The Fairfield herald. [volume] (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1849-1876, 1876-05-10


distance out ut sea. Suddenly a
tiny white ponnon futtcred out, and
was instantly withdrawn.
"The saints be blessed" muttcr-
cd Kathleen. II began to think it
would never come. Nelly, darling,
hero s the boat jump in
Are we going to mamma ?"
eyes, ycs--jnmp in, quick"
And kathlccn's strong arm was
pulling them out to sea in another
instant.
AS they ran up alongside the
large black hull of the vessel, u
voice hailod them.
as it you, Kathloen Where's =
the child 2
"Hcrc."
"Thc ladder will be lowered in q
minute. 1 tell you what, my girl,
you've shown courage to- day"
The athletic young tar greeted her
with a hearty kiss as she stood be
side him but her cheek was cold as
ice rs little Nelly clung, terrified, to
her skirts.
Il am rcvcngcd J" WAS the first,
the last, the only thought that
whirlca through her brain.
And when. the next morning, long
after the outward-bornd Sardinia
WAS spreading her white sails to the
breeze, the little boat driftcd ashore,
people whispered to one another
that old Morrison's daughter and
the golden haired little girl were
lost at sea.
Ten years afterwards, Kathleen
Morrison-a childlcss widow, list
less exile now upon II foreign shore
Wits standing ut her door, where
the glowing Italian sunshine steamed
down through blossominS vines.
The sqints protect us from such
Il grim face as yours, Kathleen !"
cried merry noighkor, balancing y
basket of fish on her head, rs she
trippcd by.
Don't you want to hear bit of
news 2
Il am not SO wrapped up in tho
fine folk at the castle as you, Ninot'
ta," said Kathleen.
Its lovely lady," returned Nj
nctta, "and she's dying by inches--.
La Signora San Lcgcro."
est. Legcr !"
"Ah that's the way the English
have it.
"Go away I want no more Of
your idle gossip T.
Ninctta rctreatcd, fairly appalled,
by the sharpness of her ncighbor's S
tongue and voice and Kathleen
stood gazing iixctlly into the sunset,
with eyes that saw not u shade Of
the carmine glow.
81 thought once that I should
never pity her" unused Kathleen,
but that was before my babes died.
[ have felt the scrpent's tooth in my
own heart since. Poor lady ! and
she is dying of broken hoart. l
wish I could die =
The next evening. as Mrs. St.
Lcgcr was lying ON the sofa by the
open window which led out upon
marble terraces and vclvet-smooth
lawns, slip Of white paper tIuttcr-
ing down upon her lap rs softly as
the floating petal of an orange bios
som. And, scrawlcd upon it with a
pencil, she dccipherel these
words
"Therc is one white American
flower among the pomegranatc bios
SONS ut Marco Silvcdo's."
Baatricc st. Ecgcr's check turned
even paler than it's usual shade of
pallor as she read the mystic lines.
"Rcad, Alfred"
"Nclly was drowpcd ten long
yenrs ago, Beatrice"
nelly is alive, Alfred know it,
I feel it! Oh, lose no time-,-inquire
who and where Marco Silvcdo
is !"
Il will inquire" he said> "but,
Beatrieic, calm yourself. Remem-
Der how often we have becn deceived
before"
1--WE shall not be deceived again,
Alfred"
Marco Silvcdo sat ut his cottage
door, smoking short pipe Of some
dark, fragrant wood IN old wrinkle
faced italian with II skin as yellow
as parchment, iron gray hair and
keen black eyes. Two or three
children, as dark as himself, were
playing around him and when Mrs.
st. Legcr noted the rudty crimson
hue of health in their checks she
knew what was meant by the words
pomcgranite blossoms"
| Mr.. st, Leger alightod, and began
to talk to the old man in his own
language.
"Aro those all your children,
Signor Silvcdo p
Yes, signor--all. Two are with
the saints in glory-throe are here.
Beatrice, listening from the car
riagc, felt the blood grow chill
around hor heart. Was tho faint
light Of hope that had begun to
draw on hcr lifc's horizon but de
ceptivc mirage, after all.