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Samoa Times and South Sea Gazette, Issue 33, 18 May 1878, Page 4

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It was qnite late one sultry Right when two men rase /rom a gambling table in one t»f the fashionable gaming resort* iu Savannah, GfoorgUK The countenance of one was dejected, eleudi-d by disappointment, while the eves of the other, the younger of the twain, Hashed with triumph. Both were handsome, tall, dark featured, and the possessors of faultless physiques. Then were grey hairs in the flowing beard of one ; the moustache of his companion being silken auburn. " I would not lit our little game break me so completely. Fortune has not favoured you to-night; when wo meet again the fickle goddess may smile upon j on and till your pockets with gold." The person addressed turned quickly uyuii the speaker. " When we meet again '." he cried, and the words shot over his lips like poisoued arrows. "Sir, do you know that lam penniless > This night I have played away my gold, lny plantation, and—lone !"

" Were they not fairly one ?" asked tho younger man, a Hash ol resentment in his dark eyes. "1 trust no, but T do not know," was the response, agonisinglv spoken. " Ballard, I have drunk deeply to-night. The wines have clouded my brain, and during the last games I saw" fifty cards in my hands. This may be but a dream after ■•all. Tell me, Ballard—as you shall answor to God for your deeds—tell me -truly if I staked lone ?" "You did, sir; but, Chaffant. you are in no coudition to discuss your losses now."

."Losses!" And the planter glared at his late antagonist like a tiger. " Tell me, did I lose lone ?" " Chaffant " "Don't Chaffantme. I-want a reply to my question. Did I—" " I have won the girl—there !" was the response almost savagely spoken. " Yo'u will view things in a"calmer light tomorrow." " I view them calmly new. lone—lost, lost! and in a gaine of cards. lam sober now, Ballard. You do not think of what I have done. Surely you do not intend •holding me to the result of the game." " Most undoubtedly I do." " L.ist—betrayed—sold !" Walker Chaffant uttered these words in the agonising accents'of despair, and fell with a swooning cry at Ballard's feet. " The fool !" exclaimed the young man, as he gazed contemptuously upon the prostrate planter. " I did not think lie was so womanish. The girl is mine ;he staked her against the plantation, lately his, and I won. By the fiends of Tophet, I will keep her ! I played to win, and if the game was in my hands, it is no person's business save my own.", He raised the planter and put him on a settee, then rang a bell, and a coloured servant appeared. " Mr. Chaffant has fainted," he said, with a smile. " When ho has sufficiently recovered, tell him that I wili see him tomorrow."

Then with a scornful glance at the man whom he'had fleeced. Jerome Ballard left the house.

For an hour the nlanter did not speak. When he Opened bis eyes he motioned to the elegant sideb iard, and the attendant brought some wine. Pouriu" nut a -quantity, he swallowed it at a° single draught, and with :the help of a chair got upon his feet. "Not a word :', he said to the servant, who was getting ready to deliver Ballard's parting message. " I don't want to talk to any man until the fire that is burning in my brain consumes every particlo of my infamy, a word, sir. Good-night." He looked older by ten -years when he left the den of the gilded tiger with his hat pulled over his eyes, and a swaggering gait. Never before did the white hairs in his beard show themselves so prominently, aud deep furrows in his cheek and forehead told the story of sorrow and Ho seemed to avoid •mankind as he passed down tho street, for he kept in the shadows and appeared to l'eel satisfied when alone. A few miles from Savannah was the delightful plantation where Walker Chaffant had grown wealthy. It was largo, fertile and well Jooked aftor. He was the ownor of several hundred slaves, and lived in a luxury that made him an cmvied man. Some said that he was a widower, and the father of the darkskinned beauty who lived on the plantation, while others declared that sbo won but Bis protege—the child of a Cuban woman, who had committed hor to the planter's care. Regarding her identity the planter had maintained a reticence that was porplexing; but now and then he would say, " lone is .mine." His words served to confirm the advocates of the conflicting theories in their doctrines, for he might mean that sho was hi 6 child, or, that she •was his by gift. He was known as one of the most reckless gamblers of tho South. At tiroes he would return from Savannah almost loaded down with winnings; then the ficklo goddess would desert him, and thousands would fall into tho purses of his antagonists. Some ,pooplo said that ho would stoke his life some day and play it away. • It wus almost morning when the planter ordered his carriage, and told the driver to Ukp him homo ; then he (lung himself back upon the cushions, .and did not lift his head until the .vchiok came to a halt before his handsome residence.

" Home l" he oried, springing out. " No —not my lioroc! 1 have at Sit bached

tho end of the string. There is but one tiling left h- Walker Chaffant to ilo." He spoke in a tone burthened with mail determinatian, anil his eyes Hashed wildly as he entered the house and opened the parlour door. The lamp was burning 00 an elegant table, and revealed the magnificent appointments of the place. " Where's lone ?" he demanded of the slave who stood gaping at the door. " Abed, massa." ' I want her. Tell her to come here immediately."

The servant departed, and a few moments lator a tall, regal-looking girl strode into the room. She looked wildly beautiful en deshabille. Her hair streaming over her white shoulders, almost concealed her heaving bosom and her eyes, large and lustrous, looked like mirrors of intenso passion. " lone !" tho planter cried, at Bight of her, but checked his feet and started back again, putting forth his hands as if to keep her away. "No ! No j Don't come near me, girl. I would pollute you. My touch is now contagion ; my lips would make you worse than leper. Great God I why did you ever cross my path ?" She looked at him, pale, perplexed and frightened.

" Walker—" "Hush! You would call me fiend—devil—if you knew the truth."

She looked him in the fa e. ami then said, pityingly : " You have been playing again. Oh, Walker-" ! ° " "Call me villain: I will tell you, lone, and when I have finished I want you to take the revolver in your drawer and scatter my brains upon this floor." He advanced several steps, and steadied himself with the aid of a table. " I played with Jerome Ballard," he said, trying to speak in calm and measured tones. "At first fortune favoured me; but by-and-bye she went over to him. and I lust. J grew desperate, staked the negroes in lots of twenty, and lost. Then the plantation followed." " And you lost that >" The girl appealed calm. " Lost it then—" He paused, and covered his face with his hands and groaned from the depth* of his soul. " I must tell all," he suddenly exclaimed. " God helping me, I will not keep one jot of my infamy back. After the plantation had fallen into that lieud's hands, I staked you ."' " Me ?" The monosyllable fell in a shriek from the girl's lips. " 1 had nothing left to stake, for I I ad already offered my life ; but he had rejected it with a curse. lie craved the beautiful thing I, in the frenzy of drink and chagrin, threw with an oath upon the board. He won i"

For a moment lone stood hefore the planter speechless and like a statue. His eyes fell beneath uer piercing look, and for a moment it seemed that sae would dart upon him with the fury of a tigress. < But she shrank away, and spoke fro the threshold. " He won me—this man whom you call Jerome Ballard '<" " Yes, lone. ■ He says he loves you." " Then he lies !" "I know that. Now that I have told you all, take the pistol and do the deed which justice asks at your hands." "No! no!" she cried, shuddering. "1 am penniless. Shall he come and take away the spoils won over the cloth of the gaming-table > Shall 1 live to see you in his amis—sold to him for :■ hj n-i of cards! No, lone! I'll do the deed myself." He sprang forward and jerked t revolve* from a little drawer in th centre table. Then he started back with the weapon in his hand. His eyes (lashed like a madman's and his right hand waved her back.

But the thll beauty did not heed the command. She flung herself forward with a loud cry, determined to prevent the act of self-destruction, but he seized her with his left hand, and focibly held her off. "Tt must be done!" he cried, "I've tried to be a man to you, but Jerome Ballard has come between. Good-bye, lone. Let this night's work be credited to him, with the devil's interest." The next moment there was a loud report, and the Georgia planter fell dead upm the iloor. lone, with a startled cry, picked up the revolver, but the next instant threw it upon the sofa. " No !" she cried, " I will not follow his example. My future life possesses a einglc aim. He has been more than a father to mo. The crime of this night shall be hurled against the heart of the. man who planned it." The startled servants found lone kneeling over the ghastly suicide, and gently led her away. The day seemed to tarry in the east, but it caine at lost, And before tho gloomy sun had set again Walker Chaffant slept •in the JilooJy grave which his own hauos had made.

Shortly after tho burial, lone disappeared, and days lengthening into weeks without her return. Some whispered •that hor own hands hid taken the planter's life, but th.i fcbliof that he had committed suicido soon became universal.

Again the report* attached to her identity wore put into .circulation, but no single one was tritenfl to n stable head. The air became tilled with the wildest conjecture*, but one by one the.se died away; and after ten yearn, lone, the voluptuous beauty, wan almost forgotten, The plantation, which fell Into Jerome Ballard's hands after the Irigedy, Jui<l

passed into the pomwicn of strangers. The gambler had, to a great degree, re hnquished the fascinations of the gamingtable; wealthy ami talented, he had sicured admission into the Federal Congrwss, where his eloquence Had gained him thousands of enthusiastic admirers. There seems no position within the gift of the American people which the haud- ! .-nine Southerner might nut gain, and he seemed ambitious enough to put out his hand towards the chair of the Chief Executive.

He was at the height of his popularity when the birth pangs of the late civil war rent the land. He was amongst the first to Hing himself into the arms of the " lost cause," and hundreds of gallant men led on by his example, flocked to die standard. Battle after battle followed, and the third year of the internecine strife found him at the head of a brigade. Then came the last act of our wild drama. The confederate forces, under the immediate command of Hood, were stationed in and about a certain southern city noted for its beauty and wealth, and Ueneral Ballard's head-quarters were in the central part near the monumented square. One evening a Hag of truce conveyed a veiled lady from the Union lines, and she was escorted to the large house from whose windows floated the head-quarters Hag of the brigade. She desired to have a private interview with the officer in command, and soon found herself in his presence. The years which had passed over Jorjme Ballard's head since the tragedy near -Savannah had left no ill-favoured lurrows on his lofty brow. He received his visitor with the courteous manner of a gentleman, and bade her he seated. '■ 1 thank you," she said, declining the proffered scat. " Jerome Ballard, we meet again." As she uttered the last word her gloved hand threw back the veil, and the confederate officer started back. "Great heavens I Lmc !" lie exclaimed. Yes, the lone of other years stood hefore him.

She looked as rc*gal as she did when she reigned the beauty of the fair Georgian land ; indeed, to the soldier she was qucenlier than ever, for the girlish features had tied, and womanly ones rilled their places. " Yes, lone.'" she said, hreaking the silence that had followed this exclamation. " Let me see how many years have passed since then 1"

Her dark eyes flashed at her emphasis. '• Pardon me, lone," he said. "To what particular time do you refer (" "There is but onetime in my life Can there be more than one in yours }" she said. " If you refer to the death of your—" " Husband !" The general started and looked incredulously into her eves. "Listen, Jerome Ballard," she quickly resumed. "He was my husband though old enough to have been my fattier. • I first encountered him in Cuba. I was passionate then ; the wilful daughter of a Spanish officer. All my heart went out to Walker Cbaffant. I knew his foibles and hated them with all my soul, but I lived him. From the " ever faithful isle' I tied with him, giving up allparents, home, Cuba—and lived with him n his plantation, his wife ; but to you and the outside world, a mystery. " You played for me, ay, yon won me over the card table, and drove him to his death. Can you not guess the import of my visit to your quarters ? Over his ghastly corpse I swore to obey his last words—to repay your dastardly sin with Botanic interest."

lie heYird her through with pallid face, throned by a strange smile. 'Thank God for-your visit," he said, "For thirteen vein's I have lived in trie torments of the lost The world hits not seen my Bufferings. In the eup, in the Wildest schemes of political ambition, I have tried to drown the unutterable ngony of my remorse. In the gust of civil war 1 have attempted to forget, lone, J loved Walker Chaftant next to yourself. Once he saved my life, and 1 owed him much. But 1 wanted you. In my eagerness to possess myself of you, I forgot my obli: ations to him, and I killed, him. You come here to take vengeance. I know it, and I deserve to die the death. But, lone, think of the name 1 have made sinco that night. It is the only tiling on earth of which lam proud. Spare it to me."

" You did not spare him !" she said. " Truo, but hear mc through. Our army will meet the enemy within three days. The battle will be'terrible. Let me ojiter it at the head of my column, and let,me die there—a soldier's death. I ask hut this. I swear that in the next conflict a focman's bullet shall take the life of Jerome Ballard. It's a soldier's oath, ajid.a Southern gentleman's." He stood before her pleading permission to expiate his crime on the battlefield. Her eyes rested upon him half pityingly, but stern, and, after a moment's silence, she answered him. "Go ! " she said. " Die at the head of your columns." A minute later Jerome Ballard was alone.

He kept his oath like a knightj of the olden time. In the fierce wfiiihviud of carnage that followed the interview,: ait oHicer at the head of a brigade was seen to full from his home. The solo'icvs who lifted him up heard the last words that fell from his lips. " I've kept my oath, lone."

Few knew the meaning of the sentence; Im' fchi woman tvkonwaiio with snob impatience toe t ml ot the fight, said with a strange smile.

"He kept his oath. Xlv work is done." After the battle Ueneral Ballard's body, encircled by the battle-worn of his brigade, reposed on a settee at his headquarters, and many people came to view it. They talked of his talents, his forensic triumphs, and said, with one accord, that be looked grandly in death. i They noticed the beautiful woman who tarried" a long time beside the pallid soldier, but did not dream that she sent him to hi» death. j I know not where she is to-day. As she lived a mystery in the fair South, in a colder clime" she "may be a mystery still. I