FOOTPRINTS; 08, STOLEN AWAY.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4574, 1 September 1883, Page 1

FOOTPRINTS; 08, STOLEN AWAY.

( [An Obigunai Stoby.]

CHAPTER V. a woman's devotion.

In a splendid mansion not far from the fine old church of Santa Margherita, in tbia same beautiful city, two persons were engaged in earnest conversation. It was long past midnight, and the Bounds of* s music and festivity were already hushed, while only the plash of a stray ..gondolier as^b«LTeturiied to his horn*, fell upon.the moonlit waters.

Up and down the balcony paced the two cloaked figures, speaking in low, earnest

tones—the one as though he were de-

daring some dread alternative, the other striving by all his powers of eloquence and persuasion to avert it. At last they retired into the rooms beyond, where the remains of a foodly feast still rested on I the costly marble side-board, and half j empty decanters testified that no tern-

perate spirits had lingered there. " Come hither, Ferdinand," said the elder, throwing aside the cloak that had enveloped his handsome figure, "try thy luck yet once more, perchance it may turn in thy iavor, and thou may'st, after all, keep for' thyself this maiden thou thinkest so wondrous fair, but, methinks, 'twere better the Lady Cordova knew but little of thy gaities, thou gallant knight of the gondola. Come, cut and deal, and may fickle fortune favor thee ! "

With a gloomy brow, the young Count silently obeyed, and as with skilful hand the other played with fate, and rallied him on his " cheerful countenance." lie became desperate, and, heedless of consequences, risked a yet higher stake than before, and ere another morning dawned the hapless lover knew that he had sacrificed all he held most dear—that wealth and patrimony, bride and happiness, all! all was lost, and in a paroxysm of baffled rage and despair, he flung himself into his gondola, with the consciousness of that good friend's scornful laughter and threateninc menace following him even out .upon the calm cool waters. .

/The next morning Inez looked in vain for her handsome lover. Slowly the hours passed and still no tidings. The Don was absent on some family business, and Inez cared not for the society of the young companions, who rallied her upon the cause of her depression. At length when the last merry visitor had departed, and the maiden had leisure to indulge in anxious thought, a light gondola flitted beneath her window, and its solitary occupant sprang lightly out, with a significant signal of caution to the watchful maiden. Unobserved by her maids, she received the tiny missive he brought concealed in a lovely bouquet of choicest flowers;, and as she hastily retired to her chamber with the precious offering of love pressed close to her throbbing heart she wondered at the secresy displayed by her beloved Ferdinend. Hurriedly tearing the dainty envelope she read the following :— " Inez, my heart's dearest treasure, — " Circumstances which I cannot explain, debar me from the privilege of your company. Dearest love, there is a file conspiracy afloat that would deprive me at once of all life holds dear to me, and compel me to sacrifice love and fealty. Sister, light of my soul, and if you love me;eoMe to c my heart at once; time presses. The bearer of^this* may be implicitly depended upon ; disguise yourself as much, as possible, and come with him to the churcft .of Santa Margherita, - where the priestawaits thee.and me, and a few short moments shall place our destiny beyond the control of those who would separate thee for ever from thy loving "Fbbdinand." Trembling with fear and excitement; with alternate love to her betrothed, and duty to her absent father struggling within the troubled heart, Inez stood in her silent chamber. Poor child she had never known a mother's tender^care or

lot injj guidance', and her father, though fond and indulgent, had never fully won the confidence of this trusty, loving, perhaps too susceptible heart. Could she mistake Ferdinand's devoted affection; i could she question his truth, or fealty to herself? Ah, no; and with a silent, un-

defined fear of the future, poor little Inez wrapped herself in one of her maids' hooded cloaks, and presently was seated by that silent messenger's side, flitting surely, swiftly towards her fate. Without pursuit or suspicion, they reached the church, and there the trembling, halffrightened maiden was clasped in one fervent embrace, and led within the sacred edifice, where the candles seemed to burn with a weird dimness that caused the lovely bride to press closely to her lover's side. Only two witnesses, the gondolier and a veiled lady, who spoke no word, but silently signed her name beneath that of the young Count and his lovely bride, when the strange ceremony that united them in life long bonds was ended. Quickly leaving the chilly, dimly-lighted church, Ferdinand drew his bride beneath the shadow of a cloistered wall, and whispered strange wild .words of love and passionate fervor into her bewildered ear. " Inez, my love, my life, I must leave you, but you are mine; no one can tear you from me, and I snail shortly return to take you to my heart and home, never more to part. Wait a.few short weeks, my beautiful, my own sweet bride, and thy Ferdinand shall have shaken off the fetters that eveit.now gall and tear his soul, and hasten back to love and happiness with thee." In a few passionate words of entreaty, Inez implored him to take her with him ; * not to leave her thus in doubt and fear, but he became so distressed at this, that her nobler, higher, nature triumphed over fear, and she listened to his declarations of sorrowful regret at parting, and neverdying devotion with a calmness that surprised herself. Presently the same gondolier returned and whispered something to Ferdinand, at which he pressed a fond kiss upon the oh.eek and brow of his new made bride, and bade her a hurried farewell, promising to communicate with her as soon as possible. With strangely mingled emotions of fear and joy, lnf>z allowed herself to be taken back to her father's home, and as silently and secretly as possible returned to her own apartments, from which she had scarcely been absent an hour.

***' * * * And while Inez grew daily more anxious and distressed at the absence of Ferdinand, and would spend hours leaning over her balcony, watching.in rain for that gondola that should bring him to her feet, there was another heart that suffered even more sorrow and suspensa than this lovely bride of an hour. 'Twas in a pretty little chalet in the beatiful valley of Saasanne, that a handsome young husband had left his loving wife, ostensibly for the sake of her rather 'delicate health, while he should accom^ pany some friends of his upon an Alpine tour among the unrivalled beauties of those snow-capped mountains. Just one year and three short happy months ago that gentle, loving, wife had entered her pretty home, never thinking that to her it was to prove a prison house, a living tomb —never thinking that for her all that makes life joyous had ceased to exist, and that he for whom she would have given her life itself, if it would have added to his happiness, only wished it possible to rid himself of her for ever. From childhood the lady Cordova had loved her gay, handsome, though reckless, < cousin, and her only desire in rendering : herself accomplished or beautiful was to please him whom she regarded with the truest affection. And the wealth that became her heritage brought her no pleasure, save in the beslovral of its benefits upon this beloved object, whom she fondly hoped to influence and constrain by the power of her love to the pursuit of higher, nobler, things than the empty pleasures of society. She had heard wild stories of his youthful follies, but his ap- - parent love for her when he paid her a fleeting visit to her home in sunny Spain had blinded her to all save the charm of his presence, and covered a multitude of sins with the bright gossamer vsil of a / maiden's- truthful affection. And when his brow grew cloudy she would charm " him with her sweetest songs, or bring her brightest smiles and gayest laughter to the aid of his troubled, spirit. Joyously and trustfully she had left her father's home, and gone forth with the hero of her - day-dreams to that new life that lay beyond. Little by.little she had learned of his extravagances and reckless habits, and as the sad truth dawned upon her— that perhaps the idol she had worshipped was not the pure unsullied gold of which she had fondly dreamed—she | formed the high and' noble resolve, if possible, she would reclaim him, aye, even at any sacrifice, let wealth depart, let j friends forsake; if to her love she proved i but true, surely that love should yet pre- ! vail, and win the profligate back again to ! honor, love, and fealty. They had travelled I slowly through Italy, where the heart of j tbe noble young wife often sorrowed over her husband's weaknesses and love of such . - pursuits as tend to demoralise and destroy ■ nature's purest, highest, attributes, yet, hoping still, she had freely given him the full control of her ample means to discharge the.various .debts of. honor in which he became implicated, fondly hoping that he would at length grow weary, of such a - worthless, aimless, life, and seek a higher, worthier ambition. In this peaceful, quiet valley tbe lady had fondly hoped to keep her husband by her side, especially after the birth of her little child, whose tender influence should surely endeared the heatt of this careless spoiler of loving souls to his home and wife. ■ For awhile he lingered near, and seemed to appreciate the treasures love poured at his feet; but, alas, his evil genius in the shape of a chosen friend and boon companion who had followed him from Saville appeared upon the scene,' and straight way the tourists' party was organised, and with a brief farewell be left the lady who loved him, and the child, who should have been his pride and joy, and was soon, lost amid a vortex of pleasure and diasipa* tion. . * .

Months passed, and still,he. came not; his letters became leaf, fteqiftnt, then ceased altogether, .and. the patient, Ipnely, '__. watcher grew weary and sad. The. child "T"", grew beautiful as a poet's dream; grjsjseful in person, levely in character, as th*years rolled slowly on, and ssm the faithful f woman waited in that quiet valley .hoping still for tidings of that faithless, one she still loved and prayed for* 'Meanwhile, qbe found that her once ample fprtune had vanished like a risibn of the bash Too-proud to acquaint her family of&r trial?, and thus expose her. haihjal's cruel neglect, j»be becajne obliged to obtain a livelihood for Jlmwelf and child by Various ingenious methods. The manufacture of beautiful fine lace, the sale of certain water color sketches which it had . been her delight to trace out for her faithless husband's amusement, and the proceeds of the, disposal of her jewellery Jnd trjaMfo Thus sbe staged on

bravely against fate, still hoping that the wanderer might ere long return, and happiness be restored to her faithful heart.

* *

# *

" Inez, my child," said the Don, some six months after the betrothal of the lover, " where is that gny cavalier of thine all this time ? No ardent knight would treat his lady thus; why tarry's he so long from the shrine of beauty ? " " Indeed, my father," quoth Inez, with trembling lips, " thou know'st the reason he assigned for his continued absence in Spain, even his father's severe illness, is he not his mother's only support and stay at this time ? Truly, he should be more beloved for his filial devotion."

.:" Umph.'l fear he hath gotten himself into ill repute in this city; I hear ugly rumors of his fast play and reckless folly. Look thee, Inez, I liked him well, and would fain thou should'st wed the husband of thy choice, but if he prove unworthy there are nobler than he who would be proud to claim thee, and he had better have a care how he slights the heart he hath won."

So saying, the Don departed to his favorite amusement, the gaming table, while Inez grew pale with apprehension as she thought of the precious golden fetter that was hidden in her bosom, and wondered how her father would receive the confession of their secret marriage, which must, sooner or later, be poured into his unsuspecting ear. Months passed, still no tidings, and Inez grew , fearful of -some unknown trouble having befallen her lover husband.

Meanwhile, many a handsome wealthy suitor knelt at her feet, and sought to win her smile; and to more than one of these the Don was disposed to listen with favor.

But Inez remained obdurately faithful to her first love, and kept her secret close to her aching heart, while her cheek grew pale, her bright eyes often dim with tears, and her brow clouded with the most anxious fears.

Why did he not write, and tell her the cause of his prolonged absence; she had twice written to him, pleading his speedy return, but received no answer.

There were ugly rumors abroad of the Don's high play and heavy debts of honor, and more than once he had urged her to accept the suit of a certain Signor Di Oourcy, to whom, it appeared, he was largely indebted.

But even if there had been no other interest at .stake such an alliance would have been utterly repugnant to the high bred Inez, the Signor having no other inducement to offer but his reputed wealth, and being altogether an unsuitable part' for a young and gentle maiden. - Slowly the weeks and months rolled on till at last the blow fell, crushing out all the gladness from the heart and life of the fated Lady Inez.

( To be Continued.)