The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-09-24

IuOutu OrycAI, III bIobSOuuOAo toteos
.QuT sUBsoRIPTIoS.
Daily six months, "a 90; Tri.Woekly, 2 Sc;
Weekly, 1 so.
AZ. FARO.
CONCLUDED.
Out upon the street, Mr.. Saunders
concluded to take walk. 1t was n
bright, moonlight night, with q soft,
soothing breeze blowing off the lake.
He walked through business street, at
the upper end of which was small cot
tage setting we'll back, the front yard
ornamented with flowers. The curtains
were drawn, but light shone from
within, and the tinkling of guitar was
of the gate. The sound Of the guitar
ceased. He put his foot upon the step,
and his hand upon the bell. Just then,
two shadows were visible upon the cur
tains of the room, one tall and robust
and the other short and fragile. The
tall shadow had its arms round the waist
of the small one and their heads ap-
preached and blended into one. Mr..
Saunders started as if q scorpion had
stung him.
'.D-n. her!" said he. "She never
cared for .me-only my money. Now that
she and faro have beggared, me, sup
pose she'd throw me over. No, Ill not
see her."
He passed on, extending his walk
beyond the business quarter, and out
into the region of elegant private resi-
dences, where the air was faint with the
odor of honey-suokles and June roses.
''Now," thought Mr.. Saunders, s'is
there any other way? haven't dollar.
I have good business capacities, but I
am known as gambler, and no business
man would trust me in q responsible
position. Besides, could T bear the
sneers of the parasites who have fawned
upon me, and submitted to be kicked by
me when was rich? I might saw wood,
but id if I do!'
BE stopped in front of small but
elegant private residence and leaned
over the fence. A light shone from an
upper window-the window of her ROOM
Jim's heart beat tumultuously, and his
very finger tips thrilled with an electric
shock of feeling. He had lost money
and reputation at the gaming table; but
there, in that room behind the delicate
lace curtains, was treasure, the loss Of
which had made him the veriest pauper
on earth. There had been gentle, low
ing renonstrance on the ono part, fol-
Ao"CA Ny 'ASu3 !MAuLAlul WOIuS Ou LuG
other, and they had parted, he in anger,
since. When he passed her in the street
there was polite, distant bow, on his
part, and pitying, sorrowing glance
from her. He had even gone so far rs
to quarrel with her brother, and strike
him blow.
Mr.. Saunders leaned over the garden
fence, and in the bitterness of his self
abasement forgot to puff his cigar.
Utterly, hopelessly bankrupt in money
and good name, the companion of har-
lots and thieves, he could no,o see with
what brutal insolence he had stricken
down the hand stretched forth to save
him, aud how cruelty he had trodden
out pure woman's love. He ground
his teeth with rage, and smote his heated
forehead with his open hand.
The window turned upon its hinges,
and graceful, willowy form, dressed N
pure white, stepped out upon the
balcony. She plucked rose from the
climbing vine and held it idly in her
hands. as she leaned over the railing.
There was sigh, which foated upon
the soft, summer mir, and was borne to
the ears of tho wretched outcast beneath
Then she began singing in low, trcmu-
lous voice the words Of n plaintive song
How we'll he remembered that quaint old
ballad James Saunders dropped lower
over the garden fence, and something
like rain pattered down from beneath
his jaunty hat, and glistened on the rose
leaves. There was smothered sob,
and the figure on the balcony started,
listened moment, and hastily retired,
closing the window.
James Saunders strobe moodily on.
Then he sat down upon stone step and
lit fresh cigar. There were no pedes-
trians, and that quiet suburb of the
quiet city was as silent rs the grave.
Again he reviewed his life-his cold,
cheerless childhood, his early manhood.
embittered by the injustice of hard,
imperious old man; his folly and sin,
his love-everything. The look back
was dark. The ont look darker still.
He thrust his hand into his pocket,
and when he brought it out again, the
bright, short barrel of Derringer glis-
tened in the moonlight. Helighted an
other cigar, and sat long time, smoking
solemnly, with his fingers clasped about
the breech of the deadly weapon. He
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