The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1867-04-18

she saw something else by no means 30
| pleasant to look upon-something that
tor one brief instant caused every pulse
of her being to stand still in silent hor-
rOr
There was some one in the room beside
| herself What she saw in the glass was
| the reflection of hand grasping the
| crimson damask curtains that draped the
| French window opposite the fireplace.
Only a hand-but whose hand? It was
very small and very white, but uumistak-
ably the hand OF man, just as surely
| not the big brown paw of Theodore Thorn
| hurst
Cyrilla's eyes dilated as she gazed the
murmur OF the song died off her lips !;
her fingers ceased from turning the key
OF the clock; she stood like one changed
TO stone. She burst not turn her head
to glance at the dread reality which she
knew was behind her; she kept her gaze
hxed steadily in the glass, watching with
| a sort OF horrible eagcrness for some sign
or token OF life in those white, deathlike
figures, which looked as if they belonged
to corpse. Suddenly, while she was
looking like one fascinated, there was a
slight movement of the curtain, the white
fingers relaxed their grasp, opened, and
tor an instant were withdrawn Next
| moment they were there again, grasping
the curtain as before; and as they reap
peared, Cyrilla s heart thrilled with
fresh terror; she felt--by instinct, and
| not by the action of any more positive
sense-that, from amid the dim folds of
| the curtain, two eyes, unseen by her, were
watching her every movement.
The dread inspired by this discovery
for she fe!t sure that her instinct was not
playing her fa.se-wds almost more than
she could bar Her senses seemed as
though they we're about to desert her
a dlmness crept oyer hereyes; anumbness
began to steal through every limb; and
it seemed to her as though the room,
herself and even that terrible hand, were
all fading into unsubstaItial shadows,
and that nothing could ever trouble her
more; when all at once her fading senses
were pierced by faint sound-a sound
that went straight to her mothers heart,
and in one brief moment stung all her
fading senses into vivid life It was the
voice of her child that she had heard just
as she was about to sink fainting to the
floor. He had turned over in his sleep,
and had felt for her in the dark, and had
not finding her beside him. To a feeling
of life the most vivid and intense, that
weak voice had recalled her. For my
child $ sake. - she .nurlnured in her heart,
'let strength be given me ~
Her hand was steady enough now, and
she went on with the winding Of the lit
tie clock, winding slowly, that she might
have more time to think what her next
move must be. She was strangely calm
now, with that calmness which is induced
In some natures by tie presence of
great peril As she kept on winding, her
eyes seemed to be fixed intently on the
little clock, but were at the same time
watching the hand with covert half
look that might or might not decide the
hidden eyes which she felt sure were just
as intently watching her.
There ! the clock was wound up at last
never had it taken so long time be- |
fore-and the question was, what to do
next? If she could only get away-get
away into her dressing room, and put
the door between herself and her hidden
ylsitor-she felt that both she and her
child would be safe. It was their only
chance of escape The effort must be
made, and that at once; for to stay in the
room MUCH longer, watched by those I'M
seen eyes, would be enough to drive her
mad.
Sweet and low sweet and low.
Wind of the western
How she contrived to get the words out
she could never have told afterwards, but
she found herself humming them over.
and siding across the room with an elab-
orately careless air, towards little table
placed half way between the fireplace and
the dressing room door. The table was
reached in safety, and Cyrilla ventured to
breathe again. A Photographic album
lay on the table, and she took it up and
began to examine it with the deepest APP
parent interest. While in the position,
the hand was behind her She would
have given much to be able to glance
over her shoulder and see whether it was
still visible, but the effort was one that
required more courage than she had to
spare just then. Perhaps even now, her
her unknown visitor was stealing out from
behind the curtaln-was creeping stealth
lily after her with view of surprising her
by putting his hands over her eyes,
or by seizing her suddenly around the |
waist! His footsteps would be noiseless
on the thick carpet. She could bear the !
horror of her situation no longer: she let |
the book drop from between her fingers,
and made rush for her dressing-room |
but as she got within a yard of the door,
she stumbled, and came down on her |
knees Before she could make even one |
effort to rise, she was grasped by the |
right wrist from behind, a cold hand was
placed over her mouth, and stern voice |
whispered in her ear: Make the least
noise, and you are dead woman!"
Next instant her mouth was uncover
ed, and Cyrilla found herself lifted some
how on to her feet. She turned to look |
at her assailant. and as her eyes met his,
she shrank away from him as far as the |
iron grasp on her wrist would allow, and |
gave utterace to a low cry Of terror: Sig
nor Pietro Fastini p
Even so, corisstn,a nia," he said
on do not seem pleased to see me-
But pray resume your seat; and holding |
her by the wrist, he led her back to the |
easy chair, into which he conducted her, |
with profound bow
a tall aged elegant looking man, this |
Signor Pieto Fastini; olive complexioned |
with black beard and maustache, thin and |
silky, and large, dark, melancholy look
ing eyes. But in those eyes there was
low an expression such as Cyrilla had |
never seen In them before-an expression |
that made her SILVER with alright. He |
was dressed in full evening costume, ex-
cept that he was without hat or gloves; |
while his long black hair, all blown and |
tangled by the night wind lent touch of
to his appearance, which no
one could have failed to detect. /
Certainly. you do not seem pleased
TO see me, he repeated, loosing his grasp
of Gyrilla' 9 wrist .sfFhat howavar waS