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The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, March 16, 1873, Morning, Image 2

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Morning Star and Catholic Messener.
Irem the Mobile Register ]
We introduce to the readers of The IRegdier
a little poem, from the pen of gentlemano who
was some Tears since an sdmird and esteemed
citemn of Mebile. We mean the lae poet and
orator, A. J. Requier, Esq. Immersed in pro
fssooal engagements in the city of New York,
these lines are the first he ban dedicated to the
muses for five years, and they come now bright
and fresh from his brilliant pen at the request
of old friends in Darlington, 8. C., who oem
pose the Darlington Monumental AsMociation.
The little gem is entitled" Memorial Altars,"
and we pott in public print, for the first time,
Bt A. 3, QuSlsa.
Where shall their dust be laid 1
Os the messtils starry ereet.
Whoe kiadlsg lights are signals made
To the mansins of the bleat:
For, brlight thesgh the meuntain be,
Ithaee no gemi Ists diadem
Like the oprk of the free I
Where shall their dust be laid 1
On the ocean's termy shore,
With wailing weeds at their backs arrayed,
And shout ag ase before :
Ne,--e -soI
For, deep as i waters hbe.
They bsa no depth like the faith which fired
The marts rt of the free
Where shall their duet be laid I
By the valley's greenest spot.
As it ripples down. in leeps of asade,
To the blue forgeotlme not
PFr green as the valley be.
It h no flower like the bleeding heart
Of the heroes of the free!
Or whore muffled pasgeant march,.
Tbhroel the spired and ehimlng pile,
To the chancel-i of its oriei arch.
Up the organ ooded aisle :
For, grand ua the rinstere be.
They could never hold all the kslghtly hoste
f01 Jackson and of Lee!
Where shall their dust be laid I
Is the urn of the Human leart.
W here Its purest dreams are first displayed
And its peeasoate longings start:
Yee -yN.--ye 1
y lo emeory's sletapr wave,
Is a living hrteo for the dead we lrve,
In the ) oad they died to ms! -.
Lady Oreystock drove on briskly. They
were out of the shadow of the trees and again
on the broad, white, gleaming, gravelled road
that led to the west lodge, anid the turnpike
road to Blagden. Not a word was epoken. On
went the ponies, who knew the dark shadows
of the elms that stood at intervals, in groups,
two or three together, by the side of the road,
and threw their giant outlines across it, mak
ing the moonlight seem brighter and brighter
mslt silvered the surface of the broad carriage
drive, and made the crushed granite sparkle
on wontlthe ponies, shakingjtheir heads with
mettlesome inlpatiencewhen the pulling of the
reins offended them, not freightenied at the
whirling of the great droning night insects,
which flew out from the oak-trees on the left,
nor shying away from the shadows--on they
went through'the sweet, still, soft, scented
night air, and the broad, peaceful light of the
silent moon-on they went! Not one word
mingled with the sound of their ringing boos
not a breath was heard to answer to the
sighing of the leaves; the "good night"
that had been spoken between the stranger
and themselves seemed to live in the hearing
of those to whom he had spoken, and to keep I
them in a meditative and painful silence.
At last the lodge was reached. The servant
opened the gates; the' carriage was driven
throegh; the high road was gained, and all
romantic mystery was over; the dream that I
had held those silent ones was gone; and like I
one suddenly awoke, Lady Greystock said:
"Eleanor! how wonderful; yogi knew that 1
man ! Eleanor! be knew you; asked about
yon; had been seeking you. Why was he there
in the Beremouth woods - appearing at i
this hour, among the ferns and grass, like a
wild creature risen from its lair? Eleanor !
why don't you speak to me ? Why, when he
spoke of you by your name, did you not answer
for yourself Why did you send him to Jen
ifer? Oh! Eleanor; I feel there is something I
terrible and strange in all this. I cannot keep,
it to myself. I must tell my father. It can't
be right. It cannot be for any good that we
weta man lurking about, and not owned by
You, though he is hero to find you. Speak,
Eleanor! Now that I am in the great high
road I feel as if 1 had gone through a terror, I
or escaped some strange danger, or met a myys
tory face to face."
Lady Greystock spoke fast andin a low voice, e
and Eleanor, betiding alittle toward her, heard e
every word.
"You hare. met a mystery face to face," she
said in a whisper, which, however, was mufli
ciestly audible. "1 did know that man. And
I aut not denying that he sought me, and that
he had a right to seek me. But many things
have changed since those old days, when, if I
had obeyed him, I should have done better
than I did. I know what he wants; and Jeni
for can give it to him. Here we are at Blug
den; think no more of it, Lady Greystock."
No answer was given to Eleanor's words;
they met Dr. IBlsgden on the steps at the door.
"You are later than usual-all right t" "All
quite right," said Eleanor. "The beauty of
the night tempted its to come home through
Beremonth," said Lady Greystock. "'low
lovely it would 'ook on such a sweet, peaceful
night," said Mrs. Blagden, who now joined
them; and then Eleanor took the carrriage
wraps in her arms up stairs, and Lady Grey
stock went into the drawing-room, anid soon
after the whole household-all but Eleanor
were in bed.
Not Eleanor. She opened a box where she
kept her letters, and many small objects of
value to her, anud carefully sbutting out the
moonlight, and trimming her lamp into bril
liancy, she took out letter afte letter from
Henry Evelyn calling her his beloved one, and
hie wife; then the letter from Corny Nogent,
saying that llenry Evelyn and liorece Erekine
were one; and the one thing that Corny I',
gent had sent to her as evidence-it seenae, to
be proof sufloient. It was a part of a letter
from Horace to hise uncle, Mr. Erskine, which
had been flung into a waste-paper basket, and
which, having the writer's siglnature,, Corny
had kept and sent to Eleanor. Not, as he said,
that be knew the man's handwriting, but that
she did; and that, therefore, to her it would
have value as proving or disproving his own
Elelaor had never brought this evidence to
ptoof. She had lad i by Corn"' letter, and the
inclosure. She had putt it all aside with the
weight of a dread on her mind, and "Not yet,
not yet," was all she said aos she locked away
both the aessortion and the proof.
Biut her husband was at Beremouth no-.
Yes; and on what errand She knew that
Mrs. Brewer haId called that mmrning to see
Ladly Greystck. Mrs. Brewer had come herself
to tell Claudia that lMary would arrive, and
that IHor;ace nold bring hecr. She wouli itot
trust any ote but IIreI Ito give tithat In:orll:
t'oni. Shi ntvei r h0 t g, th, i It.l tI ' lirce ha -
lllir ll.C~ M .' l lI a . ·i, 1
are trules aud remain truth8 for ever, though
reason has never proved them or investigatln
explained them.
Then, too, there wault drlter's letter, which
Mrs. Brewer bad sent to Father Daniel-.
There the passing fany for Claudia had been
spoken of. In that letter the love of money
had peeped onut, and supplied the motive; dut
Mrs. Brswer knew very well that Claudia
disposition *as not of a sort to have any ae
qeaintanoe with pssing faucles. If she had
Ive Horaes ebe hadloved with bher whole
heart; and it she had been deceived in him,
her whole heart had suffered, and her whol
life been overcast.a "Mother Mary" had felt to
some purpose; and now, only herself should
may to Lady (reyetoek that he was cmming
among them again.
She had arried at Blagden and she had told
Claudia everything ; what Horaee wished as
to Mary, and what her sleter and Mr. Erskine
desired; and she had not hidden her own un
willingness to lose her child, or her own wish
that Mary might have married, when she did
marry, some one more to her mother's mind,
and nearer to her mother's house. And it was
in remembrance of this conversation that
Lady Greystock, when she took Jenifer into
the carriage, had said: "If you over pray for
my father, and all he loves, pray sew ?"
Something of all this had been told by Lady
Greystoek to Eleanor. And in the time that
the aunt and niece had been together that day,
Eleanor bad said to Jenifer, "He is down at the
park wanting to marry Miss Lorimer."
Jenifcr's darliug-Jenifer's darling's darling;
bow she loved "Mother Mary," and Lansdowne
Lorimers's child, only her own great and good
heart knew. What could she do but go to
God, and his priest ? What human foresight
could have prevented this f What human wis
dom could set things right And after all they
did not surely know that Eleanor's husband
and Claudia's lover were met in one man, and
that man winning the heart of lovely, innocent
Mary Lorimer, and pressing marriage on her.
But for her prayer, Jenifer used to say, she
should have gone out of her mind, Oh, the
comfort that grew out of the thought thaf God
knew! and that her life and all that was in it
were given to him. Such a shifting of respon
sibility-such a supporting sense of his never
allowing anything to be in that life that was
not, in some way, for his glory-such practical
strength, such heart-sustaining power, grew
oueat ot Jenifer's prayer that even Eleanor's
numbed heart rested on it, and she had learnt
to be content to live, from hour to hour, a life
of submission and waiting.
But was the waiting to be over now t-was
something coming? if so, she must be prepar
ed. And so, diligently, by the lamp-light,
Eleanor produced her own letters, and opened
that torn sheet to compare the writing. It
was different in some things, yet the same.
As she gazed, and examined, and compared
terminations, and matched the capital letters
together, she knew it was the same handwrit
ing. Time had done its work. The writing of
the present was firimer, harder, done with a
worse pen, written at greater speed. But that
was all the change. She was convinced; and
she put away her sorrow-laden store, locked
then, safe from sight, and said her night pray
ers and went to bed. Not a sigh, nor a tear.
No vain regrets, no heart-easing groans. The
tine for such consolation had long been passed
with Eleanor. Within thelastnineyears herlife
had us muclh changed as if she had died and
risen again into another world of iintermediate
liial. A very great chance had been wrought
ini her Ly Lady tireystock's friendship, Elea
no.r had become educated. The clever, poeti
cal girl, who hail won Hlorace Erskine's atten
tion by her natural superiority to everything
around her-even when those surroundings
had been of a comparatively high state of cul
tivation, had hardened into the industrious and
laborious woman. When it pleased Lady
Greystock to hear her sing, in her own sweet,
untaught way, the songs of her own country,
she had sting them; and then, when Lady
Greyetock had offered to cultivate the talent,
shehad worked hard at improvement. She
had been brought up by French nuns, at a
convent school, and had spoken their language
from childhood; when Lady Greystock got
French books, it was Eleanor's delight to read
aloud; and she had made Mrs. Blagden's two lit
tle girls almost as familiar with French as she
was herself. Those things had given rise to
the idea that Mrs. Evelyn, as she was always
called, had seen better days; and no one had
ever suspected her relationship to Jenifer. Mr.
Brewer alone knew of it. As to Mr. Brewer
ever telling anything thateould be considered,
in the telling, asa breach of confidence, that
was, of course, impossible.
That night-that night so important in our
story, Jenifer, having done all her duties by
her mistress, which were really not a few, and
having seen.thut the girl whodid the dirty
work was safe in the darkness of a safely put
out candle, opened her lattice to look oni the
night. Her little root had a back view. That
is, it looked over the flagged kitchen court,
and the walled-in flower garden, and beyond,
toward the village of Blagdon and the majestic
woods at the back of the house at Beremouth.
Jenifer had gone to bed, and had risen again,
oppressed by a feeling that something was, as
she expressed it. " going on-something doing
somewhere-' something up,' as folks say, sir.
I can't accounot for it. I fancied I heard some
thing-that I was wanted. And I thought at
first that some one was in my room. Then I
went into mistress's room, without my shoes,
not to wake her. She was all right, sleeping
like a tender babe. Then I went to Peggy's
room. The girl was asleep. I sniffed up and
down the passage, just to find if anything
wrong in the way of smoke or fire was about.
No; all was pure and pleasant; and then I
went down stairn to make sure of the doors
being locked. Everything was right, sir "
such was Jenifer's account to Mr1. Brewer
who, when she paused at this point, aske(
" What next did you do Did you go up stairs
again to bed ?" "I went up stairs," the woman
answered," but not to bed. I sat at the window
and looked out over the garden, and 6ver the
meadows beyond the old bridge, and on to
Ileremouth. And the night was the brightest,
fairest, loveliest night I ever beheld. And so,
sir. I said my prayers once more, and went
again to bed; and slept in bits and snatches
fur still I was always thinking that somebody
wantedme, till the clock struck six; and
then I got np." " ou don't usually get up at
six, or be fore the girl gets up, do yos r" * No
sir; never Imay say. But I got up to ease
my mind of its burthens. And when Peggy
had got uip, and was down stairs, I started off
for thle almus-house; I thought Mr. Dawson
mi,: ne up to esay mass there, for it was St.
Lawresneb's Day." " Well " " But there had
been no message about mas, and noprieat was
expected. And as I got back to our door there
was Mrs. Fell, the milk-woman. She had
brought the milk herself. I asked how that
should be. She said they had had a cow like
to die in the night, and that their man had
been up all night, and that she wa sparing
him, for lie had gone to lie down. Then
I said ' Why, I con ld never have heard any of
you busy about the cattle in the night,-you
see they rent the meadows. But, she said
they weroe not in the meadows; the boasts were
all in the shed at the farm. ' But,' she said,
' it's odd if you were disturbed, for a man
came to our place just before twelve o'clock,
and asked for you.' ' For me!' I cried-' a
mall st your place in the midldle of the night
asking tor me!' She said, * Yes; and a decent
spulkeu bodly, too. Bitt tired, anUd weot through
and thlrougiu. lie said he hadl fallen into the
Beremouuth deir pond, ip, in the park. That
is, hlie descrbedl tie plaone clear enough, and
weI kiiev It wa:s tIhI diler poal., for it could inot
,e naiywlai.e, e', '. " " Au.ii dd youn ae where I
tht, luau w it, t i "- N '' , , .. I lifted toy
• y"sid I .w hi.-" ".\ou ith, was he?'"
tb), Mu. iBrt'ur. it tuin|* al he a s ruirld [ . he -
i a i i tt n i  t tli'r: but 1 nm ot clear
r itz Kli u Iu.s lllt'.'"
Mr|'. I eu;str cl toui uut his catch and lookedi
at it. '" Is is nearly ten o'lck," he said.
" Whero's your mistress f"
" Settled to ber work, sir."
Mr. Brewer bold this long talk with Jenifer
in that right-hand parlor down stairs where
he had paid that money to Mrs. Morier, when
the reader first made his acquaintance. He
had great confdence in Jenifer. He knew her
goodness, and her patience, and her trust. He
new something, too, of her trials, and also
of her prayer; but he had come there to In
Svestigate a very serious matter, and he was
going steadily through with it.
"Lsten, Jenlfer'
" Yes, air."
" Last night, Jest after our prayers, Father
Daniels being in the house, my friend, Mr. Er
skine, who escorted my step-daughter, Mary
Lorimer, home, went out into the park just as
was supposed, to have a cigar before going to
bed. Mrs. Brewer and I were in Mary's room
when we heard Mr. Erakine leave the house.
He certainly lighted his cigar. Mary's win
dow was open and we smelt the tobacco. Jen
ifer, he never returned."
They were both standing and looking at
each other. " My life, and all that is in itl"
Up went Jenifer's prayer, but voi.elessly to
heaven. " My life, and all that is in it!" But
a strong faith that the one terrible evil that
her imagination pictured would not be in it,
was strong within her.
" He never returned. My man-servant woks
me in my first sleep by knocking as the bed
oom door, and saying that Mr. Erskino had
not returned. I rose up and dressed myself.
I collected the meon and went out into the
park" We went to the south lodge, to ask if
any one had seen him. ' No,' they said. But
the west lodge-keeper had been there as late
as near ten o clock, and he had said that a man
had been in their house asking a good many
questions about Bereumoutb, and who we had
staying there, and if a Mr. Erakino was there,
or ever had been there, and inquiring what
sort of a looking man he was, whether he
wore a beard, or had any peculiarity f How
he dressed, and if there had ever been any re
port of his going to be married f They had
answered his questions, because they suspect
ed nothing worse than a gosesipping curiosity ;
and they Bad given him a rest, and a cup of
tea. lie said that a friend, a cousin of his,
had lived as servant with Mr. Erskine; and
he also asked if Mr. Erskine would be likely
to pass through that lodge the next day, for
that he had a great curiosity to see him. lie
said that he had known him well once, and
wanted greatly to see him once more. He, af
ter all this talking asked the nearest way to
Marston. lie was directed through the park,
and be left them. Our inquiries about Horace
Erakine having been aaswered by this history
told by one lodge-keeper to the other, we could
not help suspecting that some one had been on
the watch for the young man, and taking
Jones from the lodge, and his elder boy with
as, we dispersed ourselves over the park to
seek for hint, a good deal troubled by what we
had heard. We got to the deer pond, but we
had sought many places before we got there;
it did not seem a likely place for a man to go
to in the saummernight. We looked abont-we
went back to get lanterns-they were neces
sary in the darkness made by the thick foliage;
one side was bright enough, and the pool was
like a looking-glass where it was open to the
sloping turf, and the short fern, which the deer
trample down when they get there to drink ;
but the side where the thorns, hollies, and
yew-trees grow was as black as night; and yet
we thought we could see where the wild
climbing plants had been iulled away, and
where some sort of struggle night have taken
place. As we searched, when we came back,
we found strong evidence of a desperate en
counter; the branches of the great thorn-tree
were hanging split from the stem, and, holding
the lantern, we saw the marks of broken
ground by the margin of the pond, as if some
one had been struggling at the very edge of it.
Then, all at once, and I shall never understand
why we did not see it before-the moonbeams
grew brighter, I suppose,-but there in the
pond was the figure of a man; not altogether
in the water, but having struggled so far out
as to get his head against the bank, hid as it
was with grass and low brush-wood, the ferns
and large-leaved water-weeds; we laid hold of
the poor follow- it was Horace Erakine, Jeni
" My life antd all that is is it !" But the hope,
the faith, rather, was still alive, that that
worst grief should not be in it-so she prayed
-so she felt-poor Jenifer. " Master." she
gasped, " not dead-not dead-Mr Brewer."
iNot dead!" he said gravely; "he would
have been dead if we had not found him when
we did. Ile was bruised and wounded; such
a sight of ill.treatment as no eyes ever before
beheld, I think. lie must have been more
brutally used than I could have believed pos
sible, if I had not seen it. His clothes were
torn : his face so disfigared that he will scarce
ly ever recover the likeness of a man, and one
arm is broken." " But not dead 1" " No"
but he may die; the doctor is in the house,
and the police are o-st after the man whom
we suspect of this horrible barbarity. Now,
Jenifer, hearing some talk of a stranger who
seemed to know you, I cause here to ask you
to tell me, in your own honest way, your hon
est story."
But Jenifer seemed to have no desire to
make confidences.
" Who told you of a stranger f"
" Have you not told nme yourself, in answer
to my first questions, before giving you my
reasons for inquiring?"
" No sir; that won't do. I judge from what
you said that you had heard something of this
stranger before you came here."
" I had, Jenifer.' And Mr. Brewer looked
steadily at her.
" Well, sir I"
"Jenifer, I have really come out of tender
ness to you, and to those who may belong to
"No one doubts your tenderness, sir; least
of any could I doubt it. Tell me who men
tioned a stranger to you, so as to send you
here to me f"
" Lady Greystock's groom, coming to Bere
mouth early, and finding us in great trouble
made a declaration as to a stranger who had
appeared and stopped his mistress as she was
driving through the park last night. He says
this man asked if they could tell where Mrs.
Evelya lived, and Mrs. Evelyn immediately
answering, said that she lived somewhere in
the neighborhood, and that he could learn by
inquiring for you. The groom says that the
man evidently knew Mrs. Morier's name, as
well as your name; and that after speaking
to him, Mrs. Evelyn asked Lady Greystock to
drive on, and that she drove rapidly, and nev
r spoke till they had almost got back to
" It is quite true." said Jenifer. "He told
me the same story this day."
"Can you say where this man is t He will
be found first or last; and it is for the sake of
justice that youn should speak, Jenifer. The
police are on his track. Let me entreat you to
give me every information. Conoesalment is
the worst thing that can be practised in such
a case this-have yon any idea where he is?
I do not ask you who he is; -on will have to
tell all, I fear, bsefore a more powerful person
than I an. I only come as a friend, that you
may not be induced to conceal the evildoer."
i The evil-doer," said Jenifer '" who says he
"I say he will be tried for doing it; and
that a trial is good for the innocent in such a
case of terrible sospicion as this."
" May be," said Jcnifer, may be !"
Then, once more, that prayer, said from hier
oryn hIeartl tI hsosugh nI?'.ipOkeCi by her lips; aBid
theu ituhve qsiet word,-" .Xulli as to the ilaU
hiilsutlf. lie is my Irotle-r. My iiother'sa
clhihl by her u-cind ihush, id." " Yo'r brother
--hle with waho:m Eleauhor livedl inl Ireland f"'
' Yus, Mr itrowver; hle ef c-hlius I tolhi you
lwhen yiu .avdl Elealnr so lsuany years ago.
Aid as to whcre he ic-step into the kitcher,I
L sir, d you mayne se bim iug In a catsi
by the ke-anu way, left mi there, when I
eamn to open the doer for you."
ir Mr. Brewer'bad really cometo Jenifer in a
b perfeetl friendly way; esxotly as be had said
n -out of tenderness. He had known enough
e to send bhim there, and to have those within
sr oall who would secure this stranger whoever
e he was, and wherever he -was found. Now,
o known, be walked straight into the kitchen,
i- and there stopped to take a full view of a man
a in a leathern easy chair, his arm resting on
Jenifer's tea-table, and sound asleep. A finer
man eyes sever saw. Strong in figure, and in
face of a remarkable beauty. He was san
r burat; having pulled his neckcloth off, the
skin of his neck showed in fair contrast, and
y the chest heaved and fell as the strong breath
a of the sleeper was drawn regularly and with
a healthy ease. It was a pioture of calm rest;
a it seemed like a pity to disturb it. There
6 stood Mr. Brewer safely contemplating one
who was evidently in a state of blissful un
- conscionsness as to danger to others or him
"Your brother?' repeated Mr. Brewer to
Jenifer, who stood stiff and upright by his
"My half-brother, James O'Keefe."
"There is some one at the front door, will
you open it 1''
Jenifer guessed at the personage to be found
r there. But she weat steadily through the
front passage, and, opuoing the door, let the
I policeman, who had been waiting, enter, and
then she came back to the kitchen without ut
a tering a word. As the man entered, Mr. Brewer
f laid his hand on the sleeper's shoulder and
t woke him. lie opened his line gray eyes, and
looked round surprised. " On suspicion of hav
ing committed an assault on Mr. Horace Ers
r kino last night, in the park at Beremouth,"
I said the policeman, and the stranger stood np
a prisoner. He began to speak, but the police
man stopped him. !' It is a serious case," he
a said. "It may turn out murder. You are
warned that anything you say will be used
against you at your trial." "Are you a mnagis
I trate, sir1" asked O'Keefe, as he turned to Mr.
Brewer. "Yes, I am. I hope you will take
the man's advice, and say nothing,"
"But I may say I am innocent."
"Every word you say is at your own risk."
"I run no risk in saying that I am introccut
-that I never saw this Horace Ersdine last
night-though if I had seen him-"
"I entreat you to be silent; you must have
a legal adviser."
"I! Who do I know !"
"You shall be well looked to and well ad
vised," said Jenifer. "There are those in this
town, in the offlce where Lansdowne Lerimer
worked, who will work for me."
It was very hard for Mr. Brewer not to pro
mise on the spot that he would pay all pos
sible expenses. But the recollection of the
disfigured and perhaps dying guest in his own
house rose to his mind, and he had a pailful
feeling that he was retained on the other side.
However, lie said to Jenifer that perfect truth
and sober justice anybody might labor for in
any way.' And with this sort of broad hint he
left the se, an Jeuifrsaw te stranger
taken off in safe custody, and, mounting his
horse, rode toward Blagden. lie asked for his
daughter; and he was instantly admitted, and
shown np-stairs into ,her sitting-room. There
he found Claudia, looking well and happy, en
gaged in some busy work, in which Eleanor
was helping her.
" Oh, my dear father !" and Lady Greystock
threw the work aside and jumped up, and into
the arms that waited for her.
It was always a sort of high holiday when
IMr. Brewer came by himself to visithis daugh
ter. When the sound of the brown-topped
hoots was heard on the stairs, like a voice of
music to Claudia's heart, all human things
gave way, for that gladness that her father's
great heart brought and gave away all round
him, to everrybody, everywhere--bnt there,
there, where his daughter lived--ther, among
the friends with whom she had recovered from
a great illness and got the better of a threat
ened, life long woe-there Mr. Brewer felt some
strong influence making him that which people
excellently expressed when they said of him
"he was more than ever himself that day."
Now Mr. Brewer's influence was to make
those to whom he addressed himself honest,
open and good. ie was loved and trusted. It
did not generally enter into people's minds to
deceive Mr. Brewer. Candor grew and gained
strength in his presence. Candor took to her
self the teachings of wisdom; candor listened
to the advice of humility; candor threw aside
all vain-glorious garments when Mr. Brewer
called for her company, and candor put on
forthwith the crown of truth.
"My darling !" said Mr. Brewer, as he kissed
Claudia, "My darliug!"
" Oh, my dear father--oy father, my dear
father!" answered Claudia.
Then she pushed forward a chair, and then
Eleanor made ready to leave the room. " Yes,
go, for half an hour. Mrs. Evelyn. But don't
be out of the way; I have a fancy for a little
chat with you to-day." A grave smile spread
itself over Eleanor's placid lace as she said absh
should come back when Lady Greystock sent
for her, and then she wont away. Once more,
when she was gone, Mr. Brewer stood up, and,
taking Clsaudia's hand, kiseed her. "My dar
ling," he said, " I have something to say, and I
can only say it tb yon-I have some help to ask
for, and only you can help me. But are you
strong enough to help me; are you loving
enough to trust me "
"I will try to be all you want, father; I am
strong; I can trust-but if you want to know
how much I love you-why, you know I can't
tell you that-it is more than I can measure, I
am afraid. Don't look grave at me. It can't
be anything very solemn, if I cdn help you, or
anything of much importance, if my helppis _
worth your having." .
" Your help is absolutely necessary-at least
necessary to my own comfort. Now, Claudia,
tail your father why you broke off your en
gagement with Horace Erskine."
"lHe did it"-she trenmbled. Her father took
her little band into the graspof his strong one,
and held it with an eloquent pressure.
" Ie wanted more money, father. It came as
a test. He was in debt. I had loved him as
if-as if he had been what yeou must have been
in your youth. You were my one idea of man.
I had had no heart to study but yours. I learnt
that lHorace Erskine was unworthy. He was a
coward. The pressure of his debts had crushed
hin, into meanness. lie asked me to bear the
trial and to i.ve him. I did. I did, Father "
" Yes, my darling."
He never looked at her. Only the strong
fingers clasped with powerful love ou the little
hand within their grasp. "But you were fond
of Sir Geoffrey I"
"Yes; and glad and grateful. I should have
been very happy-but-"
" But he died," said her father, helping her.
" But Horace sent to Sir Geoffrey the minia
ture I had given him-letters-and a look of
my poor carling hair-" How tight the ree
sure of the strong hand grew. "I found the
open packet on the table"-she could not say
another word. Then a grave, deep voice told
the rest for her--"And your honored hnsband'a
soul went up to God and found the truth"
nod the head of thie poor memory-stricken
daughter found a refuge on her father's breast,
and she wept theresilently.
"And that made yon ill, my darling; my
dear, darling Claudia-my own dear daughter.
Thank you, my precious one. And you don't
like Beremouth now."
"I love B-remouth, and everything about
it," cried Lady Greystock, raising her head,
nod gathering all her strength for the effort
hbt I dlare not see this man--and, I would
rather never look again on the deer-lpond in the
park, bccauslti there he spoke: there he prom
ised--t here I thog.hit ii I lift, was to be as that
atill pool, I 'up and overilowing with the waters
of hI lnp)in'u-s :ia d their lnnver-ceCij rniic.
1\V used to -o there every day. I hasve not
looked on it stuce--I could not bear to listen
to the rush of the stream where it falls
over the stones between the roots of the old
trues, between whose branches the tame deer
would watch us, and where old Dapple-the
deer old beauty whose ameo I have never men
tioned in all these years-used to take biscuits
from our hands. Does old Dapple live, father f
Dapple, who was called 'old' nine years ago t"
And Lady Greystoek looked up, and took her
hand from baer father's grasp, and wiped ber
eyes, and wetted her fairforeihead from a bowl
of water, and tried by this question to get
away from the misery that this sudden rdmurn
to the long past had brougbt to mind.
"Dapple lives," said Mr. Brewer. And then
he kissed her again, and thanked her, and said
"they should love each oeher all the better
for the confidence he had asked and she had
"But why did yea ask f"
"I want to have my lancheon at your early
dinner," said Mr. Brewer, not chosing to an
swer her. "You do dine early, don't you Int"
"Yes, and to-day Eleanor was going to dine
with me."
"Quite right. And I want to speak to her.
Claudia, something has happened. You must
know all very soon. Everybody will know. You
had better be in the room while I speak to
Eleanor. Let us get it over. But you had
better take your choice. It is still about Hor
ace that I want to speak-to speak to Eleanor,
I mean."
"I should wish to be present," said Claudia,
and she rose and rang the brll.
"Will you ask Mrs Evelyn to come to us I"
she said, when her servant appeared. In a
very few minutes in walked Eleanor.
"Mrs. Evelyn," said Mr. Brewer, 'last night
you directed a man to seek Jenife~ at Mrs.
Mtorier's house. That man was James O'Keefe,
Jenifer's half-brother. You knew him I" "Yes,
Mr. Brewer, I know him." "But he did not
know you I" "No." " He asked about you.
Why did you send him to Marstona " "Because
he could there learn all he wanted to know. I
am not going to bring the shadow of my trou
bles into this kind house." " That was your
motive?" " Yes. But I might have had more
motives than one. I thinkgthat was uppermost;
and on that motive I believe that I acted."
"That man was in the park. At the lodge
gate he had made inquiries after my guest, Mr.
Erskine. That man was at Mrs. Fell's the
dairy-woman's, at midnight. He was wet
through. He had, he said, fallen into the water
-he described the place, and they knew it to
be the deer-pond."
As Mr. Brewer went on in his plain, straight
fbrward way, both women listened to him with
the most earnest interest; but as he proceeded
Eleanor Evelyn fixed her eye on him with an
anxiety and a mingled terror that had a
visible effect on Mr. Brewer, who hesitated in
his story, and who seemed to be quite distract
ed by the manner of one usually so very calm
and so unfailingly self.possessed.
"New Mr. Erskine had gone out into the
park late. Mr. Erakine, my dear friends-Mr.
Erskine nercr came back !" He paused, and col
lected his thoughts once more, in order to go
on with his story.
" We went to seek for him. He was found
at last, at the deer-pond, surrounded by the
evidences of a hard struggle having taken
place there, a struggle in which le had only
jnst escaped with his life. lie has been ill
treated in a way that it is horrible to contem
plate. lie is lying now in danger of death.
And this morning I have assisted in the cap
ture of James O'Keefe, whom I found by Mrs.
Morier's kitchen fire, for this possible murder.
I should tell you that Mr. Erskine is just as
likely to die as to live."
(To be continued.)
C m mm mm mmm|
98............Gravier Street ............g 9
Landreth's Celebrated Garden Seeds.
I have a large and complete assortment of GARDEN
SEEDS In store, and am prepared to fill all orders with
promptness. I invite the attention of Merchants
Planter, Gardeners, and all in need of a Fresh and
Reliable Article.
- Also -
FRUIT TREES and SHRUBBERY furnished at Nur
sery Prices.
FERTILIZERS, of various kinds, at manufacturers'
Orders respectfully solicited. All communicatlons
wil receive prompt attention. Catalogues and prices
furnished on application. fela Im
27........... Commercial Place..._........'
Prompt attention paid to Purchasing and Selling o1
Property, Collecting Rents, etc.
Rent Bulletin issued daily.
Sale Bulletin issued semi.monthly.
Personal attention given to any City Property put tb
our hands. 8 22 ly
Oyster Saloon and Restaurant
Nos. 70 and 72 St. Charles street.
I take'pleasure in announcing to my friends and thb
public that I have opened a flrst-class OYSTEI
SALOON and RESTAURANT at the above place.
The bouse has been thoroughly repaired and fitted u1
in first-class st le
Ladies' and bentlemen's Saloon up satr.,
Allthe lnxurties o the seao.., such as OYSTERS
FISH. GAME. etc., will be served up In the beet style
The beat of WINES and LIQITO si always on hand
oci'?7 tm A. U. HERICON. Manager.
COTTON DUCK _gent. Mannsretnrers ofr ery D.
scrlption of TENT, TAKI'A .I[NS, AWNING(
etc., eto Dealers in all L mLe and Qualities of
CHASE BLOCKS, all sies.
Wolesale and Retal Dealers in Bunting or Flags,
aUll colors and qualitles.
Flags of all Nations made to order and on hand at at
We pay especlal attention to getting up In ant
de r style or fnish fine SILK FLAGS or BANNERI,
Our faciites and long experience in bnslnas Jeluifm
us l offering ur services to all requlirlng anythling i
our line, and our work shall be First Rate and ons
prices qlite moderate.
107 ................ Pojdras atreet.................. 10
an' 72 Iv Between Camp and Marasulo
246........... CANAL STREET......... --246
v14721,- I,rART.Trn1I IN" 1+40.
The attenti,o oi traveler, Im called to this iurle, coin
mol a aio'ull [ elegant iu.arelug luu.i e. nshiw h Jo lrlatiilv
oppuaitoe lKt I l4tltlic i;tlti"l ant C~flcttct tin Ith
Itairoad nIpe . 'The Far s alays of the best illi
ma. ih+.' ,and the ry:us ..ar.alwys ery . ouera:e
imyI67 lyI
Great Award of the Highest Sales,
And have left all rivals far behind them, which Is do
MACHINE over all others.
The Returns of the Twenty-FPlve dierent Sewn
Machine Companies, for the year 1871, show the
Number of Machines Sold to be.. 610,19
Of' which the Singer sold ....... 181,2
show a like result,'
Out of 2941 Machines Furnished, 2427 were
Singer Machines.
The Applicant in every case designated the kioe
Machine desired.
There are now 800,000 Singer Sewing
Machines 1ri Daily Use.
Call and Examine, or Send for Ciroulai
and Sample of Work.
MACHINE T WIST, of all colore, andeon all size spools
spools, at wholesale and eitail.
89 ......... Canal Street..........
*j1y 71 IV New Orleans.
172............. Poydran Street ............ 172
Bewtween St. Charles and Carondelet. New Orleans.
Constantly ou hand a large assortmentof FI[NE HATS
of the latest style. Also, Silk and Casimers Iats.
Children's Fancy CAPS. ma 73 ly
S (Succeesor to A. MIoller.)
10o...........ST. s. CHARLES STREET...........I
Under Murphy's Hotel, oew Orleans.
Personal atlention paid to all orders. Keeps e-
staotlv on band a bols aasrtment oe Hatsr oe13721Y
50................Camp Street............ ..
del 7 2 l Over the Germanal Bank.
Gives speclaLattention to saving of the natural tee'h.
Artifcial Teeth inserted with or without extractingth
ootls. krices within the reach of all.
Troth extracted without pain. oe1372 17
156 ..........St. Charles Street ..........
pI8 7" ely rner Glrod.
ORGANS..................... ....ORGANS
The new Organ of the Holy 'Trinity Churoch. Third
District. New Urleans, which was built by G. WeInriCh
& Brother, Organ Builders, St. Louis, Mo.. is, byls
handsome appearance as well as by its fullness and
weetne of tone, an ornament to saId church.
Meers. G. Welnrloh & Brother certainly dors0ati
be patronized by those In want of a good Olrgan.
New Orleaus. Feb. -!, lb73.
Referring to the abo~v, the understgned begs leave to
nform the Clergy that he attents to every branoh per,
taming to Organs. Orders may be left at G. GRUNE
WALD'S MUSIC STORE, Canal street.
mbh9 lm Organ Builders.
Established in 1847,
8 tperior Bells of COPPER and
TiN, mounted with the beet
Churches, Schbools Farms, Facto.
ri s. Court Houses, Fire Alarms,
T ,wer Clock Chimes, etc. Foully
Illustrsted Ceatalogne cent free.
102 and 104 East Seoo neatreet,Clnolnti'
L8. r. WEST Agene
mL9 73 ly 115 and 117 MaNaswne at.. New Orleans.
115 and 117 Magazine Street,
Poole & Hunt (Baltimore) Steam Engines, Sew BIs,
IL & r. ;l:.,- caneevil:Ec, Ohilo) Steam Engne,, 8sw
V.: Payne & Sone' (Cornlng, New York) Steam La
gline., Saw MLIls, etc.
'eorrge L Squer & Bro. (Buffalo. New York) Suar
flll, Hpcee Powers, etc.
E. Bail A Co. (Canton, Ohio) "World" and "Ohio" Mw
ne. and Mowers and Reapers combined.
b. •. Osborne a Co.. "Kirby Mowers, ete.
B. .. Taylor, Hay Bakes.
, chslt" r*na "Monroe" Pulverizing Harrows.
SEzoeleor" Lawn mower.
R. Bail & Co. (Worcester, Massachusetts) Wood.Work'
L B SIimth (Sithylle, New Jersey) Wood.Woring
Bmerican saw Company, rew York.
tubbard, Li pincott B kewell & Co., Says.
GCunpowder Copper Works, Baltlmore.
ellne. Plow Company. Plows and Cultivators.
Winship & Bro. (Atlanta. GeorgIa) Cotton Gins.
Stafford' Cultivator and .Sartley" and .Peel "Gang
'Buckeets" Foundry. Bells.
t. J. West's Cotton Seed Huller.
8. J. West's "Improved Felton Patent" Grist Mill and
Corn Cob and Shuck Crusher combined.
P. C. llsbet (Macon., Georgia) Cotton Proe Screw.,
E I ,
balon - 1

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