Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 322 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

<a Ce household was concerned; for she had ever been free to roam at will, ber father putting no re- strictions upon her inclinations about ber own home, although he was very particular in re- gard to the friendships she formed in the city, even among her own sex. Nora had walked for some distance, when, beside a thicket of flowering shrubs, where the musical ripple of tbe river around the’ rocks and amid the reeds filled her ears, she halted; for she perceived, coming toward her, Clarence Coleman. There was a large log near the spot where the maiden paused, and she now seated herself upon it, nervously plucking some of the flowers that grew near her. Had she stepped toward the river, amid the bushes that formed the thicket between her and the stream, Nora would have shrieked with startled fright; for, crouched therein, was none other than the miscreant Rodney Reed, her father’s clerk, and her own unsought, feared, and detested admirer! Reed had known nothing of the proposed meeting of the lovers; but, having had his sus- picions aroused, he had repaired to the bottom- timber in the vicinity of the Norrington Man- sion, upon three different occasions, to satisfy himself whether the maiden, whom he had vowed should be his, really did love Clarence Coleman to the extent of meeting him clan- destinely. The Fates, at length, had favored him, The expression upon the swarthy face of the spy in the thicket betrayed the most intense exuitation; though, it was evident that it re- quired a great effort to restrain the wretch from springing out, and clutching the maiden in his vile embrace, Rodney Reed was not long to remain in Wgnorance of the love of those two young hearts, those two that seemed created especially for each other; for, upon the halting of Nora, and guided by her glance, the concealed miscreant espied the man whom he so hated approaching from the direction of the city. No longer did he believe that the strolls of the maiden within the timber were without an object except pleasure and exercise, lt was beyond ali doubt that the pair were meeting by appointment—meeting secretly, and as lovers! One glance between the foliage showed the lurker, in the flushed face, end the joyous, yet apprehensive manner, of Nora Norrington, a love that was both deep and lasting; and, not only this, but that her preference wes kept a secret from her own father, The jealous rage, that now surged and boiled in the breast of the cowardly spy, was truly terrible to behold. His swarthy face became ashen in hue. His fingers tore into the sward spasmodically, and his wolfish teeth nd in impotent madness, His black and treacherous eyes flashed glances from one to the other of the handsome pair, as if he would pierce their very hearts with the arrows of his hate. Tae plot be had previously formed, through hatred born of the consciousness of his in- feriority in appearance and character to Clar- ence Coleman, would not now satisfy the hellish hate that sprung into birth, and ruled the entire being of Rodney Reed. the moment he realized that Clarence and Nora loved each other; and that, beyond all doubt, they had held frequent interviews in secret, on previous occasions, The thought was madness. The joy and love that beamed upon the face of Clarence Coleman, as be quickened his pace upon perceiving the one he sought, was beauti- ful to behold. It softened his glance and ex- ression to a degree that was almost feminine. ot a word did he speak, to break the soft silence of the breezeless eve. Directly in front of Nora, the young man strode, and then stretched himself upon the ground at her feet, taking one of ber small and shapely hands in his own. A most heavenly moment it was to those young, loving hearts. A most hellish moment to that vile miscreant spy, who writhed within himself, a volcano of ase oe bate and murderous fury seething in his reast and brain! ‘* Nora!” That one word fell softly and lovingly from the lips of Clarence Coleman. ‘*Clarence,” was the whispered response; those two words, and the tone in which they were spoken, expressing more than a thousand and one reiterations of undying love. ‘Heaven bless you, Nora, for thus proving your regard for one so. far beneath you in wealth or station, but who loves, who adores rp: more than life—more than aughi else that eaven can offer!” ‘“Do not speak in that wa' Clarence: it is wrong—wicked!’ ‘‘Forgive me, darling! But I cannot, in weaker words, express my undying love for you. Iam not one to ask your father to give me his ere hand, until I am on an equal footing with him. ‘*T loved you, Nora, at first sight, but I suf- fered the tortures of the lost when I thought of if I beg of you, The Crimson Coyotes. the absurdity of that love. I dared net even dream that you would treat me asa friend sud equal in the presence of others; consequently when, at last, like a halo of golden light, the consciousness that you loved me burst upon my soul, | was transported into the seventh keaven of delight. ‘*T believe I should, in the end, have gone mad bad you not manifested a regard for me. I am fully aware, however, that it would b» impossible, even in many years of service in my present capacity, to accumulate sufficient to give you a home equal to that which [| would ask you to leave; therefore I have decided to leava San Antonio, and seek a fortune among the mining regions.” As Clarence said this, the satisfaction of Reed was shown plainly upon his face, An expression of pain passed over the counte- nance of Nora; perhaps the first real anguish that had broken in upon her young love, but certainly not the last. **Clarence,” she said, ‘do not speak of leav- ing, especially of going so far away! Is it not enough that we are rich in each other’s love? As to the difference in station you speak of, a!l are born equal; and, at death, all must sleep the same sleep. ‘‘Human pride. I believe to be sinful. The basis of such pride among us is wealth, and wealth may, at any day, take wings. Then pride, broken and bumiliated, leaves its victim a wreck, stranded on a barren shore.” “Why, Nora, you are quite a philosopher! I declare, I had not thought you so deep a thinker. I am proud, my darling, very proud of you and your love. But, for all that, in connection with my position in this selfish world, there is no combating the fact, that I am far beneath you, Asto my family, lama scion of a good old Kentucky stock, and my education bas been all that I conld reasonably expect or desire. ‘I bave relatives who have not only wealth, but political influence. I ask no favors, how- ever, from any one. I hope, my dear Nora you do you not altogether condemn that kind of pride?’ ‘Indeed, I do not, Clarence! It is com- mendable in you, and [admire your independ- ence of spirit. You could not act and think otherwise, and be yourself.” ‘*Thanks, Nora, but you see, for all that, here I am meeting the daughter of my rich and aristocratic employer—I, a mere clerk meeting clandestinely the beautiful daughter of Norman Norrington! ‘** Now, that is truly humiliating for me to think of, for I am naturally free and open; and, if I do ~ it, myself, am devoid of pire crisy. All this must end, and shortly. It is hard for me to leave you, Nora, but I must do it. I have already ceased to take any interest in business here, and have begun to entertain the most unreas »nable hopes in regard to win- ning a fortune elsewhere,” e by not te!l papa everything, Clarence? He might accept the inevitable, and advance you in business—perbaps take you as a part- ner. ‘*My dear Nora, you must know that what you ome is too absurd. Mr. Norringtor would listen to me in the utmost astonishment and indignation, and would end by ordering me from his presence, and his employ.” The young girl sighed, as she returned: “It may be as you apprehend, Clarence; but, it does appear to me that papa would con- sider my happiness more than you infer. He i never denied me enything that was reason- able.’ ‘*Just so. And he would assert that nothing could be more unreasonable than your having degraded yourself to such an extent as to meet, even on terms of friendship, one of his em- b= Atal ; he maiden’sface assumed a worried and anx- ious expression, ‘‘Nora, what is it that troubles you?” asked the young man quickly. ‘I shall begin to wish that I had died before meeting you, if Iam to as clouds about your brigbt young life. I would rather lose my right arm than that you should suffer one hour of sorrow through me. You knew naught but happiness until 1 crossed your path.” ‘** You are very changeable, Clarence.” ‘Since I met you, Nora—yes! [admit that, in some things I am. My brain is in a whir!, But in the grand object which I have before mé, I am firm and immovable, ‘* For all that, | scarce dare think of our part- ing. My exile will seem an eternity of anxiety and anguish, but which I must combat and crush down.” ‘* Please do not speak again of leaving San Antonio!” pleaded Nora. ‘‘ Let us hope and pray that some opening may occur to give you vin opportunity to win wealth in the Alamo ty. _ ** But I must tell you why I looked troubled just now. I shuddered at the mere thought of being left, as it would seem to me, alone; for, should you leave San Antonio, I should be al- ways hopeless und despondent. Besides that. I should be in almost constant terror and appre- 3 ee ee hension from a source that I have never men- tioned either to papa or yourself.” “ Why, whet can you mean, Nora? You alarm me. Who, or what, can work you barm in my absence?’ ‘lt is nothing that sbould cause immediate alarm, so please don’t get excited, Clarence. I begin to think that it would be almost foolish in me to tell you. You are so impetuous that you might cause trouble which we should rather seek to avoid.” ‘You have gone too far now, Nora,” said the young man; “but I'll promise to keep cool.” The maiden smiled, but besitated a moment before speaking. ‘Very well; I suppose it must be told, but I know you will think me very imaginative and silly to entertain the fears tbat 1 do. To begin, however, I wish to ask you a question which I have long desired to put to you. Whatis your opinion of Rodney Reed?” The spy in tbe thicket pricked his ears at this, to him, most personal and interesting question. He began to perceive that Nora Norrington, if Clarence should leave the city, would be afraid of his forcing his presence and unwelcome at- tentions. ‘*] have never yet spoken of a man, behind his back, words which I would not say to his face, should occasion require it,” answered her lover; ‘‘and [ will say to you, Nora, that which I presume I shall bave cause to say to the face of the man bimself, if I remain here any length of time. And these words are, that he is an un- mitigated rascal; one who, to enrich himeelf, and carry out a pet object, would commit, I really believe, the most dastardly crimes in the calendar. “It was a great surprise to me when your father employed him, for Mr. Norrington bas seen much of the world, and of men, and should know by Rodney Reed’s face, and those treach- erous eyes of bis, that avoid the glances of all whom he meets, that he is a villain, and not to be trusted. “I firmly believe that Reed forged the letters of introduction that gained bim his present situation, and more than that, I suspect that he now meditates the robbery of thesafe. Indeed, that has been one very strong reason why I wished to leave the bank. But what connection has this delectable character with the fears and apprebensions you have hinted at?” “Clarence, I have formed the same opinions of Rodney Reed that you have. except that I have not thought of his robbing papa, unless it might be of his daughter. * Don’t laugh at me, Clarence! I am itive that that wretch has determined, in bis vile heart, to abduct me if there is any chance for him to do so. Whenever he and I haye been placed near each other, at his occasional visits to papa his hateful attentions have been such that I cannot even attempt to describe them to Oo you, ** At times I bave been about to cry out, when he would biss in my ear: “* Betray me if you dare! ter!’ “His very presence fills me with loathing and repugnance, as well as terror. I shun him as I would a poisonous snake, yet there are times when he contrives to get beside me. He is a vile wretch, and is capable of any crime. ‘*T loathe and detest him! And yet I dare not, for some unknown and mysterious reason, inform my father. I think it must be from a conviction I have that Reed will kill the man who first calls him to account for his insults to me I am your mas- “You mistake,” cried Clarence Coleman, Se oe to his feet, ‘‘you mistake, Nora orrington, for I will kill Rodney Reed!” Nora clung to the young man in mingled amazement and concern. She had not dreamed Clarence capable of the strong emotion and ungovernable fury Se by him at the revelation she made of Reed’s dastardly conduct. ‘**Oh, Clarence, I do wish I had not told you this! You do not—surely ycu do not mean what you say!” ‘Yes, I repeat it—I swear it, by my hopes of heaven!” continued the young man in bis ex- citement, ‘that Rodne , the contempti- ble coward, shall crawl in abject terror at your feet, and your pardon, or he shall die by my hand. It is—” At that instant there was a whirring sound in the air, followed by a heavy tbud, and the handsome form of Clarence Coleman fell back- ward over the log, the blood welling from his head, beside which lay the blood stone which bad felled him! Nora saw the blood filtering through bis wavy Sas his face growing pallid, and his eyes sightless in insensibility, and with a shriek she sunk beside her lover, both of them as uncon- scious as the log that lay rear them. Then, out from the thicket stole Rodney Reed, with tbe look of an exultant fiend upon his face. Recovering the missile he had used, he burled the same into the river. Then, shaking his clincbed fist “comichbook =EO