True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1855-11-14

curtain, and Lord Lyndon looked once more
upon the face Of Nina. But how changed!
The same brilliant eyes and glowing cheeks
were there, but the lips that had ever greet
ed his coming with smiles, wore an express
sion of deep yet patient sadness, and the
very beauty of that fair face seemed like
flowers strewed upon corpse to hide by
it's loveliness the ravages of death. Lord
Lyndon seemed violently agitated, and
seizing the arm of the Marchesa, he eX-
claimed, 'In pity, tell me, Beatrice, is she
dead?"
She burst into a sardonic laugh. ellis
ten to this man !" she exclaimed "he
breaks the heart of girl who truly loved
him, and then asks, is she deadP She
died in my arms scarce year from the
time you cruelty deceived her. | am her
sister; but as you never beheld my face
but once, can pardon you for not recog-
nizing in the Marshesa Beatrice, Teresa
d'Agluno the sister of your victim"
He did not seem to hear her, but stood
gazing on the portrait, his lip qnivering
with painful emotion. Beatrice" he at
length said in deep troubled tone, "l
scarcely can hope you will believe my words,
vet if ever remorse visited human heart,
mine has felt its bitterest pangs. Were
Nina living, my hand nd heart should be
hers; but, alas | can give you no proofs
of the sincerity of what | say. ! dare nc
longer hope you will listen to my suit; !
can no longer offer you my hand | may
only plead that you will pardon the bitter
wrong have inflicted on you, and that you
will believe in the truth of my repentance.
'You can then feel remorse, contrition !
she exclaimed; 'you, the cold-hearted lib
ertine; you, the murderer of my ster!-
No, cannot realize such change"
"Then must go unpardoned," he said
in a low tone. .. ~.
Beatrice buried her face in her hand fo
few moments when she again raised he
head, the scornful expression Of her features
had given place to one of sadness. "My
lord" she said, 81 believe you, and in tha
belief renounce a project of vengeance
treasured ever since my sisters death. Tht
Italian count who nightly tempted you tt
the gaming table, and to whom you los
such immense sums, was my tool, for
sought to avengc my sister BY taking from
you what believed every Englishman hell
dearer than life, money. Here" she con
tinued, laying her hand upon the little vel
vet-covered portfolio, Giles all your wealth
and thus do | restore it to YOU"
She opened the portfolio, and, taking ou
the papers it contained, tore them int
atoms then, turning to Lord Lyndon, shC
said, "AIy lord, we part now forever. Fare
we'll" .- .
"Forever! Oh, not forever, Beatrice :
lie exclaimed. "Your generous forbear
anco gave me hope do not crush it a
once"
"My lord, FAREWELL" she repeated, ex
tending her hand. lie raised it to his lips
and then, with look Of passionate adora
ton, repeated her last words, "Farewell,
and retired As his last footstep died away
she turned towards the portrait. "ls no
this the vengeance that would have glad
dened thy heart, my sister!" she murmur
ed. ,..... ....- .,.- g..
1t may have been the waving of the cuI
: tains, the aickering of the dying sunlight
but something like smile fitted over tn
sad sweet face of Nina's portrait.