A CORSICAN VENDETTA.

Evening Star, Issue 7361, 5 November 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

A CORSICAN VENDETTA.

[By C. A. Gunter, the successful American playwright.]

CHAPTER XIX SATAN LAUGHS.

Lady Chartris having wasted the devotion of her ardent but aged heart on the youthful fascinations of that volatile attache of the German Embassy at Paris, Baron Yon Billow, his remark, as reported by Maud, together with that gentleman's marked and constant attention for the past few days to a young Hungarian countess, have disgusted the widow with the frivolities of Monaco. That lady and her family leave the Grand Hotel early next morning. . As Enid bids her good-bye, she whispers to her: "You are going straight to London ?" ~. , ... " Yes ! trust me to get out of this horrible country as soon as possible." "Then, if you are sure, take this," said Miss Anstruther, pressing into her hand a little packet, with these words: "It is for Burton. Give it to him immediately you arrive in London. He will call on you. I will telegraph your address. Tell him how I wiflh I could have gone with you ; but I must stay to see Edwin married." At the station, just prior to the departure of their train, a gentleman, with a foreign manner, noticing Lady Chartris and her daughter, suddenly starts and looks interested. He has apparently just arrived, being covered with the dust and stain of a long journey. After a moment's consideration he approaches them, and, taking off his hat, politely remarks: "You will pardon me. lam Count Danella, Mademoiselle Paoli's guardian. You are Lady Chartris. I saw you once in Nice, but had not the pleasure of an introduction. I recognise you by your charming little girl—Maud, is it not ?'.'

" Correct!" returns that young lady. "What can I do for you, Count?" says Lady Chartris, slightly surprised. "Marina mentioned in her letters you were the chaperon of her charming friend, Mademoiselle Enid. You are departing from Monaco—does the young lady and her brother go with you ?" " No! They are both at the Grand Hotel. But you will excuse me, Count I will miss the train."

Musso carefully places the widow and family in their compartment, glancing about to see that no one else is in their party, for he is a man who profers to be very sure on important points. Just as the train is going he suddenly asks, turning pale : '• Marina— Bhe was to meet me in Nice last night she was not there! She is well ?"

"Very well, and jolly happy," cries Maud, and would tell more, but the train carries her and her news away. "There is one thing about a kiss," said a Sentleman to his wife, "that makes life very ear to us men." " Oh, I know what it is," was the reply; " it's a pair of pretty lips." " Yes, indeed, and the satisfaction a man has in knowing that the lady's mouth is tightly closed for a short time." Poetry, a waxed moustache, mystery, long hair, and a sweet tenor voice will often make a woman feel as if there were only a sheet of tissue paper between heaven and herself; but it is the man with the wart on his nose and six figures in his bank balance who ecoops her in and makes her happy ever afterwards.

Jenkins (examining a pedigree hung in Snobson'B parlor): "So this is your family tree, is it ? And what is that gap in the middle ?" Snobson: '' That—er—well—it—oh, that is tho Flood !" " What comes after T ?" asked a teacher of a small boy who was learning the alphabet. "You do, sir, to see sister Josie." There was an audible titter among the more advanced pupils, which, of course, was quickly suppressed. Danella takes off his hat again, a peculiar smile of triumph in his face, and mutters: "He is not running away—Good ! Now, Marina will no longer refuse me my reward." Lady Chartris, on reaching Paris, thinks she might as well do some shopping, and loiters there, delaying Miss Anstruther's package, but postage stamps are much more reliable than friendship, when applied to the delivery of correspondence. Arrived at the Grand Hotel, M. Danella the register and verifies Lady Chartris's report, then goes to Ids room and makes an elaborately dainty toilet of the whitest linen, reddest neck-tie, and fcriqhteat patent-leather boots; humming to himself, in the wildest manner, a gay little French chanson with a quaint refrain,

"A Gibraltar! A Gibraltar!" After a verse or two of this, his face becomes very serious, however, and he communes with himself in a gloomy philosophical manner upon what his visit to Gibraltar has produced. On arriving at the great British station, he had soon discovered that three «xtra officers had sailed from there as passengers on board the Vulture to join their ships in Egypt, which easily accounted for their names being omitted from the list forwarded from the Admiralty office in England. They were Charles Marion Phillips, George Fellows Arthur, and Edwin Gerard Anstruther.

A little investigation assured the Count that it must have been one of these three men who fought the duel; as it would have been almost impossible for a regular officer of the vessel to have obtained shore leave at Ajaccio on the very morning of the ship's sailing. There are alwaye a large number of English men-of-war at Gibraltar, and information in regard to the locality and movements of naval officers is not difficult to obtain. Danella was soon en rapport with the room messes of half the British squadron. He entertained them on shore, and they invited him to dinner on board their shipß, He soon learnt that Charles Marion Phillipa had gone to the East India station, and George Fellows Arthur had been killed in Egypt on the Sealark. Mr Anstruther, he already knew, was on duty on the same vessel, which had just arrived from Nice. Mr Barnes, after falling in love with this last-named gentleman's sister, and probably meeting the young lieutenant in person in Nice, had suddenly exhibited enough interest in Marina's vow to call upon her, and, by delivering the message of her dying brother, attempt to induce her to relinquish her pursuit of the man who had killed him —a trouble he had never cared to take before. Probably the American had recognised this English oflicer as the one of the duel. Of the three passengers on the Vulture, Anstruther was evidently the man to be investigated first. Count Danella contrived to be invited on board the Sealark. At dinner he met Anstruther, and they soon became intimates, almost comrades; for Musso could make himself extremely fascinating when it suited his interest to be so. Edwin breakfasted with the Count, and the Count dined with him; and, when on shore, Anstruther sometimes spent the night at Danella's quarters. But, with all his art of conversation and tact at producing confidences, M. le Comte could never draw one word from the English lieutenant about the duel on the shore at Ajaccio. Musso dared not question directly, and so was compelled to look for circumstantial evidence, of which, after a time, Providence gave him all he wanted. Anstruther had received his leave, and had told the Count he ch'ould come on shore the night before hia departure for Nice and Monaco.

" You take your baggage with you, I presume, my dear Edwin?" remarked the Count.

"At first," returned Anstruther, "I had intended to let it go to England on the Sealark; it's much less trouble, you know. But, as I shan't join my ship again—she is to be paid off, and may be in the dry dock before I return to the Old Country—and, as my sister may keep me long on the Continent, I have decided to take it with me." '• Let's go on board now, and I'll help you

pack." " Much obliged, Danella, but I finished that before I came on shore." " Ah, you make me happy. Then you are here for the day. I shall not let you go from me now. Send for your baggage. Dine and sleep with mo here, and I'll see vou off in the morning." "I hardly like to refuse you, Danella, but I ought to bid good-bye to Harrison of the Rifles, and M'Dermot of the Marines; they're old friends, and you know I leave the service. This will be my last cruise, and .perhaps my last vkit to Gibraltar."

"You shall do both, my young English friend," cried the Count; " M'Dermot and Harrison shall dine with me too, and your last day of active duty shall end with a merry night!" _. „ Anstruther sent for his baggage. Danel a gave him mid his friends as delightful a little dinner as could have been obtained at the Cafe Anglais, Paris, for he was a connoisseur in all matters of the table; and as the Spanish wines were very heady and tiery, Lieutenant Edwin Gerard Anstruther, of the Queen's Navy, went to bed rather top-heavy and slept very soundly. The next morning the Count saw him oil on his road to Fiance ; but, as ho was bidding him good-bye, took a very peculiar squint at a valise among Edwin's luggage, and cried : " I may meet you at Nice or Monte Carlo, my boy ! So, an revoir /"_ After running this through in his mind, Danella's face becomes very serious, and he mutters to himself: " What a pity—he's such a fine fellow—but all for love. Now that I have fulfilled my promise, my little dove cannot be unkind to her Musso. But how to finish the affair? Corsica's the place. All Englishmen are sportsmen. I'll invite him to a moufflon bateau ; Marina shall shoot a sheep, and then— Voila!' This exclamation he fires out of his mouth like a pistol shot, bursts into a merry laugh, rings the bell, and says to the answering servant: "My card, for Mademoiselle Paoli. In his intercourse with that young lady M. Danella employs a great deal of stately ceremony, which she demands and he tenders very willingly, as he is in every way careful of his fair ward's good name. The small proprieties of life the Count observes ; but to gain Marina, big ones are bagatelles. "Mademoiselle Paoli will receive Monsieur," says the servant, returning, and with that shows him to Marina's parlor. At the door Danella pauses, almost trembles, passes a handkerchief over his | throbbing temples to wipe from them the j moisture of intense nervous excitement, then j suddenly a flash of longing anticipation makes his delicate features radiant. He i mutters to himself, with almost a sarcastic [ smile :" At la&t, Musso, you old fool!" and opens the door that keeps him from the happiness he thinks he has won. Since she has read his name upon the card, Marina has been thinking "What in his wild disappointment will this man do?" She knows Danella's nature too well to suppose that he will let his dream of existence be plucked from him in the moment of realisation without a fierce struggle, and perchance, if it comes in his way, a cruel revenge. It is the last that makes her feather guardian. He may toll Edwin of her vow may prove her ministry in the Egyptian hospital was that of a hypocrite, not a saint. She knows the opinion that Gerard has of all deceit; this makes her tremble. But here her great love rises up in her and gives her courage to destroy any i hope the Count may have, and to battle any plan he may devise to separate her from the I man she adores.

When Musso opens the door he sees a woman divinely beautiful; for the great happiness of the last two days has left its reflection on her face, which is pale but beaming with courage and resolution.

She comes towards him, holding out a hand that trembles a little as he kisses it. He exclaims: "Ma belle, what witchery in the joy of the roulette table to make such a change? No more the drooping Niobe of Nice; you are the Venus of Monte Carlo. As all things come to them that wait, so lias my triumph come to me. We have your enemy. And, when all that is over, you will keep your promise?" and would take her in his arms.

But she struggles from him and cries " Never.'" in a voice that makes him pause.

"You hardly understand me, I think," he says, after a moment, growing very pale. " Beautiful one, you surely remember some time ago you gave me a promise—perhaps not in words, but still I think we understood each other—that when I had given you vengeance you should give me love, and consent to make your Musso happy, who has but one hope, and that hope you !" "Don'tremind me !" says Marina, getting as pale as he is. " My glorious news has excited you ; you are trembling, but the eyes of love are not blind ; I can see you are happy." " I hope to be," murmurs the girl, "if you will but let me." "Will not I! Count on Danella ! I can place my hand on the object of your vow. By my aid you will be able to look on the tomb of your brother and be not ashamed. You can cry, ' Antonio! Rest in peace! Your sister did not forget your wrongs ! She is a Corsican !'" The enthusiasm of his manner and the &lan of his speech for one instant make her the Marina of old, and she takes up the strain, whispering with a hoarse voice, "When the murderer of my brother lies dead at my feet, then, who can sing the Rimbecco to me—then, who can reproach ?" As she says this, Marina stands as if still a priestess at the altar of vengeance. But the next moment shuddering, she sobs : " Have I not conquered my hate for his love ? Know that the vow of the Vendetta, died in me two nights ago ; that my brother's assassin, were he helpless before me.now, is safe."

"Are you crazy?" asks the Count, becoming even paler than before. "Not now, but I was! Thank Heaven my eyes are open ! I have confessed ! lam absolved ! I sin no more ! "

" And you renounce the vow of your life for a dogma of the Church ?" he falters. " For more ! For my happiness ! For my love ! I hated, and was accursed—l love, and am happy !" As she says this the Count sees an expression ooine into the girl's face that was never there before ; his heart becomes very heavy. " You love ?" he gasps. "Love? I adore ! "

"It cannot be ! No one could help you in your vow as I can. This—this man will not be the slave of your hate as I will—he cannot love you well enough for that." "Thank God! No!"

" Ah! He is some thoughtless boy who will make you his handmaiden ; who will not worship you like Danella, who has seen you grow up to be beautiful; who has learnt to love your graces as you became the fairest upon earth. Pity me ! I have only you." With this he falls at her feet, and with the extravagant gestures of the Latin race, bathes her hands in tears and dries them with his kisses.

" You have been—very—very good to me all my life," says the girl tenderly ; for his despair moves her, and to this moment no man in the world could have been more considerate of her wishes.

"Ah ! you are beginning to remember at last. When as a child you cried for a bauble, who gave it to you ?—Musso! When 08 a woman you cried to Heaven for vengeance, who gave up luxury in Paris and ran half the world over that you might fulfil your vow?—Danella !—the man you are deserting for a stranger—the man whose heart is in your hands. Come, I will tell you who it is you are to say, and you will love me !" At this Marina gives a cry, and falters: " Don't tell me that! In mercy, not that." Then looking straight into his face with flashing eyes, shouts at him : " I forbid you! Dare to tell mo that, and I shall hate you ! Do you see that bare wall ? My, brother's picture is torn from it. If I have forgotten him, for love of this man, do you think I will remember you ?" Marina points to the place where Antonio's picture had hung until Anstruther had conquered her. Danella rises slowly and gazes at her for a moment, and then mutters in a broken voice: "You love him well enough for that!" Since he has been on his knees he seems to have grown older, his face has more wrinkles.

"I love him well enough to give up my vow for him; I love him well enough to make my life one that will do him honor," says the girl proudly. " Impossible!" "Impossible! Within the week I marry him ! '*

"Marry him? You forget I am your guardian. You are but twenty. By the hyr of France you must have my consent! I refuse it!"

"I have thought of that—the man I marry is not French; we will be married where French law does not prevail. You dare not drag me back to France ! I defy you." Marina utters this boldly. Danella sees she is resolved. For a moment his face is haggard with misery;

but, in another second, it assumes the appearance of profound thought, as he auks : " Tell me, is the man you love of a noble, honest nature ?" " Noble as a god ! "

" Then, Mademoiselle, my task is an easy one. I have but to go to this very noble gentleman and tell him that for the last year you have been hunting a human being, as you would a beast of prey, with murder in your heart, and, if In is the mau you say he is, his will hardly marry a Cor.sicau tigress." "Tell him that, and he will say you lie !" cries Marina, desperately. "I'll prove the lie; and then run him through the body for his insult! " remarks Danella, with a wicked look, which rouses the anger of the haughty girl. " You run him through the body?—you!" she laughs. " Why, he'd crush your little monkey frame as if you were a mosquito that had stung him. You prove to him I have an assassin's heart? I, who have been hia Angel of Mercy ! I, who proved to him a year ago in Alexandria by the bed on which he lay wounded that I was a saint! Go to him with your truth, and he'll kill you as ho would a dog. Here is his card. Go to him." "And Marina seizes one from her basket and hands it to Danella.

At the first pirt of her speech Musso had writhed with shame, at the last he standß in astonishment; and, as he glances at the name upon the card, he almost utters a cry of hideous triumph, bur., by a desperate effort, fights down the joy in his heart, and with an unholy light in his dark eyes mutters :" Edwin Gerard Anstruther! Is this the man ?"

" Yes," says Marina, who is now ashamed of her cruel words to one whose only crime has been that of loving her too well. " You have seen him—you know how noble he is. Forgive mo for loving him." "I will consider," mutters Danella. " You shall have my answer—to-day. Oh ! my God ! You shall repent those cruel wordsMarina." He gives a gasp of love or hate, or perhaps a mixture of both, and staggers from the apartment. "I repent them now," cries Marina after him ; for, though passionate, she is generous. But he is out of hearing. Were he within the sound of her voice, it would hardly convey meaning to his ears, for Musso Danella is holding counsel with Satan. There is a horrible agony on his face, but a weird, fantastic grin is convulsing his mobile Italian features, while from his mouth, hissing through his white teeth that are clenched in rage, there comes a laugh, such as is heard in Hades when some new crime, more cruel than ever entered devils' heads before, is invented, to make earth desolate and Heaven weep. CHAPTER XX. THE VALISE MARKED "G.A." A few hours after, Tomasso brings Marina a note, which reads as follows: Monaoo, May 21,1883. My Dear Ward : "Youlwve asked my consent to your marriage with Monsieur le lieutenant, Edwin Gerard Anstruther, if the English naval servio. I, as your guardian, hereby grant it, formally in writinpr, as I believe it ia thus required by the law of Fiance. Please believe me, when I Bay that I think your future huflliand a very fine, as well aa a very fortU'.ate gentleman. Tender him my congratulation!", and mention to lii-n th .t 1 will do myuelf the honor to call upon him thij evening to arr.ntre the necessary leirul preliminaries for your wcddinif. Wilh rfg>rde,as always, Your affectionate guardian, MUHIiQ Danklla. To Mademoiselle Marina I'aoll, Grand Hotel This, she shows, with beaming face to Edwin; for Marina feels that the last possible bar to her complete happiness is removed, and imagines that the Count has now made up hia mind to become reconciled to the !os3 of her, seeing that her affections are entirely and irrevocably another's. Enid, who was present, remarks, glancing at the note : " Monsieur le Comte must bo a very unceremonious sort of a gentleman." " Exactly the reverse ; Danella is punctilio itself," replies tlio Corsican. " Well! tkjft notefcdoesn't look like it. The guardian proposes to call upon the suitor. Edwin, here's honor for you !"

"You see, Musso and I became such chums in Gibraltar. He wants another bachelor evening out of me, I suppose, and I haven't many more free and easys left to me," says Anstruther pretending to give a heartrending sigh. At this, Marina nestles up to him and whispers " Do you regret Mi Adorato V "Regret that my great happiness is so near ine ? Regret that lam losing the mess of the Sealark and the wits of the United Service Club for your society ? Beg pardon at once for the insinuation, or, better still, I will inflict a penance !" He draws her to him, but Marina exclaims " Yon forget your sister ! " " Not at all!" laughs Anstruther. "Enid, would you kiss 'Burton, darling,' before me 'i" "The idea! I wouldn't kiss Mr Barnes at all!" " Since when ?"

" Since lie sent me this cruel telegram !" cries Enid. " I thought I'd astonish him a little, and so I telegraphed him : ' Marina is to be the bride, and I am to be the bridesmaid Guess why ?' And he answered : ' Don't send cipher without key—Write to me instantly—Your despatches have made me very anxious—Are you delirious ?' So dictatorial ! —' Write me instantly !' And so snippy !—' Are you delirious ?' I'll show him whether I am delirious when I write !" " There's some mistake. He mentions despatches—what did you telegraph him before ?" says Anstruther suddenly. " When you promised to take me to England, of course I had not time to write, and so I despatched him this: I've got a copy of it in my note-book—' Edwin is here. We leave for London to-morrow morning. Meet me at Dover' and when you pretended to be ill I sent him : ' Detained on account of sickness —Don't be too much disappointed !' Lady Chartris also has a letter to deliver, but it isn't time for him to have that."

" Why, Mr Barnes's despatch is a great deal clearer than your telegrams, Miss Accuracy!" laughs Edwin. "Your 'Detained on account of sickness!' has made 'Burton, darling,' think you are ill, and as he knows nothing of Marina's engagement to me, that bridesmaid message seems like the ravings of a lunatic—My dear, I don't wonder he is anxious !"

"Then my stupidity has made him fear for me, the darling ! Yes, if he were hero I'd kiss him before you both ; " and, saying this effusively, Miss Anstrnther, who, in spite of her brother's happiness, is very lonely without the absent Barnes, goes away, leaving the lovers to themselves. That evening after dinner the Count enters Edwin's room with a hearty, jovial, off-hand manner that is too pronounced to be perfectly natural, and cries out: "Anstruther, mon ami, my congratulations! You see my au revoir at Gibraltar was a presentiment! we meet at Monte Carlo! Let us talk over our business, not as men of affairs, but as friends." '• Take a chair and a weed, Musso," Edwin answers, and, rising, gives Danella's slight fingers a hearty grip that makes him wince, then suddenly exclaims " What's the matter, my dear fellow ? You look ten years older."

" At my age railway journeys tell upon me, and from Gibraltar to Monaco is a very long one—that cigar is a good one," says the Count with a sigh, as he sinks into a chair in a lazy, nonchalant manner, though his eager dark eyes peer about the room with a restless gaze inspecting every detail. For a moment they seem disappointed, but suddenly rest with a peculiar and satisfied stare upon a leather valise, marked 6. A. There is nothing extraordinary about this piece of luggage, except perhaps that it is more battered, dilapidated, generally bursted up and ragged about the corners and edges than any other valise of Mr Anstruther's. Still, during the whole interview the Count may force his eyes to wander, but invariably they return to the old and dilapidated little dirty trunk covered with numerous way-bills, and seem to verily gloat over it. " You are a good traveller, Monsieur Gerard ; you lose no baggage on the road." "Not a hand-satxdiel. Though a beggar of a porter at Marseilles came near placing that one you are looking at upon the Lyon's train."

"Ah!" replies the Count, with a little start, " I am charmed, mon ami, that it did not escape you." He gives another furtive longing glance at the valise, and cries: " But to business ! You wish to marry my ward ? I consent. I would on general principles have preferred a Frenchman, but I fortunately know and respect you; and with

Marina, apparently, it is you or no husband at all." " No Frenchman would do more to make her happy, for no one could love her better," returns Anstruther, and he goes off into a long lover's rapture, at which the Count shrugs his shoulders and laughs, and finally cries : " You are an ardent boy ! " "Of course I am. I don't insult such beauty as Marina's by playing indifference ! I wish to marry your ward within the week." "You are impetuous! man fits! But I agree with you, as it suits my plans. I can see your wedding, render an account to you of my stewardship of Marina's property, turn it over to you, and be in Paris in time to attend to my own affairs. Good ! I consent! Now as to your finances ?" Here Edwin astonishes the Count by the settlements he proposes; for Anstruther, as the Master of Beechwood, is very well off, and, being very much in love, is inclined to be very liberal to hie future wife. In reply, the Count tells him that Marina would not be considered rich for an English girl; but, for a Corsican, is quite an heiress: and gives him an account of his ward's property, which shows that under the Count's careful management it has considerably increased in value and income.

In conclusion he says : " You will have to come over to Corsica with me, that I may surrender Marina's property to you, and make the proper settlement of accounts; also, that you may appoint an overseer to manage your wife's estates, and remit her income to England, for when Marina becomes yours I ceass to take further financial interest in her affairs, unless my advice is of assistance, when, of course, it is at your service. Now, to-day is Monday ;it is decorous and proper that my ward should marry you from my home ; she can thus get another look at her country and her island before she becomes a great English lady. The steamer leaves Nice for Bastia on Wednesday; by the next morning we are there. Then a short day's drive through the most beautiful land upon earth—through low hilfci upon the base of the Rontondo, through orange and olive groves and palm trees —in short, through Corsica in May ; and behold us at Marina's home ! On Friday, a Corsican wedding and then then you must look after your own happiness, which will doubtless be very great! Here Musso gives another squint at the valise marked G.A., but seeing Anstruther hesitating, continues quickly: " You can return on Tuesday by steamer to Marseilles; and I can scarcely imagine a more beautiful two or three days of early honeymoon than can be spent wandering with your bride through the woods of Bocognano, among tho romantic slopes of Del Oro, and the vineyards of Vivario. Tell Marina it is a last favor 1 ask, to see her wedded from her native village in a manner worthy of the last daughter of the Paolis—that on her nuptial day she may be a true daughter of ancient Corsica, and I do not think she will refuse me.''

"I accept for her, and thank you too," says Anstruther, giving him a warm clasp of the hand. "It is very thoughtful of you, Count. I can make the necessary arrangements as to Marina's property while there, and it will save me another visit to the island."

" Then it is a bargain. We leave by the Wednesday's steamer," crieß Danella. "Of course you will be my guest. Mine! Mine! all MINE !" Musso gives the last with a kind of hissing intensity. " Certainly ! I and my sister will be your guests.''' "Oh—ah, your sister—l have heard of her," remarks the Count, a slight cloud passing over his face. " Take me down and introduce me to Mademoiselle Enid, my dear fellow. You have a beautiful sister, you will have a lovely bride ; may you be happy !" Then Musso places his arm in Edwin's, and giving one last longing affectionate glance at the valise marked G.A., goes down stairs and devotes himself to Enid Austruther's service, making himself very agreeable to that young lady by several little anecdotes he tells of the absent Barnes.

" You write to him every day, I suppose ?" laughs the Count. " No ; but tonight I shall telegraph him all about our going to Corsica lor the wedding." At this, Danella looks as if in deep thought for a moment, and then replies: " Give me his address and I'll save you the trouble. I can send him our route, and ask him to join ns and be my guest." "Will you?" cries Enid. "I know I can trust you gentlemen of the old school; you are always so exact. It would make me very happy if ho wore with me in Corsica," and she gives Musso Barnes' address, not doubting that her sweetheart will receive the news next morning. But gentlemen of the old school are sometimes remiss; the Count forgets to send the message, and the American hears nothing of the Corsican wedding. Later on, Marina comes to Danella and says : " A word with you. You have been very kind in saying nothing to Edwin that could be unpleasant to me. He thinks it best that I am married from the home of my fathers. Igo on one condition." " What condition, ma belle? A handsome wedding ? It shall be in true Corsican style. You and your lovely bridesmaid shall be dressed in the costume of your island. It will be beautiful—and happy."

"The condition I make is that no one speak to me of my dead brother. Tell all the peasants in my village that I have not forgotten Antonio —my Heaven ! if one should sing the • Rimbecco' to me it would break my heart." " I will see to it," says Danella, shortly. "Thank you," murmurs the girl. " You have made me very happy. I should like to see my dear old island and the chestnut woods and the white torrent of the dear Gravona once more before I become English and. forget I am no longer a Paoli and a Corsican. God bless you, dear Musso." She seizes his hand and kisses it, and leaves him. After she has gone Danella repents—but only for a moment; for in the moonlight, as he stands on the balcony of the hotel, he sees Marina lass her lover good-night, and mutters to himself, with a groan of agony : "Before my face— Mon Dim! She has no mercy. Then why should J have pity ?" Wednesday, the morning of thfir departure from Mouaco, a young English tourist, Jones by name, oomes down in great, nasty, peculiar British rage to the office of the hotel, and says, with a drawling Cockney accent: "By Jove! I-ah have a-a complaint to make—the man who has the next room to me, No. 187." "M. le Comte Danella!" murmurs the polite clerk. " A count ?" cries the Cockney. " I-ah-thought he was an impressario or singing teacher, or something artistic. He had a queer-looking cove—that old chap that wears that romantic brigand costume like tenors sport in hop'ra." " Oh! Tomasso, Mademoiselle Faoli's servant," suggests the clerk. " Yes ;of course. There he is, with that peculiar sleepy smile—the one bringing downstairs that old leather valise. Well, curse me if the Count didn't give him a music lesson last night, and taught him the most 'orrible song I ever 'eard. I've been Btudying Hitalian, you know, and it had nothing in it but death and murder, and all that; the partition was so thin, that, blow me up, I thought I 'ad the nightmare." " You will be troubled no more, Monsieur Jones," says the clerk; " Count Danella and his party leave this morning for Corsica. There goes Mademoiselle Anstruther, the English beauty." " Ah! give me the dark-eyed one," returns the cockney; "the one stepping into the carriage. Oh Lud ! what an ankle ! And—awh ! did you see the look she gave the only Jones ? My Piccadilly hair catches these foreign gals." That evening the train from Paris brings to Monaco a young man whose costume and appearance shows hasty and continuous travel. It is Mr Barnes of New York.

In the hurry and bustle of lawyers' consultations and ocean cablegrams, that his settlements on Miss Anstruther necessitate, Enid's first telegram had given him a shock, for it told him that Edwin Anstruther and Marina Paoli were in the same hotel at Monte Carlo. The despatch about Marina's being a bride made him fearful, and he crossed hastily to Paris, there found Lady Chartriß, received Enid's packet, and learned that what he dreaded had taken place. Unsuspecting it, Marina was about to marry the man who had killed her brother; the man against whose life she had uttered

the vow of the vendetta. On such a subject he dare not telegraph, and the 7.20 express that leaves Paris on Tuesday night bears him as fast as steam can bring him, through Lyons, Marseilles, and Nice, and into Monaco, Wednesday evening. He hurries to the Grand Hotel and says in an unusually excited voice : " Take my card to Miss Anstruther !" The terrible errand he comes on crushes even the joy of meeting her. "Mr Barnes," replies the clerk, who knows him very well, " Mis.s Anstruther left Monte Carlo this morning together with her brother."

"For England? I missed them on the way." " No—for Corsica."

"For Corsica?" gasps Barnes, who has just received one of the few genuine sensations of his life. " Good Heavens ! for what ?"

" For Mr Anstruthor's marriage to Mademoiselle Paoli. Count Danella and that young lady left at the same time. The ceremony takes place on Friday, I believe, at the young lady's family estate on the island. Yon seem surprised." " A —little," murmurs Barnes. "I wonder they did not notify me." "I think they did, sir. I heard Count Danella ask Mademoiselle Anstruther for your London address in order to invite you to the wedding. They were standing within hearing of this desk, sir, on Monday evening." " What time did you say ?" " Monday evening about nine o'clock." Barnes knows he was in London that night till twelve o'clock : but his faculties are gradually coming back to him, and he returns: " Must have left there before it arrived. Which route did the party take to Corsica ?" " Their trunks were labelled Nice and Bastia.'' " And the steamer leaves Nice ?"

" To-day, sir, Wednesday ; 5 p.m." " Then I've missed it. All right," says Barnes. "Order a little dinner for me as soon as possible. I'll be back in a few minutes. No need to take my valice to a room ; I leave by the next train." He hurries to the telegraph office, and there discovers that no messages whatsoever were sent to him on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. Danella had taken his address to make Enid think he was notified, and prevent her sending him a despatch. He telegraphs to Nice, and finds the Bastia steamer has already sailed. It is half-past six now.

The more he meditates on the affair the less he likes it; for as he turns the matter over in his mind, Musso's significant words to him in Nice flash through his brain: "If we can lure him to Corsica and kill him there, Marina Paoli will be blessed by a native jury as the guardian angel of her brother's tomb!" They illumine and make distinct the outlines of the gloomy problem he has already formed in his mind.

Danella was using Edwin's love for the girl to entice Anstruther to Corsica, that, after his murder, his assassin might be safe. If Marina loved the Englishman, Danella would hate him ; if she did not love him, then she would have no compunctions in slaying the murderer of her brother—her creed taught her it was just. Whether she loves Edwin or loves him not, this horrible marriage must be stopped, he thinks, and sends via the cable to Bastia the following despatch ; Monaco, May 23rd, 1863. To Mies Enid Anstruther, On board steamer to arrive from Nice. Delay vour brother's marriiKO by every means in your power till I urrive. I initaed you in Nice, but will follow you to Corsic.x by very earliest possible vefset. If absolutely necessary, as a last Msort, show Edwin this telegram, and toll him that you know I would not take this stand unless it were vital. Uiirton 11. Barnes. This despatched, he has little time for thought, but bolts a hasty meal and goes down on the train to Nice. He soon discovers there are two more steamer routes open to him—one from Marseilles to Ajaccio, and the other from Genoa to Bastia, and by diligence to Bocoguano. He walks down to the harbor and sees a smart-looking felucca that has just discharged a load of fruit; asks the captain—a bright Italian sailor—in how long he would make the run to Ajaccio. With an ordinary wind, twenty-four hours ; with a fair one, perhaps eighteen." With reasonable luck, this is considerably quicker than either of the steam lines, whose boats do not leave for several days, will carry him to his destination.

Fie makes a bargain with the captain to take him to Corsica, and asks: " When can you sail ?" "To-morrow morning." "No use. It must be to-night—within the hour !"

"Impossible !" " Within the half hour and I double your money!" " I weigh anchor in fifteen minutes!" cries the captain, and he gets his ragged half-naked crew at work with a will; replacing one or two who are not within reach by a couple of loiterers on the quay. Barnes aids him with all his might, and, being something of a yachtsman, pushes the crew ahead, so that the little vessel is soon under weigh and heading for Corsica with every sail that will draw expanded to the light southern breeze. " And now," cries Barnes, " if you put me in Ajaccio by Thursday afternoon, three times the money I promised you, captain, and a doubloon apiece for every man and boy of your crew."

Inspired by the offer of this man they call the crazy American, the sailors work with a will; and as the sun rises in the morning a faint blue speck is on the horizon that the captain tells him is Corsica. But as the day comes up, the breeze, that has never been very strong, goes down; and soon the light vessel rolls upon the lazy swell of an unrippled sea, while the burning Mediterranean sun shines on the white sails that flap against the lateen yards, and the blue speck in the horizon ceases to become larger. All that night Barnes has kept his mind on but one thing, and that was to keep the crew up to their work, so as to get every particle of speed that was in the felucca out of her.

Now that further exertion for the time is useless, he begins to fear what may be the result of all this last miserable day has brought to him. They are taking Enid's brother to the land of the Vendetta, to murder him. What fate will come to the sister ? He knows the spirit and courage of his love. She is no girl to let the brother of her childhood be slain at her side and not do her utmost to save him—perchance dyiug with him or for him; what if they kill her too?

At this sickening thought his face grows deathly pale; he trembles as he falters to himself: " What if I have seen the last of her bright face? Could I live without her now ?" and with a groan Barnes sinks upon the deck, and gazing with bloodshot eyes at that far off speck of blue upon the shining sea, cries, " Oh, God ! for a little breeze TO CARRY ME TO CORSICA IN TIME !" (To be continued.)