Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1853-04-20
MISCELLANY,
TV''t t'VO n IIVHtV VVtsI 10
The JeVeiied Hand.
CONCLUSION.

l could not bear my own thoughts, and
gong down to the library, sought book
to divert my attention from myself. | took
from the shelf "Eyelina," fahcy,ng that in
the varied & sprightIy scenes of that charm
ing fiction. might forget myself for an
hour or two, till my feelings should become
calmer. But not the ingenuousness of
Evelina, nor the simplicity Of the good vi
car, could interest me for one moment. |
sat holding the book 10 my hand, when the
door opened and Judge Blackwell entered.
81 have been searching for YOU" he
said, as he carefully closed It; Il must first
ask pardon of you for having involved you
in what may seem to you an~unpleasant
affair. You look i'll and suffering. re-
gret the course have taken, but something
stronger than myself seemed to urge me on.
You cannot know how deep is my interest
in Catharine Mayne, fayourite with me
from her childhood, almost daughter.
have never been satisfied with this engage
mept. 1t was entered INTO very hastily,
very rsshly,-I fear from unworthy motives
or her part, from the ambition for wealth
and show, which is her one serious fault.
| conceived a repugnance to Mr.. Philippse,
from what cause has only within few days
been made plain to me. | endeavored to
have the marH&ge postponed, for time at
least, but to no purpose. ,, -. ,ta..
After what has passed this afternoon,
there can be no more doubt in your mind
than in my own, that Arthur Phillippse is
the man-thc murderer perhaps-whom
we saw on that lonely water in distant New
England, The family see no poin: il those
storIes-they do not comprehend. What
remains to be done:" -, -. ,!..
Before | could reply, a curtain which
divided little study Ioom from the library
was swept back, and Mr.. Philippse came
towards US. Several. times he attempted d
to speak, but his lips moved without sound.
<, ,''Sit down, Mr.. PhIlippse,' said Judge
Blakewell, calmly.
Declining, with. gesture of impstience,
he said, walking measuredy up and down
the long room, You have giveE me mex
presSibe relief, my friends. thank God
that am to be burdened with my heavy
secret no longer. might have confessed
it thousand times, yet they would have
said the map rs mad : but It is known now,
and in Gods own way. There is Provi-
dence in it, You shall know all then do
with me as you please. This is the happi-
est hour have known since the night you
so well remember. For my sin have "a
toned thou just and mercilul Heaven know
estl" '..s .~:.;,
He paused and raised his eyes dayoutly,
then resuming his. walk rapidly up and
down the room, with lip quiyering, at last
broke out with, 81 cannot bear to speak Of
her-Isabel--my Isabel! How can I-how
can unveil to you all my love, my mad
ness for that woman Ny Isabel Oh,
how gloriously beautiful she was when |
met her first 1t was in the far South
Can | ever forget how or where we met !;
or that picture which has haunted me like
a vision of paradise for upccaused years !
1t was in the ancient town of st. Angus
tine-in en- old Spanish garden luscious
with the breath Of southern flowers s,-the
warm-hued, brilliant flowers of that ardent
cline. And she stood there, bathed in soft
moonlight, her white arms ltwined around a
pillar. ofPurest marble, her pure pale face
turned to The, taoon's rays, and her dark
hair garlandsd with white lilies, the unsul-
lied petals not tairer than the brow over
which their chalices shed sweet perfume.
That was Isabeil''
oL -
Yes, the child of two races. She had
the clear Saxon intellect and noble mien,
with the Spanish beauty, and warm, ardent
Spanish heart. Oh Heaven, how rarely
beautiful was that woman-my wife ! In
more joyous days she must have borne that
patrician head proudly IF it were dia-
dem. But when first knew her, and ever
after, 1t was bowed as flowers are bowed
by the storm. She was in sorrow then,
and never was that solemn shadow lifted
from her heart. Isabel had no near friends
she could remember, but one brother-a
fiery Spaniard in every feeling. Two years
before | knew her, be had killed brother
offcer In the heat of passion and fed to
South America, from whepce, IN another
year, came tidings of bis death. From that
hour there was soft melancholy in the sweet,
Spanish eyes of Isabel.
We had home in New Orleans; anoth-
er in my colder North, an old country
house by a beautiful lake, where through the
midsummer days bloomed isabel's flowers
white lllies-giying forth sweet incense,
and making starlight on the water.
| had tried everything in life-"had drunk
life to the ees''--and found it bitterness
and mockery. Everybody had disappont-
ed me. l had grown weary oi every man
whose friendship | had known-of every
WOMAN Whose love [ hnA .nnnhi | fnmnh