The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-03-20

on the little clock, but were at the
same time watching the hand with a
covert half-look that might or might
not deceive the hidden eyes which
she felt sure we're just as intentlv
watching her.
Therel the clock was wound up at
last-never had it taken so long a
time beforehand 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 visitor
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 unseen eyes, would
be enough to drive her mad.
''Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Winds of the Western sea-
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 elaborated
careless air, towards little table
placed halfway between the fire
place 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 it up and began
to examine it with the deepest ap-
parent interest While in this posi-
ton, 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 un-
known visitor was stealing out from
behind the curtain-was creeping
stealthily after her, with the view of
surprising her, say by putting his
hands over her eyes, or by seizing
her suddenly round 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 a rush for her
dresslng-room; but Just rs she had
got within a yard of the door, she
stumbled. and came down on her
knees. Before she could even make
one effort to rise, she was grasped bv
the right wrist from behind, q cold
hand was placed over her mouth.
and ste"n voice whispered in her
ear: "M.ke the least noise. and YOU
are dead woman
Next instant her mouth was I'M
covered, and Cyrilla found herself |
lifted somehow on to her feet. She |
turned to look at her assailant, and
as her eyes met his, she shrank away
from him as farastheiron clasp on she |
wrist would allow, and gave utterancc
to q low cry of terror: ''Signor
Pietro Fastini.'
Even so, criS>i0ao n1it," he said.
"lou do not seem pleased to see me.
But pray resume your seat" and |
still holding her by the wrist, he led
her back to the easy-chair, into which |.
he lnducted her with q profound |.
bow.
\ tall and elegant looking man,
this Signor Pietro Fastini; olive
compleXioncd, with black beard and
moustache, :hin 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 incongru-
lty to his appearance, which no one
could nave failed TO detect.
certainly, you do not seem
pleased to see me-" he repeated, !
loosing his grasp Of Cyrilla's wrist.
"Ihat. however, was hardly to be
expected. Let us put it that | took
you too much by surprise, and not
that L am an unwelcome guest.
He gave utterance to q low sneer-
ing laugh; then he drew up a chair
close in front of Cyrilla, and sat
down on it, and seemed to dcvour
her with his large black eyes "Cy-
rllla Thornhurst," he said, ''do you
know with what purpose I am here
this evening""
Poor Cyril!a's lips formed ''No,"
but no sound issued from them.
81 am here to kill YOU" he said,
speaking with thc SLIGHTEST Doccil,|a