Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 128 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

- 2 _ a eR A oe - ee -— damm - ° eee ee te three persons in the stern sprung ashore, and one, turning, addressed the oarsmen. ** Wait for me here, Lindo, and upon no ac- count leave the boat, or bold conyerse with any one from the shore.” ** Yes, sefor, we will obey you,” answered the man, yom ontonre Walking up the hillside, untila path branched around to the right, the three men came to a halt, and one said in a Jow, sad tone: “Here we part, gentlemen, and doubtless for- ever.” ‘‘T hope not, Victor, for now that I know you to be different from what the world calls you, I will resign ratber than have to hunt you down; though outlaw you may be, through the misfortune you brought upon yourself in the rescue of Conrado Costello, I well know that toward your own land, and its flag, you have been true, and never turned your guns, and I will make an official report to Government of what you are; ay, and say, too, in the threat- ening war with Great Britain you will] strike a blow upon the seas for the United States.” ‘‘] have promised you, Harold, and I will keep my word; by a strange coincidence your brigantine has arrived in port just as we have; but they little dream on board that they were within fifty feet of the vessel they looked for. ‘‘ And how could they, with your schooner disguised so skillfully iuto a clumsy merchant brig? but your secret is safe, and not until I see that you have sailed will I tell the secret; but you still think that it was the caravel of Con- rado Costello she has been in action with, and not an English vessel?” ‘‘Yes, Harold, for her scars are all forward ene that she received them from a vessel flying from her, and the caravel is about the only craft, excepting my E! Maldito that could keep ahead of yon brigantine and also wound er. ‘Yet why should the caratrel be in these wa- ters, for it is evident the fight was very recent, as Frayne would not have awaited to get into port to repair damages. For a moment the Chevalier was silent, and then he said, sadly: “ Harold, L will tell you why this caravel is in these waters; do you remember that my sis- ter Mabel and Conrado Costello were ence en- Saged 4 ‘** Yes, alas! I do remember it.” * Well, he has come on here to ee her from her home, and that is why I followed him; yes, I was in chase of him off the Balize, but a fear- ful storm, you remember it, caused me to run before it off my course, and that is why, in be- ing again in Lake Borgne that night, that I ran in and anchored in the inlet; but discoverin ag vessel I put at once to sea, and I heade or Boston, hoping to reach here before the caravel; God grant that I have done so.” ‘* Amen! but if Costello bas been here before us, Victor, then woe be unto him, for I'll hunt him from off the sea.” ‘*And so will I, Harold; but I detain you, so will let you go down the shore and return to our vessel; but,” and he paused a moment ‘if you see my sister, and my old father, tell them that [am not as black as I am painted: gentlemen, farewell,” and as though fearing to trust himself further the Chevalier ra his cap, wheeled quickly and strode on up the hill, Harold Sylvester and Walter Nevil watching him with pitying eyes, for in the time they had been together, as guests on the schooner, since the flight in the storm from Lake Borgne, they had learned to respect him in spite of the brand that was upon him. } Reaching the summit of the hill the Cheva- lier, as on that night long before, stepped lightly over the stile, and once more s in the old Reenesenyy: The moon looked (lown upon the white mar- ble tombs, giving them a ghastly look, and the silence of death Sodand rested upon the lonely place, with only the distant rumble of the city echoing in the ears of the returned outlaw. With a hesitating glance he raised his eyes to the street beyond, upon which fronted the cot- home of Marian Dalton. , ut he saw no welcoming light caper pion forth from the window; all was dark and deso- late, though here and there, from other houses, gleamed the rays of a lamp. Hastily he wound his way along the path, un- til he came to the spot where bad slept the ashes of the Daltons for several generations, and his eyes quickly ran over the graves, some marked with marble slabs, and others unmarked, save in the apr of those who loved them dead as they had in life. The pretentious tomb erected to the captain towered high, and there upon each side was a grave. Ay, each grave still uncovered by the flowers that loving hands are wont to place above those they bury forever from sight. But small marble slabs marked the heads of each, and kneeling down he glanced eager! upon the inscription of the grave to the right, and said, in husky tones: ‘‘Itis her mother; poor Marian.” And then he turued to the other new-made oe ee ~ ee ed The Chevalier | Corsair. grave, and his eyes blinded with tears as he read: “IN MEMORY OF “MARIAN DALTON, “ Aged AO years. ‘* Died of a broken heart.” No word, no cry came from the lips of the strong man: but his head bent forward and res upon the cold marble, while memory took its kward flight to the scenes of long ago, when life was bright with hope for him, and she who lay sleeping there beneath the cold, wet earth, was his promised bride. For a long time he remained thus in silent, bitter asi and then the sound of voices awoke him to himself once more, and looking up, out- side the graveyard fence he saw two persons walking slowly along together. One was a man, the other a woman, and they were wending their way around the hill, to where grew a solitary tree overlooking the bay, and beneath which was, or had, been in the olden time, a rustic seat. “They are going to the old trysting-place whero so many tales of love nave been tol and where you, my poor, poor Marian, were wont to wander with me. ‘* Died of a broken heart; they have put sad words upon your tomb, Marian, to meet the eye of one wno broke your pure heart; ah me! it has turned my poor heart to iron to come here once more to these familiar scenes, and be weicomed by thy grave.” He looked sadly down upon the mound, presen’ his lips upon the cold marble, and rising eft the cemetery, wending his way in the di- rection of the city. A walk of some minutes and again the Cheva- lier entered the gate that led to the beautiful grounds surrounding the De Lisle mansion. Standing in the shadow of the evergreen hedge he gazed in gloomy silence upon the grand old homestead, a spacious mansion of stone, with acres around it, though it stood almost in the heart of the busy city. At length he summoned up courage to ap- proach the door. It was fastened, but a blow on the heavy brass knocker caused steps to be heard within, and the portal opened, to reveal an old negro by the hall lamp. “Jacob, not a word, unless yon would see me Gear said the Chevalier, in a quick, but low ne. The old ne started back, his hands out- stretched, while in a husky voice he cried: ‘*’Fore God, it is Massa Victor.” ‘*'Yes, Jacob; the Prodigal Son has returned, yet not to stain the old place long with his pre- sence,” he said, bitterly. ‘** Lordy, Massa Victor, don’t talk so, for old Jacob is glad to see you, though they do sa you isa mighty bad man; yet you don’t loo it, sir; but come in, sir, come into the library, as it might not be safe for you here.” He led the way through the hall, but at the door the Chevalier checked bim. ‘Is my father not in there?’ ** Massa Victor, is it possible ou don’t know where your father is?’ asked Jacob, in a sub- dued tone. ‘** Then he is not at home?” **Yes, Massa Victor, your old father am at home; in that home where he will stay until the See God call him to him at jedgment.” ** Dead! dead! and with a curse in his for me, his outcast son.” The strong man staggered into the room and sunk into a chair before the blazing fire, while old Jacob said, softly: _“*No, Massa Victor, you wrong the ole man, sir, for he did forgive you, sir, ’deed he did and said with his last breath he hoped God would wwae his poor boy back to honor and right. a Jacob, said my father this of me, or do you tell me this to save my aching heart?” and he dp ah the negro by each shoulder in his strong hands until he made him writhe with pain. ‘It am the truth, ‘fore God it am, Massa Victor.” ‘*And he did not curse me with his latest breath?’ ‘* No, massa, no, sir; he gave you his blessin’, wherever you might be,.on the-sea or land.” ‘*God above, I thank Thee!” and the sorrow- crushed man scan sunk into his seat, and fora moment trembled with the deep emotions that flooded his inmost being. ‘¢ And my sister?’ he at last asked. ‘*Ah, Massa Victor, she always loved you, sir, and—but hasn’t you seen her, sir?” ‘Seen my sister, Jacob? why, where should I see her but at home?” “ But she went forth to see you, sir, only half an bour ago.” “ Jacob, in God’s name what do you mean?” and the Chevalier was again upon his feet. ‘Why, Massa Victor, your eyes scare me sir, blazin’ that way; but Ill tell you all i knows, sir; you see Massa Conrado— ‘*Conrado Costello do you mean?’ almost shrieked the man. _ ** Yes, sir; he came here to-night, sir, and be | the good Lord has made him 2O told Miss Mabel you had sent him to tell her to oqne > yen as you was afraid to be seen—” ‘Ha! the devil’s work has begun ; if was them that I saw going down to the Trysting Tree; but I’li be on his path at once.” Without another word to the startled Jacob he darted out of the library and the mansion, earns the old negro muttering doletully to himself: ‘‘T fears Massa Victor has been so bad that o clean gone crazy; but I hopes he’ll come back to the paths o’ rightetude and goodness, or poor Missy Ma- bel will droop an’ die, same as Mi M Marian did,” and kneeling down by the table the pious old soul,-who had been half a centuryin the De Lisle family, raised his eyes and hands above, and prayed earnestly: ‘* Oh, the blessed Lord in the beautiful skies don’t turn away Thy ears from me ’cause I hain’t got no lily skin, but bearken unto my words, and lead back out o* the rugged path o’ sin that poor boy, whois sowin’ tares upon the wide sea—tares that will spring up an’ make hemp to hang him with, an’ place him in a igno- miny grave, on which ther utiful flowers o’ Thy Love will never grow, but be choked out by the weeds o’ ther devil’s garden, ‘*Oh, Lord, the precious God, hear this ole nigger’s prayer, and fetch that poor lost lamb back into Zion’s fold, an’ not Jet him pangs in the darkness of sin off the precipice of destruc- tion. ‘*Do this, good Lord, for him, and Dll axe nothin’ for the ole nigger—though thar’s heaps I wants, my precious Savior: Amen.” CHAPTER XLTiI. HavinG determined to make his home in the future in New Orleans, Don Ivan Enderos, a few days after his arrival at the cobaret of Pierre Jacot with his beautiful daughter, pur- chased a handsome mansion upon the Rue St Charles, and ordering it thoroughly refitted and refurnished, determined to go to the West Indies and settle up his affairs there, Unwilling to trust his daughter again from under his protection, Don Ivan engaged passage for her also, on a large and swift-sailing clipper ship that was bound to Boston, but which prom- ised to touch at Havana and land him, for e handsome consideration in gold. As the packet was to sail by daybreak, the Don, with Stella, and her maid, Ninetta, re- paired on board at night, and sought their com- fortable state-rooms, and when they awoke late the next morning, at the steward’s an- nouncement of breakfast, they found the vessel Sortnuy. riding over the biue waters of the rulf, ; Repairing to the deck, to await until his daughter had made her toilet, Don Ivan started visibly as he beheld two fasmiliar forms stand- ing upon the quarter-deck, and gazing with in- terest over the rolling waves. “Tam reaily Gelghaes, Don Henrico, that my sister and myself were persuaded to join you_and Miss Enderos in your Northern trip, for I dearly love the sea.” ** And so dol, M. Valverde, and now that we are in deep water, I confess I am like another man, for.I had a deep weight upon me whi'e in the city, one I will cast from me, at least for awhile.” , “‘T noticed that you seemed ill of late, Don Henrico, and I feared the cause of your worry was that very strange man, of the same name as yourself—Don Ivan Eaderos.” “ He was: I have more cause to dread that. man, M. Noel, than vou can ever kiow; but here come Ednaand Manine.” The Hunchback had listened with rapt at- tention to every word be had heard, and ak from sight against the rmizzenmast, as there suddenly ap ed on deck Edna Enderos and Manine Valverde, both looking exquisitely beautiful in their traveling suits of dark blue, and pretty sailor hats, As they ascended to the poop-deck, Don Ivan crept below, muttering: “A strange fatality has brought that man again in my power; ob, Love! oh, Revenge! which shall conquer? ‘* Must I give up my heritage of hatred, for— Ah! Stella, my child, | was going t» seek you, for you need a breath of the bracing sea air be- fore breakfast; come!” He slipped his arm through hers, and led her to the deck, stopping near where Don Henrice and his companions stood. A startled cry came from the lips of Don Henrico as his eyes suddenly fell upon the hideous form and face of the Hunchback, and all glanced in the direction in which he was gazing, his face deadly pale, his form trembling. And from Edna’s pallid lips came a cry, as she too saw that man, whom, of all others, she dreaded. ‘* Hal itis the Hunchback—hold! for the love of God! hold! Jocko!” and M. Noel Valverde s ,rang forward just in time to catch the u lifted arm of the Black Dwarf, which was de- scending knife in hand, upon the defenseless neck of the Hunchback, who bad not neticed | his stealthy descent from the rigging. Startled, in spite of his nerve, Don Ivan EOI (E| 900) SiO