifling in appearance. “ And your master? Whois he? You have not yet given me the the name of the new pro- : prietor of Belle Isle.” Te Victor smiled ironically. “The actual master of Belle Isle, my boy?’ replied he. ‘‘Ah! indeed! you are curious to» © know who could have acquired the domain of the Prevosts, who has cultivated these landsand Te» “i a aes ae a est pte eg ee bg Nae ta atid th 2 1) Se a? re aE, Pid yy Pea ee i= heather, who bse eskahere those. beautiful eS ett-< Sy RRS: Sa PS = e ~* * ’ et is
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8 farms there below on the border of the sea, who has repaired the manor, and incumbered it with precious furniture, to render it undoubted- ly worthy of him?” —, Te ee POR ee a ee Uae nothing could astonish him. “You would, perhaps, suppose,” continued _. Yietor, in the same sarcastic tone, ‘‘ that this ar proprietor is of good family, or a stanch Whig? Nothing of the kind, my boy; the owner of Belle Isle is a poor, petty lawyer, a be village scribe, with hooked fingers, smeared ‘ ae _ with ink—Mr. Brown, tbe notary of Bristol.” etal And he smiled again. “Brown?” repeated the unknown. ? “Yes, Brown, an old magistrate’s clerk, who owes ever so much to the patronage of the _ Chevalier Prevost; Brown, who has usurped the confidence of the family, and whom my master himself, on leaving home, named his mandatory ; it is he who has accomplished here so many mar- . velous changes; it is he who has despoiled the old house of which he was the servitor, though he has insinuated to different persons, to me in particular, that in making such acquisitions, he was acting on account of another, ** Well! and you, Victor?’ asked the unknown. ‘How have you been treated by Brown?” ** Not ill, my boy,” replied the good man, with an air of regret; ‘‘and that is the deuce of it; I am angry that I can reproach him for nothing dians of the chateau; they furnish us there with all the necessaries, and pay us exactly our as wages, as if our task had been laborious.” ** But have you seen this unknown master of whom he speaks?” “« Never—since the chateau has been repaired, they have often announced to us his approach- ing visit, recommending us to put everything in readiness for his reception; but no one bas come. spare the apartments; butit will be now as here- z tofore, and I shall not complain.” ? a a a % _ During the above conversation, the grossed the oak grove, which had heen religious- cat za respected, and had arrived before the cha- Immediately the unknown roughly disen- gaged himself, and ran weeping toward the manor. He rapidly mounted the little flight of steps which preceded its principal entrance. Arrived at the summit, he threw himself on his knees, his hands and eyes raised toward heaven, ' asiftopray. But, at the same instant, thrown to the ground by the triple action of the fever, fatigue and emotion, he fell forward, uttering a Jeep groan. CHAPTER VI. DELIRIUM. In answer to the cries of Victor, the aged Julia ran from the end of the kitchen, passing her distaff through her apron-band. On poreet ying the human body extended at her feet, she coul not restrain a movement of alarm. The two old domestics succeeded, with diffi- culty, in transporting the stranger to the kitch- en, and placing him in an arm-chair near the fire, while another arm-chair was brought for- -___ ward to sustain his limbs. And now,” said Victor, “‘give him a few swallows of your elixir, so renowned iu curing 4 _ feebleness and fainting; then go and prepare a ed. “JT would, Mr. Victor; but, if any one should % rive, as they are likely to, at any time, how - should we announce him?” . ‘*Never mind, never mind, Julia! Those who have the means should be charitable. But let us consider. Why not install him in my cham- ber? The crisis will be over to-morrow, and aoa ag can deliberate how better to arrange rim, The servant, without further observation, advanced toward a dresser, where she kept her provisions, and took therefrom a stone bottle, ‘which contained the sovereign elixir, of which the recipe was one of the treasures which the poor old woman calculated leaving to her heirs. ~ A dog, however, decrepit, entirely bald and % almost blind, who was sleeping in a_corner of f he fireplace, his ordinary retreat, had for some mt - moments been giving evidence of uneasiness. ; - The agitation of the animal appeared toin- ss grease, from minute to minute. He directed his ternate and glassy, though still intelligent } eyes toward the unknown, and commenced ee barking. He forced himself, with an effort, on ciated body appeared to be trembling with joy ixrived peor the stranger, he commenced lick The traveler sadly bowed his head, as if tosay in what concerns me. Julia and I are sole guar . A few days since, we received an order to pre-- his feeble limbs, and dragged himself forward en his belly, wagging his tail; his lean and ema- a. a ing one of his hands, which was falling cold and inert along a Jeg of the chair, and strove to leap; but he only succeeded in turning a few convul- sive summersets, repeating his growls. Victor beheld, distractedly, these strange de- monstrations, when Julia returned, holding in her band a glass, into which she had poured a few swallows of the precious fluid. She watch- éd the dog, then the stranger, of whom a bright ray, entering the window, lit up the features; suddenly, she let fall the glass, which was broken on the flag-stones into a thousand frag- ments. ‘** Victor,” said she, in a subdued ard penetra; ting voice, ‘‘ you have brought to this house the very one who has the right to enter it. Itis he; it is, indeed, he !” ‘What would you say? Of whom do you speak?” asked Victor. “It is Master Gerald, I tell you. Neither you nor I have recognized him; but his dog has not been deceived. ok |” And she ran to kneel before a little Madonna of plaster, which ornamented a corner of the kitchen. Victor remained bending over the stranger. His mind was too determined, and his memory was too sure for him to be able to recognize, in this unfortunate outcast, with bald forehead, wan features and ragged garments, the young master, so brilliant and so gay,of Belle Isle. From time to time, he struck his foot against the floor, obstinately repeating: ‘Tt is impossible! It is impossible!” Meanwhile, the sick man seemed to be recov- ering, little by little, from his prostration. He muttered a few incoherent words. Julia and Victor established themselves on either side of the arm-chair, watching with anxiety the first sign of intelligence. is words soon became more distinct, and his eyes reopened; but, the poor voyager had not recovered his reason. He was evidently a prey to the delirium of fever, and he shook as under the load of a nightmare. “Victor,” said he, rolling bis wild eyes, ‘‘ has my uncle inquired after me while I was hunt- ing? { have had extraordinary luck with this wild fowl, my dear Julia; do not grumble, therefore, if I am a little muddy. ut my uncle has called for me; I tell you the che- valier is worried at my absence; I shall in- stantly go up; take my gun, Victor. Take care of poor Jack, J ulia; the honest dog has earned his salt. But I cannot present myself before my uncle in this bunting suit; my dress suit, Victor; quick; my uncle is impatient! Here I am, uncle; Iam coming!” The ravings of the traveler had a signifi- cance. too precise to be misinterpreted. The two old servitors had fallén on their knees and bathed his hands with their tears. “Yes; it is he; it is truly he!” stammered Victor, transported. ‘‘ Master Gerald, my be- loved master; pardon my not having known ou! “‘Our Holy Mother herself wouldgbe deceived, he has changed so much!” said Juli Gerald Prevost—for we must hereafter call him by that name—received these caresses with extreme astonishment. He regarded, one after the other, Victor and Julia, and then dropped his head. Victor was about to speak to him, when the old cook exclaimed, “Be quiet, do! Our presence annoys him and increases his delirium; let him rest a minute.” They were silent, and the sick man fell again under the influence of his hallucinations. ‘“*T have deserved all that,” continued he, mournfully, making the ill-jointed rungs of his arm-chair creak. ‘‘ All that is the result of the curse beet ony before the Rocking Stone. The old mother is dead, you say? What mat- ters that, if her curse survives? I repeat it, I have merited allmy suffering; was it not neces- sary to avenge the rgirl? Outrageous joke! The unfortunate child is dead, and they chanted around her grave their infernal song—you re- member it? I will kill this Anderton!” he cried. “Yes, I will kill him! but, faugh! he is acoward. She is dead, then—my Jeannette! I have deserved my lot; I will not complain. Jean- nette, angel of heaven, I do not accuse you; I have never murmured against you, or against your mother, who cursed me! Must I also die to deserve your pardon?” His ideas grew moreand more confused; then his voice suddenly became hushed. “Great God!” cried Victor, “‘can he be dead? Is he already—” _ “No, no,” replied Julia, who was more prac- tical, ‘‘ this is the ordinary result of these vio- lent fevers; the greatest force of the crisis has d. Well, Mr. Victor, what shall we now _ Master Gerald must be earried to a bed.” fn > r i ae ps ae IN SPITE OF HERSELF, ee eee eee ee a ae eee ee ee ke A a eee See ee eee ee eee _ | ee ty OES ee Mee eT ee . “That is what I am going to do, Julia.” _ “What! in your chamber?” ‘No, indeed; no, indeed. Above, in the principal chamber, on that beautiful bed of satin and down.” “ But rive?” ‘““T know of no other proprietor of the chateau of Belle Isle than Master Gerald Prevost,” re- plied Victor, with great vehemence. ‘‘The owner of this property has returned; we must obey only him.” “Very well, Mr. Victor,” responded the old woman, with zeal. ‘“ I was present at his birth, and it is not for me to refuse obedience. Yet, reflect a little; if that one of Bristol should be — offended and attempt to drive our master—” — “Drive him—he!” cried the major-domo, his eyes sparkling with joy. ‘Drive Master Ger- ald from his own house! I would they might dare to try it, Julia: yes, I wish, for the time that is left me to live in, that they would at- tempt suchan infamy. In aquarter of an hour, I would have excited the indignation of the island—of the entire country, in fact, and this time they would be resolutely resisted. Go to, o to; there are many about us who, since the Revolt have repented of having abandoned their old landlord, as during that terrible night of which we have so many times spoken, and they have sworn to me that if he should return-— but enough; we have still here Sailor Joe, Al- eck, old Peter, John and a host of others who may be relied on for the good cause; they would not budge from their posts, if summoned to de- fend Master Gerald, and we might sustain a siege, a genuine siege, of which they would talk all over the country; it is I who tell you this.” And he clapped his hands. Julia was too simple, and she had too lofty an idea of her superior, to comprehend any absurd- ity to exist in such a project. Sbenever doubt- ed. for a moment that the sailors and fishermen of Belle Isle were in a condition to vanquish all the armies of christendom, since Mister Victor affirmed it; and she interposed no objection. Gerald Prevost was installed in that chamber of honor, which he once had so long occupied, But how changed it was! In place of the mod- est tapestry andfurniture that formerly decor- ated it, everywhere appeared precious hang- ings, mirrors and gildings. Heavy velvet cur- tains, sustained by silken cords, let only ahalf- light penetrate this sumptuous apartment, In an open alcove, on a mahogany bedstead, richly incrusted, might have been seen the pale fea- tures of the last of the Prevosts, reposing under sumptuous coverlets. A cambric night-shirt, with muslin frills, replaced the coarse linen which had so ee shocked the good Victor; all traces of the frightful misery in which the stranger had disembarked at Belle Isle had dis- appeared, The proud servitor had taken pains to carefully hide the stiff shoes, the old cap, and the ragged woolen jacket. In their place he had thrown over a seat, at the footof the bed, a vest and breeches of embroidered satin, silk stockings, a velvet frock, and pumps with gold buckles—luxuries somewhat obsolete, and ill adapted to a poor exile returning home, but which, according to the ideas of tl e old domes- tics, were alone worthy of Master Gerald. Victor and Julia were walking carefully over the tapestry carpet that covered the fioor, and attentively watching the wants of their master. They spoke only in a low voice; no other noise could be heard than the slight tinkling of a sil- ver spoon against a china bowl, when Julia ured a few swallows of her potion between he brimming lips of the sick man. Thus things continued until near sunset, The respiration of Gerald was regular and bis ser tranquil. Suddenly a violent stroke of the be resounded in the hall, Julia turned pale; Victor made a movement of surprise and fear; they both looked at each other in silence. ‘¢They have rung the bell, Julia,” at length said the intendant, in a choked voice. “ Yes, yes; they have surely rung, Mr. Vic- T you forget;—if the other should ar- And neither of them stirred. “You—you do not guess who this can be, Julia?” ; “‘T do not know—that is to say, perhaps—” Here a new stroke of the bell, louder and more precipitate than the first, ensued. The sick man moved on his couch, while Jack angrily growled. “ Does it not seem, Julia,” said Victor with a bitter smile, “‘ that this sound may be that of the master ?” ri Julia did not reply, but approached the win- | dow that looked out upon the court. After a Pa . et
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= IN SPITE OfF.-HERSELF. ioe few seconds’ observation, she returned in a | but the lace vail that_environed her concealed ager Acne master; take me. Iam accustomed pcr : her impressions. It was not the same with | to sickness; for a long time, in Baltimore, where “You are right,” said she. ‘‘ What shall we | Brown. Victor’s reproaches, so direct and so | I live, I have performed the duties of a Sister of do? May Our Good Lady aid us!” | bitter, had disturbed him, and he lost counte- | Charity; and since peace is re-established, I bave Victor advanced, in his turn, to examine a | nance. urposed allying myself to that religious order. RyouP of persons stopping before the gate. “‘ Always the same story!” stammered he. | Conduct me to the sick man, I pray you; that r ere was, first, the notary, Brown, very easily | ‘‘ Always the same injustice—the same outrage- | will be a good action, and God will reward it.” . } recognized from his tall stature and his dark | ous and stubborn dislike! You do not know The eyes of Mrs. Yelverton were filled with costume. He carried under his arm a great | whom you insult, master Victor,” added he, | tears. She was, really, so beautiful and touch- bunch of papers, and appeared very much ir- | with a tone of reproach; ‘‘ but perhaps one day | ing that it was impossible to resist her. : ritated at the delay in opening to him. Near | you will learn; one would judge that we—” ictor drew a key from his pocket and un- him stood a: lady of elegant appearance, whose The vailed lady interrupted the man of the | locked the gate. y features and figure were partially concealed by a | law, and made him a sign to withdraw to one ‘‘ Enter,” continued he, throwing it open. ? deeply-embroidered vail. She was speaking in | side. ‘You shall see my master, and youare free to a low tone to the notary, and seemed to be “Mr. Brown,” said she, in a low and friendly | care for him as if you were his wife or his sis- =~ , sa'e$ winning his patience. Behind these prin- | tone, ‘‘there is a mystery in this affair which I | ter.” a > personages, a man having the appearance | wish to penetrate, at any price. But let me try The lady glided rapidly between the two gild- Zs ‘ of a domestic, bore a number of portfolios and | if I cannot succeed better alone against the | ed iron posts, as if fearing that Victor might . packages. strange prejudices of Victor. Return to Bristol, | possibly change his mind. ors His investigation ended, Victor turned on his | where your business recalls you, while remain | Five minutes after, the old man introduced _ heel, whistling with an air of determination | here.” her into the chamber of the patient. Gerald, P and spite. His look encountered that of poor “‘ As you command, madame; yet if that man, | who was still sleeping, was not disturbed at her E Julia, all mute and trembling. in his stupid waywardness, persists in refusing | presence; but Julia could not subdue an exclam- = ; ation of surprise. She would have questioned ~ Julia was going to propose some method of | to open the gate, what shall we do? Would you | conciliation and pacification, when the bell-was | not prefer to lodge at the inn, and wait until we | Victor, had not the latter carefully avoided her ’ pulled vehementiy and repeatedly, while a shrill | can take severe measures?” | eye. Soon, both directed their attention tothe —_— } voice at the same time echoed the appeal. ‘No; in this event, I will remain, during the | unknown, whose acts and countenance were — The sick man turned on his bed, and feebly | night, at Mr. Jackson’s, where they are devoted | sufficiently striking to pique curiosity. groaned. to me. Thomas,” she continued, addressing She had advanced with measured tread and “ This numskull is going to awaken master!” | her servant, ‘carry my effects there, imme-j| precaution to the bed on which Gerald was re- said Victor, angrily. ‘‘ Well, since it is neces- | diately.” posing. She raised, with a trembling hand, the sary, I will speak to him. I shall not be long, The domestic moved away, with the packets, | muslin curtain, and contemplated the patient Remain here to watch over our master, and | in the direction of the farm. for several minutes. ' whatever you hear, do not leave him for a mo- ‘*Now, my good sir,” continued the stranger “How he has changed!” she sighed. ment. I shall soon return.” to the attorney, ‘‘return tranquilly home, and Then she knelt, and seizing a hand which re- He departed on a run, and, to assure himself | do not be disturbed on my account. Above all, | posed, moist and burning, on the satin coverlet, 3 more positively of the execution of his wishes, | do not think of taking any notice of the injury | carried it to her lips. Stifled sobs followed in” : he closed and locked the door of the ehamber | that has been done us until we meet again. To- | the shadow. at behind him. morrow I shall again pe Nt you at Bristol, and “‘ Who is she?” whispered Julia, in the ear of — we will arrange this affair; meanwhile, be pa- | Victor. CHAPTER VII. tient. Will you promise me?” *‘T can not tell; she is certainly alady. Prob- : 5 THE WATCHERS AT THE SICK COUCH. “Ts it not for you to command?” asked the | ably some one whom he formerly loved, and. i LAWYER BROWN, despite the remonstrances | notary, bowing low to the lady, with an an- | who remembers him!” | of the lady who accompanied him, continued to ene display of gallantry. “F do not know Mrs. Yelverton at length arose. Without pull the bell at the gate with unabated vigor, | what your roject is; but it can only be wise | uttering a word, she removed her bonnet and when the intendant at length appeared on the | and honorable. I will abide by your wishes.” vail, as well as a kind of scarf with which she steps of the chateau, and crossed the court in They again exchanged a few words; then the | was enveloped; then, dressed in a simple white | double-quick time. Victor, with his hands rest- | attorney bowed, threw a last look of rancor at | robe, having for her head-dress only a gold _ ing on his hips, assumed a calm and majestic | the chateau, and moved rapidly away. comb fastening her beautiful dark locks at th air. As soon as the impatient notary perceived As soon as he had disappeared in the avenue, | top of her head, she installed ee as wat him, he cried, with all his might: Mrs. Yelverton re heen te the grating and | at the pillow of Gerald Prevost. “Well! old knave! have you become deaf? | called, softly; the old steward advanced toward ‘She must be of some importance, as you What do you mean by making us wait so long | her with a crabbed look. think, Mr. Victor,” whispered Julia, regardin at this gate?” ‘“‘My friend,” said she, with ardor, “by all | her with admiration. ‘As for me, I woul “Tam sorry,” replied the steward, with his | that is most sacred, do no conceal the truth | sooner believe her one of the good fairies, who imperturbable phlegm; ‘‘ but at present no one | from me. He has returned to the chateau; is it | wander at night in the light of the moon on our : can enter the chateau of Belle Isle.” not so? Confess to me ‘that he is. here.” ; heath. Such beauty is not of this world.” _ . | The unknown lady and Brown seemed stupe- Victor let escape a movement of surprise; Part of the night rolled by without accident. fied. yet he demanded, with affected coolness: The two old people, worn out with fatigue, ‘‘Qne moment! one moment!” cried the no- “Of whom do you speak, madame? I do not | were dozing in their arm-chairs near the fire. - tary, on perceiving Victor about to move away. | understand you. 3 The unknown seemed to study with anxiety the “Do you know it is I who established you as “Oh, you comprehend me,” replied the un-| uneasy symptoms of the patient; her ron jailer and guardian of the chateau, when I | known, impatiently. ‘I speak of him you love | Gerald’s pulse, she was counting minutely the — eqally acquired possession of the habitation and | so much, Victor; { speak of your master, of | pulsations. In order not to dazzle the delicate lands former] longing to Mr. Gerald Pre- | your friend—of Gerald Prevost. las he, at | sight of the sick man, the Jamp had been placed vost, and which position you hold directly from | length, returned to his home, to the house of his at the other end of the apartment, so that one as me? Open, then; moreover, madame, who is | fathers? Come! have pity, and do not worry might have said a light and vaporous shade was _ with me, expects to pass a y or two at Belle | me; he is here, I am sure; L know it!” watching over the former master of the manor. he Isle, and I intend you shall observe the most At the same time she raised her vail, and ex- | From time to time she placed at Gerald’s lips a z | absolute respect for her. This is Madame Yel- | posed to the old man features so angelic and so | glass which contained a salutary potion; she verton, who has been ste aga at Baltimore, | pure that he remained as if dazzled. would raise his bead cautiously, when therattle _ where she lives, the Friend of the Poor. Ide-| It was a woman, nearly twenty-five years of | escaped harshly his inflamed mouth. sire to do her special honor, and therefore com- | age, in all the brilliancy of her beauty. An in. As the night advanced, Gerald gave more __ mand you to obedience to orders.” definable expression of goodness was stamped | frequent evidences of uneasiness. His chest Victor threw himself back. on her features, while her dark eyes, with their | was panting, his cheeks flushed. The lady ap- — “That is all very well,” said he, dryly; ‘but | long, silken lashes, revealed an ardent soul, | proached the two old domestics. Sh I shall not open.” most passionate in its attachments. Her mien ‘‘Hold yourselves ready,” said she. “We The long and meager countenance of the no- | and manner were characterized by a dignity | are about witnessing an inerease of the fever, tary became scarlet. that commanded respect. Victor believed that | which will undoubtedly be accompanied with — Beware my good man!” cried he, striking | he had never seen the lady, for, a dra Soa her | delirium; your aid will then become necessary.” _ his foot. ‘Do you think you are still in_the | once, it would be impossible to forget her. In- The foresight of Mrs. Yelverton was not slow midst of and under the authority of the Pre- | voluntarily he felt intimidated. 5 to be realized. Gerald recovered, little by little, vosts, that you feel qualified to put my authori- “Madame,” replied he, bowing, “since you | an artificial strength, and rose on ne elbow. ty at defiance? If you refuse to open, we shall | are a person of consideration, a lady of quality, | His eyes, wide open, were round and staring as go and return with the officers of the law, with | whom my master has undoubtedly known in | those of a cataleptic. The delirium soon be- whom the strength reposes.” happier days—” 2 trayed itself, and he commenced talking vehe- “There is something extraordinary in all he responded only by an equivocal gesture | mently. His discourse still consisted of in- is” said the vailed lady, who had been, there- | and a melancholy smile. coherent wailings Over his destiny, having Ree nae witness ‘ee the discussion. “I| “Since,” in sbort, continued the old man, | reference always to his adventures ina tordigtt have heard of this old steward, as an honest te are a friend of the family, I do not see | land, to souvenirs of his youth, and narratives — and reasonable man; he must have grave mo- | why I should conceal the thing from you. More- | of his misery in Mexico, which subject recurred tives, which 1 am unable to fathom, for refusing | over, the news can not long be kept secret, and | most frequently and with most detail to his tis admission to the house.” to-morrow will unquestionabl rime over the | memory. , , “Motives!” repeated he, with emotion, “*T | whole country. ell, then, 1 acknowledge you ‘* How deceitfully illness makes one talk!” re- have, indeed, madame; yes, I will acknowledge | have guessed rightly. Master Gerald has been | marked the old servitor, embarrassed; ‘one it to you whose heart appears kind, although | here several hours. But, if it must be acknow- | would really think master knew from experience your resence here might occasion gossip. I | ledged, he is now suffering from a pernicious all about the horrors of which he speaks! Oh! am not of those Gearatefal servitors, who, after | fever, and has almost lost his mind. these crises in fevers are terrible!” . having enriched themselves from the patronage The young woman turned pale. ee Mrs. Yelverton made no response to this ob- of their masters, would turn upon them their; ‘He is ill—in danger, perhaps!” cried she. | servation, and did not even appear to have backs in adversity! Squire Brown knows well | ‘‘ My good man, lead me to him immediately; heard it. But the noise had attracted the er enough what I would say.” since he has lost intelligence, he can not— Vic-| tention of Gerald, who turned oman ae ; » ~The person to whom had been given the name | tor, you are alone with Julia in this old house; | strange woman and contemplated her in silence, _ of Mrs, Yelverton, evinced a slight uneasiness; | you require an experienced person to aid = in | Insensibly his countenance assumed an e- i ~ “4 ; : 4 4 4 4 ia ne % e. &. iP aN j . - i ® - ¢ we & Dyes a ¥ re ee, eet Se ie - . ; 7 feed : 4 vas 24 P ae e y 2 wi a . i ot we 25 Te Me a ss a 5 7 - ene aa pe eo | —— “ee See ee eee," ae Y
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_. pression of pure joy, and he joined his hands, crying, at length, with an electrifying accent. j iS apeanoa i eaambesen s this, indeed, you ; shen The unknown lowered her head without. re- sponding, and recoiled a step. ‘*Oh! how beautiful you are!” continued he; “mueb more beautiful than formerly. But I understand: you are also dead, and we are in heaven; death enhances the beauty of virgins and saints. Well! You do not answer me? ; Jeannette, are you then only a phantom?” «And he turned convulsively on his couch; the es - sister stood bending over him. ig “ For pity’s sake, madame,” said Victor, in a low voice, ‘‘humor his whim—to contradict it would increase his illness.”’, “Tt will cost you so little,” murmured Julia. _. ~-Gerald continued to toss on his bed, while he = ae eated with a sort of frenay. . Jeannete! Jeannette!” ‘Here I am, my friend,” at length observed the young woman, in a caressing voice, ap- proaching him. The patient became immediately calm, and resumed his contemplation, ‘*T see now,” said.he, sadly; ‘‘the angels still preserve some passion for earth. You have not a forgotten my outrageous act below there at the - Rocking Stone? Ob, 1 was cowardly, cruel, I know; but you, who from high heaven have Ey seen me subjected to all the griefs and indigni- ties of which humanity is capable, you know how I have atoned for that mistake. * Such has been the effect of the curse your mother pro- nounced against me, and yet I have pardoned ‘our, mother. In your turn,’ beautiful and _ generous child, will you not forgive, as even I - have forgiven? Jeannette, tell me, then, that you also pardon me.” , He had imprisoned the hand of Mrs. Yelver- -. ton in his own, and he:detained it firmly. TY pardon you with all my heart, Gerald,” aid the lady in a penetrating tone, which struck h astonishment the two old servitors, ‘‘ You a? ae ~ eS _ . “Well, Jeannette,” responded Gerald, in an impassioned outbreak, ‘since we are here ina - position where birth is effaced and inequalities disappear, where souls which have been long _. cherished without power to become joined are at length allied; tell me that you love me; I, . _who have loved you so truly, ask it. Say yes, Jeannette, and that in death, as in life, you have desired to be united to me!” ates “You have spoken truly, Gerald; you have - said truly,” cried the young woman, passionate- ies. “Tt have never loved another; 1 love thee still, I will love thee always!” Then, we are really in the abode of the BD blest,” resumed the patient, whose -features re- flected a superhuman beatitude; ‘‘ our misfor- tunes are ended, and we have reached, at length, the gates of Paradise, where there is no longer either terror or doubt. Jeannette, Jeannette!’ __ -‘The last words were already indistinet; the -.~ paroxysm of the fever had passed, and Gerald fell slowly back on his piliow. _ Mrs. Yelverton had been herself deeply moved at this scene; she trembled, and her breast __ heav.d with sighs. When she saw Gerald was sleeping shé would have withdrawn her hand, which he had detained; but he resisted, uttering ¥ of reproach; a moment after, the met with the same result; the had not the courage to renew it, earful listurbing his sleep, so precious after somany attacks. ; _- Nothing important transpired during the rest of the BiEbe Toward morning, the two old _ people, overcome by fatigue, had in turn fallen asleep in their arm-chairs. When they awoke it ~~ was broad daylight; a ray from the sun was . Badin prong an opening in the window-cur- tains. Mrs. Yelverton was already standing in the middle of the chamber; she had resumed _. her scarf and vaiJ, and was preparing to go Be Ot, + oe “6 ut he must not see me here. Iam ished to show. his gratitude for her devotion to his master. ' owe me no thanks,” replied the lady, elancholy. ‘It is rather I who will ful to you all my life, But listen; Mr. IN x 2 is te, ‘ Prevost must always remain ignorant of a stranger’s having watched at his pillow, and that he has received any other care than your own. Do not forget this, for an indiscretion might occasion grave embarrassment.” “ Embarrassment!” repeated the old steward, surprised; ‘‘ and for whom?” “For him—for me—for all who love him.” “JT do not understand you, madame; but enough. I promise you, in the name of Julia and for myself, your secret shall be guarded as that of the confessional.” Before going out, she again threw a look to- ward the alcove in which reposed the patient, and made a movement as it to approach it the last time; but she restrained herself, uttered a deep sigh and followed Victor, who led ber to the exterior gate of the chateau. CHAPTER, VIII. THE OVATION. A ¥Ew hours after, Gerald Prevost had r covered his intelligence, as his mysterious nurse SPITE OF HERSELF. had predicted. The sun, entering freely the | chamber of honor, set in motion the million juminous atoms about the furniture. Although he at that moment enjoyed all his faculties, his physiognomy at times expressed something of | that comic embarrassment of the woking sleeper of the “Thousand and one Nights,” when, after falling asleep a poor serfin a closet, he awoke sultan of Bagdad ina palace. Gerald seemed unable to habituate himself to the lux- ury with which he was-environed. It was not till he heard the title of master, with which Victor was gratified to dignify. him, as in the days of his prosperity, that he was excited, as- tonished and made to doubt the evidence of his senses. The old steward confessed how, on the even- ing before, he had refused admission to the at- torney Brown, who had come to take possession of the chateau; but, faithful to his pledge, he did not say a word of Mrs. Yelverton, and he terminated his narrative by reproaching his master for having concealed from him his arri- val at Belle Isle, Gerald extended to him his hand. “Pardon me, my fod Victor,” said he, af- fectionately. ‘‘But I would have spared my friends the spectacle of my ruin, and passed un- perceived over my old possessions, without wit- nessing either regret or pity. God has not per- mitted it! Victor,” continued he, after a mo- ment’s silence, ‘‘ you have not told me all? Who watched over me, last night?” “Julia and I, master,” replied the old man, with embarrassment, : ; ‘¢ And no one else?” “We are the only inhabitants of the cha- teau.” “ This.is strange. It still seems to me ‘that I beheld in that very place where you now stand a woman of ravishing beauty, whose, presence filled me with joy and rapture. I thought I touched her hand and inhaled her pure breath. Once, while we were both in the obscurity, and I felt her to be near me without seeing ber, it even seemed to me that her lips touched my forehead.” _ “ How the fever turns our poor heads!” stam- mered Victor. “ Alas! alas! I would deceive myself,” re- plied Gerald, sighing. He continued, after a pause, ‘ I cannot remain longer here. Hence- forth, a stranger to this house, I must yield the place to its real owners. You were wrong to deny their right, Victor, and must repair yeur fault immediately. In an hour I quit Belle Isle; Iam resolved!” At this moment, Julia entered and announced a doctor from Bristol. “A doctor!” cried Gerald, reddening. ‘‘ Who sent for him? They know, then, that I am here?” “T do not understand,” said Victor, ‘‘ at least how— But, master Gerald, receive him, and we shall know from himself who sent him.” Gerald consented to this, and Julia soon in- troduced the doctor. But their curiosity was promptly baffled, The doctor*was a taciturn young man, of chilling aspect, and recently es- tablished in the neighborhood, ‘where he was ac- quainted with very few persons. ‘‘ They had warned him,” he said, ‘‘that his presence was needed at the chateau, and he had hurried there without further information.” This explana- tion given, he felt the pulse of the sick man, ad- dressed him the customary questions and wrote a prescription. . mind and the dose I prescribe will prevent. a, return of the fever. If he meets with new. ac- cidents, he must send for me.” Then he rose, bowed profoundly, and went out. “He is not communicative,” said Gerald, dis- appointed, “Good! Good! He has, perhaps, his reasons for that,” murmured Victor; ‘nevertheless that is his habit, and we must tuink of procuring the renedics he has ordered.” “Victor,” asked Gerald, with an embarrass- ed look, ‘‘do you. think that dose will cost much?? The old.steward looked at his master. The idea that a proprietor of Belle Isle could be so reduced by poverty as to refuse himself a medi- cine on which his health depended, if not his life, touched him to the bottom of his heart. ‘* Master,” said he, with a reproachful accent, “if you will accept nothing from the depoilers of your property, you should remember, at all events, that ot your old servant possesses is yours. ‘‘ And I would accept, my friend,” responded Gerald, with warmth, “yes, 1 would accept it, if a real necessity— But you see, my Victor, [ would have done well not to stop at Belle Isle; the comparison of the present with the past tortures us both.” He conccaled his face in his hands and remain- ed several instants absorbed in his thoughts, Suddenly, a noise of voices resounded in the avenue; they were calling aud conversing in tumult. Soon after the explosion of fire-arms awoke the echoes without. “Good God! What is that?’ cried Victor, frightened. “Tt is unquestionably our friend, the man of the law, who is keeping lis promise,” said Ger- ald, with bitterness. ‘‘He has hunted together the people of Bristol, to assist him in recovering his chateau. e might have dispensed, how- ever, with bringing the posse. Neither you, nor I, Victor, are disposed to make a valorous resistance!” Victor ran to the window and observed, with a lively anxiety, the people who were approach- ing. a What is that?” cried he. ‘‘They have guns, pistols! Do they dare— But no; there are wo- men and children, and then Master Aleck, with his drum. But, reniain here, master! _1 am go- Pes receive them.” > e descended the stairs on a run, There ensued a parleying at the exterior gate of the chateau; then a loud hurrah made itself heard, followed by another discharge of fire- arms. At the seme instant the outer iron gate rolled on its hinges, and the crowd precipitated into the court aid invaded the stairs an dors, uttering the wildest cries, Tke tumult was rapidly approaching; but at the door of the chamber of horor a silence the mo:t profound replaced those senseless demon- strations. Gerald, not knowing whether he was going to be attacked, remained motionless and ready for any thing. At length the door open- ed, and Victor first appeared, crying, in an ani- mated voice: ‘‘Here he is, my friends! This is our master— our beloved master. God has restored him to us! Enter, enter all; he will be glad to receive: “Hurrah for Master Gerald!” cried a hun- dred voices. ‘‘ Hurrah for Master Gerald!” And the crowd rushed into the chamber after the old intendant; it was the entire population of Belle. Isle—sailors, fishermen and laborers, with their families. They were clad in their brightest habits, and bore in their hands enor- mous bouquets. In an instant Gerald was sur- rounded, pressed, overwhelmed with caresses; it was the frenzy of adoration that greeted m. Gerald, amazed at this sudden ovation, at the very moment he was expecting all manner of outrages, knew hardly what to do. Yet, when he was able to understand what he was witness- ing, when he recognized the friends of his youth among those who thronged the chamber, he awaited his turn, cordiality, Aleck, Sailor Joe, John and above all old Peter, the patron of the Ariel, which had borne him from Belle Isle, seven years before. He asked after their femilies, and inquired, with touching kindness, what. had happened during his long absence. The brave people, proud of dear . corri- — He welcomed, with especial his remembrance and these flattering distine- _ tions, forced themselves forward to testify their gratitude, ; ‘Hurrah for Master Prevost!” they thrice re- - “This will amount to nothing,” said he, with | peated, with enthusiasm. — ; Gerald raised his hand to denote that he — . imperturbable phlegm. ‘‘ Repose, ease of
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4 wished to speak, and their ‘clamor immediately f _ceased. ‘My friends,” said the wanderer, in a moved tone, ‘‘I thank you for the proofs you have shown me of your attachment; but he is no _ longer the proprietor of Belle Isle, or your land- lord, whom you now address. I am only a poor traveler, a modest citizen, like you, and such honors are not due to me.” 5: | There was a movement of surprise in the as- iy sembly. Most of the participants, seeing Gerald <4 Prevost established in the home of his ancestors, surrounded by all the luxury and paraphernalia of his former condition, could not imagine, in their simplicity, that the consequences of lon absence and an eventful revolution were uot ef- faced from thismoment, and that any one could contest his proprietorshi ; “A fact,” said old Peter; “the place was < ho this was a great affliction for Belle “What? Who had the right to sell it?’ ex- claimed Victor, with vehemence. ‘‘Who had this right, if not Master Gerald? The sale was an absurdity and an infamy. Let the robber call himself Brown, or the sheriff, or the coun- try, ne is no less a robber, nor is the act more The logic of Victor was a most-brilliant suc- cess. _ “That is true, at least!” said old Peter, the Nestor of the troup. “ Ay, ay,” repeated the others. ‘‘ That sale was an injustice—a genuine robbery!” ‘‘ Well,” resumed Victor, with undiminished zeal, ‘if you think so, shall we suffer the ini- quity to be finished? Shall we suffer our dear master—” " ‘** Silence! Victor,” interrupted Gerald; ‘‘ if you still have any respect for me, do not add another word. Resistance to the law would surely result in the sacrifice of those who. might take part therein.’ My friends,” continued he, ——e toward his former vassals, ‘‘ I did not come here with the purpose of creating disor- der; I humbly submit to the changes that have been operated in my lot. The most precious ortion of my heritage is that affection which, oni generation to generation, the inhabitants of Belle Isle have displayed toward _— family and myself; that portion has not been lost, and I than he from the bottom of my heart. For the rest, I rely on Providence!” No one responded; only a few sobs rose from the closed ranks of the auditors. The good ee were preparing to withdraw peaceably. Victor himself, his brow scowling jand his fists clenched, no longer dared to speak of resistance, since Gerald had forbidden him so peremptorily. The occasion he had found to en- list in the imterest of his master the population of the isle, was, therefore, about to escape him, when an unforeseen circumstance occurred to oe. the face of things and to awaken the slumbering passions of the throng. The crowd was already about going out, when it suddenly stopped and appeared to fall back on itself. Then it opened, and a man of tall stature, dressed in black, with papers under his arm, entered the chamber. A murmur of rage arose on his passage, and menacing looks lighted on hisform. It was the attorney Brown. ‘As he advanced toward the principal group, which surrounded Gerald, the assembly grew -e irritated. a Fe 4s bold, to show himself here!” said an old sailor, rolling his tobacco furiously between his jaws. ‘Ah! if master Gerald would per- mit it—if he would strike but one blow!” “He comes to brave ee a women, ; + at the man of the law. ie thes disquieting remarks, Brown af- fected the greatest assurance. He nate Bo passing, to those whom he recognized; but ; every one turned his head. me, , now standing, was awaiting his ap- i ing brow. Brown bowed proach, with lowering DI’ ; : Gerald saluted him ae t pe the notary, smiling. “Tmprudent e replied here, like alt D pena e friends, to offer my respects and my felicita- 4 ” vs. —_ ° i = “g ; +: Rs “Come! let us end this,” cried a voice. ‘‘ And if he refuses to go out, we will throw him out by the window.” ‘¢Yes—by the window !” A hundred arms rose, at the same time, to execute that sentence, when Gerald interposed. “Peace! my friends,” said he, authoritative- ly, “T alone am judge of the conduct of Mr. rown under my eyes; and if I am willing to forget his wrongs, who, then, has the right to remember them?” No one dared to speak. Brown, despite his assurance, had become pale. “Téis not right, perhaps, that I should thus have forced you to defend an old friend,” said he, in an altered voice; ‘‘ but, the fault is un- doubtedly with me, who should sooner have ex- plained my purpose. Mr. Prevost, it is necessa- ry for you to accord me, for an instant, the favor of a special interview.” The outcast cared for no explanation, and he had anxiously wished to avoid it. Yet he pleasantly motioned out his visitors. “Hold! hold! He has some snare, the old fox!” murmured a coarse fisherman. ‘*He is adroit,” thought Victor. ‘‘ The notary knows their weakness, and undoubtedly has some secret design. Well!” he continued, aloud, ‘master can not remain alone in intercourse with that man!” The offensive suspicion contained in ‘that ob- servation again called a light pallor to the cheeks of the attorney. “Mr. Victor will hear our conversation, if it seems good to him,” said he, coldly. ‘* With the permission of Master Gerald, then, I will remain,” replied the attendant; ‘‘ but that does not suffice.” He pte ae a group in which were old Peter, Sailor Joe, and a few other of the most devoted inhabitants. He spoke low to them. Their fists were energetically clenched; then the men followed the crowd, whose retreat the announcement of a barrel of cider had render- ed singularly active. There soon remained in the chamber only Gerald Prevost, the attorney and Victor. f CHAPTER IX. THE ATTORNEY. GERALD had thrown himself on a seat and pointed the notary to another with a fatigued and depressed air. , “Ror Heaven’s sake, sir, be as brief as possi- ble,” said he. ‘‘ You understand that these re- views of the past are grievous to me; I am anxious to end them, so as to be able to depart without delay.” : “Depart,” repeated Brown, in a friendly tone; “ what are you thinking of, Mr. Prevost? Does the chateau of Belle Isle displease you to that extent? Are not the changes worked dur- inz your absence to your taste? Have you not remarked the rich meadows and the fertile fields which have replaced the arid heathers and the infected swamps of former days? These innovations have, indeed, irritated very much our friend Victor; but no one can rea- sonably complain of ameliorations that have augumented, in a considerable degree, the rev- enues of the property. And the repairs which have been made to the chateau; I hope they also have left nothing to be desired. The great- est regard has been observed to preserve the souvenirs and traditions of your family. I must also be permitted to inquire whence can arise this horror for the house of your father?” “You forget, sir, that the more improved and worthy of regret I have found it, the more sad I must feel to leave it.” ** And wherefore, I pray you?” “« Because it no longer belongs to me.” “It no longer belongs to you!—and who has told you that?) What notification have you re- ceived from me, your legal and official re- presentative? How can you know whether or not I have wisely observed the directions you confided to me?” ’ Gerald made a gesture of astonishment; Vic- tor was listening with open mouth. _ “But, sir,” replied the wanderer, “in case of compulsion, such as confiscation of my ef- some he effect of these directions would be an- nulled. ; “How? Have you never heard of what use the letter is under such circumstances?” replied Brown. ‘The document which was handed me by Victor, after your departure, constituted me defender of your interests; what matters it what means I have employed if I have only succeeded in my purpose? In fact, Mr. Pre- vost, I could not prevent I< property’s being seized and pepulrly sold by the old govern- ment. I strove with all my power to avoid that fee's ¥ —_— = = et ae "a ~~ i * ' = a a confiscation; but I was overcome. Neverthe- SEs less, sir,” continued he, opening the papers — which he had placed on a table, “if you will throw your eyes over these instruments, you can convince yourself that you are still pro- : prietor of the chateau of Belle Isle, aud that aut you are qualified to reclaim the revenues, ar- - rearages and other items, of which Iamready, | for my part, to render an account, be it to your- aay a self or to such other person as you may be pleased to designate.” s In measure as he advanced in his remarks, a profound stupefaction rg over the features J of Gerald and Victor; but while those of the old domestic were radiant with joy, those of the master became clouded with defiance and reserve, “What! Mr. Brown,” cried the old man, “you are, then, decidedly a brave man! B St. Peter! who would have thought? Bub, : pshaw! this is impossible!” : The notary smiled shrewdly, while Gerald be- sought Victor to calm himself. ‘‘Mr. Brown,” replied he, ‘‘I did not under- stand what you came to tell me; I do not yet know—” ‘* How you are still proprietor of the chateau and its dependencies? I am going to explain that. ; At the same time, he took the differenti papers ~ lying on the table, and entered into the most pgs circumstantial details of this affair at first so E incredible. Z Being unable, despite all his ance n cast, = to prevent Belle Isle being sold, Brown had ar- _ ae ranged to bidit in. The price of redemption — was paid in installments, of which ‘the am a es was simply nominal. Having thus become t ri possessor of the property of the Prevosts, the attorney had to advance the funds to cultivate, “nag and, according to the expression so odious to — Victor, to “put in refunding condition” the — lands theretofore so little improved. In return, °%. the speculation had been excellent: despite the misfortunes of the times, the revenue of the | property had quintupled in a few years, so at this epoch the considerable debt with w the property had been burdened by the ex ses of its redemption, repairs and improvement was entirely paid, capital and interest. It was — even returning to its old proprietorship, after auditing accounts, a cousiderable sum, which the notary drew from his pocket, in the sha = ra little bag of gold, and deposited on the a table. Brown explained at length, as the reader may concéive, every thing. He affirmed nothing without corroborating his speech by authentic | documents. The accounts seemed perfect; the obscurities were cleared up, and Gerald was five times richer than when he left home, He listened with religious attention, to the man of the law, who concluded thus; pe 3 ‘* ft only remains for you, Mr. Prevost, to re- ceive that sum, and to give me an acquittal; at the same time you will discharge me from the administration of the property which Ihave — restored to your possession. ‘To that end I pray you to signa paper which I have drawn up in advance, and which is this. You will remark that I have profited only by inserting in that. — document certain conditions to my own advan- = ~ tage; that is to say, that “I, Joseph Peter Brown, attorney, etc., am privileged to visit as often and at such times as I may be pleased until my death, the mounds, stones, and other — Indian monuments and relics of Belle Isle: th I may measure them, draw plans and make signs of them, without any person’s oppos me, and that Imay be allowed to publish them dissertations, articles, memoirs, a other writings as I may choose. Letus Mr. Prevost, is that clause too long, and must it be modified?” i : The notary really seemed to think that these miserable favors were sufficient recompense for = seven years of fatigue and care. sa a Weno longer find attorneys and counselors of © this description! Gerald arose; ’ = . ‘ his eyes were moist with tears. . Brown,” said he, with an accent pro- foundly altered, “at the outset must ask your . _ pardon for the suspicions I have conceived’ against you. ep peatnniceaae deceived me; you are my friend; you are an honest man!” And he folded him to his breast. — ee “Alas! Master Gerard,” stammered the at-— torney, returning the affectionate embrace, — . “that I, the ancient servitor of your family— honored with the confidence of your wor 5 cle, the chevalier, could ever have wron God is my witness, I would, at the price blood, have diverted the misfortunes whi befallen you!” : .
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c. 242 ‘While the attorney and his client were thus delivering themselves, Victor approached and _ seized the hand of Brown, which he embraced with a sort of frenzy. “ And I, Mr. Brown,” said he; ‘‘and I—I am a blockhead, a wretch, a knave; can you forgive me? Will you ask God to pardon me? As for me, I shall be sap es myself for my wickedness allmy life, To think that I should have been the first to throw the stone at you, to incite the 3 tenants against you, and that if they had chosen ‘ to believe me—” Fe The notary wiped his eyes and turned ab- ruptly. “Ah! This is you, old barker?’ replied he, gayly. “Well, Tam no longer, then, a man de- ‘ serving to be stoned to death, a rascal of a scribbler, who intrigues to despoil his benefac- tors? You have enjoyed your sp!een at my ex- ense; but I told youl should have my turn. Vet, let Mr. Prevost sign for me that explicit receipt, and I promise you we will never more speal of the past.” At the same time, he a a pen in the ink, and presented it to Gerald. The latter was at- tentively turning the leaves of the papers, be ‘One moment, Mr. Brown,” said he, motion- ~~ ing back the pen which was offered him. “‘ Be- oe fore accepting that brilliant fortune you would + return me, I have still a few explanations to ask fev ie Ob OU. Tam quite inexperienced in business . matters, yet I have remarked in these docu- ments some strange irregularities, Among other points obscure to me,” he continued with calm i dignity, “T do notsee any sum accounted as paid for repairs to the chateau; now, the ex- a sy if one may judge from the rich furnish- Bh 538 of this chamber, must have been consider- » jeu: ) 1) Md ~ “Ah! You have remarked that omission?” replied the attorney, who strove to conceal his -. anguish. ‘That fact arises from particular cir- ne crmstanioes, of which it is time to instruct you. of those who formerly contributed most to - the devastation of the chateau of Belle Isle was d with remorse a moment before death, and 1 to efface, asfar as she might be able, the cumstance of her wrongs toward you. She _ therefore charged me, as her testamentary ex- 2 tor, to refurnish the mansion, in anticipa- * And who was this person?” interrupted Ger- d, impressively. a “Well, it was Mrs. L’Estrange, who died at Baltimore in 177—” “Mrs, L’Estrange!” cried Gerald, excitedly, ; _ “the mother of poor Jeannette! Then she par- _ doned the mad jest practiced at her expense?” “See there!” grumbled Victor; “‘the widow was afraid of the devil!” Gerald was plunged into grievous reflections which this name had awakened in him. Hea length replied: _ “T do not know whether the scruples with - which this secret has been gaaraée will permit - me toaccept the legacy. But, this is not all; when I consider the amount necessary to raise for the preservation of my patrimony, either I am deceived, or Mr. Brown was not. sufficiently - rich to make alone such advances—” ~“ And what do you know of my affairs? We men of business have some resources! Again, - another party, one of those rich clients who in- trust their interests with me, wished to join me ona tine panning th an act of justice—at the same v pi ~ e running the risk of thus advantageous] nvesting the fundsin my keeping. These ad- 1ceS have been repaid, principal and interest; e receipts are at my office; is there in this to wound the delicacy of Mr. d spoken with much vehemence. old friend,” said Gerald, ‘‘ be indulgent. be offended at these objections, which 4 ms ‘pression. It appears evident to me that you Me he Ree a, his seat; ‘‘how could you ssion? Alms! well! suppose _-vouchsafed me such favors.” “Never!” cried the attorney, rising with a he Eee nee 1 aia Sa 3 F bound, ‘‘ never will that name escape my lips! I have promised it; I have sworn it. Master Gerald, do not expect that from me; itis im- ossible.” ‘‘ Well, then,” said Gerald, with firmness, ris- ing, in his turn. ‘‘I will not sacrifice, on my side, my self-respect and my honor, in receiving favors which I can not repay. Mr. Brown, take away that gold and these papers,” continued he to the astonished attorney. ‘‘I will consent, to pass here three days more in order to recover my strength. This term expired, I shall leave the country forever; at least—” “4 condition? Speak.” “At least, until I shall have seen the real owner of Belle Isle, and learned from himself the motives of bis disinterestedness.” “Do not hope for that; I have told you, it is impossible. If you know—but, during these seven years, you have undoubtedly found other means—” ‘No other, Mr. Brown, rest assured.” ‘We shall see; but, at least, Master Gerald,” said the attorney, lowering his voice, “* conde- scend to accept, in the form of a loan, this little sack of gold, of which you have need; you can *Yeturn it later tome. Do not refuse an old man who implores you—” “Thanks, Brown; I will borrow nothing which I am certain of being unable to return; no more of this; it would offend me.” The lawyer resumed the sack, sighing. “This is a point, how-ver,” said he, with in- sistance, ‘‘on which your rigor must necessari- ly rag IT allude to the matter of the legacy of Mrs. L’Estrange. You have no valid objec- tion to raise against that restitution, of which you know the os “You deceive yourself, my dear Brown,” re- lied. Gerald, with melancholy. ‘‘ Having de- iberated well, I will no sooner accept this gift than the others. I cruelly offended that unbap- py mother; her vengeance was just. The more orrible that bing ese was in its consequences to me, the more I bless it. You do not know, Brown,” continued he, with an eager air, ‘‘ how wrong I acted!” The old notary bowed sadly, and would have gone out. “One moment!” cried Victor, running after him. ‘You cannot pass until I have given in- structions.” ‘* What instructions?” The door opened, and Brown perceived in the corridor two men, with guns over their shoul- ders, who were acting as sentinels; two more were watching under the windows of the cham- ber of honor. . ‘Ah! They would challenge me!” said the Be “They will not challenge you,” replied Victor. “Pardon us, Mr. Brown.” At the same time he approached the two functionaries. ‘My friends,” said he, ‘‘ these arms are un- necessary. We have been deceived; Mr. Brown is the most devoted and faithful friend of Mr. Prevost!” The two fishermen, without further demon- station, bowed with respect, and surrendered the passage. ‘The most devoted and faithful friend!” re- ated the attorney. ‘‘Oh! no, Victor; there is one who loves him still more than you or I!” CHAPTER X. THE MYSTERIOUS BENEFACTOR. THE time fixed, by Gerald Prevost himself, as the term of his pegours at Belle Isle, slipped tranquilly away. Thanks to the prescriptions of the tacitarn doctor of Bristol, the fever had not reappeared, and with the exception of con- pe e weakness, the patient seemed ensirely cured, Brown had returned several times to the charge since the interview which had previous- ly taken place at the chateau, and had renewed his instances; but he had been unable to obtain any encouragement from Gerald, whose upright heart disdained subterfuges and mental reserva- tions. But the calmness and serenity of Gerald, who had never spoken of his departure, had given Victor a feeling of security; moreover, he was expecting nothing, when, toward the end of the third dave at the moment of sunset, the bell of his master summoned him to the cham- ber of honor. He found Gerald standing and dressed. He held in one hand the little package, wrapped in a handkerchief, of which we have before spoken, and in the other a hazel-wood staff, which he had cut during the day from a neighboring grove. AM, : Pa : 2 “2 < ar ; ™ aes ee = i a At the sight of these preparations, the motive of which was so evident, Victor turned pale, ‘‘ Master Gerald,” stammered he, ‘‘is it possi- ble that you think of—” “T am determined.” ‘‘Then,” replied the old man, eagerly, ‘‘I - shall do what has been expressly recommended to me. Master Gerald, 1 implore you to have patience for a single hour; by that time, I may, possibly, bring you some tidings that may change your determination.” ‘Where are you going, Victor?” “To Bristol. Give me your word that you will not leave the chateau until you shall have seen me again.” ‘** Well, I consent; but tell me, at least—” ‘“‘ Nothing, I can tell nothing. Adieu! Master Gerald; you have promised!” He went out, and a moment after the gate of the court swung closed. The hour had not elepsed when the noise of precipitate footsteps resounded in the corridor, and Victor opened the door. The obscurity at first led him to believe that the chamber was vacant, ‘*Master Gerald, are you there?’ he asked, with uneasiness. “What is the matter? who wants me?” said Gerald, trembling. He had risen, and his dark shadow was de- ae a the light rays which the moon pro- jected. “Is it you, Victor?” he continued. ‘How quickly the bour has flown. But, pray now, let me depart in peace. Where is Julia that t may say adieu? Come, now, do not detain me longer, for | must go forth again.” ‘No; you have even promised Mr. Brown you would remain at Belle Isle, if the person who secretly purchased your property could be shown you, and justify the intercession in your affairs. Your conditions are accepted; it is finally consented you shall have an interview,” “When?” ‘“This very instant, if you will follow me,” “Where will you conduct me?” **To the farm, where Mr. Brown is going to repair with the unknown.” erald hesitated. ‘“‘Of what use?” said he, slowly. ‘I have ac- cepted my lot; I would preserve my misery. Let us see this modest benefactor, however, who has undertaken to relieve our house from its ruins; lowe him my acknowledgments and thanks.” He took the arm of Victor, and they went forth together from the chateau, taking the path overhanging the beach. The hour was magnificent. The evening breeze was tempered to a warm and perfumed wind. The sluggish waves beat ian against the shore, and the sea displayed that singular phos- phorescence, which it acquires at times during the mild evenings of summer, and which some attribute to electricity, and others to innumer- able luminous animalcules; then it is that the © strait resembles a stream of fire. The rocks with which the channel was incumbered rose like somber points in the center of circles of scum that clustered round them. Sluggish masses occasionally appeared, gliding at a dis- tance over the waters, while a tremulous voice was chauting some popular old ballad; these were fishermen returniog from their excursions, and regaining port after a day of fatigues. Gerald, looking out over the silver surface of the waves, saw appcaring afar a skiff in rapid motion, which seemed to ke directing its course toward the terrace. It was soon easy to dis- tinguisb the little craft, which contained three persons; a boatman was actively rowing, while behind were two voyagers seated and motion- less. Before they had even reached the beach Gerald recognized the attorney Brown as one o the parties seated in the stern; the other was a woman enveloped in a long white vail. Gerald passed his hand over his forehead. ‘‘A woman,” murmured he, pensively. ‘Is it a woman who has secretly ministered to my prosperity? Who can she be? Probably some amiable lady of the neighborhood, whom I formerly knew.” . Anda light smile played on his lips at this souvenir of his youth. The skiff touched the shore along which ran the farm. The old attorney first stepped to the land, and turned to offer his hand to the lady whom he accompanied; but the latter, without awaiting his aid or that of the oarsman, rose with un air of feverish impatience, and leaped lightly to the beach. On perceiving Gerald, who was watching with curiosity oun the parapet above, she wrapped herself closely in er vail. : ¢
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“{Y do not know her,” murmured Gerald. “ pps ?? ictor pressed forward to open the gate under a little archway that faced the sea. After hav- ing exchanged a few words withthe new-comers, they remained behind, while Brown and his companion advanced alone toward Gerald. The lady in the white vail appeared deeply moved; her step was uncertain. She, so supple and so light a moment since, was now leaning on the nervous arm of the attorney. As to the rest, it was impossible to judge her stature or features under the embroidered vail that con- cealed them. Gerald bowed politely. “A beautiful night, Mr. Prevost!” said the attorney, with a mixture of humor and of def- erence. ‘A beautiful evening! But itis better appreciated by persons of your age than mine. This white fog is splendid for eatarrhs, and salt water sprinkled over one is a capital antidote for rheumatism !” “Tt is not I, my dear Brown, who chose the place and the hour,” replied Gerald, distractedly. “That is true; that is true. But you have such an obstinate head. Faith! I do not know what might have rs are: if a will as firm as yours had not yielded to the necessity. At all events, you will no longer have motives for de- arting; you wished to see the person who was eagued with me, in order to preserve intact — heritage, and, despite her repugnance, she as responded to your wish; she is before you.” Gerald bowed again. ‘Indeed, I would have been very ungrateful to her,” said he, ‘‘if, whatever may be the deter- mination which inspires my conscience, I had not sought this occasion to express my grati- tude, It would have been cruel to refuse me that satisfaction, and now that it is accorded me, [ find myself under the necessity of being still more exacting.” He interrupted himself, hoping that the lady would anticipate his wish. he did not budge. *T do not know,” continued Gerald, examin- f ing her with his per awe eye, ‘‘ the name of my benefactress. Above all, I am ignorant un- + der what circumstances she has believed she should offer me her devotion and her services.” The unknown made a movement, as if she was going to speak; but it was only after a con- siderable interval that a feeble and choked voice could be distinguished behind the worked So eS NE ee a ee eee gh ee vail. “Mr. Prevost,” she said, ‘how will it serve you to know my name and my person? Know, , simply, that in co-operating with Mr. Brown my: for the preservation of your effects, I thought I was acquitting a sacred debt; it is I who owe you thanks, if—” : ; “Good God! that voice!” cried Gerald. ‘‘Madame, for pity do not sport with me longer. Who are you? In heaven’s name, lef me see your face!” ; ; She hesitated, but finally lifted her vail with a trembling band, It was Mrs. Yelverton, the beautiful creature who had watched with Gerald during the night of his fever; it was also Jean- on ’Estrange! sone . g he young man uttered acry,. “Sha! eannette!” stammered he. ‘The dead, then, can walk out of their tombs?” The lady smiled. “T am not a phantom, Mr. Prevost,” said she. « _ “Tt was I.” : “T well know,” cried Gerald, “that divine woman, those impressive cares, those consoling words, all were not a dream. Jeannette, do ou remember, then, that in that delightful our, when I already thought you and I no longer belonged to this world, you accorded me a generous and complete pardon ‘My ‘My pardon, Mr. Prevost!” said the young woman, with a quivering voice. ‘‘ Should I not rather have implored yours? Do I not know what misfortunes have visited you during the past few years by the act of a person whom I must love and respect despite her errors? Did our injury, fatal in its consequences, but frivo- lous in its conception, merit so long and severe a a punishment? Nay, it isfor me to humiliate myself before you, Mr. Prevost; it is for me to supplicate you.” ‘*¢' This is not all,” cried Gerald, carried away by his emotions. ‘In that delicious night, of which every circumstance is graven on my heart, Jeannette, you pronounced a few words more dear than all to my soul! You said—oh! that acknowledgment so full of hope for me!— was it also a reality?” Miss L’Estrange lowered her eyes. ‘Tt would have been inhuman,” returned she, “to wound the fantasies and whims of a poor invalid whom a fever was transporting.” ‘Ts it there, then, that the dream commen- ces?” replied Prevost, with an accent of pro- found sadness. ‘* Ah! why have you disabused me? They were both silent. The attorney, who had not lost a word of that conversation, thought he must intervene. ‘‘ You now understand, my dear Gerald,” said he, in an affectionate tone, ‘‘ how ill-grounded are your scruples when you refuse to accept the restitution of your a te this is simple and rigorous justice. Mrs. L’Estrange, who ex- cited the population against you, repented of her violence, when she had coolly viewed the terrible result; I was a witness of her remorse, and encouraged with all my power her resolu- tion to compensate in her will for the damage she had caused you. After her death, her noble daughter wished to make the change, the repar- ation still more complete. Your property was then for sale; she conceived the idea of ransom- ing it, in order to restore it to you whenever you might return to the home of your youth. But it was feared that your cultivated sensibil- ity of ‘birth’ and ‘family,’ would induce you to repel the intervention of a stranger in your interests. In order to reassure an excessive delicacy, I prepared the account of which you detected the irregularities. I have since pre- ared another, a masterpiece, in which every item is set forth, and in accepting which you can never experience the least scruple. Your reason has matured in adversity; a simple glance of the eye enabled you to discover in the first accounting what I had believed impenetra- ble. At all events, this frank and loyal explan- ation should satisfy your scruples, and I trust you will no longer afflict us by refusing what | would henceforth be Caused only by an unreas- onable aareal 2 - Gerald listened in silence, with his eyes fixed on Jeannette. ‘Believe what our friend, Mr. Brown, has told you,” resumed she, in her turn, joining ber hands. ‘ Prevost, do not be relentless toward me and toward the memory of my poor mother. All the evils which have overwhelmed you during seven years, and of which you be- trayed the-fact, during the night which you now recall, are our work. Let me have some repose; appease the shade of my mother, that cries from its tomb! To present you humbly ih demand, I have returned to this place where my name is ridiculed: I have renounced the solemn vow I had mentally undertaken, never to return to this place, where 1 have been the sport of the people. At the moment I am about returning, and this time forever, to the peaceful retreat I found remote from here, after my misfortune, let me carry the consoling re- flection that ancient wrongs are at length wiped out. Mr. Prevost, good and generous Gerald, do not resist my appeal, and I will bless you the rest of my life, and call incessantly on you, in my prayers, the mercies of heaven.” ; he plaintive voice of Jeannette, her suppli- cating attitude, her tears, seemed to render her irresistible. While she was = pee 5 Brown had oceasion to use, more than once, his handker- chief and his snuff-box. Still, Gerald remained somber, as if these ardent prayers had made lit- tle impression on his heart. ‘ “No,” said he, at length, with a dry tone, accept- “the dignity of my n “ee e prevents my ms ae —— ing these benefits. Miss Jeannette L’Estrange ~ exaggerates her obligations tome. Let her re- tain what belongs to her, according to law; I have nothing to lay claim to here.” These words were pronounced with delibera- . tion. Jeannette threw at him a look full of — grief and reproach. “ AjJas!” murmured she. ‘ You have never been unjust and cruel, except toward ime!” — And the tears rolled down her cheeks. The features of Gerald lost their severe expression. ‘‘Pardon me! pardon me!” said he with ar- dor, taking her hand; ‘‘I cannot show myself sufficiently grateful for so much self-denial. . Jeannette, if, as I believed for a moment, only _ a moment, you had loved me as 1 love you, ail might have been repaired, perhaps.” ses eannette withdrew her hand, without re- sponding. ‘*Faugh!” cried the attorney, with a burst of impatience; ‘‘ he must be blind not to see—” rapid gesture from Jeannette cut short the word. Gerald detected the movement. - “What is it, Mr. Brown?’ exclaimed he. ‘Speak, I pray you! Canit be possible? Alas! I must end this horrible anxiety! Jeannette, by all that is most sacred, I adjure you to an- swer me! Do you love me enough to consent to become my wite?’ “ His wife!” repeated Brown, with feigned as- tonishment, as if the idea had not yet occurred to him. ‘Well! By all the stars! why not? The last vestige of family distinctions has been wiped out by the late war and ourconfederation _ of States. What barrier should interpose?? =| Jeannette was deeply agitated; she had drawn. her vail over her face, and, choked with sobs, she appeared incapable of speaking. “‘ A word! in heaven’s name, a single word!’ murmured Gerald, with increasing violence. * Jeannette, my life is going to depend on a single word from your mouth!” as ‘Alas, Gerald,” replied she, with a sigh ‘““The reprobation that weighs on me-is more! formidable than you imagine. I had wished to! conceal that truth in the fear of aggravati your regrets; but the scandal-mongers, Mi prejudge, are blind and do not pardon. pase, then, wishing to associate your honored name _ with the shame that weighs on mine; courage-— ous and daring as you may be, this burd would be too heavy, and you would, perha “Well! if the burden is nent it is all the more reason for my insisting!’ interrupted Prevost, impetuously. ‘I tell you it is my duty to struggle with you against the malice of men. Moreover, Jeannette, your exquisite delicacy would exaggerate the evil. It is im- possible that the remembrance of that foolish jest, after so many years—” ‘*Listen,” interrupted Miss L’Estrange, ex- tending her hand toward the channel. . A skiff was passing before the terrace, and the young oarsman who rowed it was chanting, in a clear voice, the song of the ‘ Rocking Stone,” composed by the vicious Anderton, The bark moved on until the words became ~ lost in the rolling of the waves. smiled with bitterness. r “You see, Mr. Prevost,” said she, ‘‘ that time 5 has not effaced the ridicule of that incident. The miseratle verses you just heard have be- — ey come as papain at Belle Isleasat Bristol; inthe taverns and dram-shops, in the kitchens of the — ; cottages, everywhere, even in your house bey Se are constantly striking the ear. How w Mr. Prevost, the idol of this place, dar : tack this old legend? for such it has | come. How would he dare say: ‘ man, whom you pursue with your rid! woman is my wife!” a Prevost hesitated, but only a few seconds. — “Well, Jeannette,” cried he, with energy, - “JT will have the courage, and success shall . crown my efforts. I have conceived a project, | BAe That which has been the instrument of your Se ridicule will serve for a reversal. Have confi- dence in me; have confidence in yourself and in, _ God. Jeannette, despite x : fears, my de. termination is not changed; it is with erfect’ intelligence and after deliberation that in adjure you to answer that « estion; ‘Will you be my wife!” M zy The young woman became was going to fall from weakness “Mercy!” said he. ‘‘ The str come me; I have exhausted courage and effort, Spare me! out of pity, spare me!” Gerald glided forward to sustain her, “Jeannette,” murmured he, passionately, P bi i Jeannette “how must I ai: : ‘** Alas! what acknowledgment is requi a. my Gerald?” replied she, in a low voiee, “Have = ae i ee, : 2 ‘ ot ¥
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| = dA IN SPITE OF Si ~ [ not already told my secret? I love you more than my life. I would have struggled; but I am vanquishec, Well, then, let my lot be ac- complished?” And in the pale light of the moon, the two iz lovers joined in a chaste embrace. a CHAPTER XI. — A FESTAL DAY. One beautiful autumn day, Belle Isle present- ed the appearance of a holiday. Since morning ; the silvery village bell had been chanting a live- i- ly tune, in its clock-tower, environed,by stone lace-work. The population for ten leagues around seemed to have made a rendezvous of the island for a ae solemnity. A flotilla of barks, canoes, skiffs and small boats of every shape and description were incessantly crossin the channel and depositing on the beach hand- ; some men and beautiful women in full dress, and sailors, fishermen and farmers, with their wives and daughters in holiday attire, ' The joyous cries, the loud hurrah, the sounds of instruments, with which were mingled at in- tervals the discharges of firearms, in token of rejoicing, made a deafening noise, which would have covered that of the sea and winds during an “a pal fag tempest. While the mass of people were delivering themselves to the allurements of the festival “ several grave personages, notable inhabitants of Belle Isle, whom we have before met, were chat . ting to one side under a thrice centenarian oak, f 35 in the avenue leading from the chateau to the i village. A cask of wine was tapped at their _. side, and they did not scruple to watch and fill their glasses when they felt disposed. The con- ee. - versation was very animated in that reunion of nat privileged characters, and was turning on the event which served as an excuse for these re- joicings. ae **T assure you, master Peter,” said Sailor Joe, "with a positive air, ‘‘ that all this is enough to - turn the heads of the parish, and certainly he has done many good actions. How! Here we are, a dozen faithful servitors of the old family, and late. as it is, as yet. we know neither the ‘name nor the quality, nor any thing concerning es the new lady of the house,” BL “That is:very true; we have not even seen her figure, and do not even know whether she is young or old.” ‘You are right, Sailor Joe,” responded Peter. the fisherman, who had now grown quite old and infirm; “you and I, however, have per- haps some title to the confidence of Master Gerald. You remember our journey with him .iniv’—. Holy mother! whata time! The poor _ Ariel, you recollect, was constantly under water, and we were forced to a thousand man- euvers to prevent its being overwhelmed by the waves. ‘es, yes; during the thirty-six hours that the squall lasted, there was not a minute hen we were not threatened with death! But ‘we were bent on saving our young master, and we never minded the danger.” “Hush!” interrupted John; “here is Mr. Vic- tor, with the sexton, who is undoubtedly going to announce something.” Fas “In short, Victor appeared to be giving in- _. structions to that functionary, who stopped at _--—- @ short distance from the principal crowd, an mow inks itors: x 2. on a stool, announced to his aud- 6 ir! Prevost is about to repair to the Rock- Stone with the good lady, his newly wed- wife; then the sports will commence. All” the runners, wrestlers and dancers are sum- moned first to repair thither.” <a After that brief proclamation, its promulga- tor dismounted, and subsequently repeated. it eee HE er on, until the fact became generally nown,. he notable characters of the isle, whose pres- a ence we have just briefly noticed, hastened tow- ae ard the cliff, while a great fermentation betray- ed itself around them; the news that the new bride was going to submit to the formidable test il , had set the crowd in mo- i tion, and a \ Sg already repa at that interest -_ When old Peter’, Sailor Joe and their compan- : ions reached the cliff, they found that the crowd had completely invaded the sort of inclosure " where the stone was situated. Theranks of the - curious extended back to the shore of the neigh- 3 boring creek, and yet on all sides might be seen arriving new-comers, no less impatient and im- pressed. There was nota ridge of earth or rock that was not charged with spectators; one might have said a human wall surrounded the talis- man. An old hazel-nut tree, situated at the crest of the cliff, was supporting unaided a group of audacious children, whom the least ac- cident might have precipitated onto the heads of their parents, who little enough anticipated such a catastrophe. Nevertheless, that crowd so compact opened with an effort to give passage to the important wights of Belle Isle. While his companions were finding the best stands they could, Sailor Joe, preoccupied with a secret idea, was striving vigorously with his elbows and shoulders to reach the Rocking Stone, least attention to the exclamations of those whom he pushed to the right and left, he arriv- ed before the rock, and, putting all his weight | against it sought by a sudden effort to move it. It would not stir; peals of laughter and sharp jests greeted the useless attempt of the robust fisherman. ‘“We must see; we must see!” replied Joe, shaking bis head. ‘‘ Now there, boys, who is going to lend a hand here?” More than thirty vigorous arms were immedi- ately raised toward the stone. ~ ‘* Aha-a-a, heave!” cried Joe, as if he were leading his comrades in drawing a cable. All hands were raised at the same time, and every effort was merged into one powerful, en- ergetic, irresistible force yet the stone remained as firm asif its base had been buried twenty feet under ground. ‘* Aha-a-a, heave!” again cried Joe. The same result. After the third attempt, the discouraged la- borers straightened themselves, and wiped away one. pecan teaian that covered their fore- heads. “That is good,” 2 a Sailor Joe, tranquil- ly. ‘‘ Thanks, friends. Now I know what I wished to know.” He espied on the escarpment of the cliff- a pointed rock, in the form of a keel, whence the whole scene might be surveyed. The hardiest gymnast would hardly have dared stride that perilous point, in the fear of breaking it off and precipitating it into the valley. Yet the fisher- man unhesitatingly embraced the opportunity it afforded him to survey thescene; mounting. therefore, with the agility of a cat, he attained the extremity and _ seated himself there with perfect ease. There, .setting at defiance the observations and jokes of the throng, he pa- tiently awaited the developments of the occa- sion. He did not have long to wait;.soon a distant noise of violins, fifes, drums and other musical instruments announced the arrival of the wed- ding cortege. Sailor Joe, from his elevated position, saw it clear the plantations that cover- ed the center of the isle, and advance, in long file, toward the cliff. At itshead wasmarching the old attorney, Brown, giving his arm to the newly-married, of whom he represented the father. He was in ceremonial costume, hat in hand, and was acquitting himself of his duties with a pompous gallantry that. testified how proud he was of suchan honor. The bride wore a dress of white satin; a virginal vail escaped from the crown of white roses which formed her head-dress; only this vail no longer conceal- ed her countenance, but floated in undulating folds over her shoulders. Her countenance was calm and modest, although not devoid of assur- ance. Then came Gerald, clad witha noble and elegant simplicity, walking with serene air and a confident step. "He had given his arm to Miss Brown, who, charged with all the feathers flowers and trinkets that one woman could wear, was vouchsafing him her most gracious smiles, The ladies and gentlemen of the vicin- ity, with some of whom the reader has already been made acquainted, followed next in couples. One was quite prominent from his tall stature and his badge of collector of customs—an office he now held from the new republic; his politi- cal opinions, as the reader may have Ss cael ed, had undergone considerable modification since we first met with him. There were sever- al others present, who had figured in the first visit to the Rocking Stone, before the departure of Gerald from Belle Isle. It would seem as if it had been preconcerted to bring together all those who fad previously visited the- place, who still existed or inhabited the country. A personage of considerable importance had preceded the procession, and entered the in- closure of the Rocking Stone; this was Victor, who appeared to act as chief, of police at the festival. He was dressed in completely new i us a= a ed s i Without paying the | ed a Ve " Ne eee oe ad attire, but, as usual, entirely in black; his hat | 2. i=3 — was poised jauntily over one ear; a bouquet was displayed from one button-hole, and he brandished a great cane, of which the silver head might have rivaled that of a drum-major. Yet, the good man had not that triumphant air Spemight have expected to observe under present stances. His eyebrows were slgeey ning, and an expression of bad hu- mor clouded his countenance. His voice and ge $s were abrupt, when he requested the crowd to make room, and many lazy-pates, not; sufficiently quick to range themselves on his’ assage, were rudely enough shoved to one side y him, - Attention was particularly directed by the assemblage to the bride. As soon as it was possible to distinguish her graceful features, her chaste mien and her tasteful attire, a cry of ad- miration escaped every mouth. “‘ How pretty she is!” cried the men. “She is really charming!” exclaimed the women. ““What a lpity we do not know who she is!” remarked a voice. ‘‘ No one knows her.” ‘*T know her,” said an old soldier of the late war. ‘“Itis a good and holy lady, who watched with the sick at the Baltimore hospital, and whom they there called The Mother of the Poor. She cured me of a wound received in a, skir- mish during the war, and she has cured many others.” “Tam a living proof of the truth of your words, my friend,” said some one at his side. ‘I have myself been saved from death by her whom you call The Mother of the Poor.” All heads were uncovered; the one who last spoke, and who remained confounded .in the crowd, was the priest, or rather the rector, of Belle Isle, an old man of gentle manners and venerable features. Recently entered upon the exercise of his holy ministry, he still bore upon his thin, pale features the trace of his sufferings at the Baltimore hospital. “You, father?’ asked Julia, who had fol- lowed Victor, to assist in the important event that was transpiring. ‘‘ You have been saved from death by our mistress?” ‘*'Yes, my daughter; the bride of Mr. Prevost is a pious lady, whom God is giving to this country as a pledge of peace and reconciliation. } The blessings of Heaven are hereafter going to rest on us all by reason of her.” The testimony which the wounded soldier and the venerable eae had furnished relating to the bride raised to its hight the admiration her beauty had already inspired. It was impossi- ble to hear the compliment of the rector; his voice was drowned in enthusiastic acclamations of applause. Jeannette blushed with pleasure; Gerald took her hand. “Courage, my beloved; courage!” murmured e. And the bortage had put itself again in mo- tion amidst still louder acclaims. A single spectator did not share [the other- wise universal enthusiasm; this was Sailor Joe. Perched on his rock, he was bending his head forward: between his knees, the better to see, and was muttering between his teeth: “Egad! I was sure—this is really the old widow’s daughter, however prettier she may be thers formerly! Humph! this will soon end, Meanwhile, the persons of the wedding-party had ranged themselves around the Uoching Stone, to which this gathering of men and wo- men, richly dressed, formed a brilliant incas- ing. Jeannette was alone and standing at one extremity of the stone, while Gerald stationed himself at the other end. The crowd was press- ing, compact and tumultuous, behind them. uddenly the greatest silence prevailed, and all countenances expressed a lively anxiety. Gerald addressed a smile to his bride and gracefully bowed; while Jeannette prepared to remove, according to custom, the glove, em- Beeipenee with pearls, which covered her and. r At this moment the sun, which had been eon- \ cealed a portion of the day, appeared from be- hind the clouds, and a,dazzling ray flooded the crest of the cliff and fell on the young woman, She appeared, in her white garments and her wedding-vail, as if surrounded by an aureola of gold and light. This was a favorable omen to the spectators, most of whom raised their eyes toheaven. ae ‘God is with her!” said : of them, con-— vinced. 4 * 7
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IN S Pee 28 A had her white and delicate fingers touched the rock when it trembled in a sensible manner. “Tt moves! It moves!” cried several voices, escaping from oppressed chests. “lt moved even before our lady had touched it!” cried Victor, with energy; “this is the second time it has ever happened; it is a miracle!’ 2 “T have seen nothing!” exclaimed hight. ae aes ilor his rock. eed. ‘Nor I!” added a few persons inthe hinder- most ranks. ae Gerald made a sign to the bride. advanced her hand, smiling. This time the oscillation was so great that several ladies who surrounded the rock recoiled with an air of affright. 'The movement lasted for an entire minute, A general discharge of guns and pistols echoed through the isle, the acclamations, the discord- ant noise of tambourines, of drums, and the ex- plosion of fire-arms rose to the clouds. Many of the spectators knelt to return thanks to God. Julia, allin tears, threw herself at the feet of Jeannette, crying. “Ah! my good mistress! All your troubles are over!” Victor, intoxicated with pride and joy, was bawling Settge of leaping, dancing, and embracing every one he found in his path. Amid the transports caused by this unexpect- ed result, Sailor Joe let himself glide slowly down from bis rock, pushed through the con- edie: and threw himself it the feet of the ride. , | “Madame,” said he, with warmth, ‘I am a beastly villain; but I have changed my mind. Pardon me! lam the friend of Master Prevost; he knows it. Now I will be yours. Remember me—I am Sailor Joe!” Without waiting a response, he arose and soon lost himself in the crowd, crying, at the top of -his voice: ‘Hurrah for Master Prevost! Long life to his bride!” _ “Hurrah for Master Prevost! Long life to his bride!” cried the spectators, in a single voice. “Téis my turn,” said the rector, with a mix- ture of tenderness and severity in his tone. He mounted a stone, and, inforcing silence by a gesture, delivered to his parishioners a short discourse on the dangers of superstition. His yemarks, although improvised, were not want- ing in system and interest. The brave man could not attack directly a belief of which he had seen the excellent results in the Prevost family; on the other hand, as a minister of Christ, he could not tolerate such an aberration of religious sentiment in his flock. He content- ed himself, therefore, with deprecating, in gen- eral, those practical mysteries which are not - sanctioned by the Church. ; “To put an end to the strange ideas to which the Rocking Stone has given rise,” added he, “I have obtained from Mr. Prevost a promise to renounce for himself, and for bis heirs, the an- cient practice of which you have come, for the last time, to witness the effect. Henceforth the approach to the stone will no longer be inter- dicted to any one; every passer or visitor can be assured that he is contemplating an inert, gross mass, subject only to the mechanical laws of equilibrium. Thus will fall, of themselves, all grievous errors, and my dear parishioners, returning to the practical faith of our grand, yet simple, religion, will have confidence here- after only in God, our Savior and the saints.” This harangue was listened to with silence and submission. As the good rector descended from his extemporized platform, he was stopped in his way by the att« oat Brown. Joe, with effrontery, from th She again : ecent, ‘whatever you may have said relating to the old talisman of the Prevosts; will ou not sanction my publication, by subscri : tion, of my philosophical dissertation, entitled, The Rocking Stone of Belle Isle, which will com- prise a large quarto volume of seven hundred pages? This is a work of my lifetime, and you would really do bei ahem x hare ge pos- i ientific resear The ee grasped the hand of the old at- rey. : OF rca written by you, my dear Brown, - could only be orthodox. As an examplar, I will inscribe my name at the head of your. subserip- tion list,” ate he, sighing, ‘if the misfortunes of the times permit a poor man of the church to ind ch prodigality. THE END. “ Alas! father,” said the lawyer, with an un-, __ THE Half-Dime Singer’s Library 1 WuHoa, Emma: and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs. 8 Tue Garxsporo’ Har and 62 other Songs, 4 Jounny Moraan and 60 other Songs. 5 Puy Se You WirH A FreaTHER and 62 other ongs. 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. BELLE oF Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 NAURG. 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October 21. 10c 10e 4% Tom Birrer Fervup; or, The Fatal Legacy 10¢ By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton. Ready Nov. 4th..10¢ ee tea me A new issue every two weeks, 10 For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, C on receipt of twelve cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, 10c Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y. 37 The Country Cousin; or, Att Is Not GoLp THat Guirrers. By Rose Seca 38 His Own Again; or, Trust Her Nor. By Arabella Southworth. 39 Flirtation; or, A Youne Grrt’s Goop Name. ey Ralph Royal. 40 Pledged to Marry; or, In Lovr’s Bonps. By Sara Claxton, 41 Blind Devotion; or, Love AGarmnst. THE Worip. By Alice Fleming. ‘42 Beatrice, the Beautiful; or, Hts Szconp Love. By A. Southworth. 43 The Baronet’s Secret: Haur-Sister. By Sara Claxton. 44 The Only Daughter: or, BROTHER AGAINST Lovrer. By Alice Fleming. 45 Her Hidden Foe; or, Love ar Ati Opps. By Arabella Southworth. 46 The Little Heiress; or, Unprr « Croup. By Mrs. M. A. 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