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lewis M. (rRisT, Proprietor. | |abtj>titknf Jfatttilg ^tefajspaptr: Jfor tlje promotion of % Political, Social, ^gricnltural anil Commercial laterals of % jsontj). jTERMS?$3.00 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 21. YOQKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1875. N"O 8. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. ZANITA, The Circus Girl. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. CHAPTER XVI. WEAVING THE NET. According to her promise, as soon as Mr. Laselle had finished dinner, lingering sumptuously thereafter, as was his wont, over a bottle of rare wine, Mrs. Anthony summoned Nita to accompany her down stairs. Mr. Laselle chose to receive her while sitting at his ease over the dessert, as their meeting, in that case, would be divested of all formality. He rose from the table, however, as she entered, and came forward to meet her with extended hand. "I am so glad to see you," he exclaimed, in a frank, genial tone. "My sister has told me of your adventures, and I must tell you, at once, how happy I am that fortune has brought you under the shelter of my roof." "Thank you, sir," said Nita, shyly, as still holding her hand in his, he led her forward to a luxurious low chair, near his own. "Sit down, and let me give you some fruit and nuts, and a little of this wine," he continued, selecting, as bespoke,a superb cluster of Malaga grapes, from a white and gold China fruit stand, and laying it on a plate. "I have had ray dinner, thank you, sir," said Zanita, modestly. "This is not dinner, ray dear young lady. Come! I must have you join me. I don't care to eat these good things alone. Don't you know I am a social being ?" Zanita glanced, enquiringly, at Mrs. Anthony, who nodded to her to do as she was bid ; and, thus encouraged, she accepted the refreshments offered her, though feeling ill at ease, in the presence of the tall, grand-looking gentleman, who had such a long black beard, and wore such a splendid diamond ring on his right hand. He did not seem to notice her embarrassment, however, but talked to her in such a kind, friendly way, that she gradually recovered her self-possession, aud found herself, before long, answering his questions and remarks with her usual readiness and vivacity. After a few moments, Mrs. Anthony quietly made her exit from the room, i ii leUVlllg LIICIU iu a nwu im,. "How do you like my sister, Nita? You will let mecall you Nita, I kuow, because you are almost a little girl, and I am alrfiost an old gentleman, as you see," said Mr. Laselle, presently. "Is she good to you ?" "Oh ! yes, sir, so good," replied Nita, with enthusiasm. "Only think of her taking the trouble of making up this dress for me, and another one besides ! And she is kind to me in every way." "She has a good, beuevolent heart," said Mr. Laselle, "though she is a litle eccentric in suppose, from what you saw of her on the boat, that you would find her living in a house like this." Nita blushed, but scarcely knew how to reply. She had, indeed, been surprised to find how luxurious were Mrs. Anthony's surroundings at home ; for, from her plaiu manners and appearance, she had formed quite a different estimate of her social position. But she was not willing to acknowledge that such had been the case. "Jane and I were always totally different," continued her entertainer. "She is simple and unpretending in her tastes, while I, it must be confessed, am a lover of all the elegancies and luxuries of life. Don't you agree with me, that it is wise to enjoy pleasant things when they are in our reach ?" "I don't know, sir," said Nifa, a little puzzled by the tone of his remarks; "if you mean money, and all that, I never had much of it myself." "Not only money?all sorts of pleasure, I mean." "Yes sir, I like pleasure ; but I have always had to work pretty hard. Not that I mind that, though," she added quickly, "because I love riding dearly, and they are all so kind to me." "Who are 'they all?'" asked her companion. "Oh ! ray friends?Susy Dickson, and Mrs. Worth, and Zoe, and uncle Dan, and a good many others. But they are not like the peo pie you know, sir, I don't suppose." "Perhaps not," said Mr. Laselle, with a slight smile; "but I dare say they are all very good people, and I am sure I should like them if they are kind to you. Nobody could help being so, however, my little Nita." "I don't know about that, sir," replied Nita, a transient recollection of her memorable interview with Mr. Foley flitting at that instant across her mind. "Well, they would be very strange people if they were not. Butabout this life of yours, Nita; do you really like it?" "What,the riding, sir?" "Everything about it." "Perhaps not everything about it," said Nita, reflectively; "but on the whole, I do like it. It's because I am used to it, I suppose." "Have you been used to it always?" ."Ever since I can remember, sir." "And have you always been with these same people?' "Not with Mr. Foley?that's our manager? or with one or two of the others ; but uncle Dan, and Mrs. Worth, and Susy and I have always gone together." "Have you no parents, Nita?" "No, sir. Uncle Dan has always had the care of me." "And you have roamed constancy about, I suppose, from place to without any settled home." "Sometimes we stop in one place for several weeks together, but lately we have been constantly on the^move. There are so many circuses, nowadays, uucle Dan says that they can't all expect patronage." "Do you know," said Mr. Laselle, regarding her, thoughtfully, "that I find it extremely difficult to realize that you belong to such a set of people, as those you have described ?" "Why, sir?" asked Nita, innocently. "Because you are so totally unlike the generality of these?these professionals," he rejoiued, hesitating a little for a suitable word ; "you must, I think, be so immeasurably their superiors." "Some of them are much cleverer than I am," said Nita, realizing the compliment to ! herself, but not liking to be flattered at the | expense of her friends. "In one sense they may be, perhaps; but I j was not thinking of their skill. I meant j that?in short, to speak candidly, Nita, you : i are fitted to fill a much higher sphere in life i i than the one you have chosen." "I didn't choose it, sir; but still I am fond 1 of it." i "Well, of course it is natural to like what j 1 one is accustomed to. Still, my interest in ; you has been so warmly excited, even in this j i short acquaintanceship, that you must not i ; mind my wishing the best things for you that: could possibly fall to your lot." To this Nita made no reply ; and Mr. Laselle . observing that she had finished her fruit, reliovpd bpp nf bpr nlntp. and nushiner aside his I I ? r ' r " I own, rose from the table and asked her to follow him to the drawing-room. | "When he got there, he opened a handsome ; j piano, and seating himself before it, played in ; ' very fine style several brilliant operatic gems, j He then sang in a melodious, though not pow! erful Voice, some of the favorite ballads of the J j day ; and Nita, who was devotedly fond of ! music, listened in delight to his performance. | "You like this ?" he said, pausing at length, | and noting with a smile her face of rapt attention and pleasure. { "Oh ! yes, sir," she answered, drawing a j , deep breath. "I never heard anything pret- J [ tier in my life." "You, too, are musical," he continued ; "I I know you can sing, for I have heard you." j "Ale, sir!" she rejoiued in surprise. "Yes; this morning, when I arrived, I was j j greeted by the sound of a sweet little song ; ! from up-stairs. It was my first intimation of I your presence in the house." "I am sure I didn't kuow any one was lis-1 j tening," she replied. j "This was what you saug," said he, and he I played the air of it ou the piauo. "Come, try | ! it now, and I will play the accompaniment for j you." "I never sang to the piano, sir; I should only make mistakes." "Never mind, you can easily learn. Come, j II am sure you will try?-just to please me!" j j Thus urged, Nita, diffidently, approached, \ j and after considerable hesitation, essayed a j faint note or two, which increased in power j and clearness as she found herself sustained j by a very skillful and judiciously managed] accompaniment, while Mr. Laselle encouraged her by his praise to proceed. Soon she was singing the simple soug with her wonted ease, and when she commeuced the second verse her companion struck in with a sweet tenor, which confused her a little for a moment; but her naturally correct ear soon enabled her to overcome the difficulties of the concerted j strains, to which she was unaccustomed. i "How nice that sounded," she exclaimed, 1 naively, wheu they had finished. "Indeed, it did. You have a delicate, charming little voice, which only needs cultivation. I have plenty of other songs here, which, I have no doubt, we could easily sing i ia ....... m ?-? * your ear is perfect. Have you never learned ; music ?" "Never, sir." "Would you like to?" "Yes, indeed, sir." "It is a pity that you should not. It would | be such a pleasure to you." "Oh ! but I could not have time, you know, j sir. How could I practice, or anything?" "That is true. Ah ! Nita, yon see what a disadvantage your profession is to you! : I Come, here is a pretty ballad, with which I j daresay you are familiar?'Robin Adair.' " Nita had never heard it; but Mr. Laselle having played the air several times, she manI aged to catch it after a few efforts, and they went through it together, to her unbounded j satisfaction. She was beginning to think her ( ! new friend one of the most delightful people | in the world. After some time farther being i spent in music, he got out some beautiful pic- ! : tures, and showed them to her, explaining the ; j subjects, and reading little bits of poetry at-1 taehed to them, with much expression, giving ! her an insight into various scraps of history ' and romance, with which she had not hereto- j fore been familiar. Then they had a little j more talk, aud then, to Nita's astonishment, ! i the marble clock, on the mautel struck ten. I ' I i "Four whole hours since dinner !" she ex- j , claimed. Mr. Laselle smiled, j "Have you had a pleasant evening?" he i asked. . , "Yes,indeed, sir! You have been so good : j to me." j "I think, upon the whole, I have enjoyed it. M juat as much as you have, he rejoined. At , this moment the door opeued and Mrs. Anj thony came in. "Are you ready to go to bed, Nita?" she I asked. "You seemed so well entertained that j I would not interrupt you before." Nita rose directly. "Good-night, sir," she said, holding out her , hand. "I am so much obliged to you." ) "Good night, my little friend. I shall see j you again to-morrow." Ilis bearded lip j I touched her hand for a moment, as reveren-1 | tially as if she had been a priucess ; and theu 1 \ she turned quickly away, and followed Mrs. I j Anthony out of the room. "Have you had a pleasant time ?" asked the j latter, repeating her brother's question, when I they found themselves up-stairs. i "Oh ! so pleasant," replied Nita. "Why. I didn't you stay down stairs, Mrs. Anthony ?" ' "I had a little sewing to do, my dear ; and j 11 my brother objects to that occupation being i carried on in the drawing room. "How do | you like him, Nita?" ! "He is very good and kind," said Nita. "I 1 ' never had anybody kinder to me in my life." i "I thought he would make a favorable im T-% . 1 /? , 1 , pressiou on you. i5ertram can ue perrecuy fascinating, when he chooses; he is a delightful companion." Nita wondered, as she slowly prepared herself for retiring, whether she were not in a dream ! The novelty of her present position? the handsome chamber which she occupied? the dainty dress she had just laid aside?the remembrance of the manner in which the ' evening had been spent?all combined to impress her with the idea that she must be mistaken in her own identity. Some fairy, she thought, must have wrought this wondrous change in her surroundings! It was not without its charm for her, and she sighed as ; she closed her eyes to reflect that it ?onld not last. Already she was beginning to contrast her present circumstances with those to which ! she was accustomed?and the latter lost by j 11 the comparison. The next evening she was taken to the J theatre; the next, to a concert; the next, to I some other place of entertainment. In the I day-time she was driven out in a handsome j carriage, and enjoyed the pleasure of shopping 1 with Mrs. Anthouy, who allowed her time to ; inspect and admire everything, and presented j her, besides, with books, trinkets and bon- J bons?a host of treasures, as it seemed to the child, for which she could not be sufficiently grateful. Thus the week passed swiftly away. As the time approached for the answer to her let- j ter to arrive, Nita began to look forward to j it with an anxiety which was not wholly , pleasurable. Mingled with her desire to see! her uncle and friends again, was a scarcely j defined reluctance to return to her former life. The occupation which had hitherto! 6eemed such a congenial one had become, in a j measure, distasteful to her imagination. She j felt herself capable of more ennobling pursuits, j and had become alive to the many disadvan-1 tages which had always encompassed her, and | was now desirous of improving her mind, and j becoming acquainted with the habits and j manners of refined society. This change could never have been wrought in her feelings by intercourse with Mrs. Anthony alone. It was Mr. Lasselle's society which had effected it; nor was it any wonder that it should be so, seeing that he had devoted his attention to pleasing and flattering her, and to making her time pass in the most delightful manner. As his sister had said, no one could be more fasciuating than he, when he chose to ; and he now bent all his powers to the task of making a favorable impression, in order to attain the object he had in view. He admired Nita sincerely, and was charmed by her simplicity and artlessness, and by the native refinement which her rude education, much to his wonderment, had so little impaired. Genuine as was his admiration, however, the thought of marrying her never entered his mind but to be immediately discarded as an impracticable one. He had a horror of matrimony. Libertine though he was, he had a sense of the sacredness of the marriage vow, and had always vowed that he would never trammel himself with a yoke from which he knew he would ere long be dying to break loose. But to have this beautiful girl with him as his companion, his friend?to make her the pet and plaything of his life, was what he desired ; and his aim was now to accomplish this object in such a manner as, ?1.: 1 ? ~l? -! ?- ! on-nlif moHni* himiplf man Willie 31UW1J ailU OUIblJ Uiuning U..MWV.. ter of her heart, aud moulding her by gentle arts to his will, would not terrify her delicacy or alarm her pride. Poor Nita, utterly unconscious of the snares and pitfalls which encompassed her, was fast yieldiug to the influence which he so well knew how to establish over her. No suspicion of dishonor entered her mind. In her thoughts she had already invested this new friend with all the noblest attributes of manhood, chivalry and truth, and believed that she could do no better than to follow his uvfuua infection. ~ A pang crossed her llCttl l, nlitu blic l/liuugiiv . . . , . curred to her. She felt, independently of the actual loss of his companionship, that it would be almost a degradation to her to descend from the height to which he had elevated her into the obscure daily routine, the gaud and glitter and mock fiuery of her former life, which had gradually assumed such an ignoble aspect in her eyes. The week was past, and no letter from uncle Dan was forthcoming. Two, three, more days i a 0...1 -\r;tu wrnfo utrtiin onH uof aorain ! C,W|WCU) XlUtt "IV/tV. ? ??*..., j vw -g ?M, j aud waited, and waited, but with the same \ result. It is needless to say that these letters j met with the same fate as the former one; but even had they reached their destination, they would not have found the individual to whom they were addressed, as Mr. Foley's troupe had by this time removed to another city, aud uncle Dan, though now separated j from them, had also left the place, and was j using every effort to discover elsewhere some j * e i.:~ bittucs ui ui3 luat uauiiig. I CHAPTER XVII. UNMASKED. Some weeks had gone by. It was now midwinter, and still Zanita was an inmate of Mr. Laselle's home. By what means her present protectors had ; gradually led her to the conviction that it was j useless to prolong her enquiries respecting her j former friends, and that her best plan would be to remain quietly where she was, it would be useless to detail. She had shed some sincere tears over the idea of an indefinite separation from those of whose care and kindness j she had always been the ojyect; but as it was ' the policy of Mr. Laseller?ld his sister to encourage her still in the expectation of "some time or other" meetiug them again, she reconciled herself, the more easily, to following i their advice, persuading herself that she! could do uo better than to yield to the judgment of persons so much older and wiser than 1 1 V lieidUU. Nothing had as yet been said or done to make her feel that she might, in any way, compromise herself by such an arrangement. Mr. Laselle, who sometimes, though not fre-1 quently, absented himself, for a few days to- j gether, from home, treated her always when , there, with the same consideration and del- j icacy which he had manifested from the j first; and Mrs. Authony was as kind and motherly as ever. A master had been pro- j cured for her, who came three times a week to ' instruct her in various English brauches. She j also had a music teacher, and Mr. Laselle 1 himself had begun with her the study of; French, in which he was a proficient. She j learned with marvelous quickness, having! both a natural readiness and strong desire to acquire knowledge, and also an earnest wish to testify her gratitude to those who thus un- j expectedly provided her with the means of Af\\t\rr ar\ U,""B One thing would have struck her as siugu- j lar, had she been more versed in the customs of society ; but as it was, it escaped her notice. This was the fact that no visitors ever crossed the threshold of the house she lived in. Though situated on the outskirts of the ( city, it was to all intents and purposes as re- ' mote from the haunts of other people as if jt had been on the summit of a mountain, or in j the depths of the woods. Mrs. Anthony and | her brother, though both frequently went out, never spoke of their friends ; and Nita, when , she accompanied them either on a walk or j drive, or to any place of amusement, never saw a greeting exchanged between them and any human being whom they met. One day as Nita was practicing on the ! piano, after her music-master had left, Mr. Laselle came in, and iat down by her, apparently in order to not^ the progress she had made. She looked uj^and smiled, and went on playing for some little time, until at last he put out his hand and stopped her. "Put aside your music for thepreseut, Nita," he said, gently, "and come and walk with me in the garden. I am longing for a little talk with you." She rose obediently, and having gathered nn (mattered sheets and closed the piano, she went up stairs to fetch her hat and shawl. Soon they were strolling along one of the sunny walks, and Mr. Laselle, who had drawn I her hand through his arm, led her presently to the summer-house at the end of the garden where he had first seen her. The sun was shining warmly and pleasantly through the trelliB-work of vines which the frost had demuded of its leaves ; and placing her on the bench, he seated himself at her side. "Here we can talk undisturbed," said he ; "and Nita, I have something very particular to say to you this morning." She looked inquiringly at him. He was regarding her earnestly, with an unusually serious expression on his handsome face. "What will you say," he continued after a pause, "when I tell you that before long I am going away ?" "Oh ! sir," escaped Nita's lips. The exclamation was almost like a cry, so full of sudden pain ; and he saw how her cheek flushed, and then paled again with the emotion his announcement had stirred within her. Bend ing forward, he gently took her hand. "Will you be sorry, Nita?" he asked, in a low tone. "But are you really going, sir ?" she asked, without replying to his question. "I think I must?in fact I am sure of it." "When?" Her tone faltered slightly now. "In the Spring?early in March, I think. About four or five weeks from now." "And when will you come back, sir?" "That I cannot tell." There was silence. Nita looked away, and slowly traced a pattern in the gravel with her little foot; she felt bewildered and grieved at what she had heard, yet instinctively shrank from betraying the extent of her discomfiture. Was she about to lose this friend for evert The thought was invested with a pain impossible to describe. The longer she dwelt on it the worse it seemed. She felt the tears coming iuto her eyes, but struggled bravely to keep them back. Her companion watched her keenly. He wasanxious to let his announcement take full effect upon her undisturbed, and also to see what that effect would be. Thus it was some moments before he spoke again. "I cannot tell you," he continued at length, in the low melodious tones which had become like music to her ear, "how earnestly I have moona tnnnqtnnnp this movement. OUUgllt JWI li'VMUW wvr j/wv.j which has at last become a necessity. Never before have I felt such reluctance to leaving home." ??ur:u *f\- 4 tAn ? ' otflrorl Nito with an effort ?" "Oh! no. She never accompanies me abroad." "Areyou going to?to Europe, sir?" "Yes, to Italy." Now Italy seemed to Nita the utmost con-! fine3 of the earth. Her heart sank lower than before. "Italy?beautiful Italy, the land of poetry | and song 1 I have been there before, and loved to roam beneath its sunny skies, and revel in its treasures of art and antiquity; but I no longer delight in the prospect of renewing my acquaintanceship with its familiar haunts. Plain, dull, uninteresting Charleston. has now preater charms for me. than all other places on the face of the earth." Thus spoke Mr. Laselle, giving his words a meaning by the tone in which they were uttered, and by the pressure which he bestowed upon his companion's hand ; a meaning which, unsophisticated as the girl was, could not but find its way to her comprehension, though, in the sudden revelation thus opened to her, she was too much dazzled to realize the entire significance of his words. "Can you guess, my little Nita, what it is : that invests my hitherto unattractive home ! with such a charm ?" he continued, looking : into her downcast face. j "No, sir." The answer came low as a ' breath of summer wind. "Shall I tell you ?" "If?you?like?to." Poor little Nita! She was already betraying her consciousness, in the tell-tale blushes, the averted glance, the faltering accents which frustrated her effort at self-coraraand. "It is your presence," he whispered softly. "Did you need that I should tell you that? I have learned to love you, Nita?you are the best, dearest little friend I have ; and I would have you love rae in return. Does it grieve you much to think that we should part?" "Yes?oh! yes," she faltered below her j breath. "Then do not let us part," he exclaimed fervently. "Stay with me always, beautiful child ! With me you will be happy?yes, I promise you all the happiuess that it is in the power of mortal to bestow I My heart is en-! tirely yours ; I lay it at your feet?take it, ] and give me yours, which I will prize as the costliest gift earth has for me ! Say, Nita, do 1 you consent?" Nita's breath came quick and fast, and her ! pulses throbbed as she listened to him. Could ! it be possible that she, a poor obscure girl, I should marry a grand gentleman like Mr. j Laselle? She was dazzled by the vision of! such unexpected honor and happiness. She : trembled, and could find no words to answer, i "Snojik to me." he urged in the same eager ! tone. "Tell me that I have not deceived my- \ self by a vain hope." "Oh ! sir," she managed to say at length,' "I never dreamed of such a thing as that." "Never dreamed of what?" "That?that you cared about me in that way." "Ah ! but I do. Only give yourself to me, and you will see how much I care for you ! We will leave this dull land, and go to beautiful Italy?to Florence, and Naples, and Rome. Together we will visit the wonders of I the old world, and lead a life of poetry, and love, and unalloyed bliss." "But you are going so soon," said Nita, timidly. "What of that, my fairy queen ? It will not be too soon for me." Nita, covered with blushes, forbore to reply. She could not tell him that she was thinking of the marriage ceremony, a terrible ordeal, as it seemed to her, to be gone through on such short notice. She felt so excited and bewildered by the prospect just opened to her, that her thoughts were in a whirl, and she was anxious to end the interview, and escape to the solitude of her own room without delay, in order to reflect upon it, undisturbed. As if in furtherance of this wish, she heard Mrs. Anthony's voice, at that, instant, calling to her from the house. "I must go, sir," she cried,starting quickly up. He held her hand tightly, drawing her back to his side. "Not till you have given me ray answer," he exclaimed. "Shall it be yes or no ?" "Yes," dropped shyly from Nita's lips, and then, like an imprisoned bird let loose, she darted away, and was lost to sight in an instant. He looked after her with a triumphant lieht in his eves. "So ! I am sure of her," he muttered to himself. "Fortune favors me, as usual. In six weeks from now, at the farthest, I will be on the blue ocean, with ray prize safe in possession ; and once quit of these shores, it's ninetynine chances to one I will ever re-visit them more. The next fortnight passed to Nita as a dream. She could not analyze her own feelings. She had a sense of triumph, of glory, as of some great honor achieved, some great fortune fallen into her possession. But whether it was love that so deeply stirred her heart, she did not know?she did not pause to think. She felt that to become a lady, rich and favored, and loaded with costly gifts, was a fate better and more brilliant than any which she had ever anticipated ; and beyond this prospect she scarcely looked. She marvelled somewhat, as the weeks rolled on, that no word was spoken of her marriage. Still she hesitated to broach the subject, even to Mrs. Anthony, since the latter did not seem anxious to discuss it. Finally, however, when the (lay appointed for their departure was drawing very near, she did venture to ask a question concerning it. "Mrs. Authony," she said timidly, "has Mr. Laselle said when?when we are to be married ?" In spite of her wonted self-possession, a sudden flush rose.to Mrs. Anthony's cheek at the question. She turned quickly, and gave Nita a sharp look, then directly lowering her eyes again, went on with her work. "No, ray dear," she replied, after a brief pause. "I can't say that he has." Her look and manner puzzled the girl, who could not divine the cause of such singular reticence. She resolved to speak to Mr. Laselle himself, and sought for a favorable moment to do so. The opportunity she desired was not long in coming. That very afternoon she found herself again alone with him in the garden. He had been conversing for some time in his wonted strain, dwelling with eloquent language upon the happiness in store for them both in the future, when perceiving that she onTy~ansWf<r7n~ra"oriosyIia Di es, a ncTtfiaFMf ince wore ttu absent look, he suddenly stopped, exclaiming? "What is the matter with you to-day, ray little love ? Why are you so silent and distraite /" "I was thinking of something, sir," said N"if.a. crafherinor her courage un to sneak at " D O O " T last of what was uppermost in her mind. "I wanted to ask you a question." "Ask a thousand, if you will." "I am afraid you will think it strange in me," she continued, hurriedly, "but?but I can't help wanting to know your plans." "My plans, Nita? Have I not already told you of them all ?" "Not all, sir." "Not all ? Have i not told you that in a week from to-day, we embark on our voyage, and that, we proceed first to New York, thence to Liverpool, thence to Dover, and across the channel to France, where we rill make a brief stay, just long enough to get a glimpse of Paris, aud of the sunny regions of the South, ere we take our way to our Italian home?" "But before that?you have forgotten to tell me what day you have appointed for our wedding." She wondered at her own boldness in uttering the words; but they were spoken, and with a feeling of relief she stood waiting for his answer, with her frauk, questioning eyes raised to his face. He did not reply immediately, but glanced away from her, stroking his long beard with a thoughtful air. Then suddenly turning toward her, with a smile, he took her in his arms. "My little Nita," he said, caressingly, "have you set your heart upon this marriage ?" "What do you mean, sir?" she asked, with a bewildered look. "I mean has the idea of it stood paramount in your thoughts?has it been indissolubly connected with your anticipations of the future ?" "How could I help thinking about it?" she asked, drawing back, as if she was hurt. "Was it not natural?" "I don't know. I never thought that you had been troubled by it, at all." "If you mean, sir, that you have not been troubled by it," she rejoined quickly, standing entirely apart from him now and speaking with a proud flush on her cheek, "I am sorry that I brought it to your mind. I have no wish to keep you to your promise against your will; but why did you wait until now to tell me that you were tired of me ?" "Tired of you! Nita, what madness is this ? I love you passionately?distractedly? more deeply than ever. "And yet?and yet?you said?" "I said," he interrupted in a low, winning tone, now bending his eyes earnestly upon her, "that I had not thought of our marriage. My own Nita, an empty form like that is not essential to our happiness." pita's eyes dilated; a cold chill crept f V* r/\iir?K rof if anarnolir oaamor] nnoai'KIn frt l/lil WUgU "VI ) J vu IV OVItl VViJ QUVMJVU J/WOOIWIV vv her that she could have rightly understood his meaning. "Do you not know," he continued, "that love like ours can make our union a more perfect one than any formula of stated words could do ? In the sight of heaven the bond between us will be a sacred one. What care we for the judgment of men ? I do not believe in priestcraft; I do not believe?" Involuntarily, he stopped. At the sight of Nita's face the words died on his lips. Her cheek had blanched to the paleness of marble. Yet in her eyes there shone a newly-kindled I " I tire that he had never dreamed could burn in I their azure depths. She put out her delicate 1 hand with the gesture of a queen. All timidi- j ty, all softness seemed to have vanished from ' her aspect. "Mr. Laselle," she said, in quivering tones, j "I am unprotected aDd alone; but I trusted i to your honor and your goodness never to i1 offer me au insult, like this." "An insult, Nita !?my own Nita!?listen ! to me?let me tell you?" "No, sir," she replied, passionately; "tell \ me nothing, until you unsay those words. I do not ask you to marry me. I will leave you j to-morrow ; this day, if you will. But if you 1 bid me stay, it must be on no other terms but 1 as your wife." "And you will be so, in the truest sense of J the term. My heart, ray fortune; all that I ( have, will be at your disposal. I will ever , love you devotedly, and be faithful to you? ! far mnrp devoted. than 1 IC?1 1XJ uio mibutui, ?ME - f many who take the mockery of a vow upon their lips, with all the mummery of prie9t and veil and ring, to make it sacred in the eyes of the spectators." "Mr. Laselle," she rejoined, "I am but a poor ignorant girl, and not fit to argue with you; but I have been honestly brought up, and know right from wrong, at any rate, as far as this goes. I suppose you think, because my people were so far beneath you in birth, and monev, and education, that you had a right to look down upon me, and?and to think you could make me do whatever you pleased. You have been very good to me?" her voice suddenly faltered?"and if you had kept on as you were, I would have followed you to the end of the world ; but now I must part from you, for this place can no longer be ray home." "Nita, you are saying rash words now; give yourself time to think?do not leave me in anger, or you will repent it. Remember what I offer you?think what your position will be if you accept ray protection, and contrast it with what it was once, what it will surely be again, should we part in this way! Can you cast aside so brilliant a prospect for the grat- ' ification of a childish scruple?a mere superstitious fancy ?" "Yes sir." she answered, her voice resuming J its former strength as she uttered the words, j "I can sink to the lowest depths of poverty?I i can beg, or starve if need be?but I cannot ' live in dishonor for all the riches and gran- ' deur in the world." "Obstinate child !" he exclaimed, his per- , suasive tone suddenly changing to one of pet- , ulant anger and disappointment. "You talk ( as though you supposed I were going to al- i low you to follow your own rash will. You 1 are completely mistaken, as you will soon find out. Remember, you have no means of es- , cape from this house, if I choose to keep you j here! What will you do, poor, puny thing, | when I close my hand upon you and say I i will not let you go ?" "You will not?you cannot be so cruel!" she rejoined, excitedly. "I don't believe it is i~-<yrrvt feo-treat" rac bo?after all- your ' past kindness." "You talk of my kindness, and yet you are so ungrateful as to wish to leave me now." "Because you are not kind any more?because you have wronged and deceived me. But I will forget that, sir, and think only of what went before it, if you will send me away now." "I shall never send you away; I shall hold you fast. You have given yourself to me; you are mine, mine until death?do you hear me, child? I will not give you up! Gointotho 1 house now. You havtf roused a demon within j rae, and for the present you will be the best out of my reach." His eyes glittered with a fierce light. Za- i nita inwardly quailed before him, but with erect and undaunted front she moved away, and her step never faltered until her slight form had vanished out of his sight. [to be continued next week.] ' ||tisrrHattC0wsi fUading. j THE "YAZOO FRAUD." i a reminiscence of georgia corruption. ] The old readers of the Courier are doubt- * less familiar with the history of this, the most \ gigantic land swindle ever perpetrated in this 1 country. We give below a short history of thatjswindle as a reminiscence of history: Georgia retained her claims to the lands, ( from the ocean to the Mississippi, within the ( limits fixed by her ancient charter, and by a j royal proclamation, dated October 7, 1783, < which annexed to Georgia all the lands north 1 of Florida and South of the Alabama, ex- 1 tending "westward to the south sea." When, 1 by the treaty of peace with Great Britain, the ' Mississippi became her western boundary, she ' held a title undisputed, save by the Indian ? tribes, to near iou,uuu square mues 01 some 1 of the most fertile land on the continent. On this magnificent domain was based one of the greatest land speculations on record, the history of which forms a dark spot in the annals of the State. We are apt, in these days of defaulting public officers, and credit mobilier swindles, to look back to those days of greater j honesty, but impartial history shows that huj man nature changes but little with the lapse i of time. The armies of the continental con; gress suffered from the misdeeds of swindling array contractors, and the country generally | from foretellers and speculators, who sought, i sometimes successfully, to raise their own for| tune on the ruin of their fellow-citizens. By an act of the 7th of January 1795, the j legislature of Georgia sold to four land cora| panies, called the Mississippi, the Tennessee, | the Georgia-Mississippi, fifty million acres of land, comprising most of the present States of Alabama and Mississippi, for $500,000, or one cent per acre. These four companies were * ? < .1 I 4t.. 1 composed maimy 01 tne meraoers 01 me leg-1 * islature and their friends. In other words the 1 majority sold the land to themselves. It ap* 8 pears, from the evidence, that every member * of the legislature who voted for the bill, with 8 a single exception, was to receive shares of j 23,000 to 112,000 acres of land. For these v shares they paid nothing but their votes. I Some of them retained their land ; others sold 1 their interest, even before the bill passed, for money, merchandise and negro slaves. The sacrifice of this magnificent territory s for a trifle, created an unparalleled excitement 1 j in Georgia. Every grand jury in the State i j presented the legislature as a public nuisance. 1 ! Immense meetings were held, in which the s | fraud and its originators were denounced in s ! unmeasured terms. At the general election 1 I which ensued, almost the entire legislature ' j was swept from power and a new set of mem- i j bers chosen, who proceeded, as far as in them t (lay, to undo the work of their predecessors. t On the 13th of February, 1796, an act was passed declaring that the act by which the land was sold had been passed by usurped i authority, and being fraudulent, was, there- i fore, null and void from the beginning. The t act itself was ordered to be expunged from i the records of the State, and it was forbidden to plead it in any court of justice. The territory which had been sold under it was declared to be still public property. It was, however, impossible to restore the land and the title to their original condition. More than an entire year had passed, and the speculators had not been idle. They held deeds for the land signed by the governor, under an act of the legislature, and authenticated by the broad seal of the State. Under them they had already disposed of vast tracts, and had reaped a rich harvest from the unwary. It was doubtful whether one legislature could undo the work of another, where a right had become vested, and especially where it had passed to those who were not parties to the original fraud. The Senate finally got rid of the controversy by transferring it and the land in question to the United states, ceding, iu iue jem iuuk, all her rights to the territory west of her pressnt boundaries to the United States for 81,250,000, payable out of the proceeds of the land when sold. The purchasers, under the original sale by the legislature in 1795, now applied to Congress to either confirm their title or buy their claims. The matter was the accasion of fierce debates in Congress, and formed a bone of contention for years. Not jntll theyear 1814, twelve years after the cession by Georgia to the United States, was the question finally settled. It appears to have been the opinion of the majority in Congress that although the claimants under the act of 1795 had obtained their titles by fraud, and that the titles so obtained were in equity null ind void, on the principle that fraud vitiates ill contractsinto which it enters, yet that they were of sufficient weight to cast a shade of suspicion over all titles to the lands ceded by the State of Georgia, and thus to delay the settlement of the territory which was then our southwestern frontier. It was thought better to buy their titles than leave the matter in loubt. A bill was accordingly passed giving to the claimants 85,000,000 State stock, not bearing nterest, payable out of the proceeds of the and sold in the Mississippi Territory. The stock so issued was known as the Mississippi stock, the claims were called the "Yazoo jlaims," and the title of the claimants, wherjver referred to in the statutes at large, is called the title under the pretended purchase from Georgia.?Rome Courier. The Opportunity of the White South. [ another column we print an article, under the above caption, from the Springfield, Massachusetts Republican, which has our cordial approval, and we concur in the recommendation that, for the good of the South, the people jf the conservative States should see that the colored people stand, in every respect, on the jame footing with the whites?that they have fair play everywhere, ample and vigilant protection for life and property, and as good schooling as is given, at the public expense, to white children. And we make this declaration frankly and boldly, because the conservative citizens of South Carolina already occupy the exact position in politics which the Springfield Republican urges the Southern States to take. Three or four years ago, in South Carolina, there were murders and other outrages which this paper condemned then as it condemns them now?acts which were politically inexpedient and morally wrong. Since the ku-klux spasm South Carolina has been perfectly tranquil, and at no time has any secret political society had any strength in the middle or the low country. The disturbances in Edgefield county were caused by the misconduct of the county officers and the marauding of the negro militia. Judge Mackkey's testimony is conclusive on that point. In politics South Carolina conservatives are more advanced and nearer to a true, sound, generous and just policy than any other body of conservatives in the North or South. They have colored men in their tax unions, they take colored men as their candidates, and they have proved their willingness to work with colored republicans in every movement which looks to the improvement of the character of the State government. The South Carolina Conservatives accept the constitutional amendments as finalities; they are loyal to the government of the United States ; they propose, in every public matter, to make no distinction between whites and blacks, but to apply to the one race the test that they apply to the other race?the old Jeffersonian test of capability, honesty and fidelity to the constitution. The whites are prone, we know, to cling to every vestige of political power that they possess. In this they are like the blacks. There is, however, in South Carolina, a majority among the conservatives in favor of fair play, and in favor of that representation of minorities which we advocate for the negroes in the Northern States and Southern States, where the whites preponderate, as we advocate it for South Carolina and Mississippi, where the slacks have a voting majority. Nor need the prospective passage of the jivil rights bill (apart from the constitutional )bjections to any such legislation by Congress) give the South Carolina conservatives any joucern. A State civil rights law, more stringent than the bill passed by the house of rep ? _ *.! resellituivea uu x* riuajr, uoo oiuuu uu iuo ai?ijte books of this State for several years, and, ;hanks to the good sense of blacks and whites, las in no way impaired the usefulness of the ichool system. The South Carolina univerei;y has been broken up by tbe admission of colored students, and, except in the matter of }ost, has only a nominal existence; but the pubic schools in Charleston flourish, and we are Dot aware that in the densest colored counties my desire has been manifested to compel vhite children and black children to occupy he same schools. In theatres, in hotels, on he railroads and elsewhere, the blacks have he same accommodation for their money that he whites have. Now and then there is a ipple of excitement caused by the insolent Dehaviorof some drunken negro, but a drunk>n white man can, if he puts his mind to "it, do quite as annoying, and is fully as difficult ;o deal with, we mention these racts to irove that civil rights do not involve or inluce either the bugbear of social equality, or iven the breaking up of the public schools, rhe passage of a United States civil rights )ill compelling mixed schools would undoubtidly break up the schools and deprive the colired people of schooling, where the conservaives are in power; but so long as such mixing s not compulsory there is no reason why whites md blacks, with a little tact and a little forlearance on each side, cannot live comfortably ind harmoniously and prosperously under the iqual protection of a just system of laws which vill give to every class and race the same uiblic rights and the same public privileges. Charleston News and Courier. A judge in North Carolina was a great tickler for forms. One day a soldier, who lad been battered considerablv in the war. vas brought in as a witness. The judge told )im to hold up his right hand. "Can't do it, ir," said the man. "Why not ?" "Got a hot in that arm, sir." "Then hold up your eft." "Got a shot in that arm, too, sir. 'Then," said the judge sternly, "you must hold ip your leg. No man can be sworn, sir, in his court by law unless he holds up some,hiug." A showman whose notice called for a ?ew fat boys to "feed his cannibals," received i card from a man saying that he couldn't ipare his boys, but he had a good stall-fed nother-in-law that he thought would suit.