The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1877-07-13

before my babies died. / have felt the
serpent's tooth in my own heart since
Poor lady and she is dying of broker
heart. l wish could die |"
The next evening, as Mrs. st. Legel
was lying on the sofa by the open win.
dow which led out upon marble terraces
and velvet-smooth lawns, slip of white
paper came futtering down upon hel
lap as softly as the floating petal of an
orange-blossom. And, rudely scrawled
upon it with pencil, she deciphered
these words:
There is one American flower among the
pomegranate blossoms at Marco Silvedo's.
Beatrice st. Leger's cheek turned even
paler than its usual shade of pallor as
she read the mystic lines.
Read Alfred"
Nelly was drowned ten long years
ago, Beatrice"
Nelly is alive, Alfred l know it, l
feel it! Oh, lose no time-inquire who
and where Marco Silvedo is
"I will inquire" he said "but Beat
rice, calm yourself. Remember how of
ten we have been deceived before"
1--WE shall not be deceived again, AL
fred"
Marco Silvedo sat at his cottage door,
smoking a short pipe of some dark, fra
grant wood an old, wrinkle-faced Itali-
an, with skin as yellow as parchment,
iron-grey hair and keen black eyes. Two
or three children, as dark as himself,
were playing round him, and when Mrs.
st. Leger noted the ruddy crimson hue
of health in their cheeks, she knew what
was meant by the words "pomegrante
blossoms"
MIR. st. Leger alighted, and began
to talk to the old man in his own Ian
guage.
"Are these all your children, signor
Siivedo ?''
"Yes, Signor, all. Two are with the
saints in glory, three are here
Beatrice, listening from the carriage,
felt the blood grow chill around her heart.
Was the faint light of hope that had be-
gun to dawn ON her life's horizon but
deceptive mirage, after all
Mr.. St. Leger was about to re-efiter the
carriage, when the old Italian arose po-
litely to his feet.
The signor and signora would honor
him by partaking of glass of his own
wine? Nay. he would receive no refusal.
Elena Nella r'
A tall, slender girl of fifteen or there
abouts came to the door---a girl with a
skin as fair as drifted snow, and blue,
serene eyes. She looked wonderingly at |
the strangers.
Mrs. st. Leger uttered low, smoth- |
cred cry. All the changes that had |
passed over Nelly's head had not altered |
her to the mothers wistful, loving eyes.
She was the little Nelly" of the weary,
long years ago.
d" don't you remember your mother?'
And Nelly St. Leger, with the food
gates of memory wide opened in her
heart, fell sobbing on her mothers breast.
knew | had a mother once, before
Italian "but | thought she had forgot
ten me"
Marco Silvedo, who had been gazing
in blank astonishment from one to the
other, now came forward and told how
the child had been left at his door enc
chill November night, how and by whom
he did not know, nor could the be-
child tell him.
al had just buried my youngest
child" he said, "and it seemed as if the
good saints meant this one to take her
place. ] shall miss her sorely, though ]
don't grudge her to the signor."
Kathleen, standing at the door as the
carriage rolled by the next day, with
Nelly sitting between her father and /
mother, smiled darkly TO herself
al had meant that my revenge should
nave lasted still longer" she said to
herself; Z" but the poor lady can not live
ong-and, after all, she was not to
blame. Besides, when little Kathleen
lied, l buried almost all the bitter smart
n her grave. Let them be happy while
hey can"
For Kathleen knew that she was
imply avenged.