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t 0 LBWISM^QIUST.I |n jarnilg jctosppcr: jor % promotion of % pMai Social, |gricnltural 3 Commercial |ntS of % Souty. ' VOL. 14. YORKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1868. 3STO.S$..; JU Original fjtouMlctte. Written for the Yorkvilie Enquirer. ISOLETTE, THE FEMALE SPY. A 8TOBY OF OHAELE8TOH AND TEE WAS. BY J. WITHERSPOON ERVIN. [Back number* of the uEkqci?s*," from the eommcncraent Of this Story, eu he furnished to new subscribers. One Dollar ftcthree months. J CHAPTER XI. Li dh tenant McGregor was not alone. In one oorner of the apartment Vietor sat in a chair leaning back against the wall, with a very serious and even troubled face. There were two causes that disquieted him?his sympathy for poor Nellie Brack, and his feelings of commiseration for Isolette DeVere, who, in the eyes of the law, was a female spy, ana name to oe aeaic wiwi in uie man rigorous manner. Her ofience, according to the strict construction of military law, was punishable 'with death. And though it was probable that compassion for her sex would prevent her from suffering the extreme consequences with which such offences are almost invariably visited, yet the infamy of her conduct, and the shame attending her exposure, had, in his estimation, more than the bitterness of death. There were many reasons why he still pitied her, and desired that, if possible, her feelings might be spared. It was not simply the humanity of my uncle Toby, who found the world large enough for all the creatures of God to live in peaceably with one another. Even the pilgrim fathers and their immediate descendants, whose gallantry would kick the beam if a few coppers were throwninto the other scale, did not burn women as witches nntil they became old and ugly, and poor; and yet, they were scarcely more aesthetic than the crocodile or the river horse. True, they were a very religious people, and they manifested it by cutting out the tongues of that jabbering, quarrelsome set, called Quakers, or driving out those terrible Jebusites, the unbelieving Baptists, and smiting them hip and thigh. Yet even thev had it not in their heart to burn fine bewitch ing young womenIt is hard to see the young, the lovely, the delicate and refined, suffer. They may err, they may sin grievously against our perceptions of right, yet there is a disposition to pity their frailty, to forgive and to shield them. Such have many to love and bless them, and we woold shrink from trampling upon a plant, even though it be a poisonous one, watered and sheltered by the love of a household. The touch of nature in our own hearts, too, bids us cling to such, and our own sympathies are wrung when calamity swoops down upon them. Victor was very serious, and even sad. His hand had done the work?had followed up the cine of guilt and treachery, until it rested upon the shoulder of Isolette?the icy, but fair and enchanting woman, with whom, if he had not eaten bread and salt, he had at least drank deeply from the intoxicating cup of melodious inspiration. There was more than the bread and salt of eastern hospitality in that; and yet he had brought evil upon her head. If by any means he could remedy it, and gain permission for her to go free and unmolested?nay, even untaxed for her crime?he resolved to do it A pang of bitterness, too, he felt when he looked up at Brack, with the quick consciousness of guilt in his eye, standing before his commander. It is not a pleasant thing to detect even criminals and hand them over to justicp, knowing they must suffer a very heavy penalty that will wring them to the quick. Brack stood a moment in silence, glancing uneasily at his commander with a wandering and ? ? -i -x . j i.j ?? SnnHKing eye Uiai lurueu avcncu anajr, n ucn U met his gaze. Confused and terror-stricken as he was, he knew the peualty of his transgression, yet he was the first to speak. The precipice that yawned at his feet made him desperate. He knew that it was impossible to render his situation more critical, and like men driven to utter desperation, to whom no eligible course is left, but who plunge for escape into the first open path that presents itself, he spoke boldly and without seeming to hesitate. ''Lieutenant," said he, clearing his throat and stammering, "I've got some papers here, in my pocket, you ought to see; they were intended for the enemy, but I have brought them to jou."? Brack made an effort to bring his left arm to the front, and, with his thumb pointed to his breast pocket "I fear, Brack, you only brought them because there was no help for it,*' replied McGregor, coldly. "As I hope for grace, Lieutenant, I declare I intended to bring them to you," answered Brack, excitedly. "You surely don't think so badly of me as that I would have done otherwise?'1 "Bring them here, Sergeant Haley," said McGregor. Brack indicated where they were to be found, and Harvey took them from an inner breast pocket, and put them into the hands of the lieutenant "The package, I see, is directed to the Commo, dore of the yankee fleet. Were you aware of that I Brack?" asked Lieutenant McGregor. "Yes! that's a fact," eagerly interposed Brack, "I was told to give it to the Commodore; but I never intended to let it get into his hands." "Now, Brack, I wish to give you one caution," said the lieutenant, taking up a pen and sheet of paper. "I am going to take down your statement. I wish you to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." "You shan't have anything butthat, Lieutenant, I give you my word," interposed Brack. "Very well, but I wish to guard you against answering any question you do not wish to answer; for your statement will be produced in evidence against you when you are tried, and I must say to you," continued McGregor, "that I think you have involved yourself, very seriously, indeed.? Reflect well, before you answer each question. From whom did you receive this package ?" Brack began to hesitate. "I suppose, when it is opened, the writer's name will appear," remarked the lieutenant; "and so far as you are concerned, it matters not from whom you received it" "It was a lady who gave it tome," answered Brack; "but it was dark, and I did not see her face distinctly." "Did you ever carry letters through our lines to the enemy V" asked McGregor. Brack began to feel more and more uncomfortable., He had no hesitation about avowing the possession of the dispatches intended for the enemy, for that was a fact, which the searching of his person would have made apparent, and which he had no means of concealing. He wished to gain all the favorable consideration which a prompt and ready confession would secure, but he wished his confession to reveal nothing that might still be concealed and which, if known, would increase his danger. His confession he wished to tally exactly with the discoveries which had been made of his criminality, but to go not a step beyond. What can they prove against me? How much does the lieutenant know ? were questions that started up before him, and caused him to reflect and hesitate. He wanted time for surveying the whole ground, and for ascertaining on what foundation he stood. "Lieutenant," said he, at last, "you know where I have been all day. I am very tired. It will take me a long time to answer all the questions you might ask, and lam so confused with the suddenness of the thing, I can hardly understand what you or I either am talking about Can't you let me off till morning." "As too please, Brack," replied the lieutenant, "you WW pass out of my hands now. Sergeant, you will carry him to camp and report to Colonel < Giles. Deliver this packet, found on the prisoner, to him also. I have done with the case dow." ( In a moment more the prisoner was conducted from the room, and was on his way to camp under guard. , i There was another duty to be done as promptly as it could be performed, and that was the arrest of a far more dangerous and determined man than Brack. Mike Walsh was still at large, and McGregor felt that his duty was but imperfectly done , if he suffered him by any means to escape. Brack was a weak and thoughtless creature, but Walsh ( was a determined and fearless desperado. Some three or four of the detail, which had been i brought over to assist in making the arrest, were , in another room of the toll house, awaiting orders; ] and summoning these, McGregor determined per- ] sonally to attend to the arrest , "T:?? * > 1 muuwuauv, oaiu t iiiui, cxrciug uuu j-itpnuj to set forth, "I hope Miss DeVere will not be put to the shame of arrest?" "I think not; at all events, I shall not interfere with her, unless specially ordered," replied McGregor. "I shall report the circumstances of the case, however, and leave the authorities to determine what is to be done. She will of course have to leave the city, and that quite promptly." "Will you agree that 1 shall go and urge her to do so?" asked Victor. "Not officially, Victor," replied the Lieutenant, with a laugh. "I think, however, if some friend were to advise her to apply to the General for leave to go out to the fleet under the next flag-of-truce boat, it would save some trouble. The Confederacy cannot follow the enemy's example, in hanging, or imprisoning women. It is more manly to deal with them in a milder way. For myself, I would rather have it said that our military authorities-granted her request for leave to cross the ] lines, than that they banished her. Remember it is , onLv a simnle Lieutenant who tells you so; and , don't ask him for an order, or even for advioe. I intend shutting my eyes, and you may do what you , think best" j The Lieutenant stood holding the door ajar as f he spoke, ready to set out on his mission. Victor ( thanked him by a look and made ready to follow. , In not many minutes thereafter, McGregor, with . a couple of men, set out to discover the haunts of ] Michael Walsh, and to arrest him. It is a diffi- ( cult matter, as McGregor found to his cost, to fol- ] low up a man so little considered and known.? ] Walsh had no regular place of abode; sometimes , he might be found in one haunt, and again in an- ] other. At last, by sheer good fortune and aocident ( alone, they traced him to a low drinking saloon, , patronized by the scum of the populace. It was a ] vile haunt where cock-fighting was one of the chief f diurnal amusements, and where drunken orgies j generally closed the day. Oysters, of an inferior ^ quality, and liquors, of the vilest description, were ] served out to the patrons of this establishment, ] over the door of which a flaming transparency gave , promise of "Oysters and Refreshments.'' The in- , terior reeked with fumes of whiskey and tobacco j through which a few dull caudles shone, like lights j in a fog. It was a dangerous precinct for respect- , able, and well dressed people, whose visitations | were ever regarded with suspicion. Learning that their man was within, McGregor, j leaving his guard on the outside, entered this low . den to find the position of affairs before making the ( arrest. The rear of the building was divided into , open stalls, only closed by curtains, and in one of ' these, at a table, sat Walsh. At his back was a j window, and on either hand, at the sides of the j table, sat his oomrades, drinking their liquor from ( coarse, discolored tumblers. , McGregor peered into each stall as he passed a- , long, and at last he discovered Walsh. Noiselessly , he returned to the door, and, at a gesture, the , guards followed him within the building. But the , appearance of an officer in that low den, could not , pass without observation and suspicion. Many , eyes were upon him, and it was at once suggested ( that he was in pursuit of a deserter. The warning , passed rapidly from mouth to mouth, and an idler , standing near, and suspecting, from appearances, , that the object of his pursuit was in the stall occu- , pied by Walsh and his associates, gave them a timely warning. With the instinct of a hunted , beast, Walsh was in a moment on his feet, and ( threw open the window behind him. Taking his seat upon the window sill, he awaited the event, ] having prepared the way for escape in the event of , an effort to arrest him. * , The tread of the soldiers came nearer and nearer, , and, at lost, the curtains of the stall were thrown ( aside and they stood with leveled muskets, ready . to fire upon him, if he moved. Escape seemed im- , possible; and daring, and desperate as he was, he quailed before them. "Bring him out men," said McGregor;" we , have Brack safe enough, and with Walsh, our , troubles are at an end." , "Come out Walsh, my good fellow," said one of , the men, "it is useless to resist now; you are fairly ] caught." ( Walsh gave a significant look at his two com- ] panions, and, resting his hand heavily on the win- \ dow sill, seemed about rising to obey the order. ] But the mention of Brack's name, with whom he , had been associated in a crime unpardonable in i military eyes, made him hesitate and reflect. Know- ] ing the errand on which Brack was to be employed ? that very night, he could scarcely doubt that the ( wretched man had been captured, and had made a ] full and complete confusion of his own guilt and that of his associates. If his probable conjecture | was right; to be captured was death itself. Better far, he thought, risk his present chance of es- , cape, desperate as that chance was, than allow him- , self to be taken and confronted with Brack before a court-martial. "Well, I've done nothing to be ashamed or afraid of," said he, half rising. "You might have sent , a child after me, with a pop gun, and I would have followed. I'll finish my liquor any way." Thrown off their guard by his quiet demeanor and submissive language, as well as by the obvious difficulty of an escape, the men had lowered their muskets. Quick as thought, Walsh hurled his tumbler at the one who seemed the most threatening, and, before his purpose could possibly have been anticipated, fell back and tumbled, heels overhead, out of the window. The soldiers rushed for- ? ward to follow, but their way was choked up by the oompotaters of Walsh, who occupied all the narrow space between the table and the wall, and when, at last, they had made their way to the win clow ana leapeu uui>, iuc uujw? uicu puiou^ m>u disappeared in the gloom. There were old build- < ings and walls to facilitate his escape, forming a labyrinth, among the shadows of which it was in ( vain to pursue him. McGregor followed prompt- ( ly through the window, which was not more than four feet from the ground, and his quick judgment ; at once recognized the futility of pursuit. ( Concealing the chagrin which he felt, he made his way out to the street by which it seemed that Walsh must have escaped, and looked and listened; but nothing was seen or heard of the fugitive. He had fairly escaped, and under circumstances, too, when escape seemed impossible. i "It is useless to search further, to-night," said McGregor, concealing bis raortifioation under an assumed appearance of calmness. "Walsh is gone for the present He is however Lnown at the Provost office, and I will leave an order there for his arrest We will return.'' McGregor and his men gave up the chase, and dismissing his detail to repair to the camp, he himself having first called at the Provost office to leave a request for the arrest of Walsh, afterwards repaired to the guard-house by the bridge, to rejoin Victor, whom however he failed to find. Conjeoturing the cause of Victor's absence, he remounted his horse, which he had called for on the way, and returned to camp.. In the meantime we will return to follow the fa gitive Walsh. His pursuers had passed within three or four feet of hira, and had even brushed against his place of concealment* without having discovered him. It was a moonlight night, and, knowing the risk he would run from the bullets of the soldiers, who ho was aware would soon be upon his heels, as he darted around to the rear of the building, he looked around with painful eagerness for some place of temporary concealment The enclosure of the lot was broken down, and a few 1 bounds would place him in the street, but that was 1 too open for a place of refuge, from swift and well armed pursuers, whose object was to take him dead cr alive, and whose bullets could easily overtake tiim if he bade fair to escape. Fortunately for ' bin), there were a few empty hogsheads lying a- ' round, and into one of these, lying in the deep 1 shadow of the building he eagerly darted. The ' mouth was turned towards the building, and his pursuers, in their eagerness to capture him, rushed close by his narrow hiding place, undreaming of bis artifice. Walsh heard them rush by, and, thongh he congratulated himself upon his escape, ' yet he was too wary to come forth until several minutes had elapsed, and his quick hearing had letected the footsteps of those who were in pursuit of him, departing in the direction in which they had come. Even then he did not venture to trust himself, at once, in the open streets, but pasaing through the adjoining enclosure, and, making j bis way across the lots embraced in the square, emerged into the street at some distance from the , scene or his late aimcuity. Prone to anger and revenge, the blood of the wretched man was in a fever of excitement. He onged to follow op his late pursuers and inflict some signal evil upon them. But he was unarm- i id and he shrank from the risk of being captured, which a foreboding of his mind told him would be ( x fatal event to one so deeply involved in guilt as , aiuiself. The mention of Brack's name and his capture, at a time when Walsh felt assured that g be was on his way to the fleet as a messenger from [solette, was to him a sufficient indication of the , notives that led to the attempt to arrest himself He had no doubt that Brack had confessed every:hing, and that his treasonable practices and con-, lections were all exposed. It was dangerous for bim to remain in the city, so dangerous, in fact, , :hat he was already fully resolved, that the morn- ' ng sun Bhould find him far away; but he wished jo inflict some further evil on the cause before he eft, to do something at parting to recommend , nimself to his employers. If Brack were captured ( with dispatches, he thought it woojd be well to ] varn Isolette of the fate of her messenger, both to put her on her guard against an arrest, and also j :o enable her to forward, by his instrumentality, my information which it was deemed important to communicate to the enemy. Chafing like a bear that the spear of the hunter bas roused from his den, and muttering many an tngry curse through his clenched teeth, he set out , in his way to Miss DeVere's, stealing along as fax is practicable, in the shadows of the buildings and walls. The house was Boon reached, and gliding , like a fox across the street where the moonlight Pell, he entered the gate, and, with a noiseless tread, ascended the steps of the portico. His hand was on the knocker of the front door, but he hesitated. There was the sound of voices and music j within the parlor, and, knowing that he was no\j fin outlawed traitor, he feared lest his summons might bring some one whom it were better not to meet. He stood, for many minutes, at the door, ind, at last, he heard the moving of feet as if the quests were about to depart. The moon, nearly it the full, was pouring a flood of light into the portico from the eastern sky. The guilty man trembled and feared as only the guilty can. He wished no one to encounter him where he stood.? He partially opened the door that led into the passage way, thinking to hide himself in the darkness that reigned at the farther end, and meet Miss DeVere when her guosts had taken their leave. He hesitated at the liberty he was about to take, and the dangerous suspicions it might draw upon him self. But was not he a hunted man'( And those muskets gleaming in the moonlight, and that squad Df men, in dusky grey uniforms, crossing the street and approaching, seetniugly, to enter the gate? what did that mean ? He hesitated no longer.? No danger that Miss DeVere would have him apprehended as a burglar; she would, on the con- ' trary, rejoice to aid and hasten in his flight, one whose tongue could utter a secret as fatal to her j is any charge could be to himself. Startled by j the disclosures he had come to make, she would . have no leisure to bestow even a thought upon his conduct, that, under other circumstances, would , be so glaringly improper. He noiselessly opened the door, and, treading softly as he went, seated himself near the farther end of the passage way, , 5n the bottom step of the flight of stairs leading ( to the story above. Partially screened from any light passing from the parlor, by a small table ( against the wall, a few feet from his seat, he cow- ( ered down and awaited his time. It seemed to liim a weary time be thus sat, waiting till Miss ( DeVere should be left alone and the opportunity be presented of approaching her. The sound of voices in conversation, indistinctly audible, and of soft music floating out distinctly , and clearly upon the ear, continued for sometime, for hours as it seemed to the wretched man who , sat waiting its conclusion, and whom the fairy like , music caused to feel, more than ever, like a pariah : and outcast. Let us enter the chamber?we have been there " ~ A T 1 .i. VI _ ' before?wnere tne iair rsoieue sits use a priestess in the well furnished and rich apartment sacred to hospitality. There is but one companion?one guest we should say?with her, and that is the wretched Victor, who has a load at his heart of which he wishes to rid himself, and knows not how. The moliuima fandi tempora, he is watching and waiting for. There is no one to whom he can delegate the unpleasant duty of speaking that which must be spoken, and which, he fears, will fall upon the beautiful, but erring woman, with the crushing power of a thunderbolt. Flattered and pleased by the attention of the youth, and set at ease by a consciousness that he can never aspire to be a lover, the beautiful woman is all kindness, affability, and hospitality. She does not fear to say too much, or that his heart can charge her with too much empressment. She is a few years?perhaps six or eight or ten?his senior, and that is her refuge and strong vantage ground. How pleasant to pass an hour or two in the society of a beautiful, intelligent, and accomplished woman, where no false consciousness intervenes to destroy the freedom and ease which make society so pleasant! Such hours come back to our memory in after years, like perfumed breezes to the voyager, from oriental islands which his feet have trodden in youth. Yet Victor was ill at ease?a vulture was gnawing at his heart, which, the longer he remained under the fascinating power of Isolette, felt the more acutely the pain which it was inevitable that he must give. More than once, he repented of the part he had chosen for himself, and wished he had entreated the inflexible lieutenant of Artillery, whose heart was schooled to all its duties, to perform the disagreeable task which he had assumed to himself. ' The time passed in sweet and varied conversation, and in music, which Isolette loved with the fervour of an artist She hacfjust finished a piece of music, and as Victor turned over the sheets, his eye rested pleased upon the vignette, which was a print of the Cathedral of Strasburg. "You seem to admire that feeble copy of a beautiful building," remarked Isolette, with a smile. iit .1 ? ii? >i 1 lulujl tue prupuruuua wc uuusutuij uut, replied Victor. "It is only mosio done in stone and mortar.." ** "Ah! you should see the original itself," said Isolette. "It is the Cathedral of Strasburg, still an unfinished work, though begun in the thirteenth century. Two architects, father and son, the greatest geniuses of their age wrought upon it for thirty-nine years, but it has never been completed to this day. When I was in Strasburg, I visited it daily. This cut gives you a very imperfect idea of its richness and exceeding beauty; but I have a print which I think a lovely and faultless copy of the original. I value it so highly, I keep it under lock and key where it seldom sees the light? Pardon me a moment; since you appreciate rach things, I will get it for you." Taking a pretty china candlestick from the mantel-board, and intent only on pleasing the youth, she passed from the room, with a noiseless tread, into the wide passage way. A moment after, Victor heard a faint scream of surprise and terror, and springing to the door, he was met by Isolette who was quite alarmed but still self-possessed. In her fricrht. she had let the candlestick fall from her gutter, it, upon examination, it snouia seem practicable. Victor's quick ear detected the movements within the chamber. Quickly turning the key, he seized the bolt, and the door, being no longer held from within, yielded to his hand and flew open. A few strides brought him to the middle of the chamber, and face to face with Walsh, who had turned to confront him. It was a mutual surprise. "You are my prisoner," said Victor, who held a candle in one hand and a small revolver in the other. "You are a small cock to crow so loud," retorted Walsh, who stood with arms akimbo. "What do you want with me ?" "Move on to the door before me," was the brief order of Victor. "Your question can be answered elsewhere." "And suppose I will not?" questioned Walsh. "You will die where you stand," replied Victor, eocking his pistol. "Ah, well! you need'tdoubt but lam ready and willing to go," replied Walsh, whose watchful, cat like eyes saw the full danger of the situation, and who felt the necessity of temporizing. UI have done nothing but what I can answer for at any time." Seeing how quiet and submissive his prisoner appeared, Victor lowered his pistol, saying as he did so: "How will you answer your attempt at committing burglary." "There's Miss Isolette," replied Walsh, pointing with his hand to Miss DeVere, who, the moment previously, had glided like a shadow from the passage way into the chamber, where the two stood "Ask her if she has any charge to bring against me." Mechanically, Victor turned his face towards the spot where Isolette stood. He had no time for question, or even to note the disconcerted expression of Isolette's face. Quick as a panther in his motions, Walsh had seized a heavy chair, and it was descending upon Victor's head. He observed his danger in time to throw up his left arm to kwinL. !,/> fnwu rtP Klftff. JUld nflrtifllW til TfllUfl Ul^a^ bUC 1V1 VA< Vi mv ? ; ??? ? ?v . his pistol. He was reeling and sinking under the blow even before it was discharged. He fell stunned to the flqor, and the brute was about to repeat his blow when, with a scream, Isolette rushed forward and interposed her body. Letting his chair fall with an angry oath, Walsh leaped forward, and closing the door, turned the key behind him, and made his way out of the house, leaving Isolette locked in with the youth. The candle had gone hands. It was shivered into fragments upon the door, and, the candle having gone oat, she was left in total darkness. "There is a burglar in the house," whispered ber pale lips to Victor, as he met her at the door, "I saw him at the foot of the stairway 1" "I will arrest him at once," replied Victor, taking a light "We had better call the police," suggested Isolette, in a low tone. "It is needless," replied Victor, as he prepared to leave the room, "I am tolerably well armed, and will have no difficulty in managing him alone." Victor stepped quickly into the passage way with a light, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of a man ascending the stairway with hasty strides; it was but a glimpse, however, for the individual was upon the first landing, and soon disappeared from right around the winding stairway. With a light and rapid footstep, Victor bounded after him, and Isolette, who had more firmness thau most women, and who feared for the safety of Victor, followed, ascending a few steps at a time, with a beating heart It is needless to tell our readers that the individual who excited all this alarm was Walsh, the outlaw. The quick eye of Isolette had detected him sitting on the steps, and as he rose at her approach, to call her attention and make himself kuown, the sudden apparition had alarmed her to such a degree, as to cause her to dirop the light. Findiug that he was discovered and that Miss DeVere had failed to recognize him, his first thought was to make his escape by the back door, but not knowing the way, he concluded to ascend the steps and hide himself on the first landing until the a-, larm was over. Finding some one approaching with a light, he concluded to mount still higher, and, concealing himself in one of the chambers, to make his escape as soon as the way was open. Victor, however, came too fast upon his heels to permit him to put his plan in execution. Finding how swiftly he was followed, he darted into the first room that presented itself and drew the door to. Victor reached the landing in time to see the door closing. Rushing forward and seizing the bolt, he essayed to open it, but all his efforts failed to move it. Some one was evidently drawing it close from within. The door opened outwardly, and the lock and key were on the outside. A quick thought seized Victor. The burglar, us he conceived him to be, was fairly caged. He had bat to turn the key to make him secure, and help could easily be summoned to open the door and drag birmforth. The door was locked and Victor was master of the situation. But while the prospect pleased him so well, the situation of affairs began to alarm the man over whom he stood guard, who had resolved to risk life itself rather than be taken prisoner, to die, as he conjectured, under sentence of a court-martial. Noiselessly he released his hold on the bolt by which he had held the door closed, and moving softly across the floor, began to raise a window-Sash to make his escape down the pipe leading from the out and all was darkness withiii.' No sound but her own agitated breathing broke the death-like silence. Her conjectures were full of fears. 8he knew not whether it was Victor or only his corpse, over which she bent in an agony of pity and alann. . i * * * ' CHAPTER XII. When Victor came to himself, he was lying upon a comfortable bed, and before him upon the man- { tel board, a small lamp was burning, which shed a ( mellow light over the apartment His thoughts 1 were confused and he was unable to tell how he came in his present situation, or how long he had ? lain there. While striving to recall the events ( which led him to the circumstances in which he i? % % IA a 1 -<_ ?_ .! J 1 dow iouna mmseir, ne mecnanicauy rosea nis hand to his forehead and found that his head was bandaged. Passing his hand along over the bandage, be discovered a portion of the scalp sore and painful, which caused pain and shrinking upon the . slightest touch. Gradually, little by little, he be- ' gan to recall the events of the evening, bis visit to j the house of Miss DeVere, and finally, an imperfect recollection of having pursued some one, a , burglar, perhaps, into a chamber; but when he endeavored to recall the events that subsequently occurred, they eluded his recollection like the incidents of a half remembered dream, the events of ] whioh baffle and defy all attempts to recall them. He groaned and turned in bed, and in a moment t Isolette DeVere stood by his bed-side with inquiries as to his feelings. Isolette, astonished to find j herself locked up in the chamber with Victor, had | at first, striven to force open the door, but in vain. | She had flown to the window and beating with her , palms upon the side of the house, to attract atten- | tion, had called in vain for her domestics, who, taking advantage of the disorders of times and of r her lenient disposition, were absent from their usu- ' al posts. The chamber in which she found her self so unexpectedly imprisoned, was at the rear of the building, and at some distance from the | streets; and there was but little hope that any one j passing might bear her feeble call and come to her assistance. She might, indeed, at last make her- , self heard, but she was rather disposed to await the ' return of her own domestics, than by loud outcries, to attract a crowd of strangers to the spot, and ( give a painful notoriety to the transaction. She resolved rather to watch at the window the return of some one of her truant servants, and thus ob tain her release and the assistance for Victor which she feared he so much needed. In the meantime, he might be dead or dying; for the chamber was in darkness, and she had not been able to ascer- l? ? 01. jy j i. i ' 1 i I lain nuj condition, one icureu to leave nor post at the window, lest her absent servants might re- ( turn unobserved and the opportunity be lost of summoning them to her release. , Fortunately for Isolette, she remembered there j was a lamp and a box of matches left on the man- * tel, about a week before, when this chamber was | last used, and she leaped forward with the joyful feelings of one who remembers the existence of a ' treasure which had been forgotten. They were ( still there. She eagerly struck a light, and, in another moment, was bending over the form of Yictor, who lay moaning upon the floor. She found ' the blood trickling from a wound in the scalp, and ; cleansing away the gore, she applied a bandage with a careful hand, to stop the bleeding and pro- . tect the wound from the air. This done, she stood ] silent and perplexed for a moment, then, while the ' blood mounted to her cheeks, she took him care- 1 fully in her arms, and lifting him upon the bed 1 near which he had fallen, laid his head softly upon . downy pillows, and drew the covering gently around him. Sho knew that his condition was one full of danger; and as she stood by his bedside with ' her finger on her lips, statue-like and still, one : who looked upon the scene and saw the pale fea- 1 tures of the handsome youth, so composed aud tranquil, and the statuesque form of the lovely 1 woman by his couch, might have fancied himself . gazing upon some chef deuvre of Art, Silence? ' modelled out of the parian marble?guarding her brother Sleep. | Now and then, a sigh or a moan escaped him, and an expression of pain passed over his features ' telling that the senses were not swallowed up in ' stupor, and giving a hope that he would soon a- 1 rouse from the syncope induced by the injury. 1 All the woman's sympathies of Isolette were awa- ' kening. There was no one near in blood, for whom ' she could cherish the Dure and disinterested senti- 1 ment that springs from kindred blood Brother she had none, and she sighed, as a pure and gentle wish stole into her heart, that fortune who had given her wealth, bad also giveu her a brother, just such as Victor was, whom she might cherish and love with all her heart. After some minutes of painful watching by his side, having gently drawn the curtains around him, she stole back to her seat by the window, to keep a look out for the coming of some of her laggard servants whom she might summon to her relief. It was some two hours, perhaps, after Victor had been placed by Isolette's care upon the bed, before she heard him moving as one awakening from sleep, and promptly she was by his side. Victor opened his eyes with a wild stare of surprise, and yet colored up so suddenly, that Isolette was spared any misgivings or doubts as to his com- 1 plele restoration to consciousness. "I have forgotten how I came here, Miss Iso- ] *lette," were his first words. "1 see I have receiv- 1 ed a severe blow, but I do not remember from ' whom or how. Everything, exCfept my pursuing ' some suspicious man into the chamber, has passed 1 from my mind." 1 "You received a very severe blow with a chair," 1 returned Isolette, "and I feared you might never recover. You do not remember it?" 1 "As indistinctly as a dream," replied Victor.? ' "I remember scarcely anything that passed after I 1 entered the chamber; I must have been knocked 1 down as soon as I entered the door. The first ^ thing I thought of when I opened ray eyes, was the Cathedral and Spire of Strasburg, an engra- 1 ving of which you were about to show me. I then t remembered your fright, and my following an in- t dividual to the door of this room, and all else was 1 forgotten." < "And you do not remember when Walsh struck < you?" asked Isolette. "It was a cruel blow." i "Was it then, Walsh?" asked Victor, in sur- < prise. "Yes, now I remember something more. 1 TT ii j ?. i r Ue caueu wy ubteuuuu iu >uu, auu as j. iuiuvu my face, he felled me to the floor. But my pistol?I 1 was about to fire upon him, to save my owu life, but was too late." t "You did, indeed, fire upon him,"answered Isolette. 1 "Bid I wound him, or did he escape?" asked j Victor. ] "He escaped as soon as you fell," replied his t fair nurse; "and he also locked the door upon us. We are now imprisoned," added she, with a smile, ] "and must continue so until some one of my ser- s vants returns to release us, I was greatly alarmed ( for you, when I discovered the door was fastened i from the outside, and that no surgeon could be ob- f tained to attend to your wounds. Your hurt 1 seemed a desperate one, and your stupor lasted so | long." 1 "I feel that I owe you a great debt of gratitude," ] returned Victor, deeply touched by a consciousness < of all that Isolette had done for him. It was evi- < dent to him that she had not shrunk, fragile as 1 seemed her frame, and delicate as were all her in- i stincts, from the task, hard as it must have been, 1 of taxing her feeble strength to lift him from the ffbdrto the comfortable bed on which he now lay. n His eye beamed with gratitade and he sighed and fl was silent > ' p "Let me beg you to sleep now," said Isolette. oj "Repose is necessary for one in your condition? w absolute rest of body and mind." "I cannot rest until I have had a free talk with ie you, Miss Isolette," returned Victor, "I came b here on no idle errand, this evening. I wished it to speak with you?to speak most freely, and was T cflen on the very point of disclosing all that I had 01 to Bay, but my tongue was tied:"? ? a . "I implore you to let it remain unspoken?lor o] the present, at least," returned Isofettc, astonish- T ed and aghast "To-morrow?some other time, I Ii can hear you, hot I entreat you to remember your g condition, and not only to be silent, but endeavor W to compose yourself to sleep, which is so heedful t< for you. Nay! having taken upon myself the a office of your physician, I lay my commands upon you; and in my double character of lady and phy- d sician, surely I will find obedience!" and Isolette tl smiled, but it was so painful and so sad a smile 1 < "To-morrow may be too late," sighed Victor, is whose soul was oppressed at the painful task which al be had imposed upon himself. v; "It will be wrong for me to listen to youj when tl [ know how important it is that you should be si- tl lent?and that you should sleep," replied Isolette. is "I will sit by the window, and listen for the re turn of the servants, but you?your physician a- a gain lays her commands upon you, be silent and \ sleep." Thus saying, with asmile that belied her ci sad heart, Isolette withdrew from his bedside, and c< took her seat near a window at the foot of the bed, w where, concealed from his gaze, she rested her fair brow upon her palm and mused sadly. at A half hour passed on and Victor was silent e< rhinking that he was now asleep, Isolette stole d< "oftly across the chamber to remove the lamp, that V Its light might not disturb him. As she did so, pi she glanced towards the supposed sleeper and found tl that be stilLlay wide awake, with a restless and tl feverish expression of face. h "The light does not disturb me, Miss Isolette," S said Victor, divining the object of her movement bl "You need not remove it on my account." a "Perhaps you may sleep, if I move it so that vi the glare will no longer fkll upon the curtains," said Isolette. ** "I am too disquieted in mind to sleep," replied ? Victor. "You are so kind and attentive, that the 01 more I see of your goodness the more I am pained, h it what I have to tell you. It is this that disturbs & me. I would freely give my life to aid you, and to * save ypu from pain and distress. I came here this ? evening to warn you?yes I to warn you to leave the city without delay." Isolette DeVere replaced the lamp on die man- P tel-board, and silently approached the bed of the 11 sufferer. ? Her face was very calm but pale, aud though * ber tongue was silent her eye questioned the speak- ^ jr farther. * "Shall I tell you all, Miss Isolette?" asked Vio-' P tor; '.'and will you forgive me, if I, inadvertently, " use terms in speaking of your conduct that must 1 pain you?" "Yes, tell me all!" said Isolette, quietly draw- 81 ing a chair near the bedside, and taking a seat.? n "Tell me all, and use what terms you will iu speak- c 1 1 J Ts. -I--II I J1 ! hi ing oi wnai i nave aooe. j.t butuu uaruiy pa in me. [ have schooled my heart to bear much; and re- * member what others might perhaps call a crime I u may think a virtue." " "Your correspondence with the enemy," said n' Victor, struggling with his feelings, and striving 31 io eihploy the gentlest terms, "has been discover- ^ 2d. This is no longer a sale or proper home for h pou. Miss Isolette, you will be required to leave ? it without delay." S "And you think I have committed a crime?" a' isked Isolette. Victor gazed sadly into her face without reply. & Isolette was troubled. a "Perhaps many will think so, since Victor Garlett cannot think otherwise," said she at length. n "But who could expect me to act otherwise than I have done? I have betrayed ho one?I have vio- ? lated no confidence, I have been true to my coun- j? try and my faith 1 Must every one be called a * traitor who will not engage in rebellion ? I know ^ how to suffer, bow to die, even, if it must be so? 8' but I know not how to surrender my principles? a my allegiance, my faith?my country itself I No, I 11 mil not do that!" "Let me speak plainly. Miss Isolette, and I will " not speak unkindly, if I can avoid it," said Victor, n tvho felt too sensibly the difficulty of speaking frankly, without wounding the fair woman whose s' sympathy and friendship he felt assured of. "I * ivill utter no opinion as to the moral complexion of Ti four conduct Let that rest with your own conscience. I did not come to judge, but to forewarn *) ind entreat you, without delay, to make prepare- 71 Lions for removing from among a people with whom ^ iron have no sympathy." '* J* "Say not that;" interposed Isolette; "I have k no sympathy with the political doctrines of the peo- ^ pie among whom I was born ; otherwise, my sym- ^ pathies are all here. There is no such people, on artb, in all the social relations of life, as the peo- ai pie of the South." w "And yet, Miss Isolette," responded Victor re- 90 proachfully, "this is the people whom you are toil- P' ng to destroy. It is not enough that a powerful ind vindicative enemy, with five fold our numaers, should be assaulting us at the gate, but you ^ vould have the dagger whetted at our own fireside . :o pierce us to the heart! Spare us this wrong, J" md spare yourself the ?" "'Shame,'I suppose you would add," inter- ^ aosed Isolette. "Wordsdo not terrify me. lean iear them calmly I for I have considered well what ^ [ have done. It only pains me to differ from many ^ vhose esteem I prize. That is all I am satisfied Q| vith what I have done." "Let me suggest this course to you, Miss Iso ette," responded Victor. "Make your applica,ion to-morrow, to the military authority, for leave o return to the North, by the first flag-of-truce- y joat that goes from the harbor. I know your rejuest will be granted; and that, under these cir- g :umstances, you will not be molested. Otherwise, jQ in arrest must follow, which would be a matter of wj leep mortification to yourself and friends. I have ^ cnown you scarcely a day, yet it would pain me eg rery deeply to know you were subjected to such ^ lumiliation." ^ "And how happened you to hear any rumor of , his kind?" asked Isolette. SI! "I would that it were only a rumor," answered jjj Victor; "I must tell you alL Nicholas Brack was w urested to-night, with dispatches for the fleet. :n 3e is known to have been engaged in carrying a hem beforo." Isolette started in alarm. Among the letters dispatched by her in Brack's care, was one that she m ihould sooner have had her right hand stricken " ?i- ji?*i ii?vi hi, man nave reau uy inner cyca wuuuia iui nuuui DJ t was intended. Her face was covered with con- E 'usion. Oh 1 that the tell tale missive had never ^ )een sentl She could endure the hareh epithets L ;hat might be applied to her act, but it stung her jo the soul, that curious and inquisitive yes, should te x>re over the pages where her woman's heart had p; lisclosed its doubts, its fears, and its warm affections, and that mocking lips should read, with bit- J ;er jests and biting taunts, words that she would ti willingly now have blotted out with her *heart's G blood. m "I will notdeoy thai! made himtbe fcawurf lesaages to my friends nod countrymen in the eet," said Isolette, at length, "bat these were riv&te letters amoog them that should remain tmpened. Tell me in whose hands they are?1 will rite this night and implore their return." . "Your application must be in Tain, Miss Iso tte," replied Victor, who. began to suspect the nth. "Our authorities have never been wantig in tenderness and consideration for your sew. bey do not wreak their vengeance upon diem, as or enemies have repeatedly done; hut it would be >nsidered a most criminal weakness to return, unpened, a letter captured on the person of a spy. hey must, I am sure, go before a court-martial n tenderness to your sez, you will be allowed to o unscathed, but poor Brack will pay the penally ith his life. It will be a sad day for his dangfa;r, when she learns that he has been sbotas a spy ad traitor." . "Mnwifu! Ond. of what aYn I not CflOtVl" ex iaiihed Isafette, as the veil was with<)rnfn, ud le consequences of herooodact weresud^alyreaaled to her. "And this poor, wretched, man r to die for what I have done! It moat not,-it aaB not bej It was I that did it?I that pasoiled upon his weakness, and hurried him iftfo 1st which his fellows call a crime, and for-which icy wih shed his blood! If there is any gmlt it i mine; I must save him, and I think lmay."^" "There is no forgiveness, among, men, for ja rime saoh as Brack las committed," observed rictor. "If Walsh, who was considered the chief -iminal, could have been arrested, s-stroog intotrssion would have been made to save Bttick. It ould be useless now." ;;1 5 Isolette DeVere sat in painAil silence, several jconds. Strange to say, she had . never consideri the probable oonseQuenoes to-her >agentf.ofa etection of their participation in heroonduet.? fhile deluding herself by specious apologies aad lausible arguments in defence of. her .conduct, ley were so for beneath her in social posibm, lat she had never seriously regarded the grtet ozards in which her sets had involved them.? he was liberal in her rewards, and while toleraly well fortified, as to. the rectitude'of her own mduct, did not consider she wm leading them to iolate, systematically, their acknowledged dories. J n I J . , ? one was aruusuu injur ucr nw istuio wy rww, i the area below, of her servants returning from )me late revel. . Starting np quickly, she tapped i (he window sill to attract their attention, *Sd aving succeeded indoing so, gave directions tea imale servant, who waa soon heard making her ay up stairs to the Chamher in wbiafa aba -aed ictor had been bo long imprisoned. . >. The door was opened and thewetonishad aarvaat oked in. Her mistress vouchsafed a' -short oxlanation of the state of affairs, andwasabqut gtv>g orders to have a servant dispatched after a snr20n to examine into the condition of Victor's ound, but he protested vehemently against iiU? Irdering a man servant to attend upon him, she^, ithdrew for the night First, however, she aproached Victor's bedside and utteted' befthahks >r tbe kindness that prompted his visit add eitf y arnlng. j. "I shall be ordered by your kind, ^uggwtien#,'' lid she to Victor, "for which I thank.you. It is ly only oonne now. And when you would judge ly conduct, remember that though I was born ere, I have been trained among the people with horn you are fighting. My home, my associaons, my friends, are there. It is my cohnlry^ as lis is yours. I have only been true to it I qoqM at respect myself, had it been otherwise. I love ad admire the noble people among- whom I spas am, bnt among whom I have never mmglfeck wn1 within the last few months. But Ffove not the i use for which they are fighting.' Vrt' Vlt us he rm friends, I wiU long to hear of your ad safety, as that of an absent brothem" -j oShe offered him her hand, frankly and with oondence. Victor pressed it, and thanked her with inch emotion. ' ~ - ' "/ "While you think kindly of me, Miss Isolette,'' splied he, "let me beg you to refieot well upon all ?r which my oountrymen are contending, and ask aurself why we drew the sword, i Remember we ave done so most reluctantly, and as a last resort, regret that we differ. Onreause is dearer to hie .an life. If I fall, thdjttt words upon my lips lall be a prayer for the blessing of heaven upon cause holier, in my judgment, than any for which tan has ever died. I wish you stood side side 1th all the daughters of the South, in praying, boring, nonliving for the land We tort. I deeply tgret it is otherwise; yet 1 shall nCrSr think, of du bat with sentiments of kiwfciess and fhendiip. In anything hi which one so humble as myilfcan serve you, you con never apply to me in ain." . -? ?- . After a kindly good night, Isolette was gone, id in a few minutes, late as the hoar was, a Bering nan stood by his bedside with refreshments, ictor evinced by his appetite {hat the severe btpw 3 had received, had left no permanent had effects ;hind. Having made his repast, he dismissed le servant, and having undressed hinweMj retired i bed to sleep. > * The day bad been to him one of great mental id physical fatigue, and his healthy organization earied but not shattered, by all he had undergone, ton fonnd repose and refreshment in sonnd and leasant slumbers. What Men have Died Foil?Colonel Montimery was shot in a duel about a dog j Colonel amsey in one about a servant; Mr. Fcatheratone i one about a recruit; Sterne's fhther in one a>ut a goose; and another gentleman in one about 1 "acre of anchoviesone officer was challenged r merely asking his oppobent to enjoythe seoond * iblet ; and another was oompelled to fight about pinch of snuff; General Barry challenged r a Captain Smith ibr declining wise at a dinner 1 a steamboat although the General had pleaded i an excuse that wine invariably made him sick; id Lieutenant Cowther lost his life in a duel beiuse be was refused admittance to a club of igeon-shooters. In 1777 a duel occurred in New ork City between Lieutenant Featherstonebaugh ' the 76th, and Captain McPberson, of the 42od ritish regiment, in regard to the manner of eatg an ear of corn, one contending that the eatjng is from the cob, and the other contending that e grain should be cut off from the cob befere ting. Lieutenant Featherstonebaugh lost his ;ht arm, the ball from his antagonist's pistol .altering the limb dreadfully, so much so that it id to be amputated. Graham, Major Noah's asitant editor On the National Advocate^ lost his e in 1827, at the duelling ground at Hoboken, ith Barton, the son-in-law of Edward Livingston, i a simple dispute about "what was trumps'' in game of cards. The Thimble.?The name of this little instruent is said to have been derived from ''thumbs ill," being atfiretjthnmble, and afterwards thime. It is of Dutch invention, and was bronght to 1 1 1 . . ;iu '. i_ T_L? T ngianaaDouc tne year lOUOj oy iiuuu iA?uuei ho oommenced its manufacture at Islington, near ondoo, and punned it with great profit and sucSS8. Formerly iron and brass were used,* but latirly, steel, silver and gold have taken their laces. t T t ' tSF It is worthy of remark that every election on which has been held since the nomination of , eneral Grant for the Presidency exhibits Demo atic gains and Radical lossea