Litchfield enquirer., 1867-04-18


 of man, and just as surely not the bi } brown paw of Theodore Thornhurst.
 Cyrilla's eyes dilated as she gazed; tn murmur of the song died off her lips; he } fingers ceased from turning the key of tn clock; she stood like one changed to stone She durst not turn her head to glance a the dread reality which she knew was be hind her; she kept her gaze fixed steadil : in the glass, watching with sort of horri ble eagerness for some sign or token of Tiff in those white, deathlike fingers, whicl looked as if they belonged to corpse Suddenly, while she was looking like on, fascinated, there was slight movement o the curtain, the white fingers relapsed thei grasp, opened, and for and instant wer. withdrawn. Next moment, they were there again, grasping the curtain as before; anc as they re-appeared, 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 O. the curtain, two eyes, unseen by her, were watching her every movement
 The dread inspired by this discovery for she felt sure that her instinct was not playing her false-was almost more thar she could bear. Her senses seemed as though they were about to desert her; dlmness crept over her eyes; numbness began to steal through every limb; and il seemed to her as though the room, herself and even that terrible hand, were all ia. ding into unsubstantial shadows, and that nothing could ever trouble her more; when all at once her fading senses were pierced by faint sound-a sound-a sound that went straight to her mothers heart, and in one brief moment stung all her fading pt0 fo I,o zi 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 given utter ance to low plaintive cry at not finding her beside him. To feeling of life the most vivid and intense, that weak voice had recalled her. For my child's sake, J she murmured in her heart, "let strength be given me!''
 Her hand was steady enough now, and she went on with the winding up of the little clock, winding slowly, that she might have more time to think what her next movo must be. She was strangely calm now, with that calmness which is induced Ill some natures by the 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 2 the hand with a covert half look that might or might not deceive the hidden eyes which she felt sure were just as intently watching her.
 There! the clock was wound up at last l never had it taken so long time before and the question was. what to do next? If she could only get away-get away into her dressing room and put the door be- tween herself and her hidden visitor-she felt that both she and her child would be The effort must st De made, i and that at once; for to stay in the room much longer, watch ed by those unseen eyes, would be enough to drive her mad.
 Sweet and low, sweet and low. Wind of the western sea.
 How sho contrlved to get the words out she could never have told afterwards, but she found herself hrmming them over, and siding across the room with an elabo- rately careless air, towards little table placed half way between the fireplace and the dressing room door, The table was reached in safety, and Cyrilla yentured to breathe again. A photographic album lay on the table, and she took 1t up and began to examine it with the deepest apparent in- l terest. While in this position the hand was behind her. She would have given much to be able to glance over her shoul- der and see whether it was still visible, but the effort was one that required more cour- age than she had to spare just then. Per haps, even now, her unknown visitor was stealing out from behind the curtain-was creeping stealthily after her with view of surprising her, say by putting his hands over her eyes, or by seizing' her suddenly round the waist! His footsteps would be ] %IoH H., ,o1> T bear the horror of her situation no longer she let the book drop from between her fingers, and made ga rush for her dressing room; but as she 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, cold hand was placed over her mouth, and stern voice whisper. ed in her ear: s'Make the least noise, and you are dead woman!''
 Next instant her mouth was uncovered and Cyrilla found herself lifted somehow on to her feet. She turned to look at hel 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 utterance to low cry of terror: ''Signol Pietro Fastini!'
 "Even so, carissima mia" be said. ''Yor 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, in to which he now inducted her, with pro found bow
 tall and elegant looking man, this Sig nor Pietro Fastini; olive complexioned with black beard and moustache thin anl : silky, and large, dark melancholy-lookins eyes. But in those eyes there was now al expression such as Cyrilla had never seel in them before-an expression that mad } her shiver with alright He was dressed in full evening costume, except that h. was without hat and gloves; while his lon, ? black hair, all blown and tangled by tn night wind, lent touch of incongruitv t. ) his appearance, which no one could hay ) failed to detect.
 Certainly, you do not seem pleased t. see me- > he repeated, loosing his grasp O , CYrilla's wrist. ''That, however, was h ard l ly to be expected. Let us put it that took you too much by surprise, and no that I am an unwelcome guest
 He gave utterance to low sneerin
 laugh; then he drew up chair close il front of Cyrilla, and sat down on it, an, seemed to devour her with his large blacl eyes. ''Cyrilla Thornhurst, he said, 'sd l you know with what purpose am her : this evening"" --. p Poor Cyrilla's lips formed ''No,'' but n a sound issued from them