Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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SUXTBfc WATCHMAN. r*?MHh<*lApra, 1850. Consolidated Aug. 2, 18814???^ "Be Just and-Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Ai^ns't at, be thy Country's, t?y God's and Truth's TH li TSWX S0?1HR03, Established June, 13 3-' SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY. MAY 6, 1891. Sew Series-Vol. X. Ko. 40. \ of mu ?ts be 1 Mblishfld ?my Podaos day, N. GK OSTEJSN, SUMTER, S. C. TERMS ! Two Dollars per annum-io advance. A D VB ITIStSBl TS . Square, first tnsertion....".............$l 00 ry stt??queatinsertion..^?.?..^;.. ; i50 Goa tracts for three wootha, .rloogsr'wfll ? mad? at reduced rates. Al! coauoooicatioas which subserve private itstcati will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be "for. 1 WEIRD LOIR. By DATED TTKR. fPapjri?bt br American Press Association.] CHAPTER L " THE LONELY TO WSE. "God protect us!" muttered the mother. "There, he comes! that's he!" 1 "What? That tall mart on the other 'dd*cf the street? Well, he's splendidly bandi ome, if ever any man was, bot [with ft slight shudder] there's some? thing in his face that frightens me, though I dont know why." "Ah! do you feel like that too? Well, Ufa very odd, bot everyone that looks st 2dm says the same. The first time 2 ewer saw bim I felt just as I used to feel when I was a child over the pictures of those/ dreadful enchanted men in the fairy tales who, when midnight cania, turned into wolves or tigers or devils, sod devoured every one within reach." No one who knew them would have laid aa pvervivid miagination, to the charge of tibe two worthy burghers who were gossiping titus in the mam street r?lfiaraeiDes; yet this man had strange? ly impressed them both, and the impres? sion (for which there seemed to be no {tanbie reason)-was exactly the same in both cases. 4 Meanwhile the subject of their talk s tail, fine looking man in the prime of . Eire, wearing s handsome thoagh rather 1 theatrical Hungarian dress, which set j eff hza nobie figuro to full advantage- j irerrt slowly along the opposite sidewalk, with his head bent down as if in deep thought, and seenringly unconscious of the admiring fiances shot at him by many passing ladies; Suddenly he raised his head as if he had come to some final decision on the subject, that was occupying his thoughts. As he did so his eyes met those of a tiny girl who was being carried past him in the aims cf a stout market woman. A moment before the child had been laugh? ing gleefully and playing with the fringe of her mother^ shawl, bat as she encoun? tered the piercing glance of those large, black, fiery eyes, she trembled and began to cry. i "God protect nsf* muttered the moth? er, hastily signing th?; cross over the shuddering infant; "?hat man must surely ha^tfeev?ey*^ As the stranger ? . on two men who were chatting *t door of a large stone house terned to look at hiiry "If that fe?ow were; only a poor man Td hire him for a model this very day," said tixe taller of the two, a distinguished French artist, in a tone of irrepressible enthusiasm. uH5s lace is worthy of Van? dyke." "Worthy of The Police Gazette, you mean," growled his companion, who was no other than the prefect of police him? self. "Mark my words, friend Victor, that man Will comm?t some horrible crime ene day or other, if indeed he hasn't done it already!" And who then was this man who seemed to inspire such a universal feel? ing of mingled horror and admiration? This was the very question which every one in Marseilles was asking, and which no one seemed able to answer. All that was as yet known of the stran? ger was that he had arrived from Paris j a few weeks before, attended by half a j dozen fierce looking fellows in the dress j of Hungarian foresters; that he had j gone straight to the largest hotel and ! taken a whole suite of rooms to himself,} at a cost worthy of Dumas' Count of j Monte Cristo, in the name of "Prince Ke- ; retsenyi. Janosz castle, Southern Transyl- ; vania," and that at a public ball two days after his arrival he had signalized his entrance into local society by a feat ? that made him at once the talk of the j whole town. Among the guests at the ball was a ! certain dragoon captain, Louis Du Val j by name, a noted bully and duelist, who . was always on the lookout for a quar- j rel. He was standing amid a circle of ! his admirers when the Transylvanian : prince entered. The sudden intro lac- j tion of this superbly handsome stranger j a renowned historical name as . Kexetsenyi sent a buzz of excite the whole room, but Capt | al laughed scornfnlly, and observed ; atone evidently meant to reach the 's ears that these Hungarian cad princes often carried all j estate on their backs, and that j title deeds were sometimes to be j found in tho register of the nearest Jfkarcely were the insulting words ut-1 tered, when Keretsenyi .stepped quickly j up to the speaker, and dealt him a slap j in the face with bis open hand that ' Hoboed all around the room like a pistol ? Shot. < Jjj|?Sch a commencement could have but one result. The preliminaries of a meet- j ing were soon adjusted, and next mon mg the redoubtable Capt Du Tal, one of , ti? beat swordsmen in the whole south j of Trafico, was borne home speechless j -S?? desperately wounded from the last j duel that he was ever to fight. "I knew from the very first how it j lbe;~ said Du Val's second, telling story that evening to his friends at , xb. "When my man stepped for- j the Transylvanian gave him one i iook^socit' a look!-just the way t lion tamer last rear used to look at 5??as?^ HT' made me tingle all ove know that Poor Du Val seemed to : it too, for I saw Iiis color charge ; his hand shake (fancy his hand sha ton and then I knew that Keretsenyi 3 him. So he had, sure enough, for tl had hardly been at it three mime when Du Val, for the first time in life I should think, left his guard o] for an instant, and the next momejn saw him Iring at my feet all over bio He31- ney?r fight again, poor fellow! his right arm is crippled for life.'* Bot tfiis duel was fated to have m< .mportgant results toan 'the spoiling Capt. Du Val's swordsmanship. Just < of tiie town lived aa old Gascon gent man, M. de la Boche, with a pedigree long as his purse was short, whose c .regret in life was the loss of the esta of which his family had been depriv by an unfortunate accident known history as the French Re volution. His : vorite nephew having been killed ii duel by Du Val the old man was n; nrally delighted to see the bully puni? ed in his torn, and lost no time in ca ing upon Keretsenyi to congratulate hil l??^ prince received him courteously, i turned his visit, and finding his hos daughter. Madeleine one of the, prettu girls that net had ever seen, fell in lo with her, or at least appeared to do i on the spot. . Nothing could be more flattering to simple, inexperienced girl, utterly ign< ant of the world and only just freed frc the prison of a convent school, than tx homage from a man who had the whe fashionable world of Marseilles at I feet; for in France-and in most otb countries too, for that matter-any o: who has the reputation of being ve rich and very wicked, with the adc tiona! merit of having murdered a mi either in the ceremonious form of a du or in the simpler and more usual way, certain to achieve an immense popula ity; and Prince Keretsenyi received i much attention from the local beaut! that had be been a Turk or a Mormc he might have taken away with hi wives enough to stock an entire harem It was true that in her inmost nea 'Madeleine felt an instinctive shrinkii from this mysterious and terrible suito who, when they first met, had darted ; her a look of fierce and hungry admir. tion which scared her with a sudden ar ghastly memory of a frightful pictm that she had once seen in her childhoo< where a wolf, standing over a helple* child in tiie snow, was just about to bur its cruel fangs in the infant's throat. ] was also true that she had had her ow dreams of ideal bliss, and that her par ner in those dreams wore not the towej ing form and tiger like beauty of Kera sen vi, but the likeness of the brig! haired boy who had been the chose playmate of her childhood. But he father would not hear a word of Hem de Mortemart, and of course her fattie must know best. This last consideration, combined wit Keretsenyfs extraordinary persona beauty, the splendid presents which h was always making her, his renown a the conqueror of the most dreaded an< formidable duelist in the whole district and, above all, the weird, indefinabl fascination which seemed to attach it self to everything that he did or said was strong enough to stifle in Made leine's heart the warning instinct whicl bade her beware of this ill omened union and when once the prince had spoket out, old De la Roche-who would gladly have sold his own soul (to say nothing o his daughter) for a tithe of the sun which Keretsenyi offered to settle on hi bride-took good care that there shonlt be no undue delay in the celebration ol the marriage. - Thus it came to pass that one evening in the early autumn of that year twt gossips met on the broad white pave ment of the Cannebiere, and one of them said to the other: "Well, M. le Prince has certainlj made a successful summer campaign among us; he has beaten the best man and married the prettiest woman in all Marseilles.'' "And Henri do Mortemart?' asked his friend; "how does he like to see his 'soul's adored' in the arms of another man?" ^Eo likes it so little, poor fellow! that he has-suddenly disappeared, and people are saying that he must have committed suicide. * Bint what wouid you have? Even if Keretsenyi hadn't come in the way at all, Henri would never have got her. He was branded with the worst of all crimes-he was guilty of being poor!'' Poor Princess Madeleine had a long and weary, journey to her new "home amid the distant Carpathian rr. >untains, in .the wild border land oetween Transyl? vania and Wallachia, for her grim bridegroom, as if spurred by a mad im? patience to see his ancient castle once more, hurried forward night and day without ever pausing to rest, seemingly expecting her to be as insensible to fa? tigue as he was himself. Her strength was welt nigh exhausted by the time they quieted the railway for a large traveling carriage, which was awaiting them at the station. But this was in tarn' left behind as the road grew rougher and steeper, and just as night was falTrng she found herself on horse? back half way up the endless zigzags of a breakneck mountain path, while just in front of her, tall and shadowy as a phantom in the ghostly twilight, rode Keretsenyi on a mighty black horse, worthy of, the specter huntsman of Ger? man legend, Where the sun had gone down one pale, spectral gleam still lingered above the gloomy hills, covered to the very summit with shadowy pine forests, and against it rose, black and grim, the mass? ive tower of an ancient castle. As Madeleine caught sight of it there shot through her heart such a chill as men are said to feel at the approach of the unknown foe by whose hand they must die, but the prince's large, dark eyes lighted up like those of a wolf scenting prey, and the voice in which ho mutter? ed, "At lastP was tremulous with a fierce and feverish exultation. The lonely tower quickly vanished amid the deepening darkness of maht, and on they went in ghostly gloom and silence, like a train of specters going down into the grave. Only by the trampling of horsehoofs before and be? hind ber could Madeleine tell that she was not utterly alone, and there began to steal over her a sense of ghastly, freez? ing isolation, of having left human pity and human aid far behind her, of being cut off forever from the living world of men, and in the power of beings to whom iight and life were abhorrent, and whose home was the realm of loneliness and of night. All at once a huge shadowy building loomed up dimly in front of them by the faint fight of tho rising moon. It was more like a vast tomb than any habita- j tion of living men, for no spark of light was seen within, nor could the slightest sound be heard. Keretsenyi halted s.7i3 blew a blast on the horn that hung at his saddlebow, loud and harsh enough to wake the dead. And it appeared as if he had really done so, for as the ponderous gate swung slowly and sullenly back the gaunt, spectral retainer who stood, lamp in hand, within the black, tunnel like arch? way, his white, haggard face looking doubly ghastly by contrast with tho black velvet dress that he wore, did in? deed seem newly risen from the grave. Silent and shuddering Madeleine passed : the fatal threshold, and as she did so the dreary howl of a wolf from the encir? cling forest was answered by the boding shriek of an owl from a ruined turret i overhead. It was her welcome-a fit welcome indeed to such a home! CHAPTER IL WHAT MADELEINE SAW BEHIND THE CUR? TAIN. As she saw what it had concealed she ut? tered a tow, choking cry. "If I could only escape-but there is .no hope of that! Or if I had even one friend near me whom I could trust! God send me some help quickly, before I die or go mad! Oh, father, father! was a handful of money worth wrecking my life for?** It was a strange speech for a bride in the first week of her honeymoon; but to poor Princess Keretsenyi that one week j had seemed longer than a year. And well it might. Could a single Hying soul be doomed to eternal impris-1 onment among the dead, that horrible j exile would fitly represent the life (if j such it could be called) to which Made- ? leine found herself fettered without help or hope of deliverance. The grim old feudal fortress, with its gloomy tow? ers and crumbling battlements, its mil? dewed hangings, moth eaten tapestries and pictures moldering out of their frames, seemed like a vast tomb itself, and the gaunt, gliding, spectral retain? ers who flitted noiselessly through its huge, desolate rooins or along its ghostly passages had the withered, gray, lifeless aspect of dried np corpses. Their very movements had a slow, mechanical heaviness utterly unlike any motion of living men, and more appalling to poor Madeleine than even the death like ap? pearance of their faces. But to the ill fated girl the most terri? fying characteristic ot these human ma? chines was their stony and unchanging silence. They never seemed to speak to each other; they never by any chance : spoke to her, and when she gave an or- j der or asked a question they either re? plied by signs or made no reply at all. Whether they were actually dumb or whether their stern master had forbid? den them to hold any communication ; with her, she never, from first to last, heard one of them utter a single word. Amid this mute train of. specters one j might have thought that even the com- I panionship of her mysterious and terri- j ble husband-who-at least wore a human. I face and spoke with a human voice- I would be a kind of relief to her. But'J the instinctive terror which had always j underlain her girlish admiration of ? Keretsenyi had now filled her mind so completely as to leave no space for any ! other feeling. She could not forget how, when they stood together before the j altar, the consecrated tapers that burned j on it suddenly went ont (though not a j breath of air was stirring), and how her ? old nurse had solemnly declared that a glance from the fiery eyes of the terrible bridegroom had made these weaker I flames tremble and expire. Nor-had she ! forgotten how Keretsenyi, when excited j by an argument with one of her father's i military guests, had darted at-his adver? sary a look beneath which Col. De Malst -a strong and courageous man in the prime of life-seemed to shrink and wither like paper sniveling in the fire. What could he be, this man to whom she had bound herself forever? This man with the beauty of a god and the glance of a demon, accomplished as a hero of romance, yet savage as a wolf of the forest. That some fearful tragedy lay behind the impenetrable mystery that wrapped him like a pall she felt only too sure, ani this suspicion was j vaguely but terribly confirmed on the ? very day after their arrival at Janosz j castle. ! The two earlier meals having been taken in their own room, the evening re- i past was the princesa' first introduction | to the great dining 'hall, which, having been built to hold scores of armed men. looked indescribably dreary and desolate when tenanted only by their two selves; for the silent, spectral retainers, who came and went like shadows in their black, funereal dress, only intensified the crushing sense of loneliness instead of relieving it. The bride's eyes wan? dered with secret terror over the huge bare walls, the massive pillars festooned with torn and dusty banners, the vault? ed roof with its mighty cross beams of solid oak, the pine torches that flamed and crackled in their iron stands over? head, and the vast antique fireplace, with its fantastic carvings, till her timid gaze rested at length upon another ob? ject mora strange and startling than all. Just behind her husband's tall oaken chair stood a life size wax figure (or what appeared to be such) holding a small sil? ver lamp in its outstretched hand. It represented a young mau of marvelous beauty picturesquely set off by the showy uniform of a Honved hussar; but the face, instead of wearing the fixed, unmeaning star'1 common to such fig? ures, was writhed and distorted as if by a spasm of mortal agony, wi i ich looked so horribly real in the fitful glare of the torchlight that Madeleine fairly started. She was just about to ask sonic question respecting this weird ornament, when Keretsenyi, catching her inquiring glance, replied to it with a smile more fierce and cruel and terribie than his blackest frown, which froze tho half formed words on her lips. So far as she herself was concerned, however, the first few weeks gave Made? leine no valid reason for her unconquer? able terror of her husband. To her he was always attentive and affectionate, th< ugh his affection resembled rathr-r the watchful jai*e of a kind guardian than the passionate tenderness of a bric groom in his honeymoon. He did 1 utmost in varions ways to make t grim isolation of this strange life mc endurable to her. Horses of that mate less Hungarian breed which he had hit erto known only through books of tra\ were always at her disposal, and h morning gallops over the hills by h husband's side, with the sun shiuing a cloudless sky and the fragrance of t". pine woods filling the whole air, we almost the only bright spots in her drea: existence. Keretsenyi, too, seemed to feel the influence as well as herself, and shake off for a moment on such eva? sions the mysterious gloom which at a other times weighed him down like nightmare. As his horse hoofs ratth along the steep rocky ledge paths ar the mountain breeze whistled throng his long hair he seemed almost happ; but the moment they re-entered the dal walls of the grim old castle the gloom spell was upon him once more and upc his bride likewise. When they were together in the evei ing Keretsenyi would often tell her e: citing stories of the strange people an wonderful sights that he bad seen in h travels, which appeared to have extern ed over every part cf the earth, an which he described with such startlin power and vividness that Madeleine a most forgot her terror of him in the ii terest with which she listened. Ba then all at once he would stop short, a if something choked him, and she, loot ing up in amazement, would find hir gazing at her with a sad, wistful looi full of pity and of yearning tenderness such a look as Jephthah might have eas at his only child the moment before h slew her. On one of these occasions, moved b; a strange impulse of womanly compas sion which she herself hardly under, stood, she took his hand in both her owi and pressed it to her lips. The strom man started as if stung by a viper clasped her passionately to him for om moment, and kissed her as if his who! soul went into the caress, and thei thrust her fiercely away and rushe( headlong from the room. The morning after this strange out burst the prince suddenly announced t< her that he must leave her that ver] day, on an errand which might detail him for several weeks, and before sh< had time to recover from her amazement at this unexpected news (for hitherto h< had hardly let her out of his sight, ano would never allow her to go beyond the castle gates alone) he was actually gone, and she stood watching his lessening figure as he spurred his black horse along a narrow, zigzag, broken path, which skirted the brink of a precipice so terrific that few men would have cared to pass it even at a walk. But just then she caught a fragment of the talk of two passing peasants below her, who, like herself, had paused to watch the reckless course of the distant horseman. "Uncle. ": said the younger of the two, who was a stranger in that neighbor? hood, "if yon prince of thine always rides as madly as this, he hath done well tn marry again so soon, lest the race of Keretsenyi should end with him." "He hath naught to fear on that score, nephew," answered the older man sol? emnly. "It was foretold to him long ago, by a tongue which cannot lie, that no living thing, man or beast, shall have power to touch his life, and that, when his hour comes, he shall go down alive into the graver' Madeleine was almost ashamed to find how immeasurably relieved she felt by Keretsenyi's departure; but before many days were over she had good cause to wish him back again. In that lifeless atmosphere the exciting influence of his fierce feverish vitality was like the plunge of an avalanche into a still mountain lake; and now that he was gone the gloom and silence and utter loneliness of this abode of the dead were almost mere than she could boar. It was not long, too, before she dis? covered that the ghostlike attendants who peopled her solitude were keeping a stealthy ^>ut incessant watch upon all her movements, which was even harder to endure than the jealous vigilance of her terrible bridegroom had been. When she strolled through the neglected garden or the wide, bare courtyard, she would suddenly catch sight of a black robed, silent form dogging her steps like a haunting shadow. Sho could not walk the battlements without seeing a pale, lean, corpsehixo face peering out at her from an adjoining loophole. No op? position, indeed, was made to the con? tinuance of her morning rides, but when- ! ever she ordered out her horse two of ? the mute phantoms that guarded her in? stantly mounted their horses to bear her company. It was plain that for any victim once caught in these fatal toils there was no escape but death; and she felt instinctively that death itself was already hovering over her, and that its stroke would not be long delayed. ? And now came a passing spell of wet ! ?and stormy weather that lasted for sev? eral days, during which Madeleine, un- j able to venture out, employed her en? forced leisure in exploring the interior of tho castle, many parts of which were still quite new to her. She was all tho more inclined to occupy herself in this way because here, and here alone, she was left unmolested by the ceaseless vigilance of the spies who dogged her every movement elsewhere. In the course of one of these rambles she came upon a long, narrow, gloomy passage, which she followed without knowing why. Thc rooms that opened out of it bore such marks of neglect and decay as showed that they must have lain uninhabited for years; but midway along the corridor she met with an even more striking token of disuse and aban? donment-the doorway of a room which ha<l been actually built up. as if it were never to be occupied again. This of itself would have been nothing very remarkable in such a place, but Madeleine was startled to perceive by the freshness of the work that this roora must have been closed up within the last few years. Of what dark and mysterious tragedy had these voiceless atones been the mute witnesses? 3 lad her terrible husband, like other mci of whom she had read, walled nj) one of his enemies alive in *his dis mal retreat to perish by the slow tort? ura of thirst and famine, or had he? But at that thought she flung out her hands wildly, as if thrusting away from her sonic horrible specter, and was just turning to go back when she happened to notice that one of the posts of this blocked np door had parted slightly from the surrounding woodwork, leav? ing a crack through which it was possi? ble to see into the mysterious chamber. Driven by an impulse beyond her con? trol she crept up to it and peeped through. i There was not much to be seon within i after all-ou?y a bare, dusty, unfurnished ' room, at the farther end of which hung < a black curtain. But a strange horror < fell suddenly u?Wkerasshc'g?zcd, and, springing back as if from the edge of a precipice, she turned s.nd fled away. Two days after Maleme was wan? dering aimlessly along a poestried gal? lery which she had not seen before, when her foot slipped and she fell wi.*"h some force against the wall. To her sunrise the wall seemed to yield with her. a."*d she guessed that she must have accident? ally touched the spring of some secret panel. She lifted thc tapestry, pushed back an oaken panel which was stand? ing ajar behind it, and found herself with what feeling may be easily imag? ined-in the mysterious room with the black curtain. For one moment she stood motionless, glancing round her with a secret horror which she could neither understand nor resist. The door which had been walled up, when thus seen from the inside, ap? peared to be a massive framework of solid black oak, clamped and banded with iron ; and the sight of it increased Madeleine's terror, as she thought how frightful that secret must be for which even such defenses as these were ac? counted insufficient. The room was covered so thickly with dust that her first step into it had stirred I up a cloud which almost choked her; ! but on the bare, unswepc floor she saw a ' line of footprints leading up to tho i black curtain and another line returning from it. Those footprints could belong to no one but her husband, and behind that curtain the secret must lie. With a heart throbbing as if it would burst the excited girl went desperately up to the mysterious veil, paused irreso? lutely for one instant, and then, seizing the curtain convulsively with both her hands, tore it back. As she saw what it had concealed she uttered a low, chok? ing cry, swayed helplessly forward, and would have sunk to the ground but for the support of some object against which she blindly fell. On a kind of shelf behind the curtain stood a small glass case, within which, on a narrow strip of black velvet, were ranged three human heads-the heads of young and beautiful women, still lovely as when they lived, and preserved with such wonderful art that they might well have seemed to be yet alive but for the fixed stare of their widely opened eyes, in which there still appeared to ringer a look of dumb and stony horror. All were splendidly adorned with pearls and other jewelry, and beneath each of the three was a name and a date: MARIE DE MONTAUBAN, May 12, 1830. GERTRUDE TON ROSSBERG, July 6, 1862. VERA BIBIKOFF, Oct. 14 1861 CHAPTER UL A STRAIN OF MUSIC. How Madeleine got back to her own chamber she never knew, but once there she began to feel (strange as it may ap? pear) more cool and collected than she had been since she first entered this liv? ing grave. It seemed as if the very violence of this terrine shock had strung her nerves instead of paralyzing them The bold blood of the warrior race from which she sprang was fairly up at last, ind she faced the terrible crisis with that quiet, steadfast courage which is aever wanting to any true woman in an emergency great enough to call it forth. It was now that she noticed for the arst time a paper clinging to the folds of ber dress. How it came there she could not tell, but on reflection shs seemed Irmly to remember seeing something slide down from the top of the fatal glass ;asc as she staggered against it in her terror. This paper, then, must have been lying there and had been caught in i fold of her dress as it fell. She drew it forth and looked at it It was folded like a letter, and on the out? side was written in tho bold, free hand Df her hnsl?and: "My justification-to be opened after my death." For one moment she hesitated, but in lefending herself against a man who plainly designed to murder her such icraples were manifestly out of place, j She opened the letter, and with a thrill if mingled horror and amazement read ts follows: "I have offered up my third victim, md something warns me that my own loom draws nigh; but one more sacri ice at least shall bo completed ere I die. Nevertheless if my death be really at band it behooves me to leave on record why this blood has been shed, that the lame of Keretsenyi may not be soiled ?ven in thought by a charge of vulgar nurder. Madeleine, looking down, saw a wander? ing gypsy minstrel. "What I have done was no mnrder, ant a just and lawful vengeance. Xever lid man love woman more truly than i oved Marie de Montauban, when 1 Drought her hither as my bride. And low did she repay me? Three months ifter cur wedding day I found that she lad been false to mc-false to me with a smooth faced boy who had been my 'riend and my guest, the last guest ?rhorn these walls shall ever hold, save ;he victims whom 1 offer to my venge vnce. She coniessed her guilt, and lied by my hand aa soon as the words ?vere spoken; but for him I reserved a loom that made him pray for death long ?re it came, and when it came at last to :ut short his agony, 1 embalmed his rorpse and set it up in my dining hall, amp in hand, to light me at my evening neat" A momentary shudder crept through Madeleine's heart as she remembered ;he supposed "wax figure" in tho great lining room, and realized how terrible >vas that hatred which had carried its vengeance even beyond the grave; bat ifter the overwhelming shock of what I ?he had just seen and learned this new j lorror made only a passing impression. ' "Then," continued the letter, "I vowed . iver the body of the woman who had j betrayed mc that my whole life should 1 bv one long vengeance upon the accursed ?ex from which she sprang, and that as she had been false to me within three months of our wedding morn so every >ther woman who fell into my powf-r should die within the same time. How I have kept my word the proofs which this case contains may suffice to- show;. . and ono more shall yet be added to them j ere 1 die, let death come when it will. . Gyuri Keretsenyi." The letter dropped from Madeleine's ! hands. The whole mystery was terribly j clear to her now-her husband was a i murderous madman! i But even in the first shock of that fear ! f-d revelation she felt a strong compas? sion mingling with the instinctive aver? sion in which she had always hold him. She coulu well imagine what intolerable agony it mu"- have been to that strong, simple, impnls^e nature to find itself wronged and befouled by the one human being upon whom ai? the treasures of its love had l?en outpour^ Such an in? jury might well change a..*v man into a demon, and even now, wu** his life blasted and his mind unhinged^ enough was left of his former self to show what a hero he might have been had not' a woman's soft, white hand poured poison into the clear current of his existence. But there was no time for such thoughts now; her life was hanging by a hair, and it behooved her to devise some way of deliverance ere it was too late. Of the three months specified in the letter as her allotted term of grace before being slaughtered like her pre? decessors, barely a fortnight was now left-practically even less in fact, for if she could not succeed in escaping during Keretsenyi's absence, it was hopeless to dream of doing so after his return, which might occur at any moment. But how was this to be done? Watched and followed everywhere as she was by her husband's retainers, she had no chance of getting outside of the castle walls alone; and even if she could con- j trive te give them the slip while riding out in their company, what then? She did not even know which way to turn in order to reach the more civilized region beyond the mountains, while her jailers knew the whole country by heart, and nothing would be easier than to track her down, for in that wild district a lady journeying by herself was sure to attract universal attention. What could she do? Oh, if she had but one friend outside the walls with whom she could communicate! But where was such a friend to be found? And then j there came back to her, bitterly enough, ? the thought of the man who would have given his life to save her, and who, ac? cording to popular rumor, had killed himself in despair at her betrayal of him. Was she not justly punished now? She had sold herself as a slave to please her father, and this was her reward. That evening, as if the weird fascina? tion of her approaching doom impelled ber to the ceaseless contemplation of images of death and horror, she ascended for the first time to the gloomiest part of the whole castle, a projecting tower of massive though ruinous masonry, v.-hi ch overhung the approach to the main en? trance, and had doubtless been used in former times as a post of vantage whence the defenders might shower their mis? siles upon an advancing enemy. Ti:i^ tuiTjt bore tue grim title of -'Tho Pit Tower," a name fearfully explained by the traces O? a large circular opening in the pavement of the highest platform, which, though now covered over with moldering and weather worn flagstones, was still plainly visible. Peeping tremblingly through the chinks between these stones. Madeleine looked down into a black an ?J hideous gulf cf unknown depth, out of which rose a foul, damp, grave like odor that made her feel sick and faint. This then must be the dreadful pit darkly hinted at in so many of her hus? band's wild stories, into whoso sunless depths his savage ancestor:; were wont to hurl their cap'ive foes. Was this to be her fate likewise? or was she reserved fer the lingering death of that wretched traitor whose unburied corpse now stood in his enemy's banquet hall, lighting her at her soli tar}* meal? Just then a soft strain of music stole upon the dream}* stillness of the even? ing air, and Madeleine, looking down, saw near tho foot of the wall one of those wandering gypsy minstrels who are so numerous in every part of Hun? gary and Transylvania. He had evi? dently caught sight of her as she leaned over the battlements, for ho doffed his well worn velvet cap and bowed as if in salute. Then touching with a practiced hand the small three stringed guitar which he had just unslung from his shoulders he began to sing. But at thc very first words of the song Princess Keretsenyi gave a violent stare, and bent eagerly forward ever the para? pet of the wall. It was a French song that this Transylvanian minstrel was singing, and, more wonderful still, it was a favorite song of her own. which hardly any ono knew by heart except herself. Nor was this all. Tho voice which sang it was one which she had never expected to hear again-never, at least, on this side cf the grave. Madeleine's heart seemed to stand still as she listened. Had her car3 deceived her? or had the grave indeed gi von units dead, and heaven wrought a min?ele for her deliverance? At that moment the last ray of the set? ting sun, which was sinking redly behiud the dark green waves of wooded mount? ain that surged up ou every side as far as the eye could reach fell right UIJOU the minstrel's upturned face. Madeleine gave a quick gasp, and clutched the bat? tlement to support herself. All her doubts were ended now, for although the singer had tho shaggy black hair and swarthy complexion of a native gypsy his features were those of her lost lover, Henri de Mortemart! CHAPTER IV. GONE DOWN INTO DARKNESS. Before thc stawpiny of his fftiqhtu font th*: cruinbliivj st mic* <j<iv<: tritt/. When the song ceased Madeleine pressed her hands tightly upon her burn? ing forehead, trying in vain to collect her disordered thoughts, and to devise some way of turning to account this un? hoped for chance of deliverance. But she was spared the trcubde, for just then the minstrel-as if to avoid exciting suspicion on the part of Keretser servants, several of whom, attracted the mnsic, were now looking dow: him from the walls-touched his gu anew, and chanted the following ? teneos as if singing tho verses of a so I am your Il^nri, here to save you, I know thc clanger in which you stand; Have you tho means o? making a rope iad?er? If yo? havo, nod your bead. Madeleine thought fer a moment, ; remembered the storer of old hang: with which the castle abounded, i ficient to make a dozen such biddi She nodded, abd the chant went on: Hake the ladder of rome 'lark gram stuff, And lot it flown from tho tower cn which stand. So as to mingls an much rs possible with tho I will brim? a fjood boric luther. And bear you away by night. Then a bright thought struck Ma leine. She toro a leaf from her pod book and scribbled on it in pencil: "Lose no time, for the prince may tum at any moment, and this day f< mjfct I am to die. I will begin to m; the iddder to-night. Heaven bless v -M." WrappiL.** a silver florin in the pa; she threw it t the pretended minsta who bowed aga.'"* as if acknowledge the gift, arid siingi./^ ki.: guitar over shoulders vanished ii:^ a ghost into ! fast falling darkness of uight. In this the servants, ignorant aJ" they w< of French, saw nothing thc ?^st s picions. A passing minstrel had fc.'Uj good song and their mistress had p* him for it-that was all. There was no sleep fer poor Madelei that night. The excitement of &isc< ering that her dead lover was still ali and actually within reach of her woo .J. ne have sufficed to fever every dr of her blood: but even this was CO? pletely swallowed up by the tremendo and almost insupportable agitation this unexpected chance of life just whi death seemed certain. Unable to sleep or even to remain st for a moment, tb*" sci ted girl snatch*, eagerly at the ti. -ly occupation affor ed to her b- .?ecessity cf preparir the materials for her rope laddc Among thc countless cords and han. ings of various colors that abounded t every side it was easy for her to supp' herself with an ample stock of the "das green stuff' recommended by De Mort mart, and she began her work at one? This was by far the best thing 1:1; she could have done. The steady en ploymcnt quieted her overstrain-: nerves, and her spirits rose with ti thought that sae was herself doing som thing to aid her own liberation. SI wiser?r decided to give her ladder ll: simplest possible form, by knotting : intervals into the long rope that she w: making small cross pieces of wood, 1 serve as rests for her hands and fee With these she supplied herself from th spokes of an old fashioned bedstead i tho next room to her own, and dunn the long hours cf that sleepless night th work went rapidly on. The next day it went on more rapid! still and was half finished by nightfal but how could she find out what length it ought to be? A thought struck her. Sitting on th summit of tho Pit tower, overa piece c embroidery which she had lately com menced, she contrived to let one of he balls of silk roll as if by accident (for : keen eye was watching her from ; neighboring turret) over the edge of th battlement. Running cut its whoL length as i'? fell, while she held the othc: end, it reached to within two or thre< feet of thc ground, and thus she got ih< exact measure. By noon the next day the work wai dene, and in the afternoon Princes: Madeleine went for a ride over the hills attended as usual by two of thc jailers who called themselves her servants. She was three or four miles fr: - th? castle, and had just pulled up h&x horse after a smart canter, when a tattered old white bearded beggar hobbled up tc her with a whining petition for alms. Cut as his eyes met hors they darted at her a keen, warning glance, and he whispered in the voice cf Henri de Mor temart : "Is the ladder finished?*' Repressing by a violent effort the start that would have betrayed her Madeleine answered "Yes," while throwing a small silver coin into his outstretched hat. "Be ready then at nightfall on the rhird evening hence, when you shall hear my guitar in the thickets," said the seeming beggar, in a tone audible only to her, and with a clumsy gesture of thanks "ne turned and limped away down the path. That night Madeleine, having listened long and warily for any sound cf move? ment in tho silent case, made up her rope kidder into a bundle, in order to carry it to the Pit tower. But tb her indescribable dismay she found it so heavy that she could hardly raise it from the ground, much less carry it up the steep, high stair of the tower. But the brave eirl was not easily checked with life and freedom before her. She dragged the rope ladder after her along the passage and up the wind? ing stair, reaching the top of the tower so utterly exhausted that she was forced to sit down and gasp for breath. Bat the moment her strength bogan to re? turn she was at work t:gain. knotting the end of her ladder to a broken iron stanchion which had once served to se- ! cure a flagstaff, and then she began to ! let it down, coil after coil, between two j great masses of ivy, the deep shadow of j which would even in the day time make , it quite invisible from below. With all her care, it made a rustling ; among thc leaves which sounded terri- ! bly loud amid that tomb like silence. ! Had any one heard i;? She flinched her ? teeth in desperation as she listened, finn- ? ly resolved that if detected n< >w she v.-< >uld i liing herself headlong [rora the tower j rather thansee her last hope of liberty ' melt away. But all was still, and with the slow, mechanical step cf a .-drep waik? er tko descended thc perilous stair. But now iv.at all w. ? done, and norh- j ii.g left for her but to wait, the slow ; torture became all but unendurable. The nearer the time of her delivancc came the more impossible it appeared. The rope ladder weald bc discovered; Henri would be delayed by some acci? dent; Keretsenyi would return be? fore the time, or would perhaps sur? prise them ki thc very act of oser.; : lg, and wreak upon them both tho tali fury of that hellish vengeance of which she had already seen so many fearful proofs. Would the third ev?eniu r never come? it came at hut-chili, dreary, dark, with coming storm, an i a - thc red glar ; of thc angry sunset faded amid the gathering of clouds that bia? kened over? head, Madeleine, wat -bing i from tho summit of the fatal t >wer felt a~ it th > light of her own lifo wer- going ont along with it. Over and sky brooded a grim, unnatural silence, broken only by a hurrying hoof tramp far away arning the hills, as if some- be? lated * ravel -r w^-re in bas.:?? t > reach his home ero thc storm burst. Hurl:!, TOS that a faint sourk sic from thc black shadowy thick low? She held her breath to listen, and stw denlyit came again, and this time he?, quick ear caught, too plainly to be mis? taken, the notes of her favorite song,, lier rescuer was there ! But just then, as she bent down to se? cure as best she could the trap door that opened from- the st:v.r on to the platform of the Kt tower before hazarding the fearful descent, the approaching hoof trump, which had been growing louder and nearer with every moment,, came ringing and clattering into the court? yard below, and then Keretsenyi's terri? ble voice was heard shouting, to hi3 serv? ants in tones of thunder: '.Keep below,.and whatever you may see cr hear do not stir a foot, or you are all dead men!*' Now or never! Spurred- to-new action? by the imminence of her peril Madeleine sprang to the edgeof the battlement and prepared to descend. But hardly had she got one foot ever the coping- stone when the trapdoor, which she had closed behind her. was burst open with a tre? mendous crash and Keretsenyi, with his dark features ail ablaze with fierce ex? citement and his eyes Haming like live coal-.}, cameboundimfon to the platform. -.Traitress!" shouted he in a voice of t mnder, as he stamped f iously upon? the moldering pa verne: -would you betray me toy; But yon shall not es? cape so easily. The hour is come, and tins night one of us two must dier Those savage words were his last. Befo.*** the furious- stamping of his mighty ^ot the crumbling stones gave way-a bL.*^ and frightful chasm yawned snddt^y beneath his very feet with a terrine cra^-and he was gone! Iso cry '-ame up frc^ tho blackness of that awful gulf, but i> ?own ? its gloomy depths was heard a^Jrianffled rev oration, like the sound o* * aeavy body being dashed from ledge to cf a seemingly bottomless abyss, a^ then all was still. The last of the an? cient race cf Keretsenyi had indeed gone down alive into the grave, and the ghastly prophecy was fulfilled. Tv hat followed, Madeime could never have told. The horror of this crowning tragedy was so great and overwhelming that it seemed to benumb every sense and thought, and tho next thing of which sue was (dearly conscious was finding herself-she knew not how-out? side the castle, and standing upon a small patch of open ground about a bow? shot from its gate, while Henri de Mor temart, supporting her with one hand, held a horse by the bridle with the other. "Mount quickly behind me, for heaven's sake-/' said he through his clinched teeth, as he helped her up, "or we are lost!'* And away they went like sn arrow from a bow, just as a bustle and a glanc? ing to and fro of lights within the gloomy building told that its inmates had taken thc alarm. By daybreak they were many a mile away from the terrible castle, which was destroyed by fire only a few days later-a fit end, indeed, for that den of horror and death. Madeleine returned to her native land in safety, and as the jewels which she brought back with ker sufiiced to re? deem the greater part cf her father's lost estate thc old gentleman was very well pleased with the whole affair, and always looked back upon it and upon bis own cleverness in bringing it about with un mingled satisfaction. But although he never lost a chance of talking about '.my late sen-in-law. Prince Keretsenyi,** he had the sense to make no opposition when his daughter, at the end of her first year cf widowhood, became Mme. de Mortemart. When the story of the "Bluebeard chamber" in Janosz cristie got abroad many people openly expressed their dis? belief in it, declaring that Madeleine must have been out of her mind with terror at that time, or e Iso that the sup? pered heads were nothing worse than wax models ? laced there by; the crazy prince to humer his own strange mono? mania. But Madeleine herself firmly believed, and believes still, that these ghastly relics were genuine, and that it was only the courage and devotion of her second husband wnich saved her from figuring as "Sample No. 4" in the grim museum of her first. THE END. DR. ACKER'S ENGLISH PILLS Are active, effecti'e and pare. For H<-k he xtache, disorder?}-' sumach, loss of appetite, bid coinp'exion ard biliousness, they have never be?T equ ded. either ia America or abroad. Sold by Dr J V". W. DeLorrae. 2 DO NOT SUFFER ANY LONGER. Knowing that a cough can bi checked in a lay, and the tirst stages of con<uuipri??n broken ir: n w*?ek. we hereby guaran ee Dr. A?-ker*j En**Hsh Couirh Remedy, an 1 wil! refund 'be tn??ney to all who buy. take it .is per direction.-?, ?nd -lo not fiiiil our statement correct I V Little Girl's iOxnt-riencc Kln A Light? lioibe. Mr and Mr?. L< rea P es<m?t are 1 crer* of .lie (inf Lighthouse at Sind Beach, Mich., and ? o W??s-d with a daughter, lour yenr.? ol.J. La>t April she was t;ii.Kii d?wn wx'li Measles, ...ll'w ..! with a dreadful C?ugh and turtling .t' a Fever. I octors at heine and nt Detroit ie 'ed hi-r bu? ii: vain, she grew worse rapid ,.. until she w: s a ni-ra '-handful of hones ** Phen s!i? t?i<-?* i>r Kind's New I>:s<*ovcry ?nd ift*r the u.-e of rv.o an 1 a h. lr" betties, wa* >'e e y cured Tlxev -av Dr. King's New I'lfCtrtvv i.- worth i's w?*i?rht in gold, yet you a y -< t :i rr! ! h..tie free at J. F. WT. D?? fi I >-ni;?,..re For Malaria, LiverTrou? ble, cr Indigestion, use BROWN 'S IRON BITTERS For Infants and Children. Cnstoria promotes Digestion, and overcomes Flatulency, Constipation, Sour Sroiu.aeh, Diarrhoea, and Feverishness. Thus tho child is rendered healthy and its sleep natural. Casto r?a. contains no Morphine or other narcotic property. " Cast orin i?-<:rt well adapted to children that 1 recommend ir as superior to any prescription known to mo." H. A. ARCHER. 31. D.. 1?1 South Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "1 use Castoria in my practice, and And it specially adapted to affections of children." ALEX. ROBERTSON, M. D., 1057 Cd Ave., Xew York. '.From r^rs^nrd knowledge and observation F can say mat (Vistor-* is an excellent me-Hcine !..r children, actiner; as a laxative and re iVvjnj: the lieut np bowels ana /arenera 1 systt-m v-ry ranch. Mauy mothers have told me of itsex col?ent effect upon their children."1 Da. G. C. OSGOOD, Lowell, Mass. 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