Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1867-05-02

watching her. -... @ " srs
There the clock was wound up
at last-never had it taken 80 long
time beforehand the question was,
what to do next? If she could only
get away--get away into her dress
ing room, and put the door between
herself and her hidden visitor she
felt that both she and her child would
be safe. 1t 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
unseen eyes, would be enough TO
drive her mad. @ ..
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind OF the western sea-
How she oontrived to get the words
out she could never have told after
wards, but she found herself hum
ming them over, and siding across
the room with an elaborately careless
air, towards a little table placed half
way between the fireplace and the
dressing room door. The table was
reached in safety, and Cyrilla ven
tured to breathe again. A photo
graphic album lay on the table, and
she took it up and began to examine
it with the deepest apparent interest.
While in this 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 unknown visitor was steal
ing out from behind the curtain-was
creeping stealthily after with the
view of surprising her, say by put
ting his hands over her eyes, or by
seizing her suddenly round the waistl
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 just as she had
got within 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
a stern voice whispered in her ear
" Make the least noise, and you are
dead woman -
Next instant, her mouth was un-
covered, and Cyrilla founi herself
lifted somehow On her feet She
turned to look at her assailant, and
as her eyes met his, she shrunk away
from him as far as the iron grasp on
her wrist would allow, and gave ut
terance to low cry of terror "Sig-
nor Pietro Fastini ~
Even so, CGrissinla mia, he said
" You do not seem pleased to see me-
But pray resume your seat y and
still holding her by the wrist, he led
her back to the easy chair, into which
he inducted her with profound bow.
a tall and elegant looking man,
this Signor Petra Fastini olive
complexioned; with black beard and
moustache, thin and silky and large
dark, melancholy-looking eyes. But
in those eyes there was now an ex-
preston such as Cyrilla had never
seen in them before-an expression
that made her shiver with alright.
He was dressed in full evening cos
tune, except that he was without hat
and gloves while his long black
hair, all blown and tangled by the
night-wind, lent touch of incon.
gruity to his appearance, which no
one could have failed to detect
/" Certainly, you do not seem pleas
ed to see me-" he repeated, loosing
his grasp OF Cyrilla's wrist That,
however, was hardly to be expected
Let US put it that | took you too
much by surprise, and not that am
all unwelcOme guest
He gave utterance to low, sneer-
ing laugh +; then he drew up chair
close in front of Cyrilla, and sat
down Oh it, and seemed to devour
her with his large black eyes. "Cy- |
rilla Thornhurst,' he said, do you
know with what purpose ! am here
this evening"
Poor CyriiIa's lips formed NO."
but no sound issued from them.
" | am here to kill YOU" he said,
speaking with the slightest possible
accent.
Cyrilla pressed her fingers to her
eyes. and seemed to shrink back still
further in the easy chair. The Ital-
ian twisted the ends Of his nous
tache, and watched her in grave 81
lence.
"Oblige me by removing your
hands from before your face" he re-
sumed after pause Thanks that
is better Remember, | am here to
kill, but not to torture When the
proper moment shall have come for
carrying out my purpose, one brief
pang will end everything"
He spoke in solemn, unimpassioned
accents, without any trace of excite
ment either in manners OF words,
and almost as though he were the
minister of some stern Fate, whose
behests it was his duty to carry out,
without having the power to alter
them, and against which there was
no possible appeal.
"Do you remember when and
where we parted last ~ he went on.
" | know that you do, for such occa-
sions are never forgotten by women.
For months before that day, you led
me on, little by little, till at last |
was foolish enough to think that |
had only to ask and to have. | did
ask--with what result you know as
well as /. You laughed at my love,
and dismissed mo forever with n fool