The New York Herald Newspaper, February 3, 1859, Page 8

Other akies Other hearts may seek thy Bat no other e’er wit! love thee With the of mime. ‘Yet fareweil—we part forever! Adi regrets are now in vain! ‘Fate decrees that we muet sever, ‘Ne’er to meet on earth again. Fare thee well! n. Like the shadow on the dial Lingers still our parting kiss! ‘Lafe bas uo severer trial, Death no pang to equal this. All the world is new before thee, Every ciime to roam at will, But within te Jand that bore thee, One fond beart will love thee ull. Yer farewell —we part forever! . Ail regrets are now in vain! Faw decrees that we most sever, Ne’er to moet on earth again. Faure thee well! THE HIDDEN HAND. BY EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH, AUTHOR OF “THE BRIDE OF AN EVENING,” “THE DE SKKTED WIFE,” ETC., EYC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. * © © Whence is that knocking! How is"t with me n every sound appals me? * * * [hear a knooking Hark |—more knocking | SWAKePSRR. Hurricane Hall is a large old family mansion, built of dark, red sandstone, in one of the lone liest and wildest of the mouataia regions of Vir- In the soath entry | state is surrounded on three sides by a range gray rocks, spiked with clamps of dark nd called, from its horseshoe form, the evergreen Devil's Hoof. On the fourth side the ground gradually descends in groken rock and barren soil to the edge of rah mountain stream known as the Devil's Run. When storms and floods were high, the loud roar- ing of the wind through the wild mountain gorges, gad the terrific raging of the torrent over its rocky course, gave to this savage locality its ill-omened names of Devil's Hoof, Devil's Run and Harricane Hall. Major Ira Warfield, the lonely proprietor of the Hall, was a veteran officer, who. disgust at what he supposed to be ill-requited se 8, had retired from public life to spend the evening of his vigor- ous age on this Lis patrimonial estate. Here he hived in seclusion, with his old-fashioned housekeep- er, Mrs. Condiment, and his old family servants and his favorite dogs and horses. Here his mornings were usually spentiu the chase, in which he ex- celled, and his afternoons and evenings were occu- pied in small couvivial suppersamong his few chosen companions of the chase or the bottle. . In person Major Warfield was tall and strongly built, remin ing one of some time. His fe: sion dark red, as that of one exposure and flushed with nate His fierce, dark gray eyes were surmounter by thick, heavy black brows, that, when gathered into a trown, reminded one of a thunder cloud, as the flashing orbs beneath them did of lightning. His hard, harsh face was surrounded by a thick growth of iron: hair and beard that met beneath his chin. His usual habit was a black cloth coat, crim- gon vest, blick leather breeches, long, black yarn stockings, fastened at the knees, and morocco slippers with silver buttons. : ju character Major Warfield was arrogant, domi- nerriug and violent—equally loved and feared by his faithta) old family servants at_home—disliked and dreaded by his neighbors and aeqnaintances abroad, who, partly from muse and partly from his character, fixed upon him the appropriate nick- name of OLD Hurnivans. There was, ho , other ground of dislike be- sides that of his arrogant mind, violent temper and domineering habits. Old Hurricane was said to be an old bachelor, yet rumor whispered that there was in some obscure part of the world, hidden away from human sight, a deserted wife and child, poor, forlorn and heart-broken. It was farther whispered that the elder brother of Ira Warfield had myste- riously disappeared, and not without some suspi- ciou of foul play on the part of the only person in the world who had a strong interest in his “ taking eft.” However these things might be, it was known for a certainty that Old Hurricane had an only sister, widowed, sick and poor, who with her son ragged on a wretched life of ill-requited toil, se- vere privation and painfal infirmity, in a distant city, unaided, unsought and uncared for by her cruei brother. 1t was the night of the last day of October, 1845. The evening had closed in very dark and gloomy. About dusk the wind arose in the northwest, driv- ing up masses of leaden hed clouds, and in a few minates the ground was covered deep with snow, and the air was filled with driving sleet. As this was All Hallow Eve the dreadful incle- y of the weather did not prevent the negroes icane Hall from availing themselves of their capricious old master’s pee and goi off in @ body to a banjo breakdown held in the negro quarters of their next neighbor. Upon this evening, then, there was left at Hurri- cane Hall only Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment, his little ol hou-ekeeper, and Wool, his body servant. Karly in the evening the old hall was shat ap closely, to keep out as much as possible the sound of the storm that roared through the mountain cha and cannonaded the walls of the honse as if determined to force an entrance. As soon as she had seen that all was safe, Mrs. Condiment weat to bed aud went to sleep. it was about ten o'clock thatnight that Old ur. well wrapped up in his quilted tlannet ng gown, sat in his well padded easy chair »a warm and bright fire, taking his comfort in his own most comfortable bedroom. This was the hour of the jest enjoyment to the self indul- geut old Sybarite,who dearly loved bis own ease. And indeed every means and appliance of bodily comfort was at hand. Strong oaken shatters and thick, heavy curtains at the windows kept outevery draft of air, and 0 deadened the sound of the win that its subdued moaning was just sufficient to re- mind one of the stormy weather without in contrast to the bright warmth within. Olid Hurricane, as I said, sat well wrapped up in his wadded dressing own, and reclining in his padded easy chair, with is head thrown back and his feet ‘upon the fire jrons, toasting his shins and sipping his punch, On his right hand stood a little table with a lighted candle, a stack, of clay pipes, a jug of punch, le- mons, sugar, Hollandgzin, &c., while on the hearth sata kettle of boiling water to help replenish the jug if needful. ‘On his left hand stood his cozy bedstead with its warm crimson curtains festooned back, revealing the luxurious swell of the full feather bed and _pil- lows with their snow white linen and lambswool Dlankets inviting repose. Between this bedstead and the corner of the fire place stood Old Hurri- caue’s ancient body servant Wool, engaged in warming a crimson cloth night cap. “Fools!” muttored Old Hurricane over his punch— “jacks! they'll all get the pleurisy except those that drunk!” Did they all go, Wool?” ‘bery man, ’oman and chile, sar!—'cept ‘tis me and couchman, sar!” “More fools the you old scarecrow “No, Marse—— “T know better, sir, don’t contradict me! Well, as soon as I’m in bed, and that won't be long now, you may go—so that you get back in time to wait ‘en me to-morrow morning!” “Thanky, Marse.” f “Hold your tongue! You're as big a fool as the rest.” “Ttake this,” said Old Hurricane, as he sipped his punch and smacked his lips—“I take this to be the very quintessence of human whe ptt here in'my soft, warm chair before the fire, toast ing my legs, sipping my punch, listening on the one hand to the storm without, and glancing on the other hand at my comfortable bed waiting there to receive my sleepy head. If there is any- thing better than this in this world I wish some- is would let me know it.” “ft all werry comfortable, indeed, Marse,” said the Fen mgt “I wonder now if there is anything on the face of the earth that would tompt me to Neate my cony | rand and go boi to-night? 1 wonder how ‘ge a promise of pleasure or profit or gior: would take now?” te ll “Much as ebber Congress itse’f could give if it give you a pennance for all your sarvins,” suggest- ed Wool. id iron-limbed Doug- Srures were Large and And I shouldn't wonder if you, didn't want to go too!” “Yes and more! for I wouldn’t leave my home comforts to-night to ensure not only the pension, bnt the thanks of Congress!” said the old man, re- lenishing his glass with steaming punch, and drink- h off leisurely. The clock struck eleven. The old man again re- agg his class, and whilo sipping its contents, “You fill the warming pan and warm m bed, Wool! The fuses thief rant panch fe beginning to rise to my head and make me sleepy.” he servant filled the warming pan with glowing embers, chut down the lid and thrust it betwoen dhe aby gig by arm thy cough of this luxeriouy Qi NEW YORK HERALD, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1859. Hurricane. The old man continned to toast his feet, fae: pavch and smack his ps. Me finished his , set it down and was jast in the act of draw- ‘ht cap preparatory tostepping his well warme: , when he was suddenl, startled by a loud of the hall door bell. | “What the foul fiend can that mean at this time of night!” exclaimed Old Hurricane, dropping his night cap, and tarning sharply around towards ‘ool, who, warming pan in \d, stood starin, wins sstonlshment, « that mean, I you: mr Deed, T dunno, sar, less it’s some benighted traveller in search o’ shelter out’n de storm.” - Humph! and in search of supper, too, of course, ry everybody gone away or gone to bed but you and me.” Atthis moment the ringing was followed by a loud ‘\nocking. © Marse, don't less you and me listen to it, and thon we aint "bliged to 'starb ourselves with an- ewering of it,” suggested Wool. videath, sir, do" you think that T am going to turn a deaf ear to a stranger that comes to my house for shelter on such a night as this? Go and answer the bell directly.” “Yes, sar.” “But stop—look here, sirrah—mind I am not to be disturbed. If it is a traveller, ask him in, set refreshments before him, and show him to bed I'm not going to leave my wart room te welcome anybody to night, please the Lord. Do you hear?” “Yes, sar,” said the darkey, retreating. As Wool took a shaded taper and opened the door leading from his master’s chamber, the wind was heard howling through the long passages ready to burst into the cosy bedroom, “Shut the door, you scoundrel!” roared the old man, folding the skirt of his warm dressing gown across his knees, and hovering closer to the tire. Wool quickly obeyed, and was heard retreating down the st “Whe over th $3 his woolen eps. ried the old man, spreading his hands with a look of comfortable appreci ation. indace me to go abroad on such a night as this?) Wind blowing great guns from the northwest, snow falling fast from the heavens, and rising just as fast before the wind from the ground—cold as Lapland, dark as Erebus! No telling the earth from the sky. Whew!” and to comfort the cold thought, Old Hurricane poured out another glass of smoking punch, aud began to sip it. Cow I thank the Lord that Iam not a doctor! If I were a doctor now, the sound of that bell at this hour of night would frighten me; I should think some old woman had been taken with the pleurisy, and wanted me to get up and go out in the storm, to turn out my warm bed to ride ten miles throngh the snow to prescribe for her, A doctor never can feel sure, even in the worst of weathers, of @ good night’s rest. But, thank hea- ven, fam free trom all such annoyances, and if 1 am sure of anything in this world it is of my com- fortable night's sleep,” said Old Hurricane, as he sipped his punch, smacked his lips and toasted his eet. At this moment Wool re-appeared. “Shut the door, you villain! Do you {intend to stand there holding it open on me all night?” yo- citerated the old man. Wool hastily closed the offending portals, and hurried to his ter’s side. “ Well, sir, who was it rung the bell?” “ Please pr, sar, it wer de Reverend Mr. Par- son Goodw “Good Been to make a sick call, I suppose, and got caught in the snow storm. I declare it is as bad to be a parson as it is to be a doctor. Thank the Lord Tam not a parson either; if 1 were now, might be called wailed from my cozy armehair and fireside to ride twelve miles to comfort some old man dying of quinsy. Well, here—help me into bed ou more comforters, tuck me up warin, put a bottle of hot water to my feet, and then and attend to the parson,” said the old man, getting up and moving towards his inviting couch. “Sar! sar! stop, sar, if you please,” cried Wool, going after him. “Why, what does the old fool mean,” exclaimed Old Hurricane, angrily. “Sar, de Reverend Mr. Parson Goodwin say how he must see you yourese’f, personably, alone!” “See me, you villain! Dida’t you tell hit that I had retired?” “Yes, Marse, I tell him how you wer’ gone to hed and asleep morne’n an hour ago, and he ordered me to come wake you up, and say how it were a matter o’ life and death!” “ Life and death? What have I to do with life and death? | won't stir! If the parson wants to see me he will have to come up here and see me in bed,” exclaimed Old Hurricane, suiting the action to the word by jumping into bed and drawing all the comforts and blankets up around his head and shoulders, “ Mus’ I fetch him reverence up, sar?” “Yes, I wouldn't get up and go down to see— Washington—shut the door, yourascal! or I'll throw the bootjack at your wooden head!” Wool obeyed with alacrity and in time to escape the threatened missile. After an absence of a few minutes he was heard returning, attending upon the footsteps of another. And the next inute he entered, ushering in the Rey. Mr. Goodwin, the parish minister of Bethle- hem, St. Mary's. “How do you do? How doyoudo? Glad to see y ir! glad to see you, though obliged to receive you in bed! Factis, I caught a cold with this se- vere change of weather, and took a warm negus and went to bed to sweat it of You'll excuse me! Wool, draw that easy chair up to my bedside for worthy Mr. Goodwin, and bring him a glass of warm negus. ride.” It will do him good after his cold Major Warfield! I will take the negus, if you please, to-night.” us! Oh, come now, you are joking! , it will keep you from catching cold, and be a most comfortable nightcap, disposing yon to sleep and sweat like a baby! Of course you spend the night with us “I thank you, no! I must take the road again in a few minutes.” “Take the road again to-night!) Why, man alive! it is midnight, and the snow driving ike all Lap land! , Tam sorry to refase your proffered hospi tality und jeave your comfortable roof to-night, and ve to takegyou with me,” said th . with No, no, my good sir! no, no, that is too good aj ha! ha!” ir, I fear that yon will find it a very serions one! Your servant told you that my errand was one ot imminent urgency?” “Yes, something like life and death——” “Exactly—down in the cabin near the Panch Bow! there is an old woman dying—” “There, I kuew it. I was just saying there might be an old woman dying. But, my dear sir, wha’ that tome? What can [ do?” “Humanity, sir, wonld prompt you.” “Bat i ir, how can Thelp her? Tam not eribe. J ta physician's help.” la priest to hear her confession: ah Her confession God has already receive We! nd I'm not a lawyer to draw up her will.” ‘ir; but you are recently appointed one ot es of the Peace for Alleghany.” 8; well, what of that? That does not com prise the duty of getting up ont of my warm bed and going through & snow storm to see an old wo- man “T regret to inconvenience you, sir; but in this instance your duty demands your attendance at th bedside of this dying woman.” “T tell ‘ap I can’t go, and I won't. Anything in reason I'lido. Anything [ can send she shall h Here, Wool, look in my beeeches pocket aud tale out my purse.end hetid (t., And then go aad wak up Mrs. Condiment, and ask her to fill a large has- ket fall of everytl ¢ 8 poor old dying woman might want, and'you shall carry it.” “Spare your pains, sir! The poor woman is al ready past all earthly, selfish wante! She only asks your presence at her dying bed.” “But lean’t go! [! the idea of tarning ont of my warm bed and exposing myself toa snow storm this time of night!" : » for insisting, sir; but this is cial duty,” said the parson, mildly bat firmly. “THT throw up by commission to-morrow,” growled the old man. .““'To-morrow yon may do that, but meanwhile, to night, being still in the commission of the peace, youare bound to get up and go with me to this woman's bedside.” “And what the demon is wanted of me there?” “To receive her dying deposition.” “To receive a dying deposition! Good Heaven! was she murdered, then?” exclaimed the old mau, in alarm, as he started out of bed and began to draw on his nether garments. “ Be composed—she was not murdered,” said the pastor. “Well, then, what is it? Dying deposition! Tt ronst concern @ crime,” exclaimed the old man, hastily drawing on his coat. “Tt does concern a crime.” “What crime, for the love of heaven?” e ae not at liberty to tell you. She will do hat. “Wool, go down and rouse up Jehu, and tell him to put Parson Goodwin's mule in the stable for the night. And tell him to put the black draught horses to the close carriage, and light both the frout lan- terns—for we sball have a dark, stormy road—— Bhut the door, you infernal!—I beg your pardon, ee but that villain always leaves the door ajar er him.” The good pastor bowed gravely; and the major completed his toilet by the time the servant re turned and reported the carriage ready. Tt was dark as ag when they emerged from the hall door out into the front’ portico, before which nothing could be seen bat two red bull's e208 of thy corringe lanterns, aud pybilng Wgard but the dissatisfied whinnying and pawing of the horses. CHAPTER I. TUB MASKS, “ What are theee? £o withered and v0 wild in their altire ‘That look net hke th’ of earth. ‘And yet are on’t?” “To the Devil’s Punch Bowl”—was the order gree, by Old Hurricane as he followed the minister into the carriage. “ And now, sir,” he continned, addressing his companion, “ I think you had better repeat that part of the church litany that prays to be delivered from ‘battle, murder, and iden death;’ for if we should be 80 lucky as to escape Black Donald and his gang, we shall have at least an equal chance of being upeet in the darkness of these dreadful mountains.” “A pair of raddie wules would have been a safer conveyance, certainly,” said the minister, Old’Hurricane knew that, but though a great sen- sualist, he was a brave man, and so he had rather risk his life in a close carriage than suffer cold upon a eure footed male's back. Only by previous knowledge of the route could any one five told the way the carriage went. Old Hurricane and the mimister both kuew that they drove, lumbering over the ee road eg by serpentine windi g8 down that rugged fall of ground to the river's bank, and that then hep to the lett by a short bend, they passed in behind that range of horse-shoe rocks that sheltered Hurricane Hall—thus, as it were, doubling their own road. Beneath that range of rocks, and between it and another range, there was an awful abyss or chasm of cleft, torn and jagged rocks opening as it were from the bowels of the earth, in the shape of a mammoth bowl, in the bottom of which, almost in- visible from its great depth, seethed and boiled a mass of dark water of what seemed to be a fost river or a subterranean spring. This terrific phe ‘nomenon was called the Devil’s Punch Bowl. Not far from the brink of this awfal abyss, and close behind the, horse shoe range of rocks, stood an humble log cabin, occupied by an old free negro, who picked up a scanty living a telling fortunes and showing the way to the Punch Bowl. Her cabin went by thename of the Witch's Hut—or OL} Hat's cabin. "A short distance from Hat’s cabin the road became impassable, and the travellers got out, and preceded by the coachman bearing the lan- tern, struggled along on foot through the drifted snow and against the buffeting wind and sleet to where a faint light guided them to the house. ale pane knocked. The door was immediately opened by a negro, whose sex from the strange anomalous costume it was difficult to guess. 1 The tall form was rigged out first in a long, red, cloth petticoat, above which was buttoned a blue cloth surtout. A man’s old black beaver hatsat upon the strange head and completed this odd attire. “ Weil, Hat, how is your patient?” inquired the pastor, as he entered preceding the magistrate. “You will see, sir,” replied the old woman. ‘The two visitors looked around the dimly lighted miserable room, in one corner of which stood alow bed, upon which lay extended the form of an old, feeble and gray-haired woman. “How are you, my poor soul, and what can I do for you nowlam he inquired Old Hurricane, who, in the actual presence of sulfering was notut- terly without pity. “You are a magistrate?” inquired the dying wo- man. “Yes, my poor soul.” “And qualified to administer an oath and take your deposition,” said the minister. “Will it be legal—will it be evidence in a court of asked the woman, lifting her dim eyes to the MTs rtainly, my poor soul! certainly,” said the r, who, by the way, would have said anything to soothe her. Send every one but yourself from the room.” “What, my good soul; send the parson out in the storm? That will never do! Won't it be just as let him go up in the corner yonder?" ! You will repent it unless this communica- strictly private.” “Bat—my good soul, il of law?” “That will be according to your own disere- tion!” “My dear parson,” said Old Hurricane, going to the minister, “would you be so good as to retire?” “There is a fire in the woodshed, master,” said Hat, leading the way. “Now, my good soul, now! You want first to be put upon your oath?” “Yes, sir.” The old man drew from his great coat pocket a miniature copy of the Scriptures, and wiih the usual formalities administered the oath. “Now then, my good soul, begin—“the trath, the it is to be used in a court whole trath, and nothing but the truth,” you know. but first, your name?” Is it pane you don’t know me, master?” Not f, in fa be “For the love of heaven, look at me and try to recollect me, sir! Itisnecessary some one authority should be able to know me,” said the wo i ing her haggard eyes to the face of her visi The old wan it ead his spectacles and gy ascrntinizing look, exclaiming at intervals— “ Lord bless my soul! it is aint! it must can’t be! Granuy Grewell, the—the—the——inid- wife that disappeared from here some twelve or thirteen years ago?” yes, master, | am Nancy Grewell, the ladies’ murse, who vanished from | so mysteriously some thirteen years ago !” replied the woman. “Heaven help onr hearts! And for what crime was it you ran away? Come—make a clean breast of it, woman! You have nothing to fear in doin, so, for you are past the arm of earthly law now! “ T know it, master.” « And the best way to prepare to meet the Divine Judge is to m: 1 the reparation that you can by a full confession “I know it, sir—if Thad committed a crime ; I have committed no crime, neither did I ran away.” What? what? what?—What was it then? - member, witness, you are on your oath !” “Tknow that, sir, and I will tell the trath ; but it must be in my own way.” At this moment a violent blast of wind and hail roaed down the mountain side and rattled against the walls, shaking the witch's hut, as if it would have shaken it about their ears. It was @ proper overture to the tale that was about to be told. Conversation was impossible until the storm raved past and was heard dying in deep reverberating echoes from the depths of the Devil's Punch Bow “Itissome thirteen years ago,” began Granny Grewell, “upon just such a night of storm as this, that | was mounted on my old mule Molly, with mg suddle-bags full of driad yarbs, and stalled water: and sich, as I allus ied when I was out ‘tendii on the sick. J was on my way a-going to see a lady as I was sent for to tend. “Well, master! I'm not ‘shamed to say, as T never was afraid of man, beast, nor sperrit! and never stopped at going out all honrs of the night, through the most loncsomest roads, if so be twas called ae so todo, Still I must say that jest as me and Molly, my mule, got into that deep, thick, lonesome woods a4 stands round the old Hiddeu Ho in the hollow, I did feel queerish; 'ease it wastes dead hour of night, and it was said how strange things were seen and hearn, yes, and done too, in that dark, deep, lonesome place. Iseen how even my y felt queer too, by the way she stuck up iff av quills. So, partly to keep up m own spirits, and partly to ‘courage her, says I, ‘Molly,’ says 1, ‘what ar weard on? Be a man, Molly!’ But Molly stepped out cautious, and pricked up her long cars-all the same, 4 “Well, master, it was so dark T couldn't see a yard past Molly's cars, and the path was so narrow and the bushes so thick we could hardly get along; but just as we came to that little creek ag they culls the Spout, cause the water jumps and jets along till it empties into the Panch Bowl id just as Molly was cantionsly putting her fore ‘foot into the water, out starts two men from the bushes and 8 poor Molly's bridle! “Good heaven!” exclaimed Major Warfield. “Well, master, be Teould ery out, one of them willians seized me by the scruif of my neck, and with his other hand upon my mouth, he say: Be silent, you old fool, or I'll blow your brains ut, out! “And then, master, T saw for the first time that i their faces were covered over with black era I couldn't avcreamed if they'd let rm for iy ees th was gone and my senses were going along with it from the th “Don't, stra, shall not be hurt, fore. Struggle! T eouldn’t a-straggled to a-saved m soul! 1 couldn't speak! 1 couldn't breathe! Liked to have a-dropped right offen Molly's back. One on ‘em says, says he “*Give her some brandy a flask and puts it to my lip: ‘ nares rink ipng # “Well, master, a» he had me still by the ecraffo’ the neck I couldn't do no other ways but open mouth and drink it. And as soon as I took a aval low my breath come back and my speech, “ «And oh, gentlemen,’ says I, “ef it’s ‘your money or your life,’ you mea: haint it about'me! ‘Deed ‘clare to the Lord-atmighty [ haint! it’s wrapped up in an old cotton glove in a hule in the plastering in the chimney-corner at home, and ef you'll spare my life, you can go there and get it,’ says I, “You old blockhead,’ says they, ‘we want neither one nor ’tother! Come along quietly and you shall receive no harm. Butat the first ory or attempt to escape thie shall ae you!” And with that the willain held the mizzle of a pistol so nigh to my pose that J smelt brimstone, while ‘tother one bound a silk handkercher ‘round my eyes, and then took poor Molly’s bridle and Jed her along. J gouldu't ne, iy gouene, pug | dasgint breathe fox twas on me. come along quietly and you ays the man as Lud "poke be And ‘tother takes out wid says, saya he: fear o’ the pistol. But I said my prayers to myse! all the time. “Well, ‘master, they led the mule on down the toa wide e to eee oomtd te, 5 Joes and lola bane ca ee ret wt ee nee eee ywn,and cross wi they didn’t want me to find where they were taking me. “Well, sir, when they’d walked about in this ‘fused way, leadin’ of ‘the mule ubout a mile,] knew we was in the woods again—the very same woods and the very same path-1 knowed ‘by the feel of the place and the sound of the bushes, as we hit up against them each side, and also by the rumbling of the Spout as it tumbled along toward the Punch Bowl We went down, and-down and down, and lower and lower and lower, until we got right down ° bottom of that hollow. “Then we stopped. A gate was 0) ened. I put up my hand to raise the handkerchief and see where Iwas; but just at that minute I felt the mizzle o the pistle Tike a ne of ice right agin my right lt , temple, and the willain growling into my ear: “If you do-——! \ “But 1 didn’t—I sropped my hand down as ifT had been shot, and afore I had seen anything either. So we went through the gate and up a gravelly walk—I knew it by the crackling of the gravel un- der Molly’s feet—and stopped at a horse-block, where one o’ them willians lifted me off. I put up hand again. Do aa dare,’ says t’other one, with the 2 o’ vhe pistol at my head. dropped my hand like lead. So they lead me ona little way, and then up some steps. [ counted them to myselfas. I went along. They were six, You see, master, I took all this pains to know the house again. ‘Then they opened a door that opened in the middle. ~ Then they went along a passage and up more stairs—there was ten anda turn,and then ten more. * Then along an- other passage, and up another flight of stairs, just lke the first. Then along another passage and up a third flight of stairs, They was alike. “Weill, sir, here we was at the top o’ the house One o’ them willians opened a door on the left side, and other said— ““There—go in and do yourduty!’ and pushed me through the door, and shut and locked it on me. Good gracious, sir, how scared I waa! I aoe of} the silk handkercher, and ‘feared as I was, I didu’t forget to put it in my bosom. “Then Llooked about me. Right afore me on the hearth was a little weeny taper burning, that showed | was in a great big garret with sloping walls, At one end two deep dormer wiudows, and « black walnut bureau standing between them, At Vothet end a great tester bedstead with dark cur. tains. There was a dark carpet on the floor. And with all there were so many dark objecta and so many shadows, and the little taper burned so dimly that | could hardly tell t'other from which, or kee) from breaking my nose against things as 1 groped about. “And what was IT in this room for to do? 1 couldn't even form an idee. But presently my blood ran cold to hear a froan from behind the cur :—then another—and another—then a cry as child in mortal agony, saying: or the love of Heaven, save me!” “Tran to the bed and dropped the curtains, and liked to have fainted at what I saw.” “And what did you see?” asked the magistrate. “Maser, behind those dark curtains I saw a young creature tossing about on the bed, flinging her fair and beautiful arms about, and tearing wild ly at the fine lace that trimmed’ her night-dress. Bat, master, that wusn’t what almost made me faint—it was that her right hand was sewed up in black erape, and her whole face and head com pletly covered with black crape drawn dowi and fastened securely around her throat, leaving only asmall slit at the lips and nose to breathe throngh!” “What! take car are upon your oath!” said the magistrate. “1 know it, master! And as I hope to be for- iven, Tam telling you the truth!” ‘0 on, then,” “Well, sir, s nan! remember that you was a young creature, scarcely pact childhood, if one might jndge by her small size and soft, rosy skin. I asked her to let me take that black crape from her face and head, but she threw up her hands and exclaimed— “Oh, no, no, no! for my life, no!” “Well, master, I hardly know how to tell you what followed—” said the old woman, hesitating in embarrassment. " ‘Go right straight on like a car of Juggernaut, woman! Remember—the whole truth!” “Well, master, inthe next two hours there were twins Lorn in that room—a boy and girl; the boy was dead, the girl living. And all the time T heard the measured tramping of one of them willains up and down she passage outside of that room. Pre sently the steps stopped, and there wasa rap at th doar. I went and listened, but did not open Ts it all over?’ the voice asked. “Before I could answer, a cry from the bed cansed me to look round. There was the poor masked mother stretching out her white arms to- ward me inthe most imploring way. I hastened back to. her. Tell him—no—no,’ she said. “Have you got through?’ asked the man at the door, rapping impatiently. “No, no,’ said I, as directed. Gent back to my patient, “She beckoned ‘me to come close, and whispered— “Save my child! the living one I mean! hide her! ob hide her from him! en he demands the babe, give him the poor little dead one—he cannot hurt that! And he will not know there was an- other. Ob! hide’and save my child.’ aster, I was used to queer doings, but this was a little the queerest. But if I was to conceal that second child in order to save it, it was necessary to stop its mouth, for it was squailing like a wild cat. So I took a vial of paragoric from my pocket and give it a drop, and it went off to sleep like an angel. 1 wrapped it up warm and lay it along with my shawl and bonnet, in a dark corner. Just then the man wrapped again. “‘Come in, master,’ said T. “No, bring me the babe,’ he said. “] took up the dead infant. Its mother kissed its brow and dropped tears upon its litte cold face; and I carried it to the man outside. “Ts jt asleep?’ the willian asked me. “Yes, master,’ said I,asT put it, well wrapped up, in his arms, ‘very sound asleep,’ “‘So much the better,’ said the knave, walking away. . “Pbolted the door and went back to my patient. With her free hand she seized mine and pressed it to her lips and then held up her left hand pointed to the wedding ring upon her third finger. “ “Draw it off and ie it, she said; ‘conceal the child under your shawl, and take her with you when you go; save her and your fortune shall be made. “J declare, master, I hadn't time to think, before Theard one of them wretches rap at the door. «“ ‘Come! get ready to go,’ he said. “She also beckoned me. J hastened to her. With eager whispers and imploring gestures she prayed me to take her ring and save her child. «But you,’ said I— who is to attend to you?’ “T do not know nor care! Save her!” “The Tapping continued. Iran to the corner where I had left my things. I put on my bonnet, made a sort of sling around my neck of the silk handkercher, opened the large part of it like a hammock and Jaid the little sleeping babe there. Then I folded my big shawl around my breast and nobody any the wiser. The rapping was very im patient. “Tam coming, said I. “*Nemember!’ whispered the poor girl. “*T will, said I, and went and opened the door. There stood t’other willian with his head covered T dreamt of nothing but black- m: yes he “‘Psteud of my mule a carriage stood near the horse block. «Get in,’ says he, holding the pistil to my cars by way ofan argument. “J gotin. He jumped up upon the driver's seat and we drove like the wind. In another direction from that in which we come, in course, for there was no carriage road there. The carriage whirled along at such a rate itmade me quite giddy. At fast ft stopped a ain. The man in the mask got down? the door. « ‘ou taking me? says T. ‘Pe quiet, says he, ‘or-——’ And with that he putahe pistil to ny cheek, ordered me to get out, take the bandage from my eyes and walk before him, | didso,and saw dimly that we were ina part of the country that T was never at before. We were in a dark road through a thick forest. Onthe ‘eft side of the road ina clearing stood an old honse; a dim yi was burning in a fower window. ‘Go ou in there,’ said the willian, putting the pistil to the back of my head. As the door stood ajar I went in to anarrow dark passage, the man all the time at my back. He opened a door on the left side and made me 50 into a dark room. Just then the unfortunate child, that had been moving restlessly, began to wail! Well it might, poor starved thing. ‘What's that?’ says the miscreant, under his breath and stopping short. “Tt aint nothing, sir, sa; the baby. But the poor squall, «What is the meaning of this, says he. ‘Where did that child come from? Why the demon don't you speak” And with that he aeized me again by the eeraff of the neck and shook me. “Oh, Master, for the love of heaven don’t, says J, ‘thie is only # poor wafortagy buliuat aa its poriouta d opene I, and ‘hash-h-h’ to ‘ttle wretch raised a ‘He resuned his tramping up and down, and 1. wanted to get onten the way, and hired me to tak care on. Thave had it wrapped up under my shaw! all the time ‘cept when I was in your house, when I put it to sleep in the corner. “‘Humph! and you had that child concealed under your shaw! when I first stopped yon in the ¥ if master,’ says T. “In course, nr, aT. “ ‘Whose is it?’ “ ‘Master,’ says I, ‘it’s—it’s a dead secret!’ for T mut another He ready. “He broke out into a rude, scornfal laugh, and seemed not half to believe me and yet not to care about questioning me too closely.” He made ine sit down then in the dark, went out and turned the key on me. I wet my finger with the paragoric ‘and put it to the baby’s lips to quiet its 8 of hunger. Then J heard a whisper- ing in the next room. Now my eyesight never was good, but to make up for it I holes I had the sharpest ears that ever was, and I don't think anybody could have heard that whisperin; but me.” I saw a litle glimmer of light Gough the chinks that showed me where the door was, and so I creeped up to it and put my ear to the key- hole. Still they whispered so low that no ears could o’ heard them but my sharp ones. The first words I heard good, was a grumbling voice asking — “How old?’ “‘Fitty—more or less, but strong, active, a good nurse, anda very light mulatto, says my willian’s voice. “‘Hum—too old,’ says the other. ‘But I will throw the child in,’ A low, crackling laugh the only answer, “*You mean that would be only @ bother. T want to get rid of the pair of them,’ said my wil- lian, ‘so name the price you are willing to give. “Cap'n! you and me have had too many trans: actions together to make any flumery about this. You want to get shet 0’ them pair. Ihaint no ob- jections to turning an honest penny. So jest make out the papers—Dill o’sale o’ the “oman Kate, or whatsoever her name may be, and the child, ole any price you please, so itis only a make-believe price! and I'lengage to take her away and make the most I can of them in the South--that won't be much, seeing it’s only an old ‘oman and child— carcely a fair profit on the expense o’ takin’ of hi out, Now, as money’s no object to you, By ery well, have ygnr own way, only don’t let that woman escape and return, for if you do— “7 understan you needn't threaten, for if you could blow me—wihy I would re- trn you the same favor,’ said the other, raising his voice and laughing aloud. “Re qniet, fool, or come away farther—here And the two willians moved out of even my hear ing. “T should o’ been uneasy, master, if it ladn’t been the ‘oman they were talking about was named Kate, and that wan't my uname, which were w beknown to be Nancy.’ “Presently Theard the carriage drive away; and almost ‘mediately after the door was unlocked, and a great, big, black Leora and black headed beas' of a ruffian came nd "says he — “-Well, my woman, have you had any supper?” “No, said I,+1 haint; and ef (im to stay here any length of time I'd be obieeged to you to let me have some hot water and milk to make pap for this perishing baby.’ “Follow me,’ says he. “And he took me into the kitchen at the back of the house, where there was a fire in the fireplace, and a cupboard with all that I needed. Well, sir, not to tire you, T made a nursing bottle for the baby, and fed it. And then I got something for my own supper, or rather breakfast, for it was now near the dawn of day. Well, sir, I thought I would try to get out and 0k about myself to sce what the neighborhood looked like by daylight; but when I tried the door, Nis I found myself locked up, a close prisoner. ed out of the window, and saw nothing but a lite back yard, closed in by the woods. { tried to rai the sash, but it was nailed down. The black-head- ed monster came in gu about that minute, and seeing what I was a-doing of,’ says he. “Stop that.* “What am I stopped here for?’ says 1; ‘a free ‘oman’ says I, ‘a-’vented of going about her own business /’ says I. “But he only langhed a loud, crackling, scornful laugh, and went ont, turning the key after him. “<4 Jittle after sunrise, an old, dried up, spitefal looking hag of a woman came in, and began to get reakfast. ‘What am I kept here for?’ says I to her. “But she took no notice atall; nor could I get so much as a single word outen her. In fact, master, the little ’oman was deaf an’ dumb. “Well, sir, to be short, I was kept in that place all day long, and when nigh come I was drav into a shay at the point of the pistil, and rattled along as fast as the horses could gallop over a road as | knew nothing of. We changed horses wuust or wict, and just about the dawn of day we come to a broad river with a vessel laying to, not far from the shore. “As soon as the shay drnv down on the sands, he willian as had run away with me puts a pipe to his willainous ‘mouth, and blows like mad. Some body else blowed back from the wessel. Thea a boat was put off and rowed ashore. I was forced o get into it and was follered by the willian. We was rowed tothe wessel, and I was druv up the adder on to the decks, And there, master, right afore my own looking eyes,me and the baby was raded off to the captain! It was_no use for me to spite or ‘spostulate! I wan't b’lieved. The wil tain as had stole me got back into the boat and went ashore, and I saw him get into the shay and drive away. though I did ,both, for I couldn't even hear inyself for the swearing of the captain and the noise of the crew, as they was a gettin’ of the wessel uader way. Well, sir, we sailed down that river and out to sea. “Now, sir, come a strange providence, which the very thoughts of it might convert a heathen! We had been to sea about tive days when a dread ful storm riz Oh, master! the inky blackness of the sky, the roaring of the wind, the raging of the sea, tle leaping of the waves, and the rocking of that wessel—and every once in a while, sea and ship all ablaze with the blinding lightning. was a thing to see, not to hear tel of! Ttell you, marster, that looked like the wrath of God! And’ then the cursing and swearing and bawling of the captain and the crew, as they were a-takin’ in of sail, was enough to raise one’s hair on their head! I hugged the baby to my breast—and went to praying as hard ag ever I could pray. “Presently I felt an awful shock, as if Heaven and Tt was no use for me to howl and cry, | earth had ‘come together, and then everybody sereaming, ‘She's struck! She’s struck!’ I felt the vessel trembling like a live creetur, and the water a pouring in everywhere. I hugged the babe and scrambled up the Secs way to the deck. Ii was pitch dark, and I heard every man rushing towards one side of the wessel. “A flash of lightning, that made everything ax bright as day again, showed me that they were al! taking to the boat. I rushed after, calling to them tosave me and the baby. But no one seemed to hear me; they were all too busy {ying to save themselves and keep others out of the boat, and cursing and swearing and hollering that there was no more room—that the boat would be swamped andso on. The end was, that all who could crowd into the boat did so. And me and the baby and 4 poor sailor lad and the black cook were left behing to perish, “ But, marster, as it turned out, we as waa left to die were the only ones saved. We watched after that boat with longing eyes, though we could only see it when the lightning flashed. And every time we saw it it was farther off At last, marster, a flash of lightning showed us the boat as far off av ever we could see her, capsized and beaten hither Kk Healy by the wild waves—its crew had per ed. “Marster, as soon as the sea had swallowed up that wicked captain and crew, the wind died away, the waves fell, and the storm lulled—just as had done what it was sent to do and was satisfied ‘The wreck—where we poor forlorn ones stood—the wreck that had shivered and trembled with every wave that struck it—until we had feared it would break up Ne minute, became still and firm on its sandbar, as a house on dry land. “Daylight came at last. And a little after snnrise we saw asail bearing down upon us, We could not signal the sail, but by the mercy of Providence she saw us and lay to, and sent off'a boat, and picked us up and took us on board—me and the baby, aud the cook and the sailor lad. “Tt was a foreign veswel, and we gould not under- stand a word they said, nor they us. All we could do was by signs. But they were very good to ns, dried our clothes and gave ws breakfast, and made us lie@down and rest. And then put about and con- tinued their course. The sailor lad—Berbert Grey- son—soon found out and told me they were bound for New York. And, in fact, marster, in about ten days we made that port. Mi “When the ship anchored below the Battery, the officers and passengers made me up a little bundle of clothes and a little purse of money, and put me ashore, and there I was in a strange city, so bewil- dered I did not know which way to turn. While I was a-standing there, in danger of being ran over by the omnibuses, the sailor boy came to my side and told me that. he and the cook was wine to en- gage on board of another ’Merican weasel, and ax'd me what I was gwine to do. I told him how I didn’t know Se all ‘bout sea sarvice, and so I didn’t know what [ should do. Then he said he'd show me where I could go and bey das night, and #0 he took me into a little by street to a poor fook- ing house, where the people took lodgers, and there he left me to go aboard his ship. As he went away he advised me to take care of my money, and try to get a servant's eo “Well, marster, I aint a pty to bother yon with telling f how d toiled and etrnggled along in that great city—first living out aa @ servant, and aligr wang ryming 4 roou, aud joking iy wasliog A aoe een, and jroning—aye! how I tofled and singled fae —ten—long—years, hoping for the time come when I shoutd' be able to retarn to this neighbor- hood, where I was known, and expose the evil Soom or hewn w oe, far Ne cones ‘tired is struggling, and laying up money penny by penny. arts was fool enough to A my story in the hopes of getting pity and hetp —but aig ny story always made it worse for me! Some thought me crazy and others thqught me deceitful, which is not to be wondered at Tor Twas . bint a aud my adventures were indeed beyond “Noone ever helped me but the lad Herbert Greyson. Whenever he came from sea, he sought me out, aud made a little present to me or Cap. “Cap, nurster, was Capitola, the child. The rea- son | gave her that name was because on that ring Thad drawn from the masked mother’s hand were the two names—Hngone—Capitola, “Well, marster, the last time Herbert Greyson came home, he gave me five dollars, and that, with what I had saved, was enough to pay my passage to Norfoik. “t left my little Cap in the care of the people of the house—she was big enough Ww pay for her kee, in work—and i took passage ior Norfolk. When ot there | fell ill, spent ali wy money, and was at: last taken to the poorhouse. Six months passed. away before I was discharged, aud then six more before Thad earned and saved inoney enough to pay my way on here, “Treachel here three days ago, and found a wheat field pores where iy cobtage tire used to burn, and ail wy old cronies dead, all except old Hat, who hae received and given me shelter. Sir,. my story is done—make what yon can of it,” said the invalid, sinking down in her bed as if utterly © exhausted. Old Hurricane, whose countenance had express ed einotions as powerful as they were various while listening to this tale, now arose, stepped cautiously to the door, drew the bolt, and coming back beat his head and asked. “What more of the child?” “Cap, sit? I have not heard a word of Cap since The o try und do out her frieuds. Bat ang din her might inquire for her at Mra. wundress, No.8 Rag Alley.” y the names apon that ring were—Eu- gene—Cajpitoia” “Yes, sir, they were.” “Have you that ring about you?” “No, mast I thought it was best, in case of accidents, to leave it with the child.” “Have you told her any part of this strange his tor; “No, master, nor hinted it; she was too young for such # confidence.” “You were right. Hud she any mark about her by which she could be identiiied?” aster, a very strange ove. In the middle of left palm was the pertect image of a crimson hand, about half an inch in length. There was also another. Henry Greyson, to please me, marked upou her fore arm in ludian ink her name aad ay—'Capitola, Oct. Sist, 1832.” hit. Now tell me, my good soul, do you know, from what you were enabied to observe, what house that was where Capitula was bo “Tam on my oath. No, sir, I do not know— ‘ou susp The woman nodded. “It was——,” suid old Hurricane, stooping and whispering a name that was heard by no one but. the sick woman, She nodded again, with a look of intense mean- ing. “Does your old hostess here, Hat, know or sus pect anything of this story?” inquired Major War- field. “Not a word! heard it!” “That is right! Still be discreet! If you would have the wicked punished and the innocent pro- silentand wary. Have no anxicty about What man can do for her will Ido aud van? No soul but yourself hag nickly! And now, good crentave, day is Sssuhey awning. You must seek repose. And { must calk the parson in and return home. | will send Mrs,. Condiment over with food, wine, medicine, clothing and every comfort that. your condition requires,’ said Old Hurricane, rising, and_ calling in the cler- gyman, with whom he soon after left the hut for ome. ‘They reached Hurricane Hall in time for an ear!; breakiast, which the astonished housekeeper hi prenered: and for which their nights adventureg. ad certainly given them a good appetite. Major Warfield kept his word, and as soon as. breakfast was over he despatched Mrs. Condiment. with a carriage filled with provisions for the sick woman. But they were not needed. In a couple of hours the housekeeper returned with the intelli- gence that the oid nurse was dead. false strength of mental excitement that had enabled her to tell so long and dreadful a tale, had been the last. flaring up of the flame oflife, that almost immedia- tely went out. “Tam not sorry, upon the whole, for now I shalt have the game in my own hands!” muttered Old Hurricane to himselfi—*Ah! Gabrielle Le Noir! better yon had cast yourself down from the highest rock of this range and been dashed to pieces below, than have, thus tallen into my power.” So far we have followed the lovely heroine and er friends; but the foregoing is all that we can publish in our columns. The remainder of the rative can only be found in the New York Ledger, he great family paper, which can be obtained at. Il the periodical stores where papers are sold. Re- member to ask for the Ledger, dated February 12, and in it you will get the continuation of the narra- tive from where it leaves off here. If there are no bookstores or news offices convenient to where you: reside, the publisher of the Ledger will send you & copy by mail if you will send him five cents in a | ter. Address Robert Bonner, Ledger office, 44 Anm streef, New York. This story grows more and more interesting as it progresses. HE LENGRR IS NOW READY, AND FOR SALE AT ALL Tia NBWS OFFICES. 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