66 those small, delicate hands had never been accustomed to labor — and the great delicacy and refinement of form and feature, bespoke gentle birth; yet why was she here? Truly our day had found a strange conclusion. Little Nannie had fallen asleep on the floor, with her apron drawn tightly over her head. She was sleeping the sweet sleep of innocent childhood, all unconscious that when she awoke there would be no gentle mother's hand to rest upon her head, no mother's voice to speak loving words to her. that spirit was even now entering, came a We leant over the young sleeper, smoothed out the tangled ringlets, kissed the pure childish forehead, and again renewed our vows to cherish the orphaned stranger thus unexpectedly thrown upon our care. We felt that we had taken upon ourselves a great responsibility, and knew that from this moment we must act in reference to the strange vow we had re We thought of the anxiety of our friends at the rancho, but concluded that the wiser and safer plan was to remain where we were for the night, rather than venture out again. Accordingly we began to make arrangements to that effect, but were startled by hearing heavy footsteps approaching the cabin, and before we could secure the door, it was hastily thrown open, and an old man stood upon the threshold. He wore a rough hunting dress, in his hand he carried a fowling-piece, and over his shoulder were thrown several wild birds and other game. For a moment he stood regarding us with blank amazement; then his eye wandered round the room, and fell upon the stiff, straight figure on the bed. With a deep groan he rushed to the bedside, lifted the covering from the face of the dead, and sank, in an agony of weep Long we stood gazing upon the face of the dead. So absorbed had we been in the strange events of the last hour, that we had forgotton by what chance we had been witnesses of that scene. When we again aroused ourselves, the twilight had quite faded away, and the full moon was pouring a glorious flood of light through the open door, and vine-wreathed window. We spoke of our singular situation, of the mystery which was thrown around the deathing, to the floor. "Gone! gone! and I. we had witnessed. Who was she, who had so gladly laid down the burden of life? Why was she alone in that wild place? That she had been tenderly reared, we knew her only friend, not here to receive her last breath! Oh! why did I leave you even for an hour? Yet, little did I think. this morning, that you were so near home. Yes, home; for if there is a Heaven above this troublesome world, thou art there. Heart-broken on earth, thou art now at rest in Heaven! Thy Savior did not deceive thee; His promises did not betray! Poor child! poor child!" "But," he added, springing to his feet, "is there no hand of justice to avenge thy death? Is there no God of vengeance, as well as of love and pity? Will not the wrongs of the innocent be speedily redressed ?" Say," said the old man, turning quickly to us, "did she not curse him with her dying breath? Did she not curse him who deserted her and that precious innocent, sleeping yonder? - but no, she would not do that. Oh! she was an angel; from an infant, when I carried her in my arms— ah! it was not long ago - I knew she was not one of earth. Yes, she was an angel, even when that devil won her to himself. Curses on but no, not here by her side; she died without pronouncing the curse I will not speak it here. Her husband! oh the mating of light with darkness! one of God's own angels with the veriest black-hearted fiend that ever cursed the earth with his presence. Nannie, my poor little Nannie, left worse than orphaned, worse than fatherless !" By degrees the old man became calmer, and we told him of her peaceful departure, and of our adoption of the lone child. "God never forsakes his own," devoutly exclaimed he; "'twas He who led you here. I know," continued he, "into whose hands my darling's child has fallen. I know you will be faithful to that solemn trust. Thank God! the birdling has some one beside old Bruce to provide for her; his hands are feeble, and soon the grave will close over them, but I can die willingly, now my Nannie is cared for." We were astonished beyond measure at finding ourselves recognized by the stranger, and eagerly sought to know where he had ever met us before. "Just over at the R ranch," he re plied, "I have often seen you, though doubtless you never noticed the old man who brought game to Mr. R — .” "Just over at Mr. R's ranch ?" asked Bell and I, both in one breath. "Yes," he replied, "it is not more than five or six miles from here, over the mountains, but by taking the road around, you became bewildered; indeed, it is almost a miracle how you ever reached here — but no, it is not wonderful, God led you here." We soon arranged that the old man should take one of our horses and proceed by the shortest route to R-'s ranch to relieve the anxiety of our friends, as also to procure assistance to pay the last duties to the dead. In less than two hours we had the satisfaction of grasping the hand of our good friend R- who had been out searching for us nearly all the afternoon, but had returned to the ranch after sunset for assistance to renew the search; and when old Bruce the only name he had ever given - arrived, the party was about setting off. Great was the surprise of Mr. R- to learn our singular adventure. He had often seen old Bruce, and knew where his cabin stood, but supposed he lived entirely alone, and could scarcely believe that the lady and child had been there some months. The old man would reveal nothing of the past history of his charge; her name, even, or in what relation he stood to her he would not tell, but preserved a profound silence, merely answering a few necessary questions. During that whole night he sat by the bedside, bis hands folded, his head drooping upon his breast, with such an expression of hopeless grief resting on his furrowed face as I had never seen before. On the following day the stranger was laid in her lonely forest grave. The beautiful smile still rested upon her pale lips, and the whole face seemed more like the face of an angel than that of a creature of clay, so soon to return to its native dust. Old Bruce stood by, silent and stern in his grief, while little Nannie clung to his neck, looking wonderingly into the grave, and cried to take her mamma back again. Death, to that young sinless heart, was a great mystery, as yet unsolved. the last!" His mind seemed wandering; grief had well nigh destroyed his reason. - Vainly did Mr. R endeavor to persuade the lone old man to make his house his home; he only shook his head sadly, and murmered that ceaseless "last! last !" Once more Bell and I stood within the cabin. Every thing was the same as when we last visited it, but the aged occupant was gone, whither none could tell. Weeks and months have passed away since that Tearfully we left that burial place, but as we walked away, a soft whispering in the air seemed breathing of "rest, rest;" the flowers, too, bowed their bright heads over the newly made grave, and smiled that no rude breath, no harsh sound, could enter that cold retreat, to waken the sleep-week's singular events, and the mystery er-she was at rest. We spoke of taking Nannie home with us, but her aged protector said, "Not yet; I cannot give her up now; in a few days I will come to you, and then -and then -Nannie is yours." He would not listen to our entreaties to accompany us to the ranch, so we reluctantly bade him adieu, and returned to make preparations for receiving the little orphan. In a few weeks Bell and I were to return to our home in the city, and Nannie was to become an equal charge to each. How many strange sarmises we had concerning her! Whose child were we thus taking to our hearts? Vain surmises; vain imaginings! The mystery was a mystery still. But were we ever to remain in doubt? Little Nannie never came to us. On the third day after the burial of her mother, she died; and with pale hands meekly folded above her sinless heart, the soft brown curls resting lovingly on her pale cheek, with wild flowers strewn around the little form, we saw her laid beside her mother in the shade of those solemn old forest trees. She too was at rest, even before knowing life's weariness; she rested even before the fierce battle of life began, and it was better thus. Uld Bruce looked the very picture of desolate grief. His form was bowed lower, his face was paler and more deeply furrowed, and his voice trembled as he kept muttering to himself, "yes, the last! the inst!" We could gain no reply to any question but these sad words, "the last! surrounding the characters who acted such important parts in those scenes, remains unsolved. Vainly has conjecture pictured, or fancy sought to throw some light upon the subject; but doubtless it will ever remain enshrouded in darkness, like hundreds of similar pages in the history of this beautiful country, this land of romance and mystery. Once since, I have stood at those two lonely graves. The tall trees still wave their branches above them; the soft sun. light still glimmers through the shade, and plays upon the turf; the air is pure and fragrant as when those two sleepers first lay down to their rest; yet there comes no answer to my earnest wish to pierce through the dark mist which surrounded that sad mother; to know whose was the hand to break the tender chords of that gentle heart; to know why the blight had fallen so early on that young and guileless spirit. But I can only drop a tear over the stranger's lonely grave, and sigh "to view the things in Heaven's own image made ly shade: Fading thus early 'neath the blight of sorrow's earthTo see the brightness and the bloom of the human And know that such things must be, till love and death are past." brow o'eroast; THE REDEEMED HANDKERCHIEF. BY CLOE. CHAPTER III. They soon descended to the parlor, where they found the door open, and Kate's shawl and bonnet on the sofa; throwing them on, she took Bently's arm, and they walked on for some time, until, meeting a cabman, Bently engaged him to take them to the mansion. On arriving there, he bid Kate good night, and returned to the city. Every thing was still at the mansion; all were at rest but the faithful Dinah, who waited for the return of her young mistress with the keys of her apartments. "Good Lord, missus! what has happened? You are pale as a ghost, you are!" "Nothing, Dinah, only I am fatigued, and am a little unwell." "There was sich a queer-looking fellow here, inquiring after you, said he wanted to see you, that I thought maybe that you had heard bad news from master." "No, Dinah, I have not seen any one. Did he tell you his business?" "No, missus, he said he would come in the morning." "Well, let me go to bed, Dinah, for I need rest sadly." Seated in her own room, Kate thought of the dangers she had just passed; oh, how deserted she felt, alone in that once happy mansion! Overcome with gloomy thoughts, accusing herself of all the misery of its inmates, half distracted with the prospects of the future, she pressed her hand upon her throbbing temples, and remembering her dying mother's injunctions, she took courage and sought comfort of Him who alone could comfort in such a trying hour; her prayer was heard and her peace was restored. The clock had struck nine when Kate awoke; she felt weak, but calm. She arose and dressed, and descended to breakfast. While trying to eat a few morsels of toast, the bell rang and Dinah hastened to see who was there. 66 Has your young mistress returned ?" said Jack. 64 Yes," answered Dinah. Tell her that I wish to speak to her." "Missus, that queer-looking chap has come that was here last night." Show him in the parlor, I will see him soon;" and finishing her breakfast, Kate went immediately to ascertain the object of his call, hoping to hear news of Charles or her father. Jack touched his hat and bowed in his sailor style. "You wished to see me, sir," said Kate. "Yes, madam, I do indeed; and I hope, sweet lady for I never saw a sweeter, not even a ship in full rig, sailing on a smooth sea, never looked handsomer-" "Is this all you have to say, sir?" said Kate, indignantly. "Do not be angry at Jack, for I am a friend to the Colonel, and would do you a favor if I knew how to tell you and shun the breakers. You see, Jack is not in the habit of speaking to such beautiful—” "Enough, sir, if you have anything to communicate to me, do it, and retire." "Well, don't think that Jack is an enemy. You see, the Colonel did me a great kindness for telling him good news about his son; he gave me a nice little sum of money" "Can't you tell me what you want without all this?" asked Kate. “Yes, lady, in a minute I will get at what I am driving hard for; you see, the Colonel made me a better man by his prayer and money, and now I've come to do you a kindness to pay him. Now you have it, my lady." แ 66 Well, what is the kindness ?" Well, you see, Miss Adaline is your enemy. She was going to marry Master Charles, and she has made public all he told her about his marriage with you, and that Bently is in love with you and that you were not displeased. I saw you riding with him last night, and I know what gossip will make of it, and Mr. Charles will call him to account when he gets home. You see, I was in hopes you would escape her malice, and I was coming to caution you last night when I returned. I was sorry to see you riding with Bently, and Dinah told me you had gone to spend an evening at Mrs. Milford's." "Would to God you had come before I went! But I have done no intentional wrong; I thought I was going to Mrs. Milford's, but I was deceived and taken to Miss Adaline's, for what purpose I am not altogether satisfied." "Before three days she will send vile re ports abroad, but if you are innocent, all will come out well." "God grant it may," sobbed Kate, com. pletely overwhelmed with grief. "Do not weep so, my young lady," said Jack, while the tears flowed freely from his own eyes in sympathy with the beautiful childlike figure before him. "Can I serve you, my young lady, in any way? let me know, and it will be done. If you wish me for any service, you will find me at the Sailors' Home, on Fifth street: so good morning." Kate sat stupefied with distress. "When, oh when shall I be extricated from this unmitigated sorrow? Great and merciful Father help me in this hour of trouble.” Her trouble was too much for her health, and she was barely able to reach her chamber, which she never left till after two weeks of distressing illness. Leaving Kate in the care of Dr. Toby, we will now take a look after Charles and his father. with, old fellow," said Jim, bristling up; if you give me any more of your slang, I'll treat you as I did that darned Yankee Allen, that I thrashed, and he is not yet out of bed, and it's more than three weeks ago that he dared to refuse to treat; so if you don't treat I'll smash that old mouth of yours." "Make up your mind, sir, I have given you my decision already." Jim made for the Colonel with clenched fist, and struck him a severe blow on the head. The Colonel drew his revolver, and in an instant, and before Jim had time to make a second blow, blew his head to atoms; then gave himself up to After leaving home, the Colonel's mind the authorities, giving bail for his apwas occupied with one idea, one object-pearance at Court, to be held in Jackson. his son. His health had suffered much from grief at the loss of his wife and brother, but much more at the thought of the obstacles in the way of the happiness of his children. On arriving at Memphis, Tennessee, he determined to proceed at all hazards in a private conveyance, and travel only as he could endure it. He had made several days' journey in Mississippi, and was within a few days' travel of Jack son, when, being tired and wishing to stop over night, he drove up to a miserable country tavern, that was more like a cow-lonel. shed than a house of entertainment. "Landlord," he inquired, "how far is it to the next house?" Ten miles, through them 'are woods." Ten miles! can you keep me to-night? I am tired and hungry, and it looks like rain." "Well, guess we can. We will give you the best we can scrape up." “Very well," said the Colonel, and leaving his carriage, he made his way into the hoase. He looked around in vain for a comfortable seat, but the only thing that presented itself was an old split-bottom chair, that had been occupied by Jim, a tall Mississippian, who had been entertaining the company with a bear and alligator story, which he had been engaged in last winter, in Texas. The room was full of listeners to his wonderful stories; all were more or less under the influence of liquor. "Come and treat, old fellow," said Jim, I've told yarns enough for a good horn, don't you think so, old hoss?" "Pardon me, sir, but I do not wish to be addressed in this familiar manner by a stranger, and I will not treat a man who insults me," said the Colonel, coloring with indignation. You don't know who you are fooling The Colonel reached Jackson, and by inquiry found that Charles would be there the next day; he took rooms and awaited his return. Having received a bad eye from the blow that Jim gave him, he called for a doctor to relieve him of his distress, and told him of his adventure with Jim. "He is the same bully that almost killed a fellow by the name of Allen, who is now at this hotel, and is so badly injured that it is doubtful whether he ever recovers." "Where is Allen from?" asked the Co "I think he was from Michigan, and I think he lived in Charleston, South Carolina, for several years; but I believe he is by birth a down-easter." "I would like to see him, doctor, for I think I know him." "I am now going to dress his wounds, and if you wish you can accompany me." "They immediately went to Allen's room; the doctor went in and told Allen that a Mr. McClure wished to see him. Allen gasped for breath, and in a faint voice said, Well, I suppose I must see him." The Colonel opened the door softly and recognized Edward Allen, but how changed! He held out his emaciated hand, which was finally taken by the Colonel. Allen was overcome with surprise at the friendly feelings of the aristocratic old Colonel. "I do not deserve such kindness from you, Col. McClure." "I know to what you allude, but you are weak now from excitement; say no more on that subject until you are better able to hear it, but be assured, sir, you will find a friend in the old Colonel while you are in need. I would only ask you if you have ever seen Charles since he has been here." "No, I have never seen him since I left Michigan that fatal evening." |