A CORSICAN VENDETTA.

Evening Star, Issue 7367, 12 November 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

A CORSICAN VENDETTA.

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

BOOK V.—THE CORSICAN WEDDING.

CHAPTER XXL THE HOME OF THE VENDETTA. “ Here the laud of the Corsican Brothers, and there” (pointing to seaward) “the island of Monte Christo. lam in the region of romance,” cries Mias Anstruther, as she is assisted on to the quay at Bastia by Danella. “ Have you a vendetta ot your own every day. Monsieur le Comte. “Yes, with breakfast,” returns that gentleman, giving a vivacious laugh. The voyage has been a pleasant one. ine Mediterranean all night has been placid as an inland lake; the ladies have suffered no uangs of sea-siokneas, and the bridal party are in the highest spirits, though Danella in appearance is the happiest of them all. Enid says to him“ You are so merry, one would think you were to bo the bridegroom, Count.” i At this, Musso gives a jovial chuckle, and replies gallantly: “ Ah, yes, Mademoiselle ! if you were to be the briue. Mon Die/u I if I were the absent Monsieur Barnes.” Here he gives a playful groan ; but being reminded by this that he has a little commission to execute, cries : “ Anstruther, take both the ladies on your hands for a minute ! ” then, as the party have already breakfasted on board the steamer, and are only waiting while the horses are being put to their carriage, Musso strolls to the little telegraph office, catching the clerk just coming out with a message in his hand. “I called,” says Danella, “to see if you have received a despatch for Mademoiselle Enid Anstruther or her brother ? They are of my party who arrived from Nice this morning.” “Yea, Monsieur le Comte,” replies the clerk, for Musso’s large possessions on the island cause him to be generally known. “ I was just going to try and deliver it. It is for the young lady.” “ Glad to have saved you your trouble, mon ami,” returns Danella, with a smile. As he receives the message be carelessly asks; “ Where did this come from ?”

“ Monte Carlo.” The Count checks a start of surprise and strolls back, muttering to himself: “Monsieur Barnes has caught a sniff of the scent. Monte Carlo ! If he had stopped in Nice en route from Paris he would have overtaken us. Behold the beauties of an analytical mind,” He gazes at the telegram, gives a little laugh, and goes on : “ Now, he cannot interfere till they are married ; and then— Voila, tout est fini." Every preparation has been thoughtfully made in advance by the Count. Fresh horses await the party at the post stations, and their journey through beautiful scenery of the lovely and romantic island—that, in May, is at its best and brightest—is a rapid and easy one. The baggage of the party follows in a waggon, upon the front scat of which sits old Tomasso, with the same quiet, sleepy smile on his uncompromising bloodhound face that it has worn ever since Dauella came to Monte Carlo. Beside him lies the valise marked “G.A.” For some unknown reason be seems—perhaps because the Count has requested him—to have taken a great regard for this dirty old piece of luggage ; for throughout the whole journey his eye rests upon it, and he carries it in person to the steamboat at Nice, and off again at Bastia.

All that day Musso, who is in wonderful spirits, at her request, keeps Miss Anstrother's eyes large with wonder at the wild tales he tells of Corsican love of family and hate of those who wrong their kindred. A little after they have passed Corte, he points out to her a house nestled in a vineyard upon the hillside and shaded by a few olive trees.

“Why! It looks like a prison!” cries Enid.

“ Yes,” says the Count, “ for fifteen years the proprietor of it, one Bel Messere, made it his fortress and left it neither by day nor by night; for Orso della Rocca had sworn against his life a vendetta. On the first day of the sixteenth year Messere ventured out from it, and within the hour was brought back a dead man. True Corsicans never forget their vows of vengeance.” He looks at M arina, who sits opposite to him, but her eyes cannot meet his, and she steals her hand into Anstruther’s as if to claim his sympathy and protection. “ What do you tell such frightful stories for, Musso ?” says that gentleman. “ Don’t yon see yon are frightening the girls ?” “Oh ! I think they’re lovely,” replies Enid. “ The people here must be quite like the cowboys Burton tells me about in Texas. A wild murder seems so romantic; you forget its horror in its picturesqueness. “ Perhaps if you had seen one, you might forgot the picturesqueness in the horror,” remarks her brother, shortly. At Vivario the party take dinner ; and as the ladies get into their carriage again atone peasant girls throw flowers upon them, for it nas become known that one of the Faolis has returned to be married from the home of her fathers. From this time on their drive is often interrupted by similar offerings; though, curiously enough, Marina seems uneasy under the ceremonies, and appears to rather shrink from and dread meeting her country people. Once two young women, passing them on the road, say something to each other in Corsican patois , at which the girl turns pale, Enid rather curiously asks what the peasants said as they looked towards the carriage. Musso liughing, replies; “Some oldfashioned maxim that makes a bride blush ; these Corsicans have the manners of England in the time of Smollet.” “ Then you needn’t translate, cries Miss Anstruther, giving a blush herself, for she has read Mr Smollet in the old family library at Beechwood. The Count’s remark would appear to be true, as Marina does not contradict it, but hangs her head as if she were ashamed. Her eyes have a look of anguish in them. AnHt.mt-.har would have possibly noticed this, but that gentleman is now seated with the driver, enjoying the scenery, and having discovered that Corsica is a wonderful place for game, is planning a trip with his bride to her estates the coming winter, where he Imagines he can do a little moufflon stalking and partridge shooting, and perhaps spear a wild boar or two in the forests of Calvi.

Nothing more of any great note occurs. Marina appears to have regained her spirits as they drive through the great larch forest of Yizzavona, and in the early evening, descending the beech-covered slopes of del Oro, enter the great chestnut woods, Musso cries; “ Bocognano at last! See, there is my house upon the hill. It is comparatively modern; I built it myself,” and ne points to a stone mansion that is but one ■tory in height, after the manner of all Corsican country dwellings, but otherwise follows the modern French style of architecture. “You all dine with me,” he continues, “and afterwards I take you ladies to Marina’s home, which, like its mistress, Is all Corsican, It is a little further down the mountain, and has a lovely view of the Gravona torrent.” In a few minutes they drive up to Danella’s country seat, the windows of which blaze with light in welcome. Every preparation has been made to receive them. Over the dinner Musso tells them his plans for the morrow. Anstruther, in true Native style, is to carry the bride away with the old-fashioned cavalcade to her church, and afterwards bring her back to the Count’s house, which he is to use as his own. * 1 And I th ink to-morrow,” concludes Musso, “that, Mademoiselle Enid, we will be able to show you something you have never witnessed before—a true Corsican wedding, at which we hope to see a true Corsican bride.” With this the Count gallantly fills his glass and drinks to Marina. . The young girl says nothing in reply to this; in fact, since Marina has arrived at Bocognano she has appeared to be depressed and gloomy, and to have lost all her bright vivaoionsness of the early part of the day. Enid, however, who has spirits for two, answers for her : “ The bride will be all Corsican, but wait until you see the bridesmaid’s costume, M. Danella; if lam not all Corsican to-morrow, there’s nothing in a dressmaker. Oh, how I wish Mr Barnes were here.” “ Yea I ” cries Anstruther, in great spirits, “Then we could have two weddings at pace, eh, Enid ? ”

Miss Anstruther makes no direct reply to this, but asks the Count: “ Don t you think it curious he never answered your telegram inviting him to the wedding ? ” , “ A little,” says Musso slowly, though Mr Barnes may be on his way to Corsica D 0“ But if so, he missed the steamer at Nice, and will be too late ! ” “ Undoubtedly—too late ! ” “Nonsense, Enid. Barnes is too busy fixing his business for his own wedding to think of any one clse’s ! ” cries Anstruther. “ Musso, come over to England a month from now ; be my guest there as I am yours here ; and I’ll show you one of our old country marriages from the little church at Beechwood, with a very pretty bride here he looks at Enid—“ and loveliest lady of the manor in all Britain to preside at the wedding breakfast.” He emphasises the last portion of the speech with such a tender, loyal, loving gaze at his bride of the morrow, that Marina forgets her melancholy in blushes and happiness, and Danella, who has his glass at his lips, grinds his goblet beneath his white teeth. The dinner is not prolonged, as the ladies are tired and have still a short drive to Marina’s home. Before they leave, the count takes his ward aside, saying to her hurriedly : “ My steward has been to your house. Have no anxiety. No one will make you unhappy by taunting you for forgetting that your brother’s murderer lives.” The girl answers this by a sigh, but presses his hand. , As Edwin puts Marina and Enid in the carriage, the waggon with the luggage drives up. “ Place Anstruther’s trunks in my house, says the count quickly, “The rest follows the ladies,” and, as he drives them away, Musso looks with a sardonic grin at Edwin standing on the portico of the mansion smoking his cigar in the moonlight, and old Tomasso who is carrjing the little valise marked “G.A.” up the stops into the hall. During their short journey Danella, who is in high feather, keeps Enid in a running strain of laughter, and even draws at times a sad smile from Marina, whose spirits do not seem to rise as she comes near the home of her family. As they drive up the great avenue leading to her house, the girl hangs her head and mutters to herself: “ Ashamed to meet my old servants.”

After lifting the ladies from the carriage, and crying to Marina: “ Don’t be downhearted, Ma belle; to-morrow the bridegroom cometh! To-morrow we will take you after the manner of Corsica to Monsieur Anstruther. To-morrow! to-morrow!” the Count drives off into the darkness singing a little song with a laughing refrain. The two young ladies are received very respectfully by the retainers of the Paoli family; though they hardly display the affection with which Enid had imagined they would greet their young mistress on her return from a long absence, and upon such an occasion.

They are all dressed in Corsican costumes, and light the ladies in with flaming pine torches, making quite a romantic aud medieval effect.

“ What an antique ceremony,” remarks Miss Anstruther, warming her hands before the burning logs upon the open hearth of the parlor of the house, and gazing about the low studded room with its small windows protected by curious iron gratings. Marina, standing out of the light, is tapping her foot impatiently on the oak floor, her lips are quivering, there are tears in her eyes. She is thinking “ Not one man kissed my hand and bade me welcome ; not one woman placed her lips on my forehead. And my foster-mother, she came not to embrace me. My heavens ! they are trying to break my heart.” Enid, too much occupied with her novel surroundings to notice her companion’s agitation, suddenly ejaculates : “Oh ! what a lovely picture ! ” pointing to the painting Barnes had seen on his visit to the house. “ Why, it's you, dear ! You’ll look like that to-morrow ! Waiting! How appropriate ! Waiting for Edwin.” “No!” cries Marina, “waiting for my dear brother. I can’t bear it. I had forgotten it was here. Look at it no more,” and she pulls over it the curtains that drape the picture, hiding it from view. Then she gazes pathetically at Enid and says : “ Some day, in England, far away from the memory of him, I will tell you Antonio’s story ; tonight you will excuse me, dear one; you are tired. Shall I show you your room ! 1-I must rest myself. Your brother’s bride to-morrow must look worthy of him.” As the journey has been a long one Miss Anstruther admits she is fatigued. Mairna in person conducts her to her chamber, with several little graceful acts of hospitality peculiar to the island; then kissing her, whispers : “My sister ! Pray that I may make your brother happy.” The girls part with a tender embrace; and, leaving Enid, Marina comes to her own room. She has controlled herself before her guest, but now she begins to rage, and her eyes fill with tears of shame and anger. “ The miserable ones !” she cries ; “ to dare insult me, their mistress, on my own threshold.” She rings a hand-bell, which is answered by Tomasso, who has just arrived with the ladies’ trunks from Danella’s,

“ Isola, your wife and my foster-mother, why was she not here to welcome me, and take me in her arms, as she always did before?” demands the girl very haughtily, but with a sob in her voice, “I no longer care for affection from those who are ungrateful ; but, for my bread and my hire, I demand service; send your wife to me to act as my maid.” The old man looks sadly and reproachfully at her as he replies: “ That is impossible ! Isola heard you were to wed one of the race who killed him. She nursed Antonio at her breast; and so went to the mountains that she might not say words to you that would make you unhappy. Signor Danella has sent a French girl over to take her place—shall I send her to you ?” During this speech Marina has become very pale; she cries : “ Send me no one ! And look no more on my face—until you remember that though you are my fosterfather, I am your mistress.” But after he has gone and she is alone, she moans to herself: “ My foster-mother will not bless me on my wedding-day—fled from my home because I have forgotten my vow. Antonio speaks to me through them. The home where we played together as children, cries: ‘You forget his wrongs! You, a Paoli? You are not even a Corsican !’ ”

Then this girl, who is now again .among associations that teach her revenge is noble, throws herself down by her bedside and sobs as if her heart were breaking, upon this night before the day that should bo to her the happiest upon earth.

CHAPTER XXII. TO-NIGHT I AM A CORSICAN.

The sun is well up in the heavens when next morning Miss Anstruther, after an exquisite little yawn or two, finds she has been awakened by Marina’s kisses. “ Bride’s kisses !” she murmurs; and then ejaculates: “ Ah! How perfect! How divine !” For Marina is already in her_ bridal costume, and looks a picture of blushing joy. Save the myrtle flowers that shade her heaving breast, everything about her dross is white, but Corsican; the graceful mandile ornamenting her dark hair, and the jaldetta draping her beautiful figure. “Quick ! Enid !” cries the bride. “No more sleep to-day ! Rosita will put your native costume upon you and make you a Corsican like me. Hurry! my bridesmaid, if you love me. Igo now to receive Danella; during the ceremony he acts as my father.” And she runs excited to the portico. A few minutes after Rosita comes to Marina, laughs and says: “The English young lady wishes to see you.” She darts to her, and finding Enid not yet dressed, asks “ What’s the matter ?” “ Matter 1” cries the English girl; “ despair’s the matter ! I’ve used twenty hairpins and look at my mandile,." "Of course. No one but a native can arrange that,” laughs Marina. She seizes Enid, and her dexterous hands soon put the finishing touches to that young lady’s toilet. “ Now !” she cries, leading her to a mirror, “ behold a.Corsican !”

“ 0 !—ah 1” says my dressmaker didn’t think it was for a fancy ball—it’s —it’s so awfully short.” “Not at all,” answers Marina; “no shorter than mine—and in it you are a fairy.”

“Y-e-s, it is becoming,” murmurs Enid, taking a meditative blusliing glance at herself. “To tell you the truth, it’s wonderfully fetching. When you’re in Corsica, do as the Corsicans do. All the same, I feel as if I were a ballet girl.” “Then come to breakfast or the ballet will begin without you,” laughs Marina, carrying Enid off, who thinks to herself how Burton would admire her in the dress, and makes up her mind it would be just the costume for an English fancy ball. Half an hour afterwards Enid runs into Marina’s room crying “ Here’s Fra Diavolo himself!” and drags her to the_ portico, where they see the Count just riding up, dressed in full Corsican costume, au eagle's feather in his hat. He is followed by several young native gentlemen in the gala dress of the islaud. They are introduced to Enid ; and one, a dark eyed strong-limbed young man, who is to make the address to the bride, places his bright eyes upon Miss Anstruther with an apparent wish to take the place of the absent Barnes. But he has little time for this, as very shortly after their arrival a great shouting is heard; and a band of goat-herds from the Count’s estates on the Monte Rotondo, clad in skins and armed with doublebarrel guns, come up the avenue, followed by half the peasants of the village of Bocognano, to escort the bride to the house of her husband. For the Count, in order that the ceremony m-f-y be conducted in true Corsican form, has placed his mansion for the day in possession of the bridegroom. A couple of Corsican horses, with bridles and saddles gaily decked with myrtle and ribbons, are led out for the young ladies to ride.

But before the bride is permitted to depart from her home, everyone gathers about her to hear the farewell address; that, according to ancient custom, the young cavalier who acts as bridesman makes Marina upon her leaving her native commune.

He has been a boyhood friend of her brother, and perhaps a youthful admirer of the girl; and stands before the last of the Paolis, conscious of the honor, to make his speech in rough native eloquence. There is a certain haughty uncultured grace about the young fellow that commands attention ; and though Enid does not his words, she watches his fervid vivacious Southern gesticulation with an interest that gradually becomes intense as she sees its tremendous effect upon his hearers. The peasants, who have been laughing and jabbering to each other in their excitable Latin way, become suddenly silent, then look very sad ; and, as he goes on, some of the women and girls cry. Danella has a sneer upon his lips when the man commences, bub it changes to a smile of triumph. Marina looks at the orator for a moment in haughty surprise—a great blush covering her face. Then the red becomes white ; she hangs her head as if she could not look this man, who is speaking to her, in the face; her hands involuntarily clench themselves, her limbs tremble, and her heart beats as if torn by some mighty emotion. At this the young man a little pause ; then takes a stride that brings him straight before her ; and, catching her eye, cries one short sentence, his voice ringing out in native 2>aloin like a clarion—his eyes ilaming with excitement. The effect is electrical; the crowd give a wild scream that Enid thinks is more that of rage and hate than applause; and Marina sinks back with a plaintive cry upon the breast of Tomasso, who stands behind his young mistress, and strives to comfort her in his old-fashioned way, but with a very wicked look on his mcclueval face.

“ What did he say to Marina ?” whispers Enid to the Count.

“Oh ! a farewell to home. An old Corsican custom.”

“ Yes, but what made her so agitated ?”

“Oh—ah, well we are a primitive race, not yet refined ; and, in fact—you remember what I said to you yesterday, Mademoiselle Enid, about your oldfashioned novelist—his speech had a flavor of the grand Smollet! ” “Oh ! the wretch!” cries Miss Anstruther, getting red in the face. Musso leaves her, and taking the orator aside seizes his hand, and says, giving him a warm grip : “ Bernardo, your address on the idea I suggested to you was a marvel of eloquence—some day I hope to hear you at Paris as a Corsican deputy in the Corps Legislative ! ” In truth, Signor P,ernardo Saliceti had seen a great chance in this matter to make a sensation ; and, like most untutored, genial, candid young speakers, he has done so with a vengeance. The substance of his last words being nearly as follows, minus the beautiful soft Southern jnilois that made half their romance :

“ Marina! when you are gone, none of your loved race will be left to us, save the body of your dear brother, whom we will not bury until ho is avenged. I, standing in his place, speak for him. They tell me that you, his sister, have forgotten his wrongs. Antonio’s spirit cries through me ; l ltisa He ! Marina marries into the nation who have slain me, that one day she may get within dagger’s reach of my assassin.’ In that hope we kiss your hand and do you honor, daughter of the Paolis.” The effect of this upon the girl’s mind is terrible. Though she forces herself to become calm again, all through that day, whenever Corsican men do her homage or Corsican girls kiss her hand or look kindly on her, or make her any little compliment common on such occasions to a bride, she thinks ; “ They do this, not because I wed, but because they hope some day I will hill." After a little the Count distributes among the villagers gifts of money as a souvenir for the commune, and, whispering to Marina, “Anstruther will be impatient for you,” places the bride in her saddle; the same office being done for Enid by young Signor Bernardo, who struts proudly about feeling that he has distinguished himself, and unmindful of the scornful glance the English beauty gives him, for Miss Anstruther has not forgiven him the address A la Smollet she supposes he has made to the bride. The wedding procession is soon formed in ancient Corsican style; a spinning-wheel made gay with flowers and ribbons, the emblems of a fruitful marriage, being borne before the bride; and with great firing of guns from the men, and throwing of rice, flowers, fruits, and wheaten spears from the women, they go off on the dusty road, along the little village street, under a great arch of evergreens, brightened with flowers and festooned with gaudy ribbons. And so with mandoline thumbing at their head they finally come up the avenue of olive trees that brings them to the Count’s great house on the hill-side, where a number of country magnates are gathered with the bridegroom, awaiting the coming of the bride.

Unmindful of local etiquette, which in this island sentences the bridegroom to be bashful, Anstruther, the moment he sees Marina, springs down the steps, and seizing her in his arms, kisses her before the concourse, and calls her his wife so tenderly, that the girl forgets everything in her happiness at the thought that now they need part no more. Then he stands by her side, his simple English naval uniform in marked contrast to the picturesque native costumes about him, every now and then saying a merry word to Enid or Marina, as the usual speeches are made; the Count demanding, in their quaint ancient way, of the bridesman: “If he and his companions are the accepted escort of the gentle lady that they bring with them to his house.” Signor Bernardo, answering for himself and and his following, declares that they are friends of the beautiful Marina, and have escorted her from affection to present her as the flower of Bocognano to a noble English gentleman as his spouse; and that they are all good and true men, and no enemies, as they fire their guns with no bullets in them. The Count being finally persuaded that they are not bandits, invites Bernardo and his companions to the wedding festivities; and after this the whole concourse go to the little stone chapel in the hamlet, where Marina Paoli becomes the wife of Edwin Anstruther, promising to love him and do him honor, after the ritual of the holy Roman Church.

A great joy is in the girl’s eyes; within her heart the supreme happiness of true love hallowed by honoiable marriage with the object of her passion. As Gerard takes her in his arms for the

first time as his wife, Danella staggers out of the church, and wiping the damp of agony from his brow, mutters to himself: “ Thank God, a man’s heart can break but once !” A moment after he raises his face with a smile of cynical triumph upon it, and cries “ Apresla noce!” for he sees before him rise up the vision of a supreme vengeance upon this man and woman who make him suffer. Outside, under the shade of some olive trees, the music of the happy but solemn Benedicts floating round him from the open doors and windows of the church, sits old Tomasso, a picture of despair. “ She has gone from us—Marina is now English !” he mutters to the Count. “ Her name is no more Paoli,” says Danella. “ Tomasso, to-night when the guests leave ns come to me, I have an honor for you; you shall arrange the bridal chamber.”

The old man answers this with a nod of his head ; he cannot speak, being choked by sobs, the tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks, for he regards this wedding, by which his young mistress becomes a compatriot with the accursed being who has slain her brother and his foster-son, as a funeral of their family honor. “Como!” cries Danella. “Come in and kiss your new master’s hand, Tomasso!”

“ Maladiclal” murmurs the old retainer; but he does as he is told, and does homage to both bride and groom; though there is a snarl on Ills face, for he Is still a bloodhound under lash and whip, and as yet has not seen his prey. “ Musso, you haven’t kissed the bride !” cries Anstruther, looking very tenderly at the blushing creature who is clinging to his arm.

“All in good time," says the Count merrily, “I never fail to collect my fees from beauty ; ” and ho goes up and salutes Marina quite ardently, though she wonders why his lips are like ice, and starts as she feels two burning tears fall upon her cheeks. But for all that Musso Danella does not repent. And, this being over and the various legal documents being signed both by priest and notary, the crowd goes back again, with more firing of guns, and music, and shouting, to the Count’s great house, where the banquet is spread for all-comers; and, that being finished, with much drinking of wine, and speeches of congratulation, and joyous laughter— Musbo’s laugh being loudest of them all—the ball begins, at which the youths and maidens perform the tarantella, mareiliana, and other national dances, to the music of the mandoline and citera.

Then, just after the evening has grown dark, the guests with many little peculiar Corsican customs wish tho bridal couple good luck and happy union, and depart along the hill-paths and through the olive and chestnut woods to their homes, as the fires of good omen are lighted on the summits of the neighboring mountains. Looking at this, Miss Anstruther says to her brother: “ To-day has been to me like a Roman carnival.”

“ Theatrical, wasn’t it!” replies Edwin, “ But I’ve got her—she is mine—and that’s enough for my earthly happiness,” and he gives a very proud'and very fond glance at Marina, who, at a little distance from him, on the great portico that fronts the house, is holding consultation with Danella. “ However, since you like romantic effects, Enid, we’ll have all the yokels at Beechwood dressed up as American cowboys and backwoodsmen to follow Mr Barnes and you to church next month, in dear old Hampshire; and may you be as happy and fortunate as I.”

“ Fancy, Diggs, the sexton’s astonishment at cowboys coming up the aisle !” laughs Miss Anstruther. “ Your idea is worthy of consideration.”

Here Marina turns from the count with a pleased smile on her face, crying: “ Musso, you remember everything ; ” and, coming to her husband, says : “ Gerard, a favor!” “ The first one you have asked me as— —” “As the lord of my life ! It is granted, Ltlce di esistensa mia ?” giving him a pretty Italian love name and a little laugh at the same moment. “ Of course !”

“ Very well. This morning I was thinking so much about you I forgot to give this to my old servants at my home.” She holds up a little purse filled with gold. “ Monsieur Danella, who is always thoughtful, suggests that you, my Gerard, ride down this evening and in my name present it to them. As their new master, it is an act that will endear you to them.” “All right. To-morrow, darling,” says Edwin.

“To-morrow! Have you forgotten the excursion with your bride to the forest of Vizzavona?” cries the Count coming to them.

"It will bo more appropriate to-night, Gerard, and I want them to love you ! Don’t be afraid, when you return I will not have fled from you— Mi adoralo !" says the bride with a bashful and longing look in her dark eyes. “ Here is your horse I’ve ordered brought round for you. My steward will accompany you ; he knows the way, and also how much should be given to each of Marina’s household,” continues the Count rapidly end earnestly. Then he draws Edwin a little aside; and goes on with a peculiar ring in his voice, " I have placed the left wing of my house at the disposal of you and your bride—when you return, may you be happy! Dont forget Danella’s wish was, may you bo happy !” “ God bless you, Musso, for all you have done for me!” cries Edwin sfeizing his hand and giving it a hearty grasp; but after drawing his fingers from Danella’s he finds them cold and clammy from the moisture of intense nervous agitation that covers the Count’s hands.

" Don’t thank me!— I beg you, do not thank me! ” mutters Musso; and he murmurs to himself as he watches Edwin ride down the olive-tree avenue: "You are a nice boy 1 What a cursed pity ! But nice boys mustn’t break Musso’s heart if they do, Musso is a tiger! ” Then he cries aloud : “ Marina ! How did you feel today when looking on the customs of your native land when surrounded, as in other days, by Corsicans ? ” "That I too was a Corsican!” answers the bride proudly, a flash of light coming into her gleaming orbs that makes them glow and glitter in the moonlight. Every local ceremony, every little ancient custom, the native color he has given to this bridal of the girl, surrounded by the friends and playmates of her youth, amid the romance, traditions and scenery of her own dear island—all have been planned by Danella’s occult mind to produce one effect, What Enid likens to a Roman carnival, what Edwin calls theatrical, inspires his bride with the great passions of her race, love of family and untiring vengeance for the wrong of kindred. As Musso looks at her face in the moonlight, he knows that his object is attained ; To-night Marina Anstruther is again a Corsican. The time is ripe. He walks into the house and says to Tomasso who awaits him : " You had better place your master’* baggage in the apartment set aside for him.” In doing this the old man carries in the valise marked “Q. A.”, that the Count has looked upon with so much love.

As Tomasso arranges the other articles belonging to Anatruther in the rooms, Danella, attempting to place this valise upon a bureau, by apparent accident, lets it drop upon the floor. It is old and weak, its fastenings give way and its contents fly out and scatter about the room.

“I am an awkward chap, old Tomasso !” cries the Count. “ Help me to pick up Monsieur Anstruther’s valuables.”

Tomasso stoops to do so, but has not placed his hand upon more than one or two of the things when he pauses, starts, utters a horrible but suppressed cry, and gazes with a face quivering with intense emotion at what he holds in His hand. He springs up, shoves it before Danella’s eyes and mutters : “ Tell me what this means ?” “ Not till I have read what this reveals to me,” says Musso with a very grave face, gloating over a manuscript that he has taken from the trunk. "My Heaven, if this is true ! ”

“ You think it possible? ” gasps Tomasso, " Wait 1 ” " Keep your promise 1 ” “ Wait! ”

"Keep your promise you made me on the Virgin!” hisses the Corsican. "I never break my word,” returns the Count. "I once made covenant with you, my sturdy old hater, that when I dls covered—-”

“ To give to me the name of the accursed murderer of my foster-son I see by your face you know it now.”

“ Not to-night! To-night would be too horrible! ”

“Now ! or I will have your blood also ! ” snarls the old man in a menacing whisper. “ Listen ! ” says the Count, and in a low voice he begins to translate into Corsican the writing ho has taken from the valise, and to produce certain articles from the trunk of Gerard Anstruther, and to place them side by aide with one or two things he selects from Marina’s baggage; and as he does so, the eyes of old Tomasso, like a bloodhound that sees before him his prey, grow red and shining. As this is going on, the two girls sit on the portico looking at the shadows of the great mountains made by the rising moon that darken the white river of the Gravona which rushes between them to the tropical sea, and talk in low, happy voices of this day that has made one of them a bride. Enid, as she gazes on this scene filled with Southern romance aud thinks of the f&te that to-day with its mediaeval effects and color has carried her back to the feudal ages, whispers: “To-night I wonder is there an England, It seems so far away,” “To-night pray that we go there soon ! ” cries Marina with an entreaty almost piteous in her voice. “ Pray that I stay not here in this my native island. Pray for your brother’s sake ; pray that I stay not here.”

Enid looks at her astonished ; but at this instant the Count comes out on the portico, and with a face that is palid and a voice that in spite of himself trembles, not from fear, but from triumph, says : “ Madame Anstruther, your apartments are at last prepared for you—they have just been furnished from Paris, and are worthy a bride. You will find them in the left wing.” Marina looks down the avenue and murmurs : “My husband will be returning. Kiss your sister, Enid, my own one, good night.”

As they kiss, the English girl whispers: “ What did you mean by those curious words ?”

“ Mean ?” cries Marina proudly, “ I mean that to-night I am a Corsican, and long for revenge.” Then breaking away from Enid’s arms she flies into the house and along the great corridor. Enid springs after her, but, reaching the door of her apartment, the bride turns as if at bay. The light from out the nuptial chamber haloing her beauty, as with one bare, white, dazzling arm raised up as if to warn her friend away, and the other draping the faldetta of stammering satin about her girlish figure, she stands like the Peri at the gate of Paradise; her face—an angel’s—purified of all the passions of this earth, save one which keeps the doors of Heaven forever closed against her. She cries: “ Ask me no more, dear Enid ! Again, good night! ” throws a light kiss with her hand, and, passing in, the curtains fall behind her.

The Count is looking on ; his face has a cynical smile, though a moment before, as he gazed on Marina’s loveliness, his eyes were full of burning tears and his hands were twitching from unutterable misery. He says : “ Mademoiselle Anstruther, we Corsicana are a curious race.”

“ So I should imagine,” replies Enid, with a little laugh, though there is a perplexed look upon her face. “Ah !”grins Musso, “you judge us by Marina ; but Marina is a bride, and brides are—are—peculiar. What would you think, my dear Mademoiselle Enid, if I, inspired by this moonlight, became romantic, and said to you I loved you ? ” “ I should think it was time to goto bed,” replies Enid, somewhat puzzled and a little haughty. “ Precisely,” murmurs the Count, who has got the answer ho wanted ; “ will you permit my housekeeper to show 50U to your apartments, they are in the right wing.” He rings the bell. “ Thanks; certainly,” replies the English girl. “ Good night.” “Good night,” bows the Count; and, as he turns away, he wonders “how will she look when I say to her * Good morning ?’ ”

As Enid follows the servant to her room she secs Danella wander out on the portico, peering longingly down the avenue, and notices, with a shudder, that in the moonlight his eyes shine like those of a tiger lurking at night for his prey.

It is noon upon the day of the wedding, before the felucca upon which Barnes has sailed for Corsica, makes the headlands of the Gulf of Ajaccio, and nearly two hours afterwards, before he lands upon the little quay; though captain and crew have all done their duty like men; for these hardy Italian sailors, half fishermen, half coasters, began to pity, in their rough way, this man who became more haggard and more careworn each hour that calms or adverse winds kept them from the port ho fought so hard to reach, and therefore never shirked a pull at sheet or rope that might give greater speed or better pointing to their little vessel. And so, notwithstanding adverse weather, at two o’clock on the day of Marina’s nuptials—which is earlier by twenty hours than the steamer from Marseilles, which leaves that morning from the French port, would put him there—Mr Barnes stands in de Belloc’s little office in the garrison of Ajaccio. At first that officer does not recognise him, and, after he mentions his name, cries out “ Mon Dieu ! What has happened to you, my friend?” for Barnes’s appearance is careworn, his face haggard and unshaven, and his clothes damp with the salt water of the sea voyage. As he tells his story, Captain de Belloc gives a low whistle of astonishment, then his face grows long. He summons a sergeant and gives some orders hurriedly, and when Barnes has finished, says, “ You had better have a file or two of soldiers with yon ; it may be a matter that will require the police or military. I am in command here and will myself go with you.” “ What I was about to request,” replies Barnes; you saw the duel; and, ns her brother’s second, can tell Marina it was an equal and fair combat. But I have already sent on an express ahead ef me for horses, and your men will not be able to keep up with my fresh mounts.” “ Very well, says de Belloc, "I’ll follow —are you armed ?” "No! 1 intended to procure weapons after I had seen you.' “ Permit me to arrange that matter,” returns the officer. He goes out; comes back with a couple of revolvers and hands them to the American, saying: “ I wouldn’t care to be our friend Danella, if you think it necessary to shoot at him. But you are anxious to get on your way—l’ll be not far behind ; so cm revoir /” As Barnes rides out of the town he hears the cavalry bugles sounding, "Boot and saddle.” He passes quickly on, over the Bastia road, leaving to his right the little inn of II Pescalori, where a year ago took place the duel that causes such wretched misery now; and, sparing neither his horse nor himself, rides desperately up the valley of the Gravona, upon whose banks, high in the hills, just under the shadow of del Oro, the woman he loves is—perhaps needing his aid to save herself or her brother from cruel assassination. As this thought comes to him he drives the rowels deeper into his steed. And, in the evening, seeing the nuptial fires upon the hills, he knows that Edwin and Marina are now one, and mutters to himself "Am I too late?” Soon after, meeting some peasants on the road returning from the fete, he learns that the wedding party are all at Danella’s. And so it comes to pass that about ten minutes before Anstruther returns to the Count’s house Barnes rides up the avenue of olive trees, and pauses in the shadow of the mansion.

There are no lights in the front windows, but the American, having spent some days with the Count at this country seat on his first visit to the island, knows that all the sleeping apartments of the House are at the back. Ho hesitates now to arouse the household, as he fears his unexpected coming in this desperate way may precipitate the catastrophe, or bring about some unforeseen complication that he cannot combat until he learns the present details of this awful social problem. Not for one instant, however, docs he think that all is right, for he never forgets Danella’s words: "Lure him to Corsica,”

As lie meditates ho is dismounting and tying his horse to one of the trees In the shade just a little out of the avenue. A thought comes to him—ho will pass to the back of the house, there he may find some

domestic who remembers him for the American had been very popular with the Count’s household on his tormer visit—and so gain entrance and knowledge. The house consists of two long wings of comparatively modern erection, and a main building more ancient in its construction, which connects the two and retreats in a long line of kitchen and servants’ offices, making the general form of the mansion that of a great T, the top of the letter being the front of the house, and facing the avenue ; the arms, the two wings, and the shank, the servants’ quarter, that cut off all view of the windows in the back of the left wing from those in the rear of the right. The entrance to the servants’ quarters is on the right; consequently Barnes passes round that side of the building on his way to them. He does this quietly, and, arriving there, finds all dark ; not a servant stirring after the labor of that day, which had been great. But as he turns away, debating what next to do, a light issuing from a window in the right wing catches his eye, and, approaching it softly, he gazes in and sees what makes his heart beat with a wild joy. The window is but four feet from the ground, and, being half open, as the night is warm, permits a perfect view of all the room. It is a luxurious little chamber, and within it—the mellow light of a few wax candles beaming on her—sits, at an ornamental table, the girl hu loves, a happy smile on her fair face, writing—perchance to him. The white glistening silk and satin, draped in the picturesque folds of the costume of Corsica, hang about the girl in unstudied beauty. Being alone, her attitude has a lazy abandon; one perfect ankle in its silken stocking, and one little foot in its dainty slipper peeping out into the light which flashes on her white arms and maiden bust, as she raises the paper to her lips, gives a little blush, kisses it and murmurs “For Mm!” Had Barnes time he would linger on the lovely picture, but in his mind there is but one thought. This being, the fear of losing whom has shown him how greatly he loves her, knows of no evil to her brother, and above all, herself is safe. He gently calls her by a little name that will tell her who he is; for he wishes to save her as much as possible the great shock he feels must fall upon her soon. At his voice, coming through the open casement, Enid starts and trembles ; but as he repeats her name she is up and at the window with a wonderful happiness on her face, murmuring: “My own ! Here ? How astonishing ! How marvellous! How delightful ! Welcome ! ” and stooping down, places her fair lips to his. Then, seeing the disorder of his dust and travel-stained attire, and the lines of care these last three days have left upon his unshaven. and haggard face, her own becomes white, and she gasps: “Good Heavens! Has misfortune come to us ?”

“Listen!” says Barnes, “and do not interrupt me, but answer my questions straight; for seconds may now mean ” —he takes her hand in his to give her comfort—- “ your brother’s life," “ She gives a little shudder, but, obeying his instruction, simply says with pale lips: “Ask.”

“ Did you attempt to postpone your brother’s marriage, as I telegraphed you ?” “A telegram? I never got it.” “ You came through Bastia ?” “ Yes, on Thursday morning, by steamer, from Nice.” “ The infernal villain !” mutters Barnes; and then he suddenly astounds Enid by saying: “Go and tell your brother I must see him at once.”

“I dare not,” whispers the girl. “Then I’ll go myself. Where is he?” returns Barnes, springing in at the window. But she seizes his arm and ejaculates “Are you mad? He'd hate you for ever. This is his wedding night.” “There is no time for sentiment! It is life and death—and quick life and death, too I Darling, be brave while I explain something too horrible almost for belief—but still, Heaven help us all—the truth.” He takes her in his arms to give her courage, and tells the girl shortly and quickly why he has travelled day and night without sleep or rest to reach Corsica, in time. And as he does so Enid shivers as he holds her, and trembling, cries: “Have mercy on them! This will break both their hearts ! ”

But when he speaks of Marina’s vow and what he fears may happen to her brother, the girl starts from him-and looking at him wildly, gasps “ You are insane ! Kill Edwin ? She. As well ask me if I would kill you. Whatever Danella does, be sure of Marina. She does not know.”

" IJot to-day, perhaps," says Barnes, examining his revolvers and carefully testing both trigger and cylinder—“ And I must be by your brother’s side before she does, for to-night, as I believe I live, I believe Danella will tell her. He loves Marina; he has lost her, and he has the passions of a . Oood Ood! she knows now."

And the two start and gaze upon each other in awfnl silence; the next instant the American has passed through the door, and is rushing along the hall towards the left wing; for as he has spoken there came through the stillness of the night a scream such as Barnes has heard when Marina was bereft before, save that to despair was added the w«ld ring of some unnatural horror that might in an instant change a bride into a maniac.

(To be continued.)