Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 December 1895 — A COLDEN DREAM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A COLDEN DREAM

CHAPTER XVL Everything was dark and strange to Panl Lowther. coming in as he did from the glaring tropic sunshine, but he rushed forward excitedly at Aube's cry, and dimly made out a figure in white, whose hands were eagerly stretched out to him, and, obeying the natural instinct of the moment, he clasped that figure in his arms. “Aube, my darling!’’ he cried. She shrank from Paul’s embrace trembling and confused, as Xousie looked wildly on, and a loud, angry ejaculation came from Saintone. which made Paul turn upon him, seeing more distinctly now. But this glance at the stranger was only momentary, and he turned again to Aube, looking wonderingly at Nousie, then at the place, and back at Aube, whose hand he still retained. “I could hardly find you.” he said. “I have only just landed from the packet. “Mr. Lowther!" faltered Aube, as she gazed at him wildly. "Why are you here ?” “Can you ask that?” he said. Then, with his eyes wandering once more about the place, “but my dearest girl, why are you here? This gentleman—will you introduce me?” As the words left his lips Saintone could contain himself no longer. Halfmaddened before Aube's firm refusal, the sight of this stranger who had been so warmly welcomed roused him to a pitch of fury, and he raged forth: “Aube! AA’ho is this man?” “My friend, Mr. Paul Lowther. sir,” said a sharp voice from one who had come forward unheeded, “and my name Is Durham —Englishman— at your service. Who are you?” Saintone glared at the speaker in astonishment, but turned back directly to Paul, who changed color, as he said: “I beg pardon if I have come unceremoniously, but I thought this was a cabaret. Mademoiselle Dulau, in heaven’s name, why do I find you in a place like this?” Aube’s lips parted, but her emotion checked her utterance, and she crept to Nousie's side, catching at her arm for support. “Oh, I beg pardon," cried Paul, hastily, as he struggled with the undefined apprehension, which attacked him. “You live somewhere near. You will take me to Madame Dulau.” He bowed slightly to Xousie, whose eyes were fixed upon him angrily. “And this lady,” he said, -“is ?” There was a pause, during which Aube’s lips struggled for utterance, and Nousie stood motionless and listening as a prisoner awaits the death sentenoe from the judge. It was from no shrinking at her task, for Aube's heart beat loyally and warmly then. She had chosen her path, and, martyr-like, she was prepared to pace it to the end, but no words would come. She glanced at Nousie, and saw that she was white and trembling. She could see Paul’s color coming and going, but the agitation of neither broke the spell which bound her, and her eyes wandered to Saintone, who was gazing at her fixedly, with a sneering laugh faintly appearing about his lips. That aroused her just as Paul said again rather sternly: “Is it your servant? Am I wrong in asking what I did?” “No,” said Aube, simply, as she passed her arm round Nousie's waist. “Mr. Lowther. this is my dear mother, Madame Dulau. Mamma,” she continued, quietly, “this is Mr. Paul Lowther; dear Lucie’s brother; and his friend.” She held out her hand to Bart, who drew a long breath after watching her keenly. “You brave little darling,” he said to himself, as he took her hands, and then aloud, “I bring you dear Lucie’s love. My dear Miss Dulau, I am glad to see you again. Madame Dulau, I am afraid we have taken you by surprise.” He held out his hand now to Nousie, who drew a long breath, too, and caught it eagerly, and held it for a few moments, smiling pleasantly in a face whose frank honesty impressed her. “Yes.” she said, quietly; “it is a great surprise to us both. Lucie's brother and his friend. You are very welcome to my poor home.” Paul seemed dumfounded, but at last, evidently suffering painfully, he held out his hand to Nousie, conscious that under her mask of calmness, Aube was suffering agony, and watching her, wondering what she would say or do. Nousie’s brow wrinkled and her face puckered a little with a deprecating smile as she looked at the extended hand, but she did not take it. It was not from gialice, but Paul’s words had cut deeply, and she epuld not help saying with a slight shrug of her shoulders: “You wish to shake hands with me?”

“ Yes,” stammered Paul. “AYith Aube’s mother. I beg your pardon. I did not know.” “No,” she said, simply; “how could you? lam not a lady. Only the keeper of this poor place.” She laid her hand in his for a moment, aud as his own was once more free, Paul looked confusedly from one to the other. His eyes lit last upon Saintone, who stood watching them savagely, and as the young men’s gaze encountered, Paul’s confusion passed away, for instinctively he knew that he was face to face with a rival. “AVill you come in, gentlemen?” said Nousie, quietly. “Mademoiselle Lucie’s friends are very welcome here. Aube, dear, show the way. Monsieur Saintone,” she continued, “I will not ask you to join us, after what has passed.” “I understand,” said Saintone, speaking to Nousie, but with his eyes fixed on Paul in an insolent-looking stare. “I’m going now, Nousie, but I shall come again.” He nodded at Aube, who looked at him calmly, aud walked toward the door, but turned back djrectly. “Ah,” he said, “I really forgot. Did I have anything to drink?” As he spoke he threw a coin on'.the front of the buffet. “No, Monsieur Saintone,” said Nousie, calmly, and she took up and held out the piece. • 1 “Keep it,” he said, contemptuously, and the blood flushed in Aube’s cheeks at his manner toward her mother. Then in a whisper Saintone continued: “Send those men away while their lives are safe.” | Nousie locked up at him sharply, and lie returned the look as it these were a

peculiar and well understood import to all this. "I am one of you now.” he continued in the same tone, “and I am not going to be cast aside like this.” CHAPTER XVII. Back in the evening, through the dark shadows of the great leaves, where great moths flitted over the cloying scented flowers, and the fireflies scintillated among the bushes as if there had been a shower of tiny stars. “It's maddening. I tell you, maddening!” cried Paul, hoarsely. “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Bart. "Rather warm though, here. Paul, old chap, if we stop here long I shall take to collecting. Look at that moth. Why, he’s big as a bat.” “Are you listening to what I say?” cried Paul, angrily. "My poor darling! It is horrible. The woman deserves ” “What woman? That black servant?” “No, man, no; the mother.” “Oh, come, I say, don’t speak like that of our kind hostess.” “But to send for that poor girl home from such a life as hers to a common pothouse frequented by a pack of niggers——” “I’m afraid this delicious night air is exciting you, Paul, old man. It isn’t a low pothouse, but a pleasant roadside auberge or cabaret, kept by a very sweet pleasant woman.” “Bart, you’re mad.” “Not quite, old fellow; but you nre getting on. Now be reasonable, and put the case fairly. Here’s a nice sweet creature left a widow; she has a dear little child—a girl—and she says to herself. ‘This place is not good enough. I'll send my darling to Paris to be well Taught and brought up. Never mind the expense.’ Well, she does this, and at last thinks - small blame to her—that she should like to have her daughter back, and she sends for her. Here's the history in a nutshell—a cherrystone if you like.” “But, Bart, m,v darling Aube. Man, man. would you like to see Lucie there?” “Honestly, no. But if Fate had placed her there, she would be Lucie still, and I should not howl about it.” “You'd be mad as I am.” “Not I, dear boy—not half. I know what I should do.” “Yes; what? Don't talk so slowly.” “Marry her, and get her away as soon as I could.” “Of course, yes. She must be got away at once. There was.that black-looking fellow there, too. It’s of no use for you to contradict me; he’s in love with her, and as jealous of me ns can be.” “I’m not going to contradict you. I should say he is that way; Well, no blame to him. Any fellow would fall in love with her. I should if there was" no Lucie in the world.” “She must be got away at once, and as for that, half-nigger follow, he had better mind.” “So had you.” said Bart. “But if that man goes to the house I shall shoot him.” “Mind he don't have the first imp at you, old man. Recollect that the nigger is lord paramount here; be ruled by me, and don’t do anything rash. If you get showing tight our lives will not be worth an hour's purchase.” “But look here-—” “I do, old fellow. I'm insured heavily in a good office with leave to travel, and the officials were so kind and friendly that I wouldn't for'the world behave badly to them.” “What do you mean?" “Get killed and have my heirs, execu-. tors, administrators aud assigns come upon them so soon.” "Now, my dear Bart, is this a time for your beggarly attempts at wit?” “Best I’ve got in stock, old fellow. But come, be reasonable. It’s hard, I know, to find that the lady we had stamped a lady is not a lady after all. But she’s a precious, nice, sweet woman,; wonderfully proud of her child, and that black Cherub worships her, and so do the: niggers all about.” “How do you know?” “She told me. There, let's have a cigar’ and a quiet think. You are. of course, upset by all this, and not in a position to' judge calmly. To-morrow we shall see things in a very different light.” As Bart spoke he glanced behind him i once or twice, trying to pierce the dark-: ness. “I suppose you are right,” said Paul, i sighing; "but I shall never rest till I have ■ her away from that wretched place.” Bart paused, took out his cigar case, , and offered it to Paul. “No, thanks. I can’t smoke.” “Yes; take one,” said Bart, in a low voice; “and as we are lighting up give a good look around without moving or seeming to notice anything.” “What do you mean?” said Paul, taking a cigar. ' “We shall have to try the native weeds,” snid Bart; “these are nearly the last. Ready for a light? Now, then.” He struck a match s>m] held it up to his friend’s cigar; then struck another to hold to his own. “Fancy—being followed—heard a rustle —at the side,” he said, in the intervals of puffing. "Be cool. Are yon alight?” “Yes.” “Then come along.” “See anything?” he continued, after a few moments. “I thought I saw the gleam of something bright.” “Nigger's eyes,” said Bart. “I saw a black fnce. We're being watched, old man. Let’s get home to shelter. Don’t take any notice. It may mean to, see where we go.” Nothing more occurred till they reached the place where they had left their luggage, when Paul said, upeasil'y: “Think that meant anything?” “Yes. Black shadows,” replied Bart. “I don’t like weapons, old fillloW. but we are neither in well-policed,.Paris nor within call of the Bow street bobby, so let’s unpack our revolvers, and thke them with us when we go out,” Paul nodded, and then relapsed into it thoughtful state. “And I laughed at him when he proposed bringing these tools. Said a lancet would be good enough for me,” mused Bart, as he unpacked his portmanteau and took out a brand-new six-shooter to turn it over. “Well, if I have to fire I hope I shall not hit Paul—or myself. I don’t think I could hit any one else if I tried.” An hour later he was fast asleep, and Paul was lying thinking, tossing fever-

ishly from one side, till getting into an easier position, he lay watching the stars through the open window, aud thinking of the events of the day. It was horrible! Thst sweet, gentle girl, brought up as a lady, fresh front the seclusion of the convent, to be suddenly brought to such a home as that, and evidently persecuted by the man he had encountered there. *T've made an enemy already,'’ thought Paul, and he began tiiiuking of their walk Itack to the town, past houses, dotted here and there among unbrageous foliage. which offered plenty of concealment for any one who chose to dog their steps. And it was not fancy, he knew, for he was convinced that the glance he had seen when the match was struck was from a man’s eye. Bart had seen a fa«-e. and it was evident that they had been followed. But for what? He had just reaehed this point in his musings when he held his breath, for there was a faint rustling sound beneath the window. It oeased directly, aud Paul breathed freely again, attributing the sound to some nocturnal animal—a rat perhaps. Then he thought of the position of the house where they were staying—a large two-floored building nearly covered with luxuriant creepers that would form a harbor for wild creatures such as were probably abundant there. Just then the rustling sound was repeated. and it struck him that it was like a hand grasping and shaking a stem of the tree trained all over the house. The sound ceased again, hut he lay listening to be quite startled, for the noise came again accompanied by a faint breathing, and, as he lay on his side watching the window, something darker than the darkness appeared in the opening, and he knew that u hand aud arm had been passed in to grasp the window sill. The noise which followed was undoubtedly caused by a foot seeking for a resting place; and as this riistling ceased, something dark and rouud slowly eclipsed a star on the horizon and he dimly made out the contour of a head. Paul’s hand stole beneath his pillow, where he had intended to place his revolver, but he remembered now that with his thoughts on Aube, he had forgotten it, and it lay on the table. AVithout a moment’s hesitation lia sprang out of bed, seized it, making directly after for the window, but on reaching it all was perfectly still below; aud though he peered out into the garden, and tried to distinguish the paths and shrubs, all was black there; and at last contenting himself with closing the window, ho was about to return to his couch when Bart spoke. “AA’hat’s the matter?” he said. Paul fold him. “Shouldn’t wonder, old man,” said Bart. “We dropped into a nice place; but we can prove it as soon as it’s light.” It was nearly morning when Paul fell asleep, and not much after sunrise when he started into wakefulnes, to jiml the window open aud Bart peering out. “Halloa! Awake?” said the latter. “I say, you were right. Someone climbed up here last night. The creeper’s torn just below, and there are the marks of two wide-toed feet pu the soft earth.” “AA’hat do you think it means?” “Don’t know. Pilfering, perhaps. I hope it does not mean the knife. Say, old chap, I’d have practiced for this at a pistol gallery if I had known.” (To be continued.)