NEARING THE END." BY R. C. SPENCER. LEAD on, kind heart, O gentle hand of Love, To the far homes where thy light sceptres wave; Lead back my steps, may wandering steps. I movo Que foot on earth, one standing on the gravel Lend, lead me back o'er oceana, 'neath the skies Where all the sweet etirse ehino across the sea; Take me, O gentle angol, where my eyes Are over looking-whither I would be! In wride I left are not flowers growing note? Are voices silent that I hear in dreams? Come, Meusory, lay thy moiet laud ou by brow; How short, but all how long ago it seeme. Are there not birds whose warbling is so sweet, One dare not hear it long 7--1 ecem to bear A hundrod gentle volces in the street- O God I could she but see me dying here. 1 It was not fever when I heard last night, t Or thought I hound her voice-the tone was low, w And sad I fancled-yot Lier heart was light, Was always happy in the "long ago." f Would it be sin for me-for even me, P Lut as I ana-to touch her haud once more? Is'and so wear the unknown nyetic shore, Bo near the glorice of the Great to Bel m Would not be some of the hereafter blended L'en with the carthi-fond mindness of my press r OR ing? Where in the ein when life is nearly ended, 0: For lips once more to long for lips carossing? b le Abt what is this? this music, these faint sounds? Am I then nearing to the end at last? Your band a moment. "Baviour, by thy wounde!" im Note am I led across the sos-Lis past! TIR W to ec LADY INEZ; OL OF THE pa te PASSION FLOWER. AN AMERICAN ROMANCE. di be DC ORAPTER XIL THE SECOND MESSAGE. MeanwurLE Don Gracios continued steadily on re across the evanns, bont upon carrying his mesenge. w be Two hours had passed since he met the threat tom ened enemy, who resulted in being a friend, and ca the sun was beginning to kiss the weet, and an Gracion role toward that quarter the palo light th of the setting sun was on his face. th He was bearing, however, slightly to the north, so that it would have been evident to a quick obarrver that he was making for a walled town, dia which was just discernible in the extreme die- tanee. Also to his right was the point of a wood, ho about three milos distant, and which broke away on cael ede in the most unusual innanor. This forent had the appearance of a fine wedge shooting out upon the proizie, which was level, and utterly unrelieved by any lillock or indenta- we tion, the On all sides a dead level of waving grass was to be ncen, with the exception of the pount at which In the tougue of forest showed itself, and even this sloped away so neutely at each sido Last the pan-a orans of grass could scarcely be said to be am peded even on the north. Don Gracios looked stendily around hins, and in more especially toward the forest. It will be hard bood • pe tu "Danger point," be murmured, as he looked wha toward the forest, "danger point. Let me sec-nt: I am three cortuin miles from the forest, and have fre ten to reach the city. Good. risling If any troop of Indians coming from the woods can overtake me. I am safe, and no is the message. But let us scan the prairie once more; Abese Indian warriors are as cunning as foxes." Again le examined the expanse about him; not a sign of any living being was to be seen. "Safe," he said, and rode on without much farther fear. He gave uo beed to the half-doubt of the ap- perent enfely by the sheence of all danger. Thrco wo miles from the nearest point at which an enemy a C could appear, and while that distonce was being Becomplished, he would be so pear the city that wor any endeavor to overtake him would bring the bo Indias enemy in danger of pursuit by white men for freshly mounted, while they themselves would be we the wo Jay I 2 spo twe 1. rig P 1 opun exhausted cattle. The meesugo is rafo," thought Don Gracios. And so thinking, hio broko gayly into a love song, and let bis horse canter lightly over the turf. How long he had passed the point he was not the afterward able to calculate, for be admitted that, aft iden of danger being part, he had relaxed the jus watchfulness which be bad minintained through- out the expedition, and hod given himself up to thoughts of a happier and more clarining nature. het Suddenly, behind him, he beard the tramp of st least three liorace. The surprise was terrible. There was no gradually increasing sound of approaching hoote, boganing in a mere whisper, above the silence of the prairio, to the heavy thud ut the approaching horse. Suddenly, in the midst of that fair expanse of level grass, he heard the tramp of horses pour at hand, What should he.do? I'ut ou his borse, or turn? "Turn," he thoughts, "for they may fire.". And ne ho ao deeld, he faced the enemy- Judian, he, Inow, as the ruse by which they m reuched him proved. As he turard, bo saw the trap into which he had fallo. The Indians, three in number, and all mounted, ins E bra -100 bo 2 ca 7 I was tion 8 t t b know their trale too well to waste their horses strength by means of a long chuso after their intended victim. The means they had taken were very simple, ve; but most ingenione. WO it Indiane, when sleeping on the prairie, are in the habit of making themselves a bed for the night by cutting a long strip in the grass, raising it one Sen side against the wind, and croeping under its shelter. a; In the prosent instance the Indians had each cut a long trap-dour of grass, and hidden himself and horse behind it. To the ordinary ayo there was no evidence of any change in the level of the grues, for in that veet expanso the raising of a piece of grase sufl. clont to ebolter a man and his horse was not per- ceptible sa a break in the level itself. Only by the Indian eyo could that ruso have been detected. The raised grass looked whiter. than the level swart, the reflection of light by the position of the blades being very much increased. Don Gracios hnd take no notice of the fact that three spots in the praire looked brighter and whiter than the goneral escanso, and that these spots iny a little off on the right of him, and i fairly facing time don, He continued his way and passed these points. He was, then, fairty in the trap-be lnd abacet t placed hanself in the power of the Indians. 2 Turnine, he saw the raised turf, and in a mo- L mout comprobended bow blindly trustful he had been, for it need not be said that if one appronebes on the inner side of such a shelter the inequality la in the level of the ground is at onco apparent. e And yet a warning had been given him by one of the Indians which he might have taken-which ho must havo takeu had be beeu possemed of the least Indian nemen. TL ? M Smoke rose from one of the ward-traps, that ncurest the rider, so that the other Indiaus kcop-t ing well under their ebolter at the criticul moment th when the boreeman approached, they were unable n to mark this friendly warning on the part of their companivu, who for some moments threw vigor our clouds of tobacco smoke over the prairie. S The smoke sot toward the tider and from the prairie-traps, or the other Indiaus must have de- tected the manconvre. V But then on the other hand, perchance the In- dian would not have used his calumot hod l been ignorant of the lio of the wind. te ca a Neither the white spots of grass on the prairie, nor the smoke, the perfause of which must have of reached hin, gave the waruing to Don Gracios, who, deeply immersed in pleasut thoughts, for he song in rocasnro with his horse's hoof-falle, took no heed of warning when he know not that caution was necessary BE he He turned, and in a moment he comprehended the trap into which he had fallen. He marked 133 the raised turf, the shelter offered to man and horse. th Thirco enemies, he thought, as he saw the In-ca diane, B ww He met them bravely; he knew there was no at hope of sacrey or parley with Indians, A moment, and a pintol was in his land. The trigger clicked, but no explosion followed. Treachery?" he asked himself, instantly. No-be remembered that the porcussion capa po were too large, that they would not it tightly on ot the nipple. la pa As this thought flashed upon him the foremost Indan, spear in hand, was upon him. Now a epear, unless ranguificently managed, in oc A very poor weapon, with which very httle ese-ta cution can be accomplished. ne w Certainly the Indian bad the apparent power to inupale Dun Gracios. But, on the coutrary, he turned the huce from the cavalier's heart, at ti which it was unquestionably pointed, and simply se struck hin on the left arm, driving Don Gracion from the enddio. "Señor, assame death," cried a voico, " or you will suffer st." www ex in For a moment Don Gracios resented the sug- gestion; he had no time to wonder at the words, th spoken in good Englieb by the Indian, whoso eyen wero fixed upon the point of forest jutting into M the prairie; for one more moment ho resented the low words, and even prepared to defend himself as be be lay upon the ground. 80 es But the next the intenee pain caused by the tra wound in the arm operated so fearfully, that with be a ery of pain he fainted. "Methought the drug upon the epear-head des would do its woru," he said, leaping from his boree, and approaching the still and pole-faced th form before lato. At this point the other Indians reached the sh upot, Nor had theso uvente occupied more than las twelve seconds. "Dead," said the Indian, as he held the don's right hand between bis, and busied himself about the fringe around the cuff of the sleeve, "See," he continued, pointing to the horizon, just beyond the forest's point, "Dust," oriod one of the Indians. "And unfriendly. He is dead-teavo lum whero tom he falls. See, here is the message." his 190 of 111 It is the one." m Bla "Tis in a quill."
- True,"
"Quick, to borse." SP
ay 1 wa A few momente, and they were goue. Don Gracios must have remained in a state of insonsibility for some time, for when he once more opened his eyes the twilight was upen the prairic. Inc Before be welcomed his horse, which stood pa browsing near him-before heexamined his wound be tonehed the culf of his left eleove. "Safe," he said, joyfully. Then he questioned the right sleeve "Hal they have mistaken the alcove; the true mango remains," joy was eo great that for some somente las ben was.guito overcome. Then he turned his atten tion to his wound, Strange, it did not pain him, not even to a slight WE he A the os degree. And, upon examination, he found that beir the injury was very superficial. "Why, then," he asked himself, "had it caused ple, him so much pain?" It was a question ho was unable to answer. the Ho had lost very little blood, and, when he was ght once more orect, he did not feel wonk-an ordin noary experience upon recovering from a bit of ingen- its eibility which has been caused by pain. Nay, he found that he was able to mount hie nch patient horse without any trouble. And this self effected, he eet his sleed's head toward the city. Why the Indians had spared his ecalp-why lis c of wound pained him so slightly-why he was not hat exhausted, were questions that he could not -answer, nor did bo wut to answer himself. i <- His comprehension rapidly becamo engrossed e in this one determination: O sve "I must bo in time-and I even yet may be in time." er L he d. And clapping the spurs to his horeo, away he a was carried, Fr the good quadruped had quietly rested and Irowsed while his master lay inecui- set and bile. se - V nd CHAPTER XIL-AT THE VILLA. b b th THE reader knows that the Lady Passion- Flower passed her days lillon from the world- met that ebe appeared in the City of Mexioo twice a day at prayor--th it be then passed from the basy baunts of man, and was een no more. fo ad Gossip-and nobody can escapo gossip-had very little to say about the life at the Villa, na the house the lady occupied in the suburbs of the city was called. t ty T ne It was not a large dwelling-place, and a very th little money paid for it; but the house ona walled ein, bad a pretty hanging garden about it, and was na cechuled as a borinal's coll. U V: st All thint gossip could say about the Villa was b this: that the Indy and the duenna alone formed be nt the household, that they lived very plainly, that many a poor man lived more expensively, and that neither drank wine. b ir qa 4 "They may not be rich," asid one determined fa gossip, "but if they were, I een not bow they could spend money, for methinke veritably they live upon bread and water." But had the gossips seen the interior of the br Villa, they would have found it contained number- less evidences of wealth. The walls were beautifully papered, the Persian carpete woro exquisitely beautiful, and many an we object of art in marble, gold, silver, and a score of other materials, were to be soon, d P or The windows were curtained with alk, and one special room was tapestried. LE at But the great charm in the interior of the lady's F house was its artistic arrangement. It was one of ve those houses in which you feel at home in a 10 moment. d d The Indina girl, Minahaba, told the unknown, lia the sad man who evidently watched over the lady ma called Passion-Flower, that sometimes the Indy DO sang, and sometimes the guitar was beard, and at others the lady appeared at the window. his pa But in truth the Lady Inez-Passion-Flower worked very hard all the day, and sometimes far into the night. be bo lie t About the time the lady and the duenna ap inpeared in México, a littio shop was opened in one wh n of the principal streets of Mexico, for the sale of jus lace of a very valoble kind, very rare in America. hir The ladies of Mexico ator a time came to p patronize this little establishment, and it was ho only after a long time that these ladies found out that each kept the samo socret from the rest p nately, that sho" got ber lace quite a bargain." rig The shop-keeper, a quiet-looking woman, bad we in euch individual ense sold ince at a compara-ag tively low price, entreating each indy to maintain secreoy in reference to the transaction. The prices, on the contrary, tikkoted in the wa window wore enormous. 10 ba u sell of. m 100 800 7 pes I It was the Lady Passion-Flower who made this in exquisito lace, and who found an undying pleasure wis in seeing the grand Indics of Mexico appearing at the cathedral in the mantillas of her own making. Soon after she and the denna arrived in Mexico, the latter going into a shop to soll the Inco her mintroms had mado, mot with a sharp, in business-like repulss. Leaving the shop in question affrighted and trombling, a very quiet-koking woman accosted I ber, and intimated that she had witnessed the ESE scene in the shop, and fathermore that she was the d desirous of purchasing lace at a fair price. The remuneration she offered was more than the price asked by the dueans in the drapor establishment for her wares-and so it can about that this quiet-looking woman opened the Inco warehoune, and took from the duenns at s high prico all the lace she brought. The Lady Passion-Flower wept when the duenna hon treturned with the first money paid for the executed sam "I knew I could gain our living, dear doenns-Eng of that I was quilo certain." True the rometimes sang-true sho sometimes Dom touched the guitur-true sometimes she appeared join in the terrace garden; bat sbe worked very hard) many hours per day, and all the bread she ate was elao earned. True she did not ask herself the question, lon "How happens it that I am paid good eums for F my Ince-work, while others but baroly live by it? Lightly she supposed her designs were sought wil after. The passion-flower was often worked in ha new L • work. for 1 E { Spr rance her life and contented, to all ap- 645 , 2 the from bai spud on. But it was a stange existence for so young a laid woman-n sort of voluntary conventual life which was in but poor necord with her youth, and health, and evident beauty. What was the secret of her gray hair? Why was thero evidence of youth in her face, bearing, walk, looks, and age upon her forehead? Why were the lustrous eyes ao melancholy in their gaze-so profound in their thought? Sho must surely have passed through some the anc sina the T at terrible trouble which had left ite undying etsop npra her yonth. d There was a steadiness about bor life which proved she anticipated no change. All observation pointed to the conclusion that i her life as it appeared was quiet-that for bor no cart ly fortune promised a change in her life- that her only aspiration was the peace of death. Why was she watched by the unknown, who ap peared as an Indian one hour, an ecclesiastle the a next? Who was Don Gracios, and what was the purport of his message? cretle And, faslly, who was he who, in form and face the vory second self of Don Gracios, etolo to the Villa in the garb of a Vailed Brother, and who was se received by the lady with great expression of delight and friendlip? The good Mexicana know nothing of all those things. They enw her come to prayer and leave again. She was calm, graceful, beautiful, and spoke to no one. "It is enough," said they. And it was only upon the third day after the visitor arrired at the Villa that a gossip in the bread way, convinced at last, said to her oigh- bors: "Our Lady Passion-Flower's good duonna leys thrice the weight of bread ebo dil, and well wishes ale that wo gossipe abould know nanght of this; for, see you, you, ebe bays only the same quantity of me, purchasing the rest of gosip Harrits, with the eaiuta fairly look after, for, on the faith of my mother's daughter, she gives most short weight. Though, mind you, gossips, of that I say nothing, though, without breaking the law, I may think." This was the first breath of suspicion that rested upon the Lady Passion-Flower, and, as they can- vaneed it, ebe passed, her book of the boars in t baud, her face bidden, the anual panaion-flower beneath the lace. And somehow these good people, sabamed of their cuspicion, capped lower than ever, and for a quarter of an hour the bake a wife was not in favor. So, extra broad to the Villa. Then the unknown visitor remained The next day the doenua bought no more extra bread. CHAPTER XIV. THE DOUBLE MAN Oxs of the most charming men in the Mexican diplomatic circle was an affach to the tabemy of Portugal. He had not been long in Mexico-indeed, he arrived about the time of the Lady Passion- Flower's appearance. But be soon become a bi- versal favorite, and more especially amooget wo men. Yet he was no longer a young man. He must have numbered fifty years, but the charm of lin manner was astounding. Firat dazzling by his musical qualitice, by his singing, by the charm of his conversation--these qualities were totally passed over before the attraction of his sympally. People found themselves confiding in the man before they were aware that their confidence was being placed in his keeping. And those who re- lied upon him-they were more or less all the who eurrounded this attractive tan-never had just cause to repent of the confidence reposed in him. He gave splendid advico in return, and then appeared to langh away the koowledge that he held secrots. If luis advico were followed, he tenk no credit to himself for the accomplishment, but applauded the doer, as though the praise were rightly hin. If, on the contrary, his advico were not followed, and the repentant teror again applied to him, he made no reference to tho mistrust already exhibitod, but again gave the beet practical counsel, tinged with tender which the question suggested to him. As a rule, people appearol to patronize him, hat in a moment he could show who was master and who was not. But very ruroly did he nasert l self; it appeared not to be worth his while. He was called the Don Alvarez di Cerque, a man of about fifty, perhaps more, who rarely laughed, smiled frequently, was the cause of some laughter in others, and who suflored himself from one nost absorbing cause of griof, if not bodily tal- ment. Bodily aiment was believed by many to be the cause of his suffering, and this belief lield good the more that sometimes for days be would not bo After these abeences, when onco more he sp peared in society, he looked pale and careworn. It was esid he was a widower. That he might have married grandly in Mexico was notorious But he lived totally alone in his wing of the house occupied by the Portuguese embassy, and saw very few visitors who were not Englishnien, for, amonget his other accomplishments, be spoko English magnificently. A night or two after the adventure islach befell Don Gracios, a Vailed Brother entered a house ad- joining the embassy. Three minutes passed, and Don Alvarez's bell was heard. The valet bad no idea that his master was at home. When he answered the bell, Alvarozenid: "In helf an hour a rough, coarso-looking man will ask for the schor. He will speak in bad Spanisl. Show bira in, tako no notice of whint be saya, say as little to him as you can." The man gone, the don opened his esoritoir, Iaid a sheet of paper before him, teok u emal b the containing a perfectly clear, colorleas liquid from a chest of drawers, and, then using a sta bair brush, ho appeared to sketch something spo the paper; this done, be replaced the balle, took another of similar appearance and containing a sinalar Guid, and again appeared to sketch upon the paper ou wluch be had already operatol, Thue done, the paper lying on the quire below it was eet upon a table, near which was a seen. news.
