Beadle's Dime Library No. 316 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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and grasping bis band, ‘‘ Henri, this little locket, that should bave been the bond to unite us to each other, was the innocent instrument of our ! with ber jib, her fore cours? banging Father! at such a | toons and her topsails neatly furled to the yard. long and bitter separation. that place. The wind was south and light, but she had only ber royals and topgallantsails set | in fes- time as this I would not grieve you needlessly, | The sails were finely relieved against the dark but it was your partiality for my brother, which, acting on a weak and hasty temper led me first to bate him! Tben may God forgive us both!” The old man groaned, and in silence bent over his child. ‘‘ Henri, my brother Henri!—I love to repeat a name so dear to my cbildhood—I am dying! Clasp this locket with me, tbus! Hold it with me in the same brotherly grasp. Let it be the seal of our reconciliation here, and our reunion with the blessed original in a better world.” Together they clasped their hands over the locket, while the count, deeply affected, wept in silence, ‘Constanza! forgive me!” he continued, ‘I have loved you to my dying hour! Farewell,” he added, after a moment’s silence, while they allkneeledaround him, ‘‘ Farewell, my father— brother—Constanzi—all farewell! Theodore,” he said, affectionately taking his hand, ‘‘ Theo- dore, my orpban boy, farewell! May God bless and protect you, my child! Henril bea brother to bim.” The count pressed his hand in silence, ‘* Now, once more—adieu for—forever. May Heaven be merciful to my guilty soul ”’—and, with this prayer on his lips, be expired in the arms of his brotber and Theodore. After the death of bis pirate benefac' or Theo- dore was sdopted by the Count D’Oyley, who, after bis marriage with Constanza. purchased a handsome plantation-bome below New Orleans, and thither the scenes of my story are now transferred. CHAPTER IX, THE STRANGE BRIG. OnE autumn twilight, five years after the peace was ratified between the two belligerenis, Great Britain and the United States, a group migbt have been observed gathered on the por- tico of an elegant villa situated on the banks of the Mississippi, a few miles below the city. This group consisted of six persons, In a large arm- chair sat an old gentleman with a dignified air and a bland smile upon his countenance, danc- ing upon his knee a lovely cbild in her third summer, while an old female slave, crouched at his feet, was amusing the delighted girl with her antics. It was ‘‘ole Juana.” Near the steps of the portico stood a gentle- man of middle age with a lofty forehead, slightly disfigured by a scar, a mild blue eye and manly features, who was directing the attention of a beautiful female, leaning affectionately on bis arm, to the maneuvers of a small vessel-of-war, _then doubling one of the majestic curves of the river. It was the Count and Countess D’Oyley. The lady united in ber face and person the dig- nity of the matron with tha loveliness of the maiden, The sweet face of the little girl on its grandsire’s knee was but the reflection of her image in miniature. Leaning against one of the columns of the portico stood a noble-looking and very hand- some young man of twenty-one, In a bunting- dress. A gun rested carelessly upon one arm, and a majestic dog, venerable with age, whom he occasionally addressed as ‘‘ Leon,” stood upon his hind feet with bis fore-paws against his breast, This was Theodore! They were interested in watching the maneu- vers of a smal! brig-of-war ascending the river, a mile below the mansion. The abode of Count D’Oyley was an elegant edifice, situated on the river not far below the ‘‘ battle-ground.” It was stuccoed and colored a delicate Jemon tint, and had a remarkably airy, graceful appear- ance amid its lemon and orange gardens. It was elevated upon massive pillars eight feet above the lawn, the space beneath being paved with stone and forming cool and agreeable cor- ridors for exercise in the heat of summer. The house, thus elevated above the level country, was surrounded by a veranda, broad and lofty, protected from the sun by pendent blinds. Tho windows of several rooms opened upon it, and it served as a general drawing-room for the family. From this veranda or portico was ob- tained a fine view of the orange gardens around it; of the majestic river a mile in breadth that flowed past within an eighth of a mile, the eye being able to follow its noble curves for several leagues north and east. The opposite shores witn their pleasant villas and gardens an broad sugar-fields, were also visible. The river was now glowing in the setting sun like a scarf of gold and purple. Here and there its broad bosom was relieved by the canvas of a ship making her slow way up to the city, or the naked masts and spars of one floating down- ward with the current. But tne object that now drew the attention of the group in the veranda had a more interesting character than that of a merchaat-vessel, numbers of which were daily passing by on the river. It was a very elegant, light-armed brig, that a few moments before had made its appearance round a point. She was standing westward, ' | | | green of the forests on the banks, close in with which she was steering. ‘*What a beautiful vessel, monsieur,” said Theodore, bis dark eyes animated as he gazed on her exquisite proportions with the eye of a young sailor. ‘‘She has a hull like the Gertrude,” remarked the Count D’Oyley; but as be spoke a sad ex- pression passed over bis countenance, which was reflected from the feces of both the countess and the young man. That word unguardedly spoken bad brought to all painful and touching memories. After a moment's silence he re- sumed: “The sun was already below the horizon before she hove in sight, and then her colors were hauled down, If we had seen her ten mioutes earlier we could have ascertained her nation,” ‘‘She is English, I think,” said Theodore, *“‘Her yards are too square for an American vessel, and they are also. painted jet-black, which is peculiar to Britisb vessels-of-war.” “You are right, Theodore. Juana, go in the hall and bring me my spy-glass,” ‘Juana is amusing little Gertrude,” said the countess, ‘I will fetch it for you, Alphonse.” “Thanks, my dear obliging wife,” said the count, removing the telescope from her hand with a smile, © Theodore also had passed from the veranda through one of the door-like windows into bis own room and returned with another glass. As he opened it the name of ‘ Lafitte” was visible engraved upon the side, Both leveled their glasses at the same moment at the brig; and both in the same breath pronounced her to be English. **Sbe bas a gilt St. George’s cross on a black ground for a figure-head,” said Theodore. ‘‘And also on the bows of her first cutter,” said the count. ‘‘The glow of tbe evening is reflected brightly upon it.” ‘It is five years since an English vessel-of- war bas passed up this river, and then with hostile intentions. What can be her business? She is certainly a perfect masterpiece of nauti- cal beauty. What just proportion between her spars and bull; and what a finished model she appears in the eye of a seaman.” ‘**There is no fault io her,” said the count, ‘funless it may be she is an inch or two too deep! Ican’t divine her purpose in ascending the river. If it was a diplomatic visit she would put into Norfolk. Perbaps it is some matter touching the commerce between us and the British West Indies. Hark! hear that clear whistle from her! They are piping hammocks down, Constanza, dear, that sound makes me feel as if I was once more on the deck of my frigate, Le Sultan,” said the count, thrusting the glass under his arm and pacing two or three times up and down the veranda, as if on the deck of a ship. “She is well manned, monsieur,” said Theo- dore, who still surveyed her through his glass as she slowly moved up-stream in the shadow of the shade, “The whole crew are now visible taking their hammocks from the nettings. She carries at least one bundred and fifty men; a large uumber for a brig of sixteen guns, and in time of peace.” The count, who had been gently reproved by the countess for presuming to think of the sea again, of which her former experience had given her a great horror, which sbe had per- suaded him to give e altogether after their marriage, again raised his glass and confirmed Theodore’s estimate of the number of men. “The wind is falling quite to gat 4 with the close of day,” said he. ‘“‘They will have to drop their anchor shortly, or lose what they have gained, We shall then have guests, my love. If they anchor I shall take my barge and go on board and invite the cfficers to dine with me to-morrow, It is a rare chance to have for such secluded people as we are.” “i. oot half-afraid to trust you on board,” said the Countess Constanza, half-seriously, half-playfully; ‘‘ for 1 don’t know but that the society of officers and the fascination of a ves- sel-of-war, may, after they are gone, make you discontent with our retirement, and in secret yon, will sigh for the stirring life you have e ‘“No, my dear Constanza,” answered the count with a sorrowful air and shaking his head with melancholy firmness. ‘*No, I shall never return to sea on which I was so unfortunate as to pursue and bring to death my poor brother Achille. Not less your wishes than my feelings Jed me to resign my ship—a profession which led me to results so painful. We _ will Jet the brig- of-war pass on its way. I wish not to visit it, lest it revive too vividly the scenes of my brother’s death, for the vessel in her model bas a resemblance to bis tbat cannot fail to bring back to me, if I step on board, the scene where I was unwittingly the slayer of my poor for such was the course of the winding river at brother.” Lafitte’s Lieutenant. ————- | sss sss TTT ttt ————'—_------———_e-——_—V_-—_s[~evwwe se--moum ae ae ee ‘*Grieve not yourself, my noble husband. It is past, and the fact of your ignorance of the near relationship that existed between you and him who was called ‘ Lafitte,’ should acquit you to yourself as it. does to Heaven,” ‘Your words are fu'l of wisdom and tran- quillity,” said the count, with grateful tender- ness, ‘* Theodore sball goon board. Look at him now, as he stands there by the column, tall and manly, with a form and air and aspect ofa noble. ow proud and lofty his carriage, yet how gentle and benign his manner. As he has grown up to manhood, how distinguished ere the proportions into which bis form bas devel- oped itself. He must doubtless resemble his un- known father, for methinks bis father must have had such a form, and if so, ke must bave been a true nobleman. He of whom Theodore is the son was, I am assured, no ordinary indi- vidual,” The countess turned and surveyed the fine person of the yourg man with affectionate, proud admiration, as be stood unconscious of their regard, gazing through tbe glass at the brig. His appearance fully justified the count’s eulogistic expressions. His bair was dark as the wing of the raven, and fell upcn the cape of his hunting coat in luxuriant glossy masses, His forebead was high and bold, if not command- ing: and his eyebrows were finely arched and expressive. is eyes were black and animated and fall of fire and soul. His cheek was brown mixed with red, and his lip was sbaded by an elegant mustache, which gave strength and energy to the outline of a mouth which from its delicacy and finish would have been perbaps, otherwise too womanly in its beauty. The ex- pression of his features was frank, generous and open, with an inclination to vivacity; though at times sad thoughts would pass over it when he gt ig upon the mystery that bung around is life. The death of bis benefactor had Jeft him without one whom he could regard in the place of a parent; and Jong and deeply bad he mourn- ed his loss, It is true, that the Count D’Oyley, to whom Lafitte had intrusted him) with his ex- piring breath, bad heen faithful to his charge, and the Countess Constarza had been both a sister and a mother to the noble youth to whom she owed her bonor and ber life. But theaffec- tionate interest of the Count in bim, and the tender regard of Constanza would not fill the place in his heart ever occupied by him who, though an outlaw and a man of crime, bad long been to him a father. ‘ As Theodore increased in years his desire to ascertain bis parentage grew upon bim to an extent of painful solicitude; and he had more than once formed the notion of leaving the bouse of his friends and casting himself upon the world to see if circumstances in the course of adventures might not reward bim wita suc- cess. But a second reflection showed him the absurdity of such a step; and gratitude bound him to those who were too much attached to him to suffer him to leave them, «xcept for a career of honorable service, to which be secretly aspired. He was weary of inactivity. His spirit was too ambitious or active to rest satis- fied with only the excitement of shooting and the chase, which were the sole recreations with- inbis reach. He panted for action. ‘“* She yields to the current and fallsdown the stream, now the wind has died toa calm,” said Theodore. ‘‘I see them on the bows preparing to let drop the anchor.” ‘They will drop in twenty fathoms there,” said the count. ‘‘I would advise them to send a hawser ashore and lay along the bank. But this would be too close shore for the men, We should soon have our estate overrun with men- —— ——— ee -— -—- -o’-war’s-men, egg and duck-bunting. There goes her anchor! Well. they will ride snugly there where they are, a bundred yardsfrom the shore, till morning. See, Constanza, how nim- bly those men fly aloft to furl the top-gallant- sails and royals! Well, Theodore, we have neighbors it seems.” The young man did not reply—he did not hear the remark addressed to him, The Count regarded bim a moment and saw that he was Jost in thought. Whatever. his reflections were they seemed to be of a character to deepen the color of bis cheek and kindle his eye. He stood with the glass resting on the bollow of bis arm, bis gaze fixed evidently in the direction of the brig. The count seemed to divine bis thoughts, He approached him, and touched his band with a slight blow of bis finger. ‘“‘ Monsieur Theodore,” he said, smiling, ‘if you betray your wishes so clearly on your face you must not be surprised if they are inter- preted. You are thinking you would like to commit your fortunes to yonder vessel-of-war. You are weary of us and would go into the world and mingle with men, Am’'I nota good necromancer?” : Or ‘You have trulv divined my thoughts, noble count,” answered Theodore, coloring; ‘‘ but you do me injustice in saying that I am weary of you. Whom have I to love or to care for me ut you and the Countess Constauz.?” he said, with generous emotion. “T meant no reproach. my dear Theodore. _ It is natural that you desire to enter upon a field EGomicbooks (E(o)