ESCAPED FROM LIBBY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume II, Issue 331, 3 December 1864, Page 6

ESCAPED FROM LIBBY.

(From " Harper'x Weekly."J Thf. thermometer was somewhere in the region of zero. Not that it was so very cold in the keen glitter of the February sunshine, but there was such a tempestuous, turbulent, .shrieking wind—a wind that had been playing with the great green billows of light that tumble along the shore at Statcn Island, and bringing briny wliifis from the salt marshes of New Jersey, and howling through the solemn old forests that hang over the Palisades !

It whs a very waim, bright breakfast-room, -with walls living with crimson velvet-paper veined with wavy lines of gold, which made you think of tropic sunsets bathed in eanninc glow—dark-red euitains, and a superb silver breakfast service set out in front of a blitzing Ijiverpool-coul fire. And Mrs. Yose was pouring fragrant nmbor-cofi'ee into a colony of painted t-'evres cups in a most becoming breakfastcap of lace and ribbon, and a sixty-dollar cashmere wrapper. " What horrid weather !" she sighed, elevating her shoulders as the windows rattled ominously. " AVe never have such dreadful winds in the sweet south." IVIr. Vose made no answer : ho was reading the paper with a very expressive wrinkle between his .love-like brows, and little Kitty Colvin was conveving surreptitious bits of broiled partridge into the jaws of an expectant black-and-tan terrier who sat beside her chair. A dark-eyed, tiny thing with the shadows of Louisianian oleander-groves on her cheeks, and Louisianian sunshino swimming in the vellow brightness of her hair, the little heiress seemed out of place under the bleak skies of the frozen Xortli. And vet Kitty had secretly made up licr mind never, ncrir to leave tl at same frozen North, sharp winds and icicles to the contrary notwithstanding ! "It I could only go back again ; this climate is killing me!" plained jVlrs. Vose, drawing a white shawl around her. " Gerald, how long shall we be wretched exiles in (his ungenial jS'ori h ? Is there anything favorable in the papers this morning ; you never tell me a word of politics!" " Hold your tong'je, Gallic !'■' growled her morose better-half. " Women are born to drive men m;ul, I believe. " Give me another cup of coilee, and don't talk about, things you don't understand I" "Then, there's another Union victory or somethin"," sighed Mrs. Vcse, accepting her husband's " snub" as a matter of course. " And that ungrateful Kitty is netunlly looking pleased.' Well, the treaeheiy there is in this world, to be sure!"

" Indeed, aunt," said Kitty, demurely, "Ishould fancy the treachery lay in seeking refuge and shelter in a country whose downfall yon are secretly wi-diin" for —in living at the North, while yon are a bitter secessionist at heart!" Mr. Vose laid clown his paper and looked his niece in the face. Kitty's oleander-shadows grew deeper, and her eyes fell. £he was.not aware that her uncle had been an auditor to that tierce little Union speech, but she was determined to stand to her gun nevertheless. " Indeed!" was his dry comment. " Very fine, to be sure ; the seeond-liand sentiments, I suppose, of Lieutenant Itoy. j\ pity that Libby Prison should atl'ord so poor a field for his talents!" Kitty colored to the very eyelashes, her haughty red lip quivered, but she did not answer. •'.Now look here, my young lady," he resumed, his tone of bitter sarcasm changing to an almost savage ring—" I wilt have 110 more of this absurd folly. Mr. Lamar is coming here this evening for a definite answer ; he shall have it, or I shall know the reason why!" "The answer is ready," said Kitty, defiantly,"l am engaged to Lieutenant Hoy!" " This from yon—a' Southern girl, born and brought, up under the shadow of the palmetto! Well, it is as I expected, you are thoroughly infected with the venom of that Yankee hireling. Hut his fortune-hunting will avail him nothing. Lamar's creed and country are identical with ours, and he shall be your husband !" " Shall be, (jnrle Gerald ?" " Shall be, Miss Colvin. The odds are ten to one that your precious Yankee never comes back alive; and if he does, he may select himself another wife. Now you have heard my decision on the subject ; see that you obey !" Kitty Colvin never lifted her eyes from the iloor ; she knew how worse than useless it was to attempt any opposition to her uncle's iron will. But there was u stronger determination in that fragile frame than Gerald Vose had any idea of. "Now, Kitty, do bo sensible," drawled her aunt, when Mr. Yose had takea hiuiself and his lowering brows out of the room. "Fernaude Lamar is very handsome, I'm sure, aud it's quite true what your uncle says. Lieutenant Koy will most likely die down in Libby, or be shot, or something—" Kitty put up hor hand pleadingly, as the thoughtless words jarred on her siek brain.

" It will make 110 diil'erenre to me, aunt," she said, calmly. "Dead or alivo) lam his, and hia only 1"

" Gerald and Fern an de Lamar "will settle that," thought Mrs. Vose, arranging her pink cap strings. " It would be dreadful for Arnold C'olvin's daughter to marry a Yankee, wlioae father might have been a carpenter for anything one knows to the contrary !"

Kitty Colvin went quietly up to her own room and stood before the fire a moment, her lovely liquid eyes gazing far out into the unseen future, and her hand mechanically smoothing the golden braids that hung from an onyx comb. Then she changed her crimson silk wrapper for a sober grey dress, and put on a bonnet edged with gray fur, and hidden by a thick blue veil. And then she took a little basket in her hand and .vent- out. Went out a homeless fugitive with nothing but tha bright rings on her fingers, and a bold, brave heart in 'her bosom —went out to seek her fortune in the wide, cold world, rather than accept the lot which her uncle had portioned out to her. * * # * "Sit down, Miss," said the red-armed Biddy, pushing a chair nearer to the stove. " Mrs. Clarke will be down d'rectly." Kitty waited, in the plainly furnished parlor of the second-rate house, with her heart beating as though a frightened bird were fluttering at her throat. She had been very pale all day, but when the step of a stranger sounded on the stairs the colour rushed in hot, scarlet waves over her face. " Mrs. Clarke?" she faltered. " Yes, my dear," Baid the fat, cosy little matron. " What can I do for you ?" " You advertised for a seamstress in to-day's paper, ma'am ; I should be very glad to obtain the situation. I can sew very nicely, and " " How much do rou expect by the day ?" "Nothing, ma'am," said Kitty, suddenly plucking up courage. " I only want a home; for that, and that alone, my services will be given." Mrs Clarke eyed the young girl very sharply and suspiciously, while a cold shadow of distrust crept over lier plump features. '•Your references, of course, will ho unexceptionable ?" " I have no references," said Kitty, almost inaudibly. " Then, of course, it will be impossible for me to entertain your propositions," said Mrs. Clarke, turning away." But Kitty caught her dress, with a low, appealing cry. " Don't send me away, Mrs. Clarke . I have tried everywhere for employment, and tried in vain; if you refuse me, T shall despair! Beliove me, I could refer you to well-known names, only—" " Well, but why don't you ?" questioned Mrs. Clarke, half relenting. " I cannot; it is impossible !" wailed Kitty. " Let me worlc for you, Mrs. Clarke; give me the shelter of your home, and you will never have cause to repent it. You have daughters of your own, perhaps ; think of them, and don't turn me away !" Mrs. Clarke bit her lip, meditatively. Reason and caution said " Beware!" hut memory brought hack the vision of her own daughter, sleeping quietly under the February snows —a daughter whom, if she had lived, would have been about the age of thisfivirhnired girl. And her heart softened with a singular, yearning thrill, as she looked searchingly into Kitty's pleading eyes. " Child,' you are a strange little thing,"'she said, laying her htjid not unkindly on Kitty's shoulder. " But you've got a good face, and a true one, and I'll trust you. So come up stairs and take off your things, and I'll find you something to do." And Kitty, with a deep, shuddering sigh of inward relief, followed the portly lady up stairs. Providence had given the lonely wanderer a home at last.. " What do you think, Mrs. Clarke ?" said Mi 33 Diana Steere, who had come in from the corner grocery, partly to bring in half a pound of cheese and two sperm candles, and partly to indulge in a little fireside gossip. " I've seen my cousin; she 't's housekeeper for them rich Southerners on Fifth Avenue, and their niece, the heiress, has run away." " Bun away ? you don't tell me so 1" ejaculated f Mrs. Clarke. "Here's the hooks and eyes for that lining, Miss Bobin?on. What was that for ?"

Kitty took the hooks and eyes in a hand that shook like a little autumn leaf; but Mrs. Clarke fortunately was not heeding her just then. &me says one thing, some says another," answered Miss Diana, with an oracular nod. " The general opinion sesms to be that she wa'n't no great shakes ; I guess she run away with seme poor stick qf a feller. ~ !No great loss I cac'late; but Amandy says— that's my cousin—her folks have advertised in the papers and set the police on the look-out, and moved heaven and airtli to find her. I wouldn't take that trouble, I know. Let her beau take care of her, now lie's got her." Kitty's lip quivered convulsively as she sewed on. Was this a fair sample of tho world's opinion in gencial ? Would kind Sirs. Grundy render no more favoi-able judgment ? She was just beginning to realise the terrible peril she had passed through, the risk she had unconsciously run.

The household, of Clarice were gathered ahout their breakfast tahle one hitter morning about a week subsequently—a table where the coffee was not Mocha, neither was the blue-edged ware of Sevres manufacture, and its worthy head was complacently taking broiled pork and the newspaper by alternate instalments, while his wife supplied a tribe of tow-headed little ones with the necessaries of life. " Bead the paper out loud, Thomas," said Mrs. Clarke. "Do you s'pose we women folks don't care for the news r Miss Robinson, will you give Johnny another piece of bread i" " There's so much news, I don't know which end to begin at first," said Mr. Clarke, " and all of it good." " Well, read the best first," said his wife, laughing. " "Well, then, there's a list of the officer's names that escaped from Libby Prison t'other day, and got chan away, and if you'll keep the children still, I'll read all about it." It was the first Kitty Colvin had heard of th a daring escape with which the whole country wast ringing, and she sat white and silent, with compressed lips, and wild, brilliant eyes, while good Mr. Clarke stumbled over the names, one after another. " Arthur i\iid Itot/ y First Lieutenant, —th ■ Volunteer's." " Thomas ! Thomas ejaculated his frightened wife, dropping the baby ont'of her lap as she started to her fret, " what's the matter with Miss Robinson ? Merciful powers, she's dead Not dead—joy seldom kills. Only the great rapture had checked the pulsing mechanism of her overglad heart a minute. And as she smiled up in Mrs. Clarke's face, tl~e good woman scarcely knew the wan, fad-looking girl she had taken in a while ago— it was the smile of a happy angel ! And well might it have been so, for to Kitty Colv n at that moment,, the dark little dining room of the master-builder's humble tenement was full of celestial brightness—a reflection from her own heart. Mr. Vose was looking over his month's bills, and the contemplation thereof did not seem to affoid him any great satisfaction. It wasn't agreeable to pay bills at any time, hut to swell the riches of" Northern hordes" with money that was not in Confederate scrip was by 110 means according to his taste. So when there was a gentle tap at the door, he cried, " Come in !" rathersharply. Accordingly Kitty Colvin came in, the Xiouisianian sunshine more golden than ever in her hair, the saucy light more deiiant than ever in her liquid eyes. "to it's you, is it miss ?" said Mr. Vose, leaning grimly 1 ack in his chair, and evincing no surprise whatever. " Yes, uncle, it is I." " Well, Avhat are your conclusions about being married now t( I have altered them materially, Uncle Gerald." 41 Very -wise, my —my dear," said Mr. relaxing into a stony sort of smile. " Shall send I for him at once ?"

" It is unnecessarv, uncle —he is here now." "He? "Who?" ' "Why, my husband, Uncle Gerald!" " And who the—l mean who may your husband be ?" Kitty opened thn door calmly. " Come in, Arthur. Uncle, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Roy, just from Libby Prison. We were married this morning." " And I gave the little bride away," honest Tom Clarke, rubbing lih hand?, and half afraid to speak in the awe-inspiring presence of the rich Southerner." Married! "Well, Mr. Vose look a» green and yellow as he pleased, ho could not »:utie the knot. "Confound the fellow!" lie iuutt red, inwardly, while he shook hands galvanically with the newcomer. " Who would liave drrnmed of his escaping from T ibhy? If he'd been dead and buried I believe he'd liave'come to life again just to spite lilt*. My niece married to u, Yankee ! \\ ell, i don't <-'aro what happens now." And Mr. Lamar, instead of pocketing th» heirc»a'» gfocnbaelt'B pcckotsd a little diajpointscent.