Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 18, 1897, Page 6

CHAPTER XLI (Contnued.) ection that Astrea had gone, they soon came to the stream down whose bed she had waded; but they struck it much lower down than sie did, and the consequence was that they came upon it at a point almost opposite to the tree in which she had taken refuge. “Phis is fortunate,” said Rumford, vas he saw the water. “I will now wash the dogs’ noses and prepare them to take up the scent again in case we should be so lucky as to cross Zora’s track.” Hie at once set about the task, and gave the noses of Castor and Pollux a thorough washing, much to their dis- gust. ‘hen, looking about him for a short time, he said: “Now, Sam, dismount and tie the horses to that tree yonder, where they will have a good stamping ground, wad then we'l’ make a thorougn search up and down this brook. Come, hurry, you ly’ said Rumford, with a manifest tone of impatience. “Why are you so slow? It will be sundown before we get under way, unless you make haste.” “De fact am, marse, dat I doesn't like de notion ob leaben’ de hos tied up heah, while we goes a-rampagin’ about troo de swamp,” said Sam, with a dubious shake of the head. “How do we know what may happen to de poor, -dumb critte while we is gone? Der bears may eat ’em up; or de hoss Vieves, which you knows, murse, as de swamp am de place where dey hide, may cone an ’steal um; and den what you gwine to say when you come an’ fine Saladin done gone, or see his bones a-lyin’ aroun’ heah picked as clean as a turkey’s at Chris’mas!” “There is no danger, either from bears or horse-thiev' Rumford re- plied, at the same time patting and earessing his horse, which was a handsome chestnut, and was claimed to be a regu hbred. “If 1 thought,” he added, that any harm could come to Saladin, I don’t know but I would give up my plan—and the But girl, too, sooner than lose him. there is no danger. Ther re no b ‘s about, and no horse thief would dare attempt to steal the horses from under my very nose.” “Don't be too sartain ob dat, marse,” said Sam. “S’pose a hoss tief get on Saladin’s back onct, how you gwine to eateh him, I should like to know, when dere ain’t anoder hoss in all de country dat can hold a candle to Sal- adin’s heels. I tell you, marse, you'd better let dis chile ay heah wid de you an’ de dogs looks for Dat’s my notion.” “Perhaps you are right, Sam,” re- turned Rumford. “At any rate, you cannot help me much in my search But min dthat you keep se, else I may find your bones ced on my return. Or perhaps the Swamp,’ that you darkies so greatly r, may p you a visit, and trouble your dream: At the mention of the “Spirit of the mp,” Sam turned fairly blue with ied, in supplicating tones: “Please, marse, don’t go for to talk light ob dat. De Spirit don’t like to be made fun ob, whateber you do; so please let de Sperit alone, or dis chile won't be worf a persimmon ‘ag’in for a week, he won't.” “Well, well, never mind! I didn’t mean any disrespect to the Spirit. But see that you keep wide awake, and if you should hear me halloo, you halloo back again, that I may know in ex- actly what direction you are. And, by the way, should anything unusual happen here, you just try your voice at a yell which would frighten every- thing in the swamp, including bears, horse-thieves and the Spirit itself;” and so saying, Rumford called the bounds and strode away down the stream, the dogs running on in ad- vance of him, and was soon out of sight. Sam, meanwhile, after muttering and grumbling at his master’s propensity to make light of the “Swamp Spirit,” (which was a prodigious terror to all the superstitious negroes, every one of whom was certain that he or she had seen it gliding at dusk through the swamp, or about the plantation, on many occasions,) sat down at the foot of a large tree near by, and, leaning JBis back and head against it, was soon fm a dreamy doze, and forgetful of all the dangers that he had argued would be impending over the horses if they should be left alone. Astrea, perched in her tree, had beard all the preceding conversation between Rumford and his groom, and it had aroused varied emotions in her bosom. She feared that her pursuer might ¢ome and examine the tree she was hiding in, and if he could not see her, the bloodhounds might detect her presence by their keen scent. And this made her think of her cut finger and the blood upon her handkerchief that she had wrapped around it. She re- moved the handkerchief and found it saturated with blood. This excited fresh fears of discovery. Surely the bounds would scent all that blood, if they should come underneath the tree! And she could not make away with it. ‘To throw the handkerchief from her would only increase her danger, as it might fall beneath the tree and arrest the attention of Rumford if he should pe that way. Of course, he would ceme back again; and he might cross the brook and come up on that side. ‘The more she thought of thse things, | the more alarmed sh at last she felt that to in the tree would lead to her certain detection. but how she to find any better ing-place? She might be detected if she came down. In her wanderings -she might come upon her pursuer. At cany rate, the more tr: he made, the more likely the hounds would be to get on the scent. became; until Suddenly a new thought occurred to } Why could she not take adyant- | “her, age of Rumford’s absence to get pos- ONDEMNED SE 6 is W y chanced to take nearly the | i EALTH. ») x session of Saladin, and so make sure of escape, as his fleetness was so great that the remaining ‘horse could not | leng keep even in sight of him! But! bow could sle circumvent Sam? She turned the question over in her own ! mind, and soon came to a conclusion. There were three ways in which she might do it. She might steal so qui- etly upon him as to be able to mount Saladin and be off before he would be able to prevent it; or, in case of inter- | ference on Sam’s part, she might re- sort to her dagger; or, she might per- sonate the dreaded Swamp Spirit, frighten Sam out of his senses, and by that means accomplish her object. The last plan struck her as the best. She resolved to personate the “Spirit,” and at once began to descend from her hiding-place to put her scheme into ex- ecution. CHAPTER XLII. Astrea descended from her hiding- place with so much caution, and so si- lently, that Sam's drowsy ear received no intimation of her presence. After reaching the ground, she remained be- hind the huge trunk of the cypress while “getting herself up” for the part ske was to play. Her resources for preparing to personate the “Spirit of the Swa were limited; but she felt confident that she could present a sufliciently startling appearance to up- set Sain’s self-possession long enough to enable her to accomplish her object, especially as it was becoming so dusky iu the thick gloom of the swamp that, at a little distance, an innocent object might be magnified by a mind so fear- ful and superstitious as the negroe’s into a terror-inspiring apparition. Taking her blood-blotched pocket handkerchief, she cut holes in it for her eyes and mouth, and then tied it tightly over her face. This sim- ple contrivance, taken in connection with her flowing white dress, gave her a realiy ghostly and _ fear-inspiring countenance; and on looking at her- self in the mirror furnished by the water of the brook, to which she cau- tiously advanced, she was certain that she needed nothing more, except the assumption of a sepulch tone of voice, to enable her to drive the su- perstitious groom as nearly out of his senses as would be necessary for her purpose. She crossed the brook and, keeping a tree between her and the negro, she cautiously advanced toward the spot where Saladin was quietly standing beneath the branches of a wide-spr ing cypress. On arriving at Saladin’s side, she pulled her sun bonnet over her face, that he might not be fright- ened by her unusual appearance, and | patting him gently, she spoke cooingly | to him, in a low tone, so as to win his confidence, Finding him gentle, and not at all disposed to resent her famil- iarity, she quietly loosed him from the tree. Thus far she had not attracted Sam’s attention in the slightest degree, He sat perfectly still at the foot of the tree against which he was leaning, | and seemed to be either sound asleep | or else utterly absorbed in meditation. So still and unconscious did he ap- pear that Astrea began to hope that she would be able to mount Saladin and dash away before Sam would be aroused, ard which she probably might have done had not she stepped upon a dry stick that snapped like a pistol shot beneath her foot and {| caused the dosing groom to open his eyes and gaze around with a startled look. Astrea immediately pushed her bon- net from her face and, drawing up her form to its utmost height, she ra her right arm (keeping hold of $ din’s bridle with her left hand, which | was behind her), and shook her finger | menacingly at the astounded negro. For a moment Astrea was at a loss what to do next—whether to try to mount Saladin, without saying a word, before Sam could offer any interfer- ence, or whether to seek to deepen the effect of her appearance on him by “making a few remarks appropriate to the occasion.” Fearing that an at- tempt to get upon Saladin’s back might seem such an unspiritual operation to the groom as to disillude him to a dan- gerous degree, she resolved to call on her vocal powers to help her play out the game to the safest possible conclu- sion. s ’ She therefore advanced a few steps toward the quaking negro and, glower- ing upon him in as ghostly a manner as she knew how to assume, she again raised her hand, and, in the most sep- ulchral tones, said: “Rash, intruding man what are you doing there upon the sacred spot where my body has so long lain buried?” The effect of this address upon Sam was highly electrical. Giving a sud- den leap and scramble to one side, he again came upon his knees, clasped his lands, and raising them deprecating- ly toward what he verily believed the dreaded “Swamp Spirit,” he groaned out: “T didn’t know it! ‘deed an" ’deed I didn’t! Mist’us Sperit. I neber knowed as how your sacred body was buried anywhere, ’deed I didn’t—leastways at de foot ob dat tree, or I neber would hab sot dis yere ole carcase down dere —neber, so help me heaben an’ all de angels—neber!” “That is false,” replied Astrea, in her best ghost tone. “You kiew that my bones were lying there, and you came here to dig them up and carry them away.” “Tore God, Mist’us Sperit,” cried Sam, with the perspiration starting wpon his face, “dis yer chile neber tought ob such a ting in all de born days ob his life. .I jes’ sot down dere to wait for Marse Rumford to come back after he an’ de houn’s had tak’t a look for Miss Zora, who's run’d away from de plantation into dis yer swamp. An’ dat’s jes’ de blessed trnfe, an’ nuffin’ else; an’ ef you'll jes’ wait till Marse Rumford gets back— n’ dat’s his yell now,” exclaimed ! Sam, in a tone of relief, as a loud hal- | Joo rang through the swamp; “he ain’t fur away, an’ I'll jes’ yell back again, | ford’ so he'll know jes’ where to come, an’—" : “Silence! said Astrea, firmly. The idea that Rumford and his blood- hovnds were on their way back, nerved her with desperation and brightened. all her faculties, “You are deceiving me!” she continued, at the same time drawing the dagger from her bosom and advancing toward the negro, but without letting go of the bridle of Saladin, who, consequently, followed her. “You are deceiving me!” she repeated, menacingly, “and I must punish you by cutting out your lying tongue!” and she held up the gleaming dagger to his view. This was too much for Sam’s nerves to bear. Springing to his feet, just as another halloo from Rumford came sounding through the swamp, he gave a responsive yell of terror, and dashed away in the direction he be- lieved his master and the dogs to be, and was speedily out of sight. Astrea, fully appreciating the pre- ciousness of moments, at once pulled the blood-stained handkerchief from her face, led Saladin to the side of a log, by the assistance of which she clambered into the saddle, and rode off, in a direction opposite to that from which Rumford’s halloos had come, as fast as the impending branches and logs and her own uncomfortable seat upon her master’s saddle, would per- mit. After proceeding a short distance, it occurred to her that she ought not to leave the other horse for Rumford to pursue her with; and, riding back, she, with her dagger, cut the bridle with which the horse was tied, and, taking hold of one piece of the rein, she led the animal away as fast as she could make him travel; and, as he seemed to like the idea of being per- mitted to accompany his companion, Saladin, and went on as briskly as Astrea could ride through the swamp, she found that the taking of him along did not impede her flight. She was also confirmed in the wisdom of her action, by the reflection that a reck- less rider like Rumford, mounted on an inferior horse, might easily have overtaken her in the swamp, inas- much as she could not there urge Sal- adin to anything like the speed he was capable of showing. in the course of half an hour Astrea emerged from the swamp, and came upon a road running east and west (as she could tell by the last glinting of the sun’s rays on the western horizon)’ and leading she knew not whither. It did not seem to be a road that was much traveled, as it was to some ex- tent overgrown with grass; and as far as she could see in any direction there was not the slightest sign of any hu- man habitation. Which way to go, she knew not. It might be that in one di- rection or the other the road might lead to Rumford’s plantation, or so near it that her safety would be en- dangered should she be so unfortunate as to go thitherward. After turning the matter over in her mind for a moment, it occurred to her that if the horses knew the way home, and were left to their own guidance, they would be likely to take the home- ward way, and so she resolved to see what direction they would go when left to themselves. She, therefore let go the rein of the led horse, and al- lowed the bridle to fall upon Saladin’s neck. The horses at once took their way eastward, t must be the way to Rum- * thought Astrea, “if either way leads to his plantation; so I'll take the other course. But I don’t want to lead that other horse any longer. I'll let him go toward the east, while I ride adin westward. Then, if parsuers track me hither, they will find that the horses have gone in different direc- tions, but they will not be able to tell which one carried me away on his back. That will baffle them again and give me more time.” Acting upon this theory, Astrea gave the led horse a sharp blow with a switch that she had provided herself with as a substitute for a riding whip, which sent him cantering along the road to the east, while she turned Sal- adin’s head and rode at a brisk pace in the opposite direction, the gloom of approaching night rapidly closing around her unknown path, which, for aught she knew, might be thickly strewn with dangers. The lonely wan- derer, faint from lack of sustenance and exhausted with toil and excite- ment, felt the hazardous of her situa- tion in all its bitterness; but, putting up a prayer to beaven for protection, she rode on into the gathering dark- ness with unfaltering trust in that Tvatherly Power which had already so signally rescued her from what had seemed unscapable peril. We will now return to Rumford and | his sable coadjutor: The last we saw of Sam he was rushing madly through the swamp in the direction whence he heard his mas- ter’s halloos, in order to escape the doom threatened him by what he be- lieved to be the incensed Spirit of the Swamp. The frightened negro so filled the swamp with his yells of terror as he ran, that he no longer heard the voice of Rumford. He rushed on, over logs and through bushes; and, as every uncouth looking stump and way- ing bush seemed to him, as it loomed through the gloom, to be the threaten- ing spirit of wrath, the poor fellow was actually in danger of losing what little sense nature had endowed him with. And, at last. when a vine caught his foot, and sent him, heels over head into a clump of brambles, he thought he was actually in the clutches of the fiends, and roared for mercy with a vehemence and strength of lungs that caused his master, who was not far off, to Lasten to the spot in astonishment and alarm. On coming up with his yelling groom, Rumford seized hold of his leg, and, dragging him from the brambles, sternly, demanded an explanation of his unexplicable conduct. But Sam was too much under the influence of his superstitious terror to give his master an explanation. He could only beg for mercy, and protest that he had never done anything to injure any *sperit” whatever in all the born days of his life, so help him heaven. Rumford at last became so impatient that he seized Sam by the ears and shook him, and cuffed him, till the phy- sical pain overcame the mental super- stition, and brought the fellow to his senses. But, even then, he could get no satisfaction of him. Sam told him _ how the “Swamp Sperit” had come suddenly upon him, “lookin’ de awful- lest, marse, ob any ting eber seed on dis yer yurth,” and accused him of.try- | ing to dig up its body, that had been | hourds—were soon buried (as Sam told it) at the foot of | the tree where he had sat down, for ‘ever so many thousand years. that when he denied having had any such intention, and was only waiting for his master to come back, “de sper- it drawed an awful sharp knife out ob its bosom, and proceeded to cut out dis yer chile’s tongue by de roots, which I knows, marse, as how it would have done, sart’in sure, only I heerd you holler, and run’d away to meet you, which I’m glad I did.” Rumford was non-plussed. That Sam had seen something, he felt sure, “ring that bottle along, Steppins, and as the fellow’s terror had been too gen- uine to spring from nothing. But what could it have been? He did not be- lieve in the existence of spirits, but he did believe in the existence of horse- thieves. He feared some of the latter had played a trick on Sam, and fright- ened him away, that they might make off with the horses. This alarmed him excessively; and, putting the dogs on the irack that Sam had made in his flight (for it hab become too dark in the swamp to be guided by the sense of vision), he followed them as speed- ily as possible to the place where the horses had been left. On seeing that both of the horses were gdne, Rumford was confirmed in his idea that the whole affair had been a ruse of horse thieves, and vented his rage at Sam by pouring out a volley of imprecations and threats of venge- ance that almost made his woolly hair stand straight on end. Havirg thus given vent to his anger and chagrin, he was about to start for home, when his attention was attracted by some- thing white lying on the ground near by, and at which the dogs were snuf- fiing eagerly. On picking it up, he found it to be a lady’s pocket han tker- chief, spotted with blood. Instantly it flashed upon him that that was Zora’s (Astrea’s) handkerchief; and that it was she who had personated the Swamp Spirit, for the purpose of frightening Sam and getting posses- sion of one of the horses to escape upon. But what had become of the other horse? Zora would not want both, and she had no accomplice. This part of the mystery he soon solved by taking it for granted that the horse not taken by Zora had broken loose to fol- low after his companion, or to go home —and homeward Rumford himself now went, with a reckless haste that put Sam to his best pedestrianism. It was nearly nine o’clock when Rumford arrived at his plantation, where he found his overseer, Steppins, and several of the house servants in a state of wonder bordering on alarm; owing to the fact that the horse which Sam had ridden away a few hours be- fore, when he went after the hounds with his master, had returned home alone and riderless. No sooner did Rumford learn that the groom’s horse had returned than he made eager in- quiries as to the direction whence he had come and when he had arrived. Steppins stated that he had met the horse half an hour before, as he (the overseer) was strolling down the old Lighthouse road—(the road that As- trea had struck, on emerging from the swamp, and which owed its name to the fact that it led to the ruins of a lighthouse that years before had stood upon a high point upon the river bank, many miles below Rumford’s planta- ticn)—for a walk. The horse was trot- ting along the road toward the planta- tion, and Steppirs, recognizing him, had caught and mounted him, and rid- den some ways back to the house, to await development of events. He had become very uneasy, he said, about absence of Mr. Rumford and_ his groom, especially as, upon examining the bridle rein of the horse, which seemed to have been broken, he found that it had been cut. “This,” said Step- pins, “showed that it was not altogeth- er an accident that the horse was thus found loose, and he couldn’t account for it.” “I can!’ said Rumford, savagely, and bringing his hand down heavily ou the table before which he was seat- ed. “I can account for it. The bridle was cut by that girl, Zora. I had thought that:the horse broke loose, in order to follow Saladin; but now I see that she cut him loose, and took him off on purpose to prevent immedi- ate pursuit. She is a smart girl, and no mistake—altogether too smart to Jose. Go to the stable, Sam, and sad- dle Roanoke and Duroc. If you have them at the gate in ten minutes, rn give you a silver dollar. If you do not, | I'l have you whipped!” Sam instantly disappeared, and Rumford, turning to Steppins, said: “We'll give Zora another chase. The moon is coming up bright—almost as bright as day, and she has not more than an hour the start. She must have come cut of the swamp, upon the old Lighthouse road, and then leaving Sam’s horse to take its own course, she rode Saladin away in the opposite direction. I cannot afford to lose either her or Saladin, and when it comes to losing them both, that is more than apy man could stand. I’d ride all night first—yes, half-a-dozen nights und days in succession. That young gipsy has excited my admiration. What a pity she isn’t really white.” And going to a cupboard, Rumford took therefrom a decanter and a small glass, and filling the latter with brandy, tossed it off, with a smack of his lips, and said: “Phat will keep off the night chills. 1 I must give Sam a dose of it, to keep his spirits up. If you were only a | good horseman, Steppins, you should | go along with us. I think I’M take another glass,” suiting the action to | the word. “There comes Sam with the horses,” | he said, as he set down the glass. | “bring that bottle along, Steppins, and the glass too. It will fire Sam up.” So saying, he strode to the gate, followed by the overseer with the drinking implements. Sam was there, | inside of his ten minutes, and in good spirits, at the idea of having won his silver dollar, which were still more ex- | hilarated when Steppins, at the com- | mand of Rumford, poured out and ; handed him a glass of the brandy. “Go into the house and stay up till I come back, Steppins,” said Rum- | fora, as he and Sam mounted their | horses; “and keep that bottle for a ‘companion. Tell the girls not to go ‘to bed either. I shall have Zora back | before midnight, and then we shall all want some supper. Where are the hounds? Here, Castor! here, Pollux! boys, come! You may be of ice to us yet.” ‘The dogs came bounding from the house, at their master’s call, and the whele party—master., servant, and dashing along the i i old Lighthouse road, the bright rays of a southern moon giving them almost as much light as the sun itself. And where was the poor fugitive whom they were thus pursuing to the deatn!—aye, to drag her back to a doom which to her would be worse than ten thousand deaths! CHAPTER XLII. Astrea had not ridden very fast along the old road She had never practised equestrianism much; and be- sides, she found it awkward riding on Rumford’s saddle. She could not fix the stirrups so as to get any support from them, without first dismounting, and she did not like to do that—she feared some evil would come of it. So she rode on, as best she could, for several miles, when, coming to a clear brook that crossed the road, over: which a rude bridge was thrown, she thought she would dismount, and try ' to quench her thirst, which had been so great for some time as to occasion her much suffering. She accordingly dismounted,, and leading Saladin to the edge of the brook, on one side of the road, allowed him to drink his fill, while she knelt on the turf and did th esame, taking care, however, to keep fast hold of the bri- dle, lest the horse should run away from her. After resting by the brookside for a short time, she contrived to fix the} stirrups (by shortening one and throw- | ing the other over the saddle so as to| bring them both on the same side, as | she had seen countrywomen do in New England, during her schoolgirl days) so she could ride more easily and to} much better advantage; and then} leading Saladin to the side of the| bridge, and standing upon it, she} mounted him, and rode on at a} moderate pace. | She did not fear pursuit that night. | She had reasoned to herself that Rum- | ford and Sam would be a long time in finding their way home. She thought she left them much further from the plantation than was really the case, and supposed that it would be mid- night at least, if not morning, before they would reach the house. Then | nobody could imagine, she thought, which way she had gone, nor get any | trace of her until late in the following day, and by that time she would be— where? She did not know where. But she} would be far from Rumford. And she could pass for a young lady among strangers —of that she felt assured; and so she rode along, hoping after | awhile to come to some plantation, or | other abode, of whose inmates she | could obtain shelter and food, and under whose roof she could find re- | pose. Thus thinking, Astrea rode leisurely along, with a feeling of comparative security, until she was suddenly startled by the sound of horses gal- loping over the bridge which she had crossed not a great while before. She judged by the sound that they were coming at a rapid gait, and a deadly | fear smote to her heart. She felt an instinctive conviction that the horse- men were in pursuit of her; and touch- ing Saladin with her switch, she ac- eelerated his pace to a rapid gallop, in the hope of, at least, not allowing her pursuers to lessen the distance be- tween them. But Astrea found riding at such a swift gait to be wearisome work, and she soon came to the conclusion that in her exhausted condition, she could not long permit Saladin to travel at such a rate of speed. Meanjvhile, she tried to keep her ear attentive to any sound of hoofs that might possibly reach it from behind, in order to judge whether or not her pursuers were gaining upon her. There had been few elevations in the road thus far, and they were too } slight to enable her to see any dis- tance back; besides, there were too many turns in the road for that; so she had no chance of seeing if she was pursued But by-and-by she heard the sound of horses galloping behind her— faintly, it is true, but she could not be mistaken. In a short time she heard them more distinctly. They were gaining upon her, and she had done her best! She could not ride any faster than she was thengoing; and even at her present pace, she felt that she could not hold out a great while longer. A turn in the road brought her in sight of a hill, several rods ahead. That alarmed her, as she feared that in passing over its summit her pursu- ers would see her, the moon was shin- ing so brightly; and to prevent that, she rode close to the side, in the shade of the tall trees. She cast a quick glance behind; but the tura in the road shut off the view. It was not so ahead, however. The descent from the hill was gradual, and the road was straight as a narrow’s flight, as far as she could see. She knew that her pursuers were fast gaining upon her; and from the top of this hill she was just passing they would be almost certain to get aj view of her. Astrea almost determined to abandon Saladin and seek refuge in the forest. There would be no dogs to find her this time, she thought, and she; could certainly hide so that no human eyes could discover her place of con- cealment. But, as she thus communed with her- self, Saladin was galloping on, and she experienced a feeling of terror at the idea of stopping him and dismounting. While she was being borne so swiftly | along, it seemed as though she must be safe; but if she stopped—if she dis- mounted—why, there was no knowing | what ills might come. So she kept on, until, hearing a shout behind her, she turned and saw two horsemen just coming over the brow of the hill—one a white man, the other a negro. “It is they! Rumford and Sam!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I am lost! I cannot hold out another half hour.” In her despair she struck Saladin several sharp blows with her whip, and away he fiew like the wind. As- trea nearly lost her seat several times, and tried in vain to rein up her steed. Becoming greatly alarmed, she turned him out of the road, against a bank of earth, and by that means stopped him with a suddenness that threw her for- ward over his neck. This occurrence determined her sto abandon him, and | trust her fate to safety to flight and | concealment in the woods. She alighted, ran along the bank un- til she came to a low, shelving place, | over which she scrambled in some bushes, and thence across a swall open space into the woods. As she | saw how thick the underbrush was in j the forest, and as the gloom deependd | | tre: about her, she began to feel as though she was safe one emore. Pressing on, she soon came to another open and cleared space, which stretched away as far as she could see. This troubled her, as the moon shone so brightly down on the field that she knew she could be seen, should she attempt to cross it, at a considerable distance, So she kept along in the edge of the ‘woods skirting the field. In crossing arise of ground, she saw, at some dis- tance, what seemed to be a group of buildings—a plantation house, and the cabins and outbuildings surrounding it. Should she go there and claim shelter? What if Rumford should track her there! Would the family believe her story? or would they not rather believee his? While she was thus debating Mis matter in her mind, the bay of the bloodhounds struck upon her ears, and seemed to freeze the blood in her heart! Oh, what a mistake she had made in abandoning Saladin! If she had supposed that Rumford had his hounds with him she would not have done so. But now it was too late! They had; found where she had left the horse, and the dogs had again been put upon her track. But she eculd again baffle them as she had | dong before. Drawing her dagger from | her’ bosom, she looked hastily about her for something to smear with | blood. She could find nothing but a few sticks. These would not do, and, in despair at the delay, as the of the hounds came rapidly nea she caught her bonnet from her h for that purpose, when she heard t! pattering of feet in th ebushes, and, looking back, she saw the bloodhounds in sight—could see the glare of their eyes, as the ne dto reach their prey, and h dtheir fiercer than ever, they saw their victim within their certain grasp. She turned to fly; but in an inst: they had dashed through the bushe: leaped to her shoulders and dragged her to the ground. She swooned with terror; but the last at that her fainting eves tek in was the form of Rumford, as he emerged from the thicket alu swot nt | over her. ood dogs! Pretty pups! come off, now,” said Rumford, addre: g the hounds, who, having pulled Astrea to the ground, now held her fast, without hurting her. The dogs returned and crouched at their master’s feet. “Here, Sam,” he continued, address. ing the groom, who had followed him, “take up this girl and carry her to where we left the ho: : The man silently obeyed, and they left the wood by a short cut unknewn | to Astrea, and came to a spot where the two horses were tied. “Give her to me now, and mount,” said Rumford. The negro did so, and Rumford sat with the fainting form of Astrea on the horse before the man, laid her head upon his broad chest, and directed him to support her with his left arm while he guided the horse with his right. Rumford took charge of Saladin (who had been caught and tied with the other horses), leading him by the bri- dle rein; and thus they went on to- ward home. In due time they arrived at the old plantation house, where the still swooning Astrea was taken to her own room and laid upon the bed, and given up to the charge of Venus. The first object that Astrea’s eyes fell upon when she awoke from her swoon, was the kind face of V bending over her and dropping t “Oh-h-h, Venus!” exclaimed the pc ir vith a prolonged wail of desp: Id or hard, honey, berry hard; all I could for you; I kep’ ’em off your track all day yes’day an ‘dis mornin’, too, wid a cock an’ bull story of your beif’ gone to bed to sleep de gran’ round’s. But at las’ you see, chile, dat tale wouldn’t bear tellin’ no longer, an” so dey bus’ open your room an’ foun’ you gone, an’ den went to hunt you.” Astrea suddenly started, felt in her bosom, and then smiled. The little poniard was safe. It was now past midnight. She knew that the dreaded interview with Rumford would not take place until morning; she knew, also, that after that no further grace would be granted her. She determined to husband her feelings to meet the crisis. So, when Venus brought her up the very best supper that the kind-heartéd girl could make from the plentiful pantry of Ben -Lomond, Astrea did justice to it. Venus carried away the service, and soon returned, dragging a narrow mat- tress after her. “Ole Marse say how he let me sleep in here long o’ you to-night, as you's poorly,” she said, as she spread her mattrress beside Astrea’s bed. “Oh, Venus, that will be a comfort, indeed!” “Yes, honey, I knows it will I ’spects he is a gwine to kill you wid kindness now, an’ conquer you dat way; but I ’spects he gwine lock us in for all dat—dere now, what I tell you?” whispered Venus, as the click of the turning key sounded in the lock. Astrea did not mind that, now her fate could not be decided before morn- ing. and then it would be in her own hands. And for the night, the pres- ence of Venus secured her from intru- sion. Venus settled herself upon her mat- and was soon in the deep and heavy sleep peculiar to her race. Astrea, filled with trouubled thought, lay long with her eyes closed, yet not asleep. The room was in perfect dark- ness. How long exactly she had lain thus is not known, when again, as on a former occasion, a soft, bright light seemed. to penetrate even through her closed eyelids, and cause her to open them; and again, oh! wonderful! she saw the shining apparition of the beau- tiful woman advancing toward her; but now, though the central star was still a charred mass in her croyn, 4nd the dark stain remained upon bi ment, yet her countenance had portion of that seemingly infinite Jes- pair it had worn before. She ad- vanced and stood before Astrea, mo- tionless in form and feature, as if wait- ing to be addressed. And again Astrea felt a nameless in- fluence dispel her fears and impel her to speak. “Spirit, what is your will with me to-night?” The yoice that answered proceeded not from these beautiful but motien- less spirit lips, and fell not upon the outward ears of the hearer, but seem ect rather to ‘proceed from the depths of Astrea’s own soul, (Zo Be Continued.’