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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j An Jitbepenbent Jfamilp ftetospaper: Jfor tjre |)roiitation of tjie ^alhital, JStrcial, Agricultural anil (Jominercial Interests of % Soutjj. |terms--$3.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 35. YOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JUNE 36, 1879. NO. 36. Original jltfltg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. RACHEL RAY'S SECRET. CHAPTER XV. Since I came hither I have heard strange news. Shakspeark. Murrell Vivian lost no time, on his arrival ? in New York, in procuring a lodging for himself and his brother, where the latter could be ensured the comforts aud privacy of a home, and receive the attention which he required, without exciting curiosity or gossip. For a day or two Maurice remained quiet and passive, and gave no trouble. He seemed pleased with his new surroundings, and watched all Murrell's movements with much interest, of ten gazing at him with a curious, inquiring expression as though some faint shadow of recognition were passing across his mind. Alurreii n&Q procured iur hhu, no uo tuvu^uvj an excellent and trustworthy attendant, and believing that without any risk he might leave them together for a short time, he set out on r the third morning after his arrival in quest of his trusty agent, Benedict, with whom he had been, as yet, too pressed for time to communicate. He found him, as he expected, at a sort of office to which he had been accustomed to address his letters. He was alone, and came forward with an air of surprise to meet his visitor. "You here, Mr. Vivian! When did you arrive ?" he asked, after greeting him with respectful cordiality. "On Saturday. Have you heard of my brother lately ?" "I have, sir, and very important news too," rejoined Benedict, eagerly. "In fact I was just preparing a statement to forward to you by the next mail?" "I can forestall your news," interrupted Mr. Vivian. "My brother is found." "Yes?but how did you hear it?" asked the other, in surprise. "I found him myself," was the reply, and in a few words Mr. Vivian gave the substance of the story, which is already known to the reader. "Now, indeed, sir, you astonish me," exclaimed Benedict. "I knew of his escape from the asylum and had him tracked on board the Elsinore ; and had he reached the other side in safety, he would have been taken in charge immediately on his landing, and kent safe until you could go to him. So he is a - back already, and in your keeping ! Well, sir, I congratulate you." "So far, I have reason to be thankful," said Mr. Vivian ; "but I am still wretched enough to feel that congratulation is a mockery. Tell me, Benedict, have you any other news for me ?" "I have, sir; but not of a satisfactory nature," replied Benedict, hesitating. "What!" exclaimed his hearer,.in a startled tone. "Has any fresh raisfortuue?" "Only this, sir?that she has left the place where she was found at," quickly answered the agent, hastening to relieve a darker fear that he read in his employer's face. "We have tried to track her again, but so far, have not been successful." "What did you hear of her, at her last residence?" inquired his listener. "Nothing at all, sir. The place was all shut and the family gone abroad." i "Did she not go with them ?" "No, sir. That much I did find out. She had left before they did, but where she went to, nobody knew." "Why did you not telegraph to them and inquire ?" "Of course I did that, sir. It was the most natural thing to do. But at first there was no getting at them. They were moving all about; and at last, when by good luck they got my message, the answer left me no wiser than before. They knew nothing of her, they said." "Knew nothing of her! They must know? must bave at least an idea where she went to from their house!" cried Mr. Vivian. He rose from his seat and walked impatiently up and down, a gloomy frown on his brow. "There has been wrong management somewhere," he exclaimed at last, throwing himself again into a chair. "How did you first learn that she had left ?" "By having my letteis returned unopened through the post-office, sir. That set me to inquiring." "Heaven and earth! I, too, shall go mad before long," groaned Mr. Vivian. "This pressure on my nerves is wearing me out Look you, Benedict, she must be found. I will spend every dollar I own in having her traced, sooner than have her lost sight of again. I give you carte blanche to use any means, so long as it is privately done. I must have this suspense ended. It is killing me." "Indeed, sir," said Benedict, respectfully, "it is from no want of trying that we have failed so far. I and my mates have worked at the matter night and day, and we're not so unscrupulous as to slacken off in hope of screwing more money out of you, as you might believe. We consider ourselves handsomely paid, already, for nobody could be more liberal than yourself. But you may depend, sir, that your lady will be found if she's anywhere above ground ; and there's no reason to suppose that she ain't, that I know of." . "It is my belief," said Mr. Vivian, after a pause, "that she is in this very city at this moment. I cannot exactly define my reason for believing so, but it does seem likely to me that she is concealing herself somewhere here." "Here, in this city ! That's hardly probaV?lo /vincii]princr the search we've made after her," said Benedict, doubtfully. "Probable or not, I would have you try again," replied his employer. "She could be more easily concealed here than in a smaller place, and the secluded life she would be likely to lead would make it specially hard to find her out. At all events, follow my sug| gestion, and leave no stone unturned to assure yourself whether I am right or wrong." "It shall be done, sir. The city shall be searched through a hundred times over, if it's necessary." After a little more conversation, Mr. Vivian rose to go. He was growing uneasy about his brother, whom he was unwilling to leave too long. "Come to me this evening," he said to Benedict on quitting the office; "I have more to say to you, but I cannot stay longer just now, There is my card ; you will have no trouble io finding me." "I will be there at seven o'clock, sir, if that will suit you." Mr. Vivian walked rapidly back to his lodging, anxious to find how matters had fared during his absence. He was met by the attendant, with a look of dismay. In an instant he divined that something unusual had happened. "Speak !" he exclaimed, seizing the man by the arm ; "is anything wrong ?" "Oh ! sir, indeed it wasn't my fault," stam mered the attendant in a aeprecaung tunc; "I hadn't turned ray back on him but just a raiuute, and that only for to get him a drink of water, as he begged me to?and?and he must have forced the window, sir, for it was fastened with a nail?and?" "And you have let him escape!?" "No sir?he must have gone to jump out, or maybe only to lean forward too far, sir? and?and he fell, sir?but he isn't killed, only senseless?" Without waitiug to hear more, Mr. Vivian rushed past him and up the stairs into the room occupied by his brother. Maurice lay on the bed, ghastly and pale, with a bloodstained bandage around his head ; a surgeon stood by with a finger on his pulse. "Is he fatally injured ?" asked Murrell Vivian, in an agitated voice, as he bent over his pillow. "I trust net, sir. At present, it is impossible to say," replied the surgeon, gravely. It seemed as though the Fates were conspiring to render Mr. Vivian's situation as painful and perplexing aone as possible. He sat down in silent despair, to await the result of this new catastrophe. The surgeon, equally silent, remained motionless at his post. Presently, the attendant came to the door, and made a sign that he wished to speak to Mr. Vivian. "What do you want?" asked the latter, as he obeyed the signal. "If you please, sir, the mad doctor's come." "The mad doctor ! What do you mean ?" "Well, sir, your brother was beginning to act so queer, a little while before he asked for the water, that I began to be afraid he was going to break out in 6ome way, and that r o/M.lrlti'f monnfro Vlltn Sir rTiUIP LLldJ UC X VVUJUU V liiuuu^v < * *) v. y So I got a message sent to Dr. Snow, who is a mad doctor. His place is just around the corner. He keeps a private asylum, sir?to beg him to come quick and see an insane gentleman, and he's come." "You are a meddling, trustless coward," exclaimed Mr. Vivian, enraged at- the evident timidity and incapacity of the fellow, who had been engaged by him as an experienced and reliable nurse. "I want no mad doctors here. You may go and tell him so ; or stay? you have done enough mischief already; I'll see him myself." He went down stairs, and in the parlor was met by Dr. Snow, who started palpably at the sight of him. "Good gracious, Mr. Vivian ! is it you ?" he exclaimed in a tone of unfeigned surprise. And with at least equal surprise the other rejoined, "I am not aware, sir, that we have ever met before!" Dr. Snow regarded him attentively, drew a step nearer, and with his eyes still fixed upon him muttered half to himself, "Surely I __j ?i ? u H am noc miscaaen?aim yet?uu, it eu.?? * wj the same?yet what a resemblance! Sir," he. continued aloud, iu an eager tone, "have you a brother?" "I have," was Murrell Vivian's reply. "And is he insane?" "He is?do you know him ?" asked the other, startled in his turn. To his bewilderment, Dr. Snow darted forward, seized both his hands in his, and shaking them violently up and down with every mark of excitement, seemed for a moment incapable of giving any other vent to his feelings. At last, when be could find words, he panted forth? "Heaven be praised, sir, heaven be praised that I've found you out in this unexpected way! . Sir, your arrival is a Godsend?a piece of the most wonderful good fortune that ever occurred." "Explain yourself, if you please," rejoined his mystihed hearer. "I will?I will, only I'm so upset that I hardly know where to commence. Sir, have you a wife ?" Murrell Vivian changed color. "Why do you ask me this ?" he responded, in an agitated voice. "And is her name Rachel ?" pursued the doctor, with breathless rapidity, unheeding the question. Trembling with excitement, his hearer could scarcely 6nd voice to exclaim? "For God's sake, if you have any news for me, don't keep me in suspense! Do you know my wife ?" "I do, sir?I do. But be composed, pray be composed," urged the benevolent physician, fearing from his listener's pallor and disturbed look that he had been rash in giving his information. "I can tell you whatever you desire to know; but pray endeavor to listen to me as calmly as you can. Your wife, sir, is under my roof. She has been ill, and has suffered greatly, but is better now ; and her restoration to you, sir, I am convinced is only wanting to effect a speedy cure." "Mr. Vivian's breath came thick and fast; his heart was beating almost to suffocation. "Is my wife?" he faltered, and then stopped. Dr. Snow pitied him. He could guess I what was passing in his heart, and felt too much compassion for him to delay in laying his doubts, and fears at rest. "Circumstances compelled your wife, sir, to confide to me all her unhappy experience, 1 and I feel assured that it has been the result ! of a mistake, a very grevious mistake, from : beginning to end. I am right in assuming (am I not?) that it was not you who drove her from your home with the threat to murder her if she should cros3 your path again?" i "I ? Good God ! never," gasped Mr. Viv ian. "Ah! I knew it?I knew it!" joyfully i cried the doctor. It was your brother, sir, I whom we mistook for you; and now the i whole affair lies in a nutshell. But she can I better explain the rest than I can. My dear i; sir, you must go to her this instant; or stay? i! she must be prepared first. She is not strong, and the shock might upset her." I The good doctor was half beside himself ; with delight. As to Murrell, the bewilderi' ment almost overcame him. He could not take in the revelation which had dawned up; on his mind. 11 "But your brother, sir?your brother. Is , he here?" suddenly continued Dr. Snow. "I i was sent for, I presume, on his account. He is a former patient of mine, as you may know." "I did not know it," replied Mr. Vivian, mastering his emotion by a strong effort. "He is here?has met with a severe accident, and is now lying insensible. There is a surgeon j in attendance; but pray come up. I will show j you the way." The surgeon and the doctor turned out to be intimate friends. It needed but lialf a J minute for them to arrive at a mutual under[ standing, and five minutes more for the hur! ried consultation which ensued ; but the delay was all too long for Mr. Vivian, whose anxiety for his brother was swallowed up by his more absorbing auxiety to meet his wife. i tn rt _ "Now, my dear sir," cried ur. enow, in a cheerful tone, turning to him at last, "we will go at once?you and I, to ray house; and on the way I will tell you the opinion that my friend and I have arrived at in regard to your brother's case." Mr. Vivian might have been walking in a dream, so unreal did his situation seem to him as he walked through the streets at the doctor's side. Their destination was soon reached, andDr. Snow, pausing in the hall, craved yet another brief delay while he went to prepare Rachel for her husband's arrival. Brief as it proved, it seemed interminable to the latter; and no wonder, considering what a crisis of his life had come upon him. Rachel found? Rachel not unfaithful, but longing and waiting for a reconciliation; all his torturing doubts swept away! Was this wonderful, incomprehensible bliss a reality, or a delusion that would presently slip, away from his grasp? It was no delusion. For while he watched and waited, there rang suddenly in his ears a cry?a sweet, strange, familiar cry?he heard his own name, "Murrell, oh! Murrell !"? and as a door opened at the end of the corridor he could wait no longer, but rushed forward, guided by that voice, before the doctor had time to come out of his wife's room and bid him enter. And then ! But, oh! what need to describe that meeting ? What pen could describe it ? Surely not one as impotent as mine. I do not think that at first those two, so long parted, so strangely divided, entered into the realization of their own joy. It was not joy, it was a sort of delirium, tremulous, blinding, dizzy, relieved by no utterance save that of sobs, and sighs, and broken, inarticulate words. As to explanation or questioning, there was none?could be none, as yet. When those first supreme moments were passed, Rachel lay back on her pillow, white and exhausted with the intensity of her emotion, and her husband, still claspiqg her in his arms, bent over her, half in terror, lest his newly restored treasure should be slipping already out of his possession?so frail, so changed Had she become since he had seen her last. By degrees, however, as the overwhelming tumult of feeling began to calm down, and a faint color crept back into her face, his fears subsided, and he could breathe freely once more. Still he said but little, only sat and looked at her as if he could never look his fill. And she, thrilling beneath his gaze, lay oppressed with a weight of bliss that was almost harder to bear than sorrow, until suddenly she turned her face and hid it on his breast, and murmuring his name, found relief for her burdened heart in a gush of exquisite tears. After a full hour, Dr. Snow, whose own oniAfinn klooa Kia avmnn.t.hizinor snnl! had been blUVVIVU) WiVUU MAW WJ 0 ? overflowing a little in private, came back to seek thera, and to introduce some of the wholesome common-place reality of life into the dreamland in which they were still floating. He spoke of Maurice, and Murrell remembered, with shame, that he had never even asked for the-opinion which the doctor had promised to give. It proved to be a favorable one, fortunately. ''I think he'll recover," said the doctor, "and what is better still, I think this accident will turn him into a new man. It's ten chances to one that when he comes to his senses again he will prove as sane as you or I. The shock will do what neither you nor I, nor all the nursing in the world, could have accomplished, perhaps, in years?give a turn to his brain that will scatter all its delusions to the winds." ' "How strange it is," said Rachel, turning her dark eyes?so radiant now with the light . of joy?upon her husband's face, "that I never knew until lately, Murrell, that you had a brother !" "Yes, love; I blame myself inexpressibly now for never having spoken to you of him," he replied. "Had I done so, all this grief might have been spared to us. But it was a false feeling of mortification?humiliation? call it what you will?which made me shrink from introducing atopic, which to me was a bitterly painful one, into our peaceful intercourse. It is a long story, my Rachel, which I cannot repeat now. I must wait and tell it to you at some other time." CHAPTER XVI. And, truly, waking dreams were, more or lend, An old mid strange affection of tne house. Myself too had weird seizures, Heaven knows what: I seemed to move among n world of ghosts And feel myself the shadow of a dream. Tenntsok. While Maurice Vivian lay still unconcious of the world around him, bound in a trance that would have seemed like death, had it not been that his pulse beat with undiminished strength, and his breathing grew no fainter, but was regular and placid as a child's, iVllirreil, SlUIIlg Willi ivaunci tn mo uai ntucu room at twilight, with no other watchers but themselves?for she had insisted on removing with him to his lodgings?told her in suppressed tones the story of his brother's life. "He was a strange, moody boy, and though bound by the closest tie, that of twin-brotherhood, there was little congeniality between us, eveu in childhood. I was robust and healthy, and cared most for out door exercise and play. He was more delicately constituted, and would spend hours lounging on a sofa, sometimes with a book, somtimes dreaming daydreams, always abstracted and indifferent to the objects around him. Notwithstanding his constitutional languor, he had a fiery temper, and I can remember, when we were quite little fellows, his breaking out into vio ; lent storms of rage that would terrify and distress our mother, and arouse my wrath in turn, though I was trained, as the stronger, never to strike or hurt him, no matter what provocation I received at his hands. "As I grew older, I learned that this ungovernable temper and wayward, gloomy disposition were an inheritance of our house. Nay, we had a still worse inheritance, of which these might be only the premonitory symptoms?madness, Rachel, that fearfiil affliction, from the thought of which I have always shrunk with a horror impossible to describe. Sometimes, when a boy, the fear that its taint might be in my blood has nearly overpowered me, and this idea, sometimes rushing over me without warning, in the midst of my most boisterous amusements, would be sufficient to destroy every spark of merriment in ray heart, and Bend me, thoughtful and downcast, away from the noisy society of my play-fellows. There was one pe nod?though, tburaK neaven, it am noi iasi long?when this dread was constantly present. It haunted ine like a spectre, e ven in my dreams, and I grew nearly as moody as my brother. The strangest feeling of unreality would seize me, and I seemed, sometimes, to lose my own identity, as though I were really going mad. Tlae misery and horror I endured during thefie intervals were indescribable. I shudder at the remembrance of them, even now. I never betrayed these feelings to any one, but would hide myself, while they lasted, where no one could find me. I was filled with the most painful sense of humiliation, of degradation, at my own weakness, and would have died, almost, rather than confess it, even to my mother, who was the tenderest and most sympathizing of human beings. She noticed that I looked pale and had lost my former spirit, however, and; consulted a physician, who advised that I should be sent into the country for six months. -1 went, and came home again, at the expiration of that time, a new being. My morbid apprehensions, ray fanciful and gloomy ideas, had vanished, or occurred to me only to be laughed at. I was stronger, merrier and happier than ever, and sever from that day to this has the Strang; affection of which I spoke just now, returned even for a single day or hour. "1 have spoken thus at length, of that brief but dark interval in ray boyhood, in which was concentrated the suffering of a life time, in order to give you some idea of the sensations with which the very thought of insanity, our hereditary disease, has already inspired rae; and of the feeling, which I have never been able to shake off*, that this inheritance is in some way a stain upon us. It is a wrong feeling, my love, for since God willed that some of us should be afflicted with it, it is our duty not to rebel or deem it a curse; yet, though I strive to be a Christian, I cannot wholly resign myself to this decree. You will understand now, how, when in. my brother the fatal disease began, as he grew from boyhood into youth, to manifest itself, I was not only filled with grief and dismay, but shrank with inexpressible pain and mortification from the very idea of having his malady made known outside of our own immediate family. I fear that this feeling was even stronger than my sorrow at his affliction, on this account You see, my Rachel, I am very candid, and am laying bare all my unworthy weakness before you?but you are my own self, and ought to know the secrets of my heart. "Maurice did not become, at that time, actually insane; but he bad wild fits, and was occasionally very violent My mother abhorred the idea of placing him in an Asylum, or, indeed, of yielding him to any guardianship but her own. Even when most uncontrollable, he would submit to her gentle authority, for her influence over him was wonderful, and when he was in this unfortunate condition, she would never leave him, day or night, until the spell was over and he could again be trusted to go at large. "This state of things lasted about eighteen months, and then, to our surprise end relief, he appeared quite to shake off his infirmity, and to become better in health and spirits than we had ever known him. Shortly after this improvraent occurred, our dear mother died ; her last days being rendered happy and hopeful by the favorable turn his constitution had taken. "This common loss seemed to draw us nearer together, and create a warmer feeling of sympathy and affection between us than had ever existed before. Two or three years passed without any further change occurring in our lives. After that we separated?I to travel in Europe; Maurice to establish himself in business in Richmond, where for some time he continued to do well. I went ix> Rorae, Naples, Paris, London, and had my fill of sight-seeing aud the pleasures of travel. Finally, I returned home and settled down at the old homestead?our own dear home, Rachel, where you and I were afterwards %so happy together for a time. "Shortly after this, my brother married. His wife, however, by a dispensation of Providence which has since appeared veiy mergiful, did not live more than a year a:fter their marriage, which was a happy one while it lasted. All this time Maurice had not betrayed the least symptom of any return of his disease. "A few months before I met you, however, I began to notice a change in him. He grew restless and irritable, and his old moody, abstracted fits*carae upon him again. I trembled at these signs, which, too truly, I interpreted as forewar n in gs of what shortly happened. Before six weeks had passed, he was a raving lunatic, and I was compelled to place him in an Asylum, being quite unable to con 1 > ' * - ? if : I troi mm, anu leei.iug Iiyocn luuumpctcut bu bestow upon him the sort of attention he required. "This being his condition at the time thaf I became acquainted with you, and for many months after, I forebore ever to mention to you his name, or oven his existence?the old feeling of reluctance to betray the fact that there was insanity in our blood, restraining me. Indeed, I was restrained by a still more powerful motive, the fear that this knowledge might cause you to look upon me with new emotions, and that your love for me might be chilled by a not unnatural dread of my becoming, in turn, a victim of the disease. Nay more, there were moments in which I keenly reproached myself for having married you, and thus exposed you to so great a risk. For though I had so far escaped, how could I be assured but that I might, one day, be fated to have a share in the inheritance, to which I was as fully entitled as my poor brother ? "Cheering news came to me, at length, from the physician of the asylum where Maurice was confined. His health, I was informed, was beginning to show a marked improvement, and there was every hope that, in time, he would be quite restored. I entered into a regular correspondence with the physician, Dr. Warner, who kept rac constantly posted as to his improvement, which continued to be marked and rapid. At the expiration of some weeks, he wrote me word that his patient's mind was restored to its normal condition, but that his bodily health was not quite as good as it had formerly been, and that it was his opinion that I bad better go for him and bring him home, as this would be the most beneficial change I could afford him. I felt that it was my duty to comply with this request. I was on the point of breaking the news to you and confiding to you the secret which I had so carefully kept, when I was summoned away on business, and resolved to postpone, until my return, the confession which I was still indescribably reluctant to make. "I wrote to Dr. Warner that in a fortnight's time I would go for ray brother; and took leave of you, little dreaming of the terrible consequences which my foolish reticence was to bring on us both. "On the day which I had appointed, I returned home. Imagine my sensations when I found that you had disappeared! But I cannot dwell upon the recollection now ; I must hurry over it as quickly as possible. I learned from one of the servants that ray brother had suddenly made his appearance, had announced that he intended to stay with me for a few days, and desired that supper and a bed should be prepared for him; that after giving these directions, he had been seen going across the lawn toward the shrubbery; and an hour or two later, when Caesar went to call both you and him in to supper, neith? J 1*-. TXT (l W now frt tlT V? nm I UI JUU UUU1U UO 1UUUU. Jurg* Vf amci) w nuviu I instantly wrote, replied, enclosing a letter purporting to be from myself, in which I told him that business of importance kept me from coming for my brother, but that if he was quite restored he had better permit him to go home at once, where he would find a warm welcome. Acting upon this he had let him go, and presumed of course that he was by this time safe with me. When he left him, he said he was perfectly collected, in fact as sane as be had ever been in his lifd, and he felt no anxiety about trusting bim. This letter was a forgery, no doubt witten by Maurice himself, in his impatience to be set free. My hand was so well imitated that even I, upon a hasty persual, could scarcely have recognized that it was another's." "And then," said Rachel in a whisper, as her husband paused, "and then, Murrell, you had that terrible thought about me. What could ever have made you think each a thing ?" "It was the most wretched piece of folly, of madness, that I could have been guilty of," he replied. "But, oh! if you could imagine how distracted my brain was?how nearly crazy I was driven, by the catastrophe of losing you, and in that mysterious way, you would almost pardon me for daring to entertain the terrible suspicion that be had enticed trmi nflf T nnnnnaa T i/i/ij orazv fnr the time. ;v* w? - ""rr- ?j ? It is the only excuse I can offer for doing you, my pure, loving, trusting darling, such wrong. I could not trace either you or him. You had both vanished as completely as though some enchantment had been wrought upon you, and this conspired to strengthen the fatal belief that you were together; for I could not believe you dead, though I tried sometimes, for my comfort?such comfort! yet so it was, by comparison?to think so. "At last, after months and years of waiting, and of ceaseless search, I learned that you were at the Winfields', and in destitute circumstances, having a menial position in their household My feelings, on learning that you were reduced to such a condition, were indescribable. I was ready to curse the betraying hand which had, as I imagined, wrought this final evil upon you." "And you sent me money," said Rachel. "I could not entirely get rid of the idea that it might be you." "I loved you so intensely still, Rachel, notwithstanding the faults of which my folly accused you, that it was soothing to me to be, even in a small way, instrumental to your comfort. In having you thus secretly watched over and provided for, I felt as though you were not entirely cut off from me, and the feeling was a sort of consolation. In the meantime I had heard of the appearance, in one of the German cities, of a person whom I imagined to be Maurice, and had gone over to Europe for the purpose of more effectually assisting in tracing him out. I haunted public resorts and places of amusement, following the imaginary clue I had received, which led me to the spot where I got tidings of you, and where the first link was made in the chain of events which finally brought us together. Little could I imagine, when I shot that wild young Philipson for his attempt to rob me, that through this means I would be led to return to seek you, by having my doubts awakened, from what his mother told me, of the wisdom or justice of the conduct T had nuraued. The account of vour povertv and secluded life in Drowsieville, your melancholy air and habits, and finally of your sudden departure, incident upon the appearance of my brother, whom I easily recognized from description, began to work in me a strange hope that I might all along have been laboring under a delusion ; though the whole affair remained a mystery, only to be fully explained when chance, or rather a kiud Providence, brought Dr. Snow and myself in contact." Here a sudden movement from Maurice, who had continued hitherto perfectly still, interrupted his recital and brought both of them quickly to the bedside. The sick man's eyes were open, and met theirs with an intelligent gaze. He tried to speak, but his weakness rendered it difficult to hear him. His broth er bent over him, and distinguished his own name. "He knows rae," said Murrell, in an eager undertone to his wife. "Call the doctor quickly, Rachel, while I stay beside him." This sign of consciousness was the beginning of Maurice's convalescence. It soon became evident that the physicians' opinion had not been too sanguine, and that the shock caused by his fall had effected a complete revolution in his mental condition. His reason was entirely restored. Though for many days he continued too weak to talk, or hold intercourse with his attendants save by signs and faint broken words. He had no recollection of ever having seen Rachel before; but he soon evinced a liking for her, and became fond of seeing her near him. When his strength began to return, he would sometimes hold short conversations with Murrell concerning affairs and events connected with their past life, which showed that he had not forgotten anything that had happened during his periods of health ; but he was entirely ignorant of what had passed at other times, and seemed to believe that he had only gone through a long and tiresome illness, which bad confused him as to the lapse of time. Rachel felt an anxiety to know whether, in the event of his meeting Magdalen again, (for it was now proved that it had been he, and not Murrell, who had been her lover,) it j would be safe to encourage a renewal of the bond between them, which, it was likely enough, had only been broken through the disordered condition of his mind at that time. In her own restoration to happiness, and in her sympathy for her friend, she was eager that the latter should also come in for a share of Fortune's smiles and benefits, after suffering so long. But she was reluctant to take any steps in the matter, if there still existed a chance that Maurice's malady might return. She confided her perplexity to her friend and counselor; Dr. Snow, only suppressing Magdalen's name, and by him she was advised to do nothing rash, but to wait for some time and let matters take their course. "We've had pretty strong proof, my dear Mrs. Vivian, that Providence has its own way of bringing results about," said the good doctor, "aod that if it is right for an event to come to pass, it needs no interposition or effort of ours. .Oneihing you may do if you like, and that is to break gently to your friend the condition of her former lover, and gather, from the way in which she receives your intelligence, whether she would now be willing or not to restore him to his old place in her regard." "That I could easily do," replied Rachel; "but first of all, I ought to find out whether he remembers and cares for her still; and that is just what I do not know how to do." "Monfinn hop name mannllv hftfnPA him." said the doctor, "and see what effect it has upon him ; and that, no doubt, will be a guide to you how to proceed/' All this time, Magdalen was still in the country; but at last Rachel heard from Mrs. Grey that she was expected back in a week. This made her anxious to set about the prosecution of her scheme, which she had laid with great skill and forethought, so as to avoid all undue excitement of the patient, and-also to give him no reason to suspect her motives; and at the first favorable opportunity she carried the plan into action. At her casual mention of Magdalen's name, Maurice betrayed evident signs of emotion; and in a hesitating yet eager manner, he soon after entreated her to tell him all that she knew of this young lady, whom, he added, he had himself once known extremely well. [to be continued.] fpsttllMWit* fUadhuf. Correspondence of the News and Courier. THE SPARTANBURG LYNCHING. further particulars. Spartanburg, June 17.?Sunday last, a week ago, the body of a young woman was found in the woods near Vernonsville, in this county, shockingly mutilated. The remains were identified as those of Miss Frances Heaton or Woodward, her mother having married twice. The appearances indicated that she had been outraged under circumstances of horrible cruelty, robbed, shot and her throat cut. Suspicion fell from the first on John J. Moore, a white man, living within a few hundred yards of the soene of the tragedy. Moore is a farmer and a store-keeper, a licensed whiskey manufacturer, in comfortable circumstances, and a life-long resident of the neighborhood. His reputation was very bad, however, he having escaped, through legal loopholes, from the consequences of half a dozen ugly charges, and being Widely known as a thief, sharper and desperado. The evidence against Moore gradually ac cumulated. The deceased had last been seen alive ?oing with him from the house in the direction of the place where the body was found, he ostensibly desiring to show her the way, although she declined bis company. It is alleged that he assaulted her twice in sight of his own house, and he was seen soon afterwards alone in the woods near the scene of the tragedy, hatless and shoeless, walking near Tiger River. The tracks found leading from the body oQrresponded with the size of hi9, and showed that they had been made by shoes run down at the heel and on the side. His foot gear was all in that condition. It is also stated that he bad blood on his pantaloons when be returned to the house, and his account of the time of his absence is flatly contradicted by witnesses before the coroner's jury. He was arrested and lodged in jail. The people throughout the entire section of the county were much excited and incensed, and a plan of speedy and terrible vengeance had been maturing, the fury of the citizens being aggravated by the report that he would obtain a change of venue from this county and be defended by able counsel. Last night 150 mounted men, armed with side arms and shot guns, rode into this town and surrounded the jail, leaving heavy pickets along-all the roads leading here. ? The jail was searched on being opened, but the object of the quest was not found, Moore having been spirited away by the sheriff. The organization of the crowd was perfect and thorough order was maintained. The crowd broke into squads, each of which was under the command of. a leader, to whom all yielded implicit obedience, orders being issued in military style and promptly executed. No disguises were used, and all classes and ages seemed to participate. One squad of twenty men, from information received, found Moore concealed under the wall at the side of a bridge on the Air Line Railroad, about a mile aud a half from town, aud guarded by four men. The guard were overpowered and the prisoner was taken out and marched back to the city, amid silence and order. He was not abused, and all his wants were promptly attended to. The raiders soon reformed, and Moore was marched about two miles from town, where he was put in a buggy and driven to the woods, where the body of Miss Woodward was found, seventeen miles from here, the party arriving there about daylight. People flocked to the scene from all directions until a crowd of six hundred had collected. It had been announced that Moore would be hung at 10 o'clock, although some were in favor of burning him. I interviewed the prisoner, but he refused to confess anything, although he had promised to do so on condioilrttnnrl fn nknAoa monnnr nf UUii U1 UClUg oiiunwu I/V wivvgv vuv w* bis death. The crowd became impatient, and arrangements were systematically made for the execution. His wife and family were brought up and allowed to see him. A minister was also brought to him. The people showed terrible quietness and cool relentlesaness, but there was ap entire absence of all excitement or boisterousness. A person one hundred yards from the scene would not have suspected what was transpiring. Moore said little, but was oool and self-possessed. I do pot think that even at the last moment he thought he would really be hung, although he said so. His manner rather indicated that he thought it an attempt to frighten a confession from him. The sisters of the murdered woman were brought face to face with hira and implored him to confess, which he again refused. The idea of burning seemed to gain strength and some few advocated torturing him before death. The committee of arrangements, however, refused to allow either, and proceeded quietly and deliberately with the preparations. The lower branches were cut from a post oak and a buggy drawn under a projecting limb. The prisoner was bound and a hangman's knot put about his neck and the other end of the rope securely tied to the limb, and he was put standing on the seat of the buggy. He said a few words here, denying his guilt, and expressing the hope that the right man might be caught some time. He said that if he thought as the people did, his action would be the same as theirs, under similar circum stances. The question was put to the crowd whether his request that his body be tnrned over to his family should be granted, and general coil* sent was obtained. . . Maj. T. W. Woodward, of Winnsboro, appeared on the scene and made an earnest speech, advising all to await the action of the law. He was listened to quietly, but as soon as he concluded, the cry again arose: Hang him ! Hang him ! String him up! At 6 A. M., two men went deliberately and quietly, took hold of the shafts of the buggy and drew it from under the doomed man, who swung off amid perfect decorum and silence. The knot slipped to the back of his neck and the rope stretched so as to leave his swaying feet brushing the leaves on the ground. He was undoubtedly choked to death, although he scarcely struggled and appeared to suffer v little. He hung about half an hour and was then cut down. Coming away, I met crowds on the road flocking to the scene. If the execution had been deferred to the time announced, there would have been two thousand people of all ages and classes, and both colors present. . There was no excitement, whatever, and the act is universally approved throughout the countv. where Moore had been a terror for years. He was about 40 years old. The lynching was the coolest, quietest and best conducted on record. A. B. W.. ADVANTAGES OFSTAYING IN BED.' Taking an occasional day in bed, simply on account of indisposition, is, however, a very simple and rudimentary notion of thisglorious institution. Bed is the natural domicile of every man. "In bed we laugh, In bed we cry ; And born in bed, in bed we die," Bayard, the French physiologist, maintain-. ed that man is an animal who exercises the thinking faculty best in a horizontal position. Thus, there are high artistic, and intellectual uses connected with an occasional day in bed, which imperatively claim discission. Brinley, the great engineer, when ne was fairly bothered and puzzled by some tough problem, always betook himself to bed nntil he had solved it. Most people have a great kindness for Lord Melbourne, who, under the affectation of frivolity, used to get up Hebrew and 4 the Fathers and imperturbable good humor to bear with his wife, Lady Caroline, while the pretty Byron-struok termagant used to smash the drawing-room furniture., His intimate - ' ' ? " ? .t t? i.l! friends wouia una me rreaner cainuy utmu^ breakfast in bed, with letters and dispatches strewed all over the counterpane. The poets have been terrible fellows to get ontofbed. I suppose it is because the visions of the day and of the night sweetly intermingle. The poet Thompson cultivated laziness as a fine art, and thought out his poems in bed. Pope was a still worse fellow. When he had a fit of inspiration on him, he would jceep the servants running about for him all through the night He made amends to them by the plenteousness of his "vails." We take a later instanoe. Bismarck says, according to Dr. Busch, "I was troubled with varicose veins in 1866. I lav full length on the bed, and had to answer letteia of a very desperate sort with a pencil." He has given us some of his ezperienoe when lying in bed. "I used to lie awake full of all sorts of thoughts and troubles. Then Varzin would suddenly come up before me, perfectly distinct in the minutest particulars, like a great picture, with even all its colors fresh?the green trees, the sunshine on the stems, the blue sky above. I saw every individual there,. 1 struggled to shake the thing off; and when at last 1 ceased to see it, other things came in?reports, noted, dispacthes, and so on; but I fell over about morning." Bismarck, at Versailes, used to lie |n bed a great deal, "because he cannot keep himself reasonably warm in any other way." I sympathize with Bismarck. Accept, Prince, the mark of my most distinguished consideration.?London Society* ? t Ingenious Teacher.?A Massachusetts teacher writes, describing an experiment in the school-room, which seems to be successful. Instead of facing his pupils he has his desk hfihind them, and thus overlooks them to great advantage. The naughty little ones, not knowing when his eye is on them, dare not whisper and play. 'Tney have,' he says, too frequently come to grief m attempting to calculate chanoes, that they have concluded to make a virtue of necessity, and give .up play in the school-room as unprofitable, costing more than it comes to.' Another decided advantage of this system is that it completely isolates classes reciting from the rest of the school; the recitation benches being in front of the teacher's desk, between him and the school, and the backs of the pupils toward each other, communication by look or signs is out of the question. The only special rule made is that pupils shall not look around. On May 24, Queen Victoria completed her sixtieth year, an age which has been exceeded by eleven only of the sovereigns of England, dating from the Norman conquest, namely: Henry I, who lived to the age of 67 years; Henry III, who lived 65 years; Edward I, who lived to be 67 years old ; Edward III, 85 years; Queen Elizabeth, who reached 69 years; James II, 68 years ^George I, 67 years: George II, 77 years-; George III, 82 years ; George IV, 68 years, ana Wil-, liam IV, who lived 72 years. She has reigned 42 years on the 20th of June, a period which has not been exceeded by more than four English sovereigns, namely: Henry III, vjrho reigned ?6 years ; Edward III, who reigned 59 years; Queen Elizabeth, who reigned 45 years, and George III, 60 years. I?-Things will happen queerlyin this world. The brave General Shields commanded Southern troops in the Mexican war, and the attachment was very strong between officers and men. Tiie men made the General liked at home, and he was serenaded and feted in more than one Southern State. At one of the entertainments given in his honor, at Mobile, in responding to a toast, after warmly eulogiz .i - o x ing me vaior or oouuieni troops, upwumj lauding Davis* Mississippi Rifles and the Palmetto regiment, he concluded, "If ever I raise my hand against my comrades, may my right arm be stricken from my body/' The hand was raised and the arm was lost ? S I?* Queen Victoria drinks tea out of a saucer. As this is the right and sensible way to drink it, it is to be hoped that- she wil persevere and set a wholesome example. That's the best way to drink coffee, unless you want to burn your tongue.