The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-12-28

you ought to know it all, and-and I
thought, perhaps, that we might go
back to England together
''The Marchese Loredanow
It was all that could say; all that
1 could think. AS Mat had just said
OF himself, l felt ''like one stunned. ;"
''There is one other thing / may
as we'll tell you" he added, reluctant
ly, elf only to show you how false a
woman can be. We were TO have
been married next month
We? Who? What do you
mean?"
81 mean that we were to have been
marrled-Gianetta and l.
a sudden storm of rage, of scorn,
of incredulity, swept over me at this,
and seemed to carry my senses ayav
"You!" I cried ''Gia1ettta marry
you! 1 don't believe it,"
Il wish had not believed it." he
replied, looking up us If puzzled by
my vehemence. But she promised
me; and L thought, when she pro-
missed it, she meant it.
''She told me, weeks ago, that she
would never be your wife!'
His color rose, his brow darkencd:
but when his answer came, it was
calm as the last.
"IndeedT' he said. "That it is
only Cne baseness more. She told
me chat she had refused you; and
that was why we kept our engage
ment secret.
'"Tell the truth, Mat Price," I said,
well nigh beside myself with sus-
picion. @Confess that every word of
this is false! Confess that Gianetta
will not listen to you, and that you
are afraid l may succeed where you
have failed. AS perhaps I shau-as
perhaps shall, after all!'
care you mad?" he exclaimed.
"What do you mean?'
''That I believe it's just trick to
get me away to gland-that 1
don't credit syllable of your story.
You're liar, and hate youT'
He rose, and, laying one hand on
the back of his chair, looked me
sternly in the face.
eff you were not Benjamin Hardy"
he said, deliberately, 81 would thrash
you within an inch of your life"
The words had no sooner passed
his lips than sprang at him. Ihave
never been able distinctly to remem-
ber what followed. A curse "a blow
a struggle-a moment of blind fury
a cry-a confusion of tongues
circle of strange faces Then 1 see
Mat lying back in the arms of by
stander; myself trembling and be-
wildered-the knife dropped from
my grasp; blood upon the floor, blood
upon my hands, blood upon his shirt.
And then [ hear those dreadful
words
90 Ben, you have murdered me!''
He did not dle-at least, not there
and then. He was carried to the
nearest hospital, and lay for some
weeks between life and death His
case, they said, was difficult and dan
gerous. The knife had gone in just
below the collar-bone, and pierced
down into the lungs. He was not
allowed to speak or turn, scarcely to
breathe with freedom. He might not
even lift his head to drink. l sat by
him day and night, all through thatsor-
ANAA oAAAAO' oeS'S ~ oAouoIlOu
on the railway; L quilted my lodging
in the Vicalo Balba; [ tried to forget
that such q woman as Gianetta Con
egia had ever drawn breath. I lived
only for Mat, and he tried to live
more, [ believe, for my sake than his
own. Thus, in the bitter silent hours
of pain and penitence, when no hand
but mine approached his lips or
smoothed his pillow, the old friend
ship came back with even more than
its old trust and faithfulness. He
forgave me, fully and freely; and I
would thankfully have given my life
for him.
At length there came one bright
spring morning, when dismissed as
convulcscent, he tottered out through
the hospital gates, leaning on my
arm, ami ieebie as an infant. He
was not cured; ne;i.ser, as J. then
learned to my horror and anguish,
was it possible that he ever could be
cured! He might live, with care,
for some years; but his lungs were
Injured beyond hope of remedy, and
a strong or healthy man he could
never be again. These, spoken aside
to me, We're the parting words of the
chief physician, who advised me to
take him farther South without de-
lay.
[ took him to little coast-town
called Rocpa Gonna thirtu ,n,lno l,a