Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1 ~ t' t = = =g ggg= "'" * lewism.oeist,proprietor, j An Independent Journal: For the Promotion of the Political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the South. j?2peeaieumaadvaboe. VOL. 5. YOEKVILLE, S. Q? THIJBSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1859. JSTO. 46. "Mllie fig Wharfs" written for the y< "WHO IS T o THE DARK MYSTERY OF BY WILLIE I author of "lula woodsworth," "winn 8un," "old heads and ^ CHAPTER XVII.?Continued. 'Well, sir,' said Jame9, a few moments after, as Jade and himself found themselves in a small room in the 'Crowing Cock' inn; 'what have yon / to communicate ?' 'Much!' said Jude, with considerable emphasis. 'Proceed,' said James, throwing himself upon a lounge. About twenty years ago,'began Jude, 'I was a poor but honest carpet-weaver in Monotown. I had plenty of work, and was daily laying up a goodly amount of money. Everybody respected me; and often have i beard it said, that Jude Simster was, what poor Roby Burns used to call the noblest work of God ! I was happy then?.' Here Jude paused and rubbed his coarse coatsleeves quickly over his eyes. 'Ah !' he continued, 'none of us, my dear sir, knows how easily he may be led astray. A man?a man who stood high in the world?came to my little shop one faraway, by-gone day, and offered me thirty pounds for?Oh ! God?why did that temptation come upon me like a flood ?' 'Go on,'said James, much affected by Jude's emotion. 'There, was a beautiful girl living next door to me?a girl that loved Milton as she did ber own life?and I, for thirty pounds of the aocursed trash, called money. Oh ! I cannot tell the damning crime" Well!' said James, much moved. Milton, sir, got me to officiate as a priest; and he married her.' 'Well, what of that?' asked James. 'If two beings resolve to love each other, and swear, in the presence of witnesses, that they are willing to be come man wife, their marriage is legal, according to human and divine law.' No,' said Jude. 'But, my dear sir,' said James 'you forget that marriage, properly, takes place long before the publication of that fact to the world. If two human beings consent, and feel persuaded that they love each other, and are willing to become companions for life, as soon as that fact is stated to each other, they are married. The simple laying on of priestly hands is merely a form ; and we observe that form because of the respect which we are necessarily obliged to manifest to public and popular customs.' 'But, sir, said Jude, 'Milton was already a Knuhom] anrl T Lrnovr it* And you married them ?' asked James, with a look of contempt. I did, sir,' said Jade. 'Thirty pounds was much to m<?, and I could not resist the temptation.' 'Heavens?' said James, 'you are a villian, sure enough.' 'I know it, sir,' said Jude, rising from his chair, 'but, if you knew how dependent you are upon my services, you would not have dared to call me so. Villian as I am, I am about to stand np for a righteous cause ; and I tell you, sir, that by following another course I could make a fortune and nun you.' Jude Simster,' said James, with admirable coolness and self-possession, -I never knew a man, from all I can learn, connected with the D'Vilton family, who dared not enter the field single handed and alone. I ask no assistance from you; I know who I am, aud by heavens, I fancy that I am able to place myself in my proper positiou without the assistance of any human being.' 'I assure you that you could not, sir,' said Jude; 'but allow me to continue my story. The name of the young woman which I have just spoken of waB Flora Dixon. To be brief, Milton married her ; but deserted the poor creature some months after, and finally murdered her. She disappeared about two weeks atter the birth of a male infant; and this same infant, sir, was none other than the young gentleman who now claims Edward D'Vilton as his father, and keeps you from your just and lawful rights.' 'Who? Julius D'Vilton ?' asked James, starting. 'Yes, sir; or at auy rate that is the name by which the bastard is known,' said Jude. Jude then related that about twenty-one years ago Milton and himself had forcibly entered 'D'Vilton Hall,' during the absence of Edward D'Vilton, and, after murderiug the steward and drugging Charlotte D'Vilton, aud a faithful servaut by the name of Susan, they abducted Charlotte, intending to remove her to a nunnery in Spain. She was placed under Milton's charge until he (Jude) could drive the carriage up to the door, which they had left at some distance from the house.? At Jude's return with the carriage, Milton asserted that Charlotte had broken from him and fled ; and after searching the premises for some lime they both lettthe neighborhood, intending to return at miduight and make way with the infant, which was only some weeks old. 'Whatiulant?' asked James. 'That helpless babe, sir, was yourself; the only son and heir of Edward and Charlotte D'Viltou.' 'Wretch !' exclaimed James, 'what has become of my mother?' 'Ah!' said Jude,'that, sir, is the great mystery ; aDd only old Loo, can unravel it.' Then passing his coarse sleeve quickly over his eyes, he continued : 'That night, sir, your father returned to his desolate home, to find his wife gone; his old steward murdered, and his helpless babe lying upon the bosom of his faithful old servant, Susan. He remained at the house several days, then suddenly disappeared; and was not heard of again for thirteen years. The day that he left, I was passing by St. Mary's church in I Monctown, when I observed a champagne basket lying under the porch; aud upon examination, I fouud that it contained a male infant, several i coins and papers, oue of which was sigued by ! Edward D'Viltou, and went on to state that the finder should name the babe Julius D'Viltou, aud, * that, on bis return to England, he would reward j the finder by a large amount of money. Thatbabe, I sir, was yourself. Not knowing what to do with it, I took the basket to Milton. He immediately sent me for his illegitimate son, then living with an old woman in the country ; and, giving me gold to keep the matter secret, he placed Flora Dixon's child in the basket, after removing the other babe aud giviug it to me to destroy. I took the poor babe?yourself?into the country that night, with the full i itention of putting aud eud to its life; but Providence prevented me from committing so damning a crime.' 'How?' asked James, deeply interested. 'Oh, sir! when I thought ot the dreadful nature j of the meditated crime, I found myself utterly | unable to commit it in cold blood ; so, placing the I I-'"-' nnnii the roadside I walked back, some | distauce, to &q inn, intendiug to drown conscience j by drinking freely from the accursed bowl. I kno .7 not how long I tarried at the inn, but when I returned, staggering and reeling, to the spot where I had left the basket, it was gone.' 'Poor Bessie!' said James, 'it was she who delivered me, in my helplessness, from your murderous hand. She has often told me that she i found me on the roadside, on her return from Coveutry.' 'Ah, sir!' said Jude, 'after all is said and done, their is an over-ruling power, which ever and anon brings to naught the deep laid plots aud complicated devices of men. Milton did not | know that there was a bracelet upon your ankle, which would one day prove a silent but overwhelming witness of his guilt. When I returned to Monctown the morniug after that terrible night, it was iioised about that MiltoD had fouud the male infant and heir of D'Vilton. The papers and money were shown to hundreds; and, under Original Jtonfoktte. 3RKVILLE ENQUIRER. HE HEffi R, THE DESERTED HOUSE. JGHTHEART, rE AND WILLIE," "THE CHILDREN OP TnE rOUNG HEARTS," &C., AC. the circumstances, there was no room for doubt. From that hour the child of Flora Dixon was named and known as Julius D'Vilton; and Claude Milton felt persuaded that all was working well for the success of his plans. Twice, sir, have I attempted the life of your father at the instigation of Milton, and twice have I signally failed. Eight years ago, to our astonishment, your father returned to this country. The boy Julius was shown to him, as the babe found in a basket thirteen years before, and the identical basket, papers and coins given up to your father, and acknowledged as being all bis own. Some talk about a bracelet was made, but Milton managed to make your father believe that a servant had stolen it. Of course the proof was altogether sufficient, and Mr. D'Vilton believed, and publicly declared Julius to be his long lost son. To our consternation, however, you made your appearance at the 'Deserted House' in company with old Loo, and declared yourself to be the son of D'Vilton. The moment we saw you, neither of us entertained the least doubt that what you said was indisputably true?your resemblance to your mother was enough. You know the sequel, sir,' said Jude. 'You know how we thwarted the plans of ol I Loo, by sending you to America; but Oh ! did you ever dream that, for the furtherance of our put poses, I murdered poor old Pete, and that Milton poisoned Bessie!' Here the wretched man bnried his face in the folds of his cloak, and groaned aloud. 'Great heavens!' said James, 'and why should you have taken the lives of those worthy and harmless creatures.' '1 wanted the bracelet, and could not get it without killing old Pete. Milton poisoned Bessie for the same reason ; not knowing that the bracelet was in my possession. 'Goon with your story,'said James, shuddering. 'You saw Rosa in America ?' asked Jude.' 'I did.' 'Then she has told you all that I know ; but it was I. sir, that gave her the bracelet which I now see around your wrist; it was I who aided her to escape from her home, the night before her marriage with Julius was to take place; it was I who wrote to Mr. Mansfield, telling you to meet me at the Deserted House, and it is I who am ready to spend my last drop of blood in your cause.' 'What has brought about these changes in your views?' asked James, struck with the earnestness of Jude. 'Milton, sir, after nil that I have done for him, mot mo on tlio moor eomomontbu Ago , /inJ f?uc<iking up behind me like a cowardly dog, thrust his dirk into my bosom, and fled. I knew not how I got there, but when I came to myself, I found D' Vilton?the man whose life I have striven to take so often?anxiously watching me, as I lay upon his own bed. Oh, sir ! for six long weeks, that noble father of yours never left my bedside except for his meals and occasional sleep ; he never left me until ray wound was healed ; and when I parted with him, he slipped a well-filled purse into these murderous hands, and bade tne God speed. I did not think that tears would ever fall from these eyes again,' and tbo penitent Jude brushed bis coat sleeve quickly over his eyes; but, sir, I could not stand that?it went like an arrow to my soul. In that hour, I took your father's hand in mine and wept like a child; in that hour something took place within my heart?I don't know what it was?and I went out into the world determined to be a better man. From that time until within the last week, I have made every effort to find out whether vou were living, and where you could be found. The thousand pounds, which Milton has given rae for the base part which I have acted is all gone but that'?here Jude threw a crown upon the table?'and nearly everyo farthing of it has been expended in employing agents in America to find out whether you were alive or not. Sometime ago, I received information that a young man, who had been in New York for eight years, but originnally from Monctown, was living with a Mr. Mansfield ; that his Irish servant addressed him as 'master Jimand that the name of said servant was Barney. I immediately communicated this intelligence to old Loo, who advised me to write at once to Mr. Mansfield and? well, you know the sequel; and, thank God! you are safe in England once more. And, now, let me advise you to be on your guard; to follow implicity the directions of old Loo, and to do nothing without first consulting her. Do not make yourself known; don't wear that bracelet so conspicuously; go well armed ; avoid Milton and Julius for the present. Milton supposes that Loo and myself are both dead; that you are far away ; and, that he has triumphed in bis hellish designs. After I have served you, and helped to place you in proper position, I shall surrender myself to justice and be ready to pay the penalty for so villianous a life.' There was so much unmistakable earnestness about Jude's manner, that it was altogether impossible for James to question the sincerity of his friendship. ***** **** Early the next morning, two horsemen left the 'Crowing Cock Inn,' for the 'Deserted House.'? Mr. Mansfield and Barney, at James' request, remained at the inn. while the latter accompanied Jude, for the purpose of visiting old Loo, who, for sometime back had taken up her quarters beneath the roof of the old and dilapidated building mentioned above. Sometime before noon, J ide and James, drew up their horses before the now crumbling walls of the once magnificient building; and, after alighting and making fast their horses, Jude gave several blows on the worm-eaten door, together with a peculiar whistle, after which, the door 1 swung back upon its rusty hinges, and the tall, 1 erect, and lean figure of old Loo stood in the J opening. 'Aha!' said she, with a wild laugh, as she recognized James, 'said I not so! said I not that . the time would come when the son of my honored j master, would come back to the old house and de- , mand his rights? Well, well; welcome, Julius D'Vilton! ?thrice welcome to your father's house! Jim the match-bov!?vou a match-boy! ah ! we . shnll see?we shall see ! Follow me?softly, softly; we must not disturb our friends, ha! ha ! ha !' And the strange woman turned, and walked qui?tly into the interior of the building, followed by James and Jude. 'Set ye down here,' said Loo, pushing a chair towards James; 'and, Jude, you set right there.' 'Did 1 understand you to say,' asked James, that there were others in this house, beside ourselves ?' 'Never mind about that just now,' said Loo; 'you shall hear all presently. I have somewhat to say unto you; and I will tell it in as few words as possible. I was born in London; and, when a mere girl, was hired as a chamber maid in the family of the Grahams. That was some fifty-two years ago, when I was in my thirteenth year.? From that time until some twenty-one years ago I remained in the family. Mr. Graham had but one child, and that a daughter. His wife died in childbirth, and the babe become as my own child. Its name was Charlotte. About twenty-four years ago, Mr. Graham removed to America, at which time Charlotte was about sixteen years old. Of course I accompanied them. Less than a year after, Edward D'Vilton came over to America ; became acquainted with the family ; loved and married Charlotte ; and brought his beautiful bride back to England. Charlotte insisted upon taking me with her; so I went with the happy couple; came to this very house; which, at that time was equal in magnificence to a palace. Here we lived nearly one year, when, at poor Charlotte's request ?she being at the time near confinement?D'Vilton and herself set out on a journey to Charlotte's grandmother, then living some miles from London. Jason, the old gardner and myself, remained at 'D'Vilton Hall.' Some days after, to my utter surprise, Charlotte returned to her home without her husband ; and, in reply to my questions in reference to such strange conduct, she informed me that D'Vilton had been called to Liverpool on urgent business; and that some days after his departure, she received a letter the contents of which stated that her husband had received serious injuries by a fall from his horse, and was then lying dangerously ill at this house. You have no doubt heard the rest from Jude. Charlotte gave birth to an infant some days after her return? that infant was yourself. The treacherous Jason admitted Milton and Jude into this house ; your poor mother was taken off and murdered by that villian, Claude Milton. Your father returned too late. You have heard the balance: How, during my absence from this house, D'Vilton placed you in a basket and left you upon the street; and, half distracted, went to Liverpool to search for his al most idolized wife. As year after year rolled into eternity, and no tidings of either your father or mother reaohed me, I became half crazed ; joined a band of gipseys, and changed my name from Susan, to old Loo, the fortune-teller. I must not forget to state that, after bearing that Milton had found D'Vilton's babe, I went to see it. The mo meat i looKea uponux snewiuai me assertion wua a base fabrication ; for whereas the infant of Charlotte had dark brown hair and black eyes, the child in Milton's possession had blue eyes and flaxen hair. However, I said nothing; but quietly left the house, and walked down to the Red Lion Inn, to have a chat with Bessie and Pete; when, to my astonishment and delight, Bessie showed me an infant which she had found on the road the night before. The moment my eyes fell upon it, I knew it to be the infant son of D'Vilton; and, what was more, in taking the poorthing from Bessie's arms, I noticed a gold bracelet upon its right ankle, which piece of jewelry was imrridiately recognized as the property of my beloved mistress. Knowing that she had a pair of these bracelets, I expected to find the other upon the left ankle of the infant, but in this I was disappointed. Telling Bessie to put away the bracelet, I left the house, without mentioning to her who the infant really was. You may wonder, sir, why I :lid not make these discoveries public; but a moment's reflection will convince you that nothing could have accomplished by such a course of action, as Milton held an exalted position in society, while I was simply a common fortune-teller. 'What first attracted my attention particularly to Milton, and made me suspect him of foci play, was that, I often noticed him visit this house in company with another man, whom I have since found out to be Jude Simster?now, I trust, a changed man.' Jude groaned aloud involuntarily, and buried his face in the folds of his cloak. Troceed,' said James, deeply interested. 'One night,' continued Loo, 'I determined to find out what business brought them to this house at such unreasonable hours; so, waiting until I saw them enter, I made my way through the subterranean passage, and entered the building, enveloped in a sheet. Finding the room in which they were conversing, I elided a pannel noiselessly aside, and entered, while their backs were turned to me. There was just enough light in the room to discern the outlines of their persons, as only a few rays of moonlight penetrated the darkness. To my consternation, I heard Jude tell Milton that he wanted his money for destroying the life of D'Vilton at sea. and for strangling the babe. I could not hear all that was said ; but I distinctly remember hearing enough to convince me that some plot was being eutered into to place a bastard boy where the son of D'Vilton should have been. So utterly confounded was I by these revelations and discoveries, that I lust my selfcontrol, and groaned nloud. The two villinns started; and as they looked hurriedly around, and observed me enveloped in the sheet, I uttered the words: 'Charlotte D'Vilton will bf revenged!' upon hearing which, they fled from the house, no doubt supposing me to be a supernatural beiug. But I must be brief.' Loo then informed James, that all the noises heard in the deserted house; all the apparitions seen, during the years which were gone, cculd all be accounted for by the fact of her almost continued presence there. She then told, what the reader already knows, about tho meeting with Jim in the park ; the return of D'Viltoti; the carrying of Barney and Jim to America ; her removal into D'Vilton's family as a porter; the abduction of Elouise and the destruction of Milton's property by fire ; and so forth. I had given up all hope of bringing the villians to justice, or of beholding your face again,'she continued, 'when, about a year ago this man, Jude, came here to tue, and revealed Milton's whole plot, and offered to assist me in restoring you to you>-proper position. You know the rest ?now for action. Look in this paper, under the head of marriages, and tell me what you see ;' and old Loo handed James a copy of the Maysville Banner, and burst out in a wild idiotic laugh. 'Great God !' said James, 'this is fiendish vengeance ! Does he know tlmt Elouise is his sister?' No, indeed !' said old Loo. And you brought about this inhuman marriage !' said James, starting to his feet. 'How long have they been married ?' 'Two davs,' said Loo, with a fiendish smile ; 'and by this time, Claude Milton knows that his beautiful ami almost idolized daughter is the wife of his bastard son?ha! ha! ha !' 'Oh, Loo !' said James, 'they, at least, were innocent. Why-should they be made to suffer for the sins of their fatuer? Oh! it is horrible!?it cannot be true!' ***** A retrospective and explanatory paragrnph is here necessary for the proper undersian ling of what is to follow. The reader will remember, that eight years prior to the time when the present chapter opens, Milton's property was destroyed by fire, and that his daughter, blouise, was supposeu to nave perished in the flames. Old Loo, hail, however, in the confusion and excitement of the hour, entered the bouse, disguised as a man; and, after gagging Elouise, she conveyed her to a carriage and immediately drove off. After keeping the girl? then in her fifteenth year?at the 'Deserted House' for nearly a month, old Loo placed her in charge of a roving hand of gipseys headed by the singular character already knowu to the reader by the title of 'Sally, the Witch of the Moor.'? This bund of gipseys immediately removed to the Orkney islands; taking the beautiful girl with them to that wild and romantic section of country, when' she remained for five years. A theatre actor, visiting that section, accidentally catno up with these gipseys; and, seeing so beautiful a J woman as Elouise among so despicable a class of nen and women, managed to obtain an interview, J and learn something of her history. This having been accomplished, he succeeded in persuading ber to escape from them ; to accompany hint to America and to become an actress ; assuring her that her beauty alone would gain her an immense Fortune on the stage. He also informed her that ler father and mother were both dead ; and, that iny mode of life was preferable to that of a gipsey. She followed him; he acted the part of an lonorable man throughout; she appeared before :he public of Montreal, Canada, the year after, and met with a flattering reception. The close )f the second year her protector and friend died it New Orleans, and Elouiso returned to England ind performed in most of the principal cities; neeting with brilliant success everywhera. Aaout eight months prior to the time our chapter >pens, ElouiBe saw, obtained an interview, and nade herself known to Julius, then on a visit to Manchester, from whom she learned that herfath>r was still living in Monctown. She at once aban loneu lae Hinge; renumeu uer name, auu iciuiu>d to her delighted father in company with Julius, ler illegitimate brother. Julius, sometime after, tad a clandestine interview with Elouho ; at vbich time he proprosed marriage. He was acjepted ; neither of them having the remotest idea, hat they were so nearly allied by blood. Julius ipoke of these matters to D'Vilton?his supposed ather?who promised to use his influence in obaining Milton's oonsent to the marriage ; hoping that Julius would become more settled in mind, and manly in life, after the responsibilities of the married state were brought to bear npou him. Contrary to the expectations of D'Vilton, Milton gave a decided, and almost angry refusal ! but, of course, dared not gire his reasons without revealing his entire plot, and the great deception whioh he had been practising upon D'Vilton.? Here then was a dilemma, as unexpected as it was dangerous. Just here was smothered the long asked reply to the all absorbing question: 'Who is the heir?' D'Vilton was euraged ; his high-toned spirit was deeply insulted, that a son of hit should be rejected by a man, moving even in Milton's exalted sphere. Whtr who n TVViltnn?whosn lnn<r line of ances tors left a halo upon the page of history, and whose very memory wft an inspiration to the world?why should one, bearing that proud name, be objected to as a son in-law to Milton? Was Elouise too exalted for hit son ! Oh ! how the hot blood boiled at the unbending heart, and bubbled through the veins of Edward D'Vilton, when he returned to bis home, and communicated the galling intelligence to Julius! Milton trembled as he paced his piazza. True, he had never hinted to Elonise and Julius, that he was the father of both. Could he do so now ? and if he did, what would be the consequences? And, yet what would the world think of his unexplained refusal of his daughter to the son and heir of D'Vilton. Would it not provoke inquiry?? There was but one course to pursue: he would re veal the relationship to Julius; and self-interest would oblige him to keep the secret. But days and weeks passed by, and nothing was done. At last, Julius, in one of his rambles in the country, met old Loo. She knew him, but he knew her not. She told him that she was a fortune-teller; and, after some conversation, the young man offered her one hundred pounds, if she would procure a magistrate or pastor, and influence him to perform the marriage ceremony at the ''Deserted House" the next day or night. She consented. Elouise, met Julius in her father's garden the next afternoon ; took her to ride as usual; for, of course Milton could not refuse him such favors without at least an inferential insult?but instead of returning at nightfall, the couple proceeded to the "Deserted House," and, alas ! were legally married there. In justice to old Loo, be it said, that she did not know who the young lady was, that Julius had married ; nor was she present when the ceremony took place. The next morning. Julius handed a note to old Loo, with a request that it be forwarded to the newspaper office at Mayesville. Having other business there, she carried the note herself; and on the road she read it's contents; and, to her consternation, she found it to be a marriage notice, in the following words: 'Married, at the building formerly known as D'Vilton Hall, by the Rev. Thomas Perkins, on Tuesday night, last, Julius D'Vilton, Esq., and Elouise Milton, daughter of Rt. Rev. Claude Milton. of Monctowu.' The guilty and yet innocent couple concluded to remain where they were, for a few days ; and when Loo handed James the paper some two days after the marriage, the unfortunate pair were even then making preparations to leave the cuuntry for a tour to America. Verily, 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.' CHAPTER XVIII. 'Vou now see, sir,' said D'Vilton, as he entered the neat parlor of Miltou's residence, with a news paper in hi? hands, 'how much better it would have been for all parties, had you given your countenance and consent to the marriage of Elouise to my son Julius.' 'Wk wh what mean you, sir ?' asked Milton, starting to his feet, and staggering towards D'Vilton. 'They are mar?' 'Married ! 1!' almost screamed Milton, with a" emphasis that can scarcely be expressed by three exclamation points. 'Did you say m a-rr i-e-d!' I did, sir; and here is the marriage notice,' said D'Vilton, handing Milton the paper. 'My poor daughter!?Elouise! oh, Elouise!' exclaimed the wretched father, 'would to Ood I had killed thee ere this ! But it is not true !?oh, D'Vilton ! tell me that it?ha! ha ! h a-a a-a-h!' and Milton buried his face in his hands, and strided madly to nnd fro. 'Sir !' said D'Vilton, erecting his fine form, and throwing his head proudly back, 'it. w true ! And, permit me to state that I am at a loss to understand why the tidings should thus affect you. I fancy, sir, that your daughter and yourself will not be disgraced because of her union with my son.' 'Thar son!?ha, ha?that's good!?the vile bastard !' 'What mean you, sir ?' asked D'Vilton. 'I shall go mad, mad, mad,' said Milton, smiting his forehead. ''Sdeath! do not speak to mc!?do not?oh! D'Vilton, it's come at last! you? you?do not know how the retributive curse of God is scorching, crushing, mangling my heart. Oh, Elouise!?but it is my own fault, D'Vilton?I never told her that Julius was?was ?oh! terror! horror!' 'Was what?' asked D'Vilton. 'My own son?my bastard boy.' 'Milton,' said D'Vilton, 'calm yourself. You certainly know not what you are saying. You do not mean to say that Julius is not my son. and lvof lio Kno mofriorl lita awn oiutor Qlirplf Villi """ ???v? do not so mean.' 'Too true." said Milton. 'Impossible!' said D'Vilton starting. 'What motive could Lave influenced you to practice so serious a deception upon me??but, pshaw ! you are beside yourself.' 'Aha! so your time has come at last, has it!' and, so saying, old Loo entered the room, and walked up to Milton. 'Ha! you here !' exclaimed Milton starting, and ' quailing beneath the fierce glance of Loo. 'What do vou want with me, thou strange woman ?' 'I congratulate you upon the marriage of your beautiful daughter to the bastard son of Claude Milton,' said old Loo, bitterly. 'Fiend !' said Milton, between his teeth, 'do you exult over so terrible a catastrophe as the destruction of innocence! What has poor Elouise done to incur your hate, that you should triumph in her d:?grnce and ruin !' 'The poor girl is quite innocent,' said Loo; 'quite as iunocent as Flora Dixon was when you married her.' 'Gods!' said Milton 'what do you know of Flora Dixon ?' 'What do I know, Claude Milton, of the infant son of D'Vilton, that you took out of the basket twenty-one years ago, and gave to Jude to destroy ? What do I know of poor Flora's infant, whom you placed in the empty basket from which the other infant had been takeu ?' Heavens !'exclaimed D'Vilton, 'what do you mean?' 'I mean, sir, that this Claude Milton has been imposing upon your credulity from the time you returned to this country to the present hour. The boy that has been living with you, and whom he made you believe was your son, has not a drop of your blood in his veins. He is an illegitimate son of Milton, and?' 'Distraction!' said D'Vilton. 'Are these things really so, Claude Milton ?' 'I to-told you that he was my son,' said Milton. 'Told me! why, sir, did you not tell me so ere ; now ?'asked D'Vilton, much excited. Then turn- ' ing to Loo, he said : 'Who are you, my good wo- ( man ?' T aa la wKnt tKa nnAnlft noil m a ' I WIV1 i.VV/, .O ......v Loo!' said D'Vilton, reflecting; 'the name 1 sounds somewhat familiar to me!?by the way, you are the person, I presume, that wrote to me many years ago, while I was in London.' 1 The same,'said Loo. 'You have not forgotten < Charlotte's old nurse and favorite servant?have 1 you?' ' 'Who? Susan?' 'Exactly,' said Loo. 'Is she alive?' asked D'Vilton, eagerly. 1 'She stands before you, sir,' said old Loo. ' Is it possible!' said D'Vilton, taking the hand 1 of his faithful old domestic. 'Where have you 1 been all this time Susan?' ' 'Never mind that just now,' replied old Loo. 'I have good news to communicate, in reference to I your long lost son.' 1 Milton started, and looked uneasily around. < 'Is he alive, then ?' asked D'Vilton, passing his hand across his eyes. Alive; and in Monctown this very moment, sir,' said old Loo. 'What!' said Milton, starting to his feet, 'is that possible ?' 'Ah, Claade Milton !' said Loo, 'God took care of the helpless babe that you hired Jude to destroy ; he took care of the poor match-boy, whom you caused to be sent over to America. The boy is now a man, and has returned to England to claim bis rights and bring his mother's murderer to justice.' 'His mother's murderer!' repeated D'Vilton j 'name him that I may rid the world of his accursed presence !' Then, observing the door thrown hastily open, and a handsome young man enter the apartment, he started, and exclaimed : 'Great heavens ! whom have we here?' 'The son of EdwaTd D'Vilton,' said Loo, taking the young man's hand, and exposing the bracelet around his wrist; then, observing that father and son stood motionless and almost breathlessly before each other, she continued : 'Just look upon him, Mr. D'Vilton, and tell me if he is not the image of Charlotte.' 'Julius !?my son !' exclaimed D'Vilton cmbracing the handsome youth. 'My father!' The exclamation came from the lips of our young friend and hero, James Mansfield?once the poor match-vender, Jim. 'Look at them, Ulaude Milton V said Jude aim ster, who at that moment entered the room, and stood before Milton with folded arms. 'Thon too!' almost Bcreamed Milton ; 'villian! what brings thee here at this hour?' 'To bear witness against yon, Claude Milton,' said Jude, calmly. 'Wretch ! traitor-dog!' go down to h?11, and give thine evidence there !' And the qnick, sharp report of a pistol startled the party, and Jude fell heavily to the floor. 'He mur-murdered your mother,' said poor Judp, crawling to the feet of James, and pointing to Milton. 'By heavens!' shouted Milton, drawing another pistol from his bosom, and deliberately aiming it at old Loo, 'am I thus foiled and thwarted ?' but, before his finger touched the trigger, he was felled to the floor by the sinewy arm of James. Bind him!' let him not escape !' said Loo ; and, as D'Vilton and James, bound the arms and feet of the now helpless Milton, a loud, long and wild laugh broke from 'he lips of old Loo. 'I knew that it would be thus !' said she, clapping her hands and walking to and fro about the room. 'I knew that justice would overtake the murderer of Charlotte, sooner or later!' 'Curse thee!' exclaimed Milton, as he vainly endeavored to break awayfrom his bonds. 'Curse thee, every one of you!' Then, starting up in a sitting posture, he looked wildly about him ; then broke out in the most lamentable strains of agonizing despatr. 'Oh ! unbind me just for one hour! Let me not lie here while my poor Elouise is disgraced ! Drag me not before the public as a common criminal, but kill me now!?Oh ! send for Elouise! that we may die together! Unhand me ! God's, have you no pity!' 'Milton,' said D'Vilton, you must be aware that it becomes my duty to have you arrested. I shall not cause you to be dragged through the streets 111 ? zi.Smlnal kv?f wrnatrtlmrl man I1KC I* UUIUIUUU VillUlHiOl , uui, Til cluuiu ujuu, what punishment would be too severe for the murderer of a helpless woman !' 'Ah ! said Loo, 'what punishment is that being not deserving of whose hands have been stained with the heart's blood of three-helpless women, and a poor, feeble old man ? And this is not all; for had von succeeded in your diabolical plot, every one of us would have fallen beneath your murderous hand, Claude Milton.' 'Great heavens !' said Milton, 'who has betrayed me ?' 'Loo,' said D'Vilton. 'go down to my bouse and tell one of the servants to drive my carriage to the sheriff's office, and tell that gentleman to come here at once. And. my son,' continued D'Vilton, 'this poor creature,' pointing to Jude, 'must not bo allowed to bleed to death. See if you cannot find a physician.' 'Something must be done,' said Loo, 'in reference to Julius and Elouise. They should be told of their relationship and immediately separated. The public must be apprised at once that, in reality, Julius D'Vilton is not married, and that the person hitherto known by that title is not your son.' 'Very true,' said D'Vilton, musingly; "somethine must he done at once.' 'For God's sake,' said Milton, 'send for them at once. My carriage is in the stable, and Dedrick can drive immediately for the 'Deserted House'? Oh! make haste!' ***** Two hours after, two carriages left the door of Milton's residence. The first contained Claude Milton ; the sheriff: and Edward D'Vilton. The other carriage contained Dedrick and an aged protestant pastor ; the latter person having been chosen by Loo to inform Julius and Elouise of their lamentable and unfortunate mistake. The first carriage moved slowly towards the jail; the other, was driven rapidly up the road leading to the Deserted House. Our hero, James?as we must continue to call him for the present?rea1/1 T aa n f MiUnn'fl roQirlanPO on. lillillicu Willi UIU UUU| OV l<llll"/u o 1 VUI<4VI>VV| VM deavoring to administer to the comfort of poor Jade, whom Milton had fatally wounded. CHAPTER XIX. '"Last scene of all, To close this strange, eventful history." The shadows of night were creeping around the desolate old building, known as the Deserted House, as the driver, Dedrick, drew up the jaded horses before the closed door, and the white-haired pastor alighted with a deep sigh. He passed his hands over his din eyes and groaned aloud, as he looked up to a window in the third story, from which a few feeble rays of light came out upon the outer dark jess. After sitting awhile upon the old marble steps, as if endeavoring to muster courage for the proper discharge of the melancholy task b !.'.'ore him, he a-ose to his feet and knocked heavily and loudly upon the door.? The window, in the third story, was cautiously lifted, and. for an iustant, the figure of a beautiful young woman appeared at the opening; then the sash was noiselesdy lowered again, and the light blown out. The pastor, whom we shall call Elliott, repeated his blows upon the oaken door; when, after the lapse of some c.oments, a voice from within asked : 'Who are you ?' 'Friends,' said Elliott, placing his mouth to the key-hole. 'There is no one here beside Dedrick and your old friend. Elliott.' What do you want?'asked the person within. 'I have something yf the utmost importance to communicate. For the love of heaven, open the door!' 'Be quick about it, then,' said Julius, as he threw open the door, and admitted the old man. 'Where is the unfortunate Elouise?' asked Elliott, as he entered the building, and placed his hand affectionately upon the shoulder of Julius. 'Unfortuate Elouise V said Julius indignantly. 'Do you mean my wife?' 'Alas!' said Elliott, 'would to God that you had never seen her! Oh ! how shall I ever be able to tell you what you have done !' I do not understand you, sir;' said Julius, haughtily. 'We are honorably and legally mar ried, sir; and it strikes me that this interference i3 quite gratuitous and uncalled for. If your present visit has been made for the purpose of giving us a sermon. I would suggest sir, that you omit that part of the exercises, and close at once with the benediction.' 'Be so good as to take me into the presence of Elouise,' said Elliot. 'I shall not preach a sermon : I simply wish to communicate something if the utmost importance to both of you. Come, sir ; you must not think of disobeyiug me ; for my business here, is of the most serious nature.' ***** 'Elouise,' said the old man, as he entered the ipartment with Julius, 'would toGodlcould leave unsaid what I feel it to be my duty to tell!' And the old man placed his hand upon the bright, sunuy curls of the lovely woman before him, and lifted up his voice, and wept bitterly. 'Why, Mr. Elliott!' said Elouise, 'what has effected you ! You certainly do not consider my marriage with Junius so great a calamity as to call forth the tears of my friends.' 'Tears!?oh, Elouise! tears of blood, mingled with shrieks of agonising despair, could give but a faint idea of the great sorrow that has come upon your friends because of this unfortunate marriage.' 'In God's name, Mr. Elliott!' said Julius, 'tell 8 us what such strange language means.' 8 You are not the son of D'Vilton,' said Elliott. ^ 'Nonsense !' said Julius, 'you might as well tell me that I was never born !' Young man,' said Elliott, 'listen to me, for the t love of heaven ! You are the illegitimate son of c Claude Milton?Elouise is your sister!' A long, loud, wailing shriek, broke from the lips of Elouise, as the old man slowly uttered these C terrible words: and, the next moment, the wretch- r ed woman fell heavily forward, and lay unconsci- t ously stretched upon the floor. , 'You have killed her!' shouted Julius, taking 1 the head of Elouise upon his knee, and pressing a the mute lips to his own; 'killed her with that f damhing lie! Elouise!?speak tome, love!? just one, only one word, Elouise!' Then starting c .. Kfl ffova/1 Iftntv nnnn f SUUUCliljr lU uin ivtv, iiv -Kw" ? 9 j v still, and almost angel face, and said in a tone of voice that wrung the heart of the old man : 'Oh, God ! What have I done to deserve the loss of c my Elouise!?was there no agony in earth or hell, I that might have been let down into my life bnt j this?this?this! Elouise! speak but once again . ?speak to me, even though my life should go oat 1 at the hearing of that dear voice ! No I?dead! C ?dead !' ] 'Try to be calm, sir,' said Elliott, approaching . Julias. 'Calm!?you tell me to be calm! Curse thy J lying tongue ! look there !' and Julius pointed to j the prostrate form of Elouise, and drew a dagger { from his bosom. 'Young man,' said Elliott pat away that dagger. 1 What I have told you is true. Here is a paper i written by Claude Milton, at my request; which r he desires you to read. It is brief, bat explicit; woald to God that it were not true!' ' Julius seized the papor with a trembling hand, ] and, with heaving bosom, and blanched cheeks, , perused the contents. The paper in as brief a manner as possible, stated what the reader is already aware of, relative to Milton's mock mar- l riage with Flora Dixon ; the placing of her infant ( in the basket from whioh the son of D'Vilton had been taken ; the return of the real Julius D'Vil- * ton. A9 Julius concluded reading he walked 1 towards Elliott; and, placing the paper in the j hands of that gentleman, he said, in a 9trange, husky voice, that perfectly startled the hearer : 'Tell Claude Milton that I cursed him with my last breath ! Tell him that I shall meet him in hell, and cling to him through all eternity, with a " curse upon my lips and a hell forever in my gaze!' , Then, deliberately stretching his form beside that of Elonise, and laying his head upon her bosom, he quickly drew a pistol from his breast, and, be- ( fore Elliott could start forward, the sharp report echoed through the halls of the Deserted House, ami the misguided son of Milton, was dead. ****#? Two days have passed away. The old Cathedral bell is tolling, tolling; the 9tores are all clo- 1 sed, and an expression of sadness, mingled with" 1 horror, is upon every face in Monctown. Two , hearses, followed by a long procession of mourners, are moving slowly through the streets. The first is quite a plain looking hearse, and poor Jude lies asleep in that unvarnished coffin. The last moves grandly, solemnly along, and if you will lift the heavy drapery and peep through the glass panncls, you will discover two gorgeous burial cases side by side. Push aside the multitude of flowers that lie scattered upon the polished covers, and you will read the sweet name of "Elouur" upon the silver plate. The other ha9 no p!ate?no name; but within that nameless case lies the body of poor Flora Dixon's son?the half brother of Elouise; the unfortuate offspring of Olnude Milton's guilt, lately known as Julius D'Vilton. ? * * * * Another day has dawned upon the earth. A crowd of persons are hurrying towards the jail, and terror is depicted upon every countenance ; for Claude Milton had committed suicide by hanging himself with his handkerchief to the bars of the cell window. His proud spirit could not bear up bear up beneath the load of guilt, infamy and disgrace, which had so suddenly andunexpec tedly come upon him. The terrible fate of his entire family, was too much for a man like Milton; while utter failure of all his long, and deep laid plans, bowed his spirit to the very dust. Before launching his spirit out upon the dread unknown, he had written a letter to D'Viltou; but, as much of its contents were already known to the reader, we will only present that portion of it which relates to the murder of Charlotte D'Vilton and the motive that gave rise to the act. Here is portion of the letter:? * * * 'At the death of Charles D'Vilton, your late father, hi? will was touna ; tne contents of wliieh went to state, that at the death of his son and heir?yourself?the property should be given to the Church. Contrary to our expectation you married a Protestant lady, and became a convert to that faith, and produced another will of your father's, which annulled and set aside the one first found. You recollect how this matter was decided by Court; that the Church lost the case; and you also remember having willed the estate to your wife and children, provided you died before them. The policy, therefore, of the Church, was to destroy your life before your wife became a mother; when, as a matter of course, the entire property would fall into her hands. This having, as I thought, been accomplished (for I paid Jude over five hundred pounds to put yoq^ut of the way? which he swore he had done) my next object was to abduct Charlotte D'Vilton before she could become a mother; and, after forcing her to wil! the property over to the Church, to take her to a nun- 1 uery in Spain. * * * * 'What was my surprise, however, when, the i night that I entered D'Vilton Hall, I found that she had already given birth to an infant, and that, { a male child. However, I determined to remove 1 her from the house, and afterwards return and 1 murder the infant. * * * * j 'I had no intention of murdering her; but when I found that it was necessary to defend my own ' life?for she was armed?I became exasperated i and maddened; killed her, while Jude had gone { for the carriage : and threw her hody down in the . well. * * * * ?To my utter surprise you returned a few days after, before I made t up ray mind to destroy the babe.' Here followed ? an accouutof how he had lured D'Vilton to Liverpool ; how he had caused him to be drugged and ( sent to America; with a full confession of all his t plans and devices; all of which is known to the c reader. I ***** 1 To the joy and delight of George Vandry and | 1 family, Rosa returned to England a few weeks s after these tragic scenes had been enacted, accom- j panied by old Dr. Dulson. Mr. Vandry was but too glad to give his beautiful daughter, Rosa, to c his old friend Jim, now known as Julius D'Vilton, J the heir of Edward D'Vilton. After their mar- ^ riapo, our hero and his lovely bride, accompanied . by Edward D'Vilton and Mr. Mansfield, went over 1 to America, at which place they concluded to n spend the balance of their days. Q Old Loo lingered about the ruins of the "De- ^ sertcd House" about a year longer; and then followed D'Vilton to America, where she died. p Barney married Bridget; and, to use his own n words, 'jiot wint over to Ameriky, like a dacint << gintleman, wid the full detarraination of being Presidant o' the glorious republic before many b wakes.' a Dedrick, the faithful, honest, and worthy coach- , man of the late Claude Milton has opened a groeery in Boston, and says that he 'ish apout to show & der tarn Yankees that an honest man, mid von goot vrow, ish so goot ash it never vas! Tom Gould still keeps an inn at Mayesville; and continues to assert, that all his wines were bottled before the existence of Cleopatra. Dear reader, our romance is ended; our pleas- f] ing task has been completed. As startling as the . incidents may have appeared, the story is founded on fact?a "Deserted House" really exists.? ^ Whatever pleasure you may have derived from a }| story written under many disadvantages, allow j us to assure you, that the writer has done his best | under the circumstances, and has realized much i b pleasure and satisfaction from your company, e: while wandering amidst the land of fiction and the realms of imagination. Good bye! TUB END. [A THE AGBICULTUBAL PAUL The weather so far has been very favor,ble Another maltitade of visitors were cattered over the grounds yesterday. On dsiting the amphitheatre, we found it aloost impossible to gain an entrance amongst he dense crowd inside?the building was ompletely packed. A display of fast troting nags took place, and brought out shouts if applause from the spectators. A grand jacing match came off between N. Dayton's hree year old stallion, Seneca Chief, from New York, and Messrs. .Lannam & uiovera liz year old pacing bay horse, Swamp Robin, rom Edgefield, S. C. The former came it me length ahead of the latter. On the second >und, the latter paced the coarse in 2.15. The plowing match drew quite a large consourse of spectators. A practical trial wu nade of the different varieties of plows, exribitors claiming for each respectively, some mportant improvement overall others, and )f coarse indispensible to the planter. The argest number of farming implements exlibited is by N. Boyden & Son, of Sailsbnry, tf. C. The peculiarity in most of the improvements is an approaoh in simplicty of contraction, so as to be easily understood, and making the plow serve purposes wbioh formerly required separate tools and laborers, rhe plows of R. M. Stokes, of Columbia; T. P. Harris, of Mississippi ; and Hon. J. F. Marshall, of Abbeville; were the moet marked in this respect. The grade stock this year, is interesting, is affording evidence of the adaptation of )nr soil and climate to the suocessfni raising }f fine stock. A large number of the animals now on exhibition are under a year old, md Sooth Carolina raised. The Brahmin stock of Col. F. Hampton, Dr. J. W. Parker, Ihomas Davis, and Dr. F. Green were objects of much cariosity. One of Mr. Hampton's animals attracted particolar attention. The stock of Col. R. Beatty, of Union, was much admired. These were selected for Col. Beatty by Mr. Richard Wardle, under whose care they were brought from England. Mr. Wm. Summer, of Pomaria. has also a very choice seleotion of Dovons, Durhams and Ayreshirea on exhibition. W. P. Smith, of Abbeville; Dr. R. Harlee, of Marion; J. D. Willams, of Laurens; Col. A. P. Calhoun, of Pickens; James T. Latta, of Andersoo; T. J. Robertson, Columbia; R. A. Griffio, of Abbeville; Col. E. 8. Ervin, of Greenville; L. W. Murray and R. Arnold, of Charleston ; D. A. C. Fuller, of Laurens; Col. Walter Gwynn, of Columbia; J.H. Three wits, of Lex?n~too f L. A. Oflbocnc, of Anderson; have also on exhibition some very hansome Devon and Durham stock. It is gratifying to witness this display, exhibiting, as it does, evidence of our faroert's appreciation of fine stook, and a generous disposition to spare neither pains nor expense in securing the very best. This is shown, also, in the exhibition of imported sheepaud goats. Some of these are very fine animals. The largest number are shown by R. S. Porcher, of Pickens, and Mr. Wm. Summer, of Pomaria. The Cotswold sheep of Mr. P. cannot, we think be surpassed. They are the largest of any we saw on the ground. This breed is also said to be be prolific, and capable of great endurance. Their fleece has more the appearance of strength than beauty. The dam obtained the premium tX one of the largest fairs in Scotland. The different species exhibited by Mr. Summer show handsomely, but none, in our judgment, equal to the Cotswold, of which stock Mr. Summer also has several. Mr. *R. A. Griffin, of Abbeville; Mr. J. D. Williams, of Laurens; Col. Hampton.and Dr. Parker, have also a number of beautiful French and Spanish Merinos, South Down Ewes and Buck Lamb9 on exhibition. Yesterday, we paid a visit to the Pictur? Gallery. Miss Whiting, of Charleston, has a large number on exhibition. Some of these evince both skill and fine taste. 'Young '76,' a Grecian painting, by Miss Kate Seott, is well executed. It represents a youth of the times that tried men's sonls. Miss Kate Crawford also contributes a very pretty landscape painting in oil. A collection of sea mosses, by Miss F. Hawley, evinces great skill and precision in the use of the brush and pencil. A crayon drawing, by Mrs. E. Stenhouse, copy of a gaudily plumaged bird, by Mrs. W. K. Bachman, the 'Holy Family/ by E. Dovilliers, and 'Mercy's Dream,' by Miss K J. Sosnowski, attracted attention ind elicited favorable criticism. There are ilso some very prettily executed paste) paintngs, ?Le Petite Marquise,' by Mrs. Boone- . ;heau, of Charleston, is a soft and exquisite & )iece. Miss Sims, of Columbia, has also jontributed some very tastily executed pasels. Some very beautiful specimens of (ard-writing and penmanship, by Mr. J. lahlman, of Columbia, were on exhibition n this hall. Some of these are fancy pieces, killfully executed, and evince a careful raining of the hand, a love and taste for hirography and a determined perseverance, lessrs. Wearn & Hix have a large colleo" J !r? __ ion or amoroiypea, ungucrrcutjrpco, uu,? fany of these are so faithfully executed and rell known to our readers, that it would be seless for us to enlarge upon them here.? Ve also had our attention directed to a large ainting, the work of a young Charlestonian, ow in the Junior Class of the South Carona College. This is a shipwreck, and exibits great power of the imagination, in ddition to the skill and fidelity with whiok ; is executed. It is painted in water oolora, nd is by W. D. Martin. The receipts at the window for the past tiree days have amounted to 98,151.25. Carolinian, 11th intt. A Curious Block of Marble.?Among ie recent contributions to tbe Washington lonument is a block of carved marble, in 'hich is inserted a carved bead, with this iscription beneath : "This head was carved etween two and three thousand years ago, y the anoient Egyptians, for their temple, rected in honor of Angostns, on the banks f the Nile. Brought from there by J. F. tinman."