The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1880-04-30
CHAPTER III.
PARLOR MAGIC.


PARI.oR MAGIC.
She laid her pale cheek on the bier,
She gied him kisses ane and twa;
.We'll sleep h'gither, the lang last sleep,
And love will still be the lord of a."
1t was the last fete of the season, a
bal costume, at Annesley House, and the
superb apartments were respondent
with all that fashion and luxury could
devise or desire. The beautiful Count
ess stood in her sumptuous dressing
room, before the silver-framed Psyche,
affixing, herself, the last ornament of her
attire-the Magic Rose. She had gath
cred the last leaf, on which there hung
frozen dew-drop; but her wish was
pure one now; she asked only the return
of her husbands love; riches and ambi-
! ton had embittered her existence, and
love now seemed TO her the pearl of
great price, without which there Is no
| light in the soul.
If beauty could win love, Helen felt
that she possessed it. Never before had
she looked so radiant but there was a
feverish glitter in her large blue eyes,
and the bloom upon her cheek was ar
tificial-hiding the touch of care. Her
costume was superb, graceful adapta-
|
of "La Refine Marie" the first bridal
robes of the young Mary Stuart, pass
ing from her convent to the. throne of
France, and in which, we are told by
ancient chroniclers, she shone forth
with the beauty Of an angel. Long,
floating robes of silver tissue, and snowy
silk the long, wide, open sleeves, and
jeweled bodice, wrought with seed pearls
and goldsmith's work, and powdered
with bright-colored gems; hprofusion of
diamonds of the purest water clasped
and blazed upon the antique stomacher
and the unique head-dress of the Count
ess; the green light of emeralds cleaned
upon her snowy arms, and pearls of the
Orient mingled with the soft blonde
tresses of her hair; but the heart that
throbbed beneath the radiant Jewels
yearned only for the love that had
yelled itself before their splendor. Fair
shone the Magic Rose upon her bosom,
fresh and stainless as i'll that evil hour
when first she paid the mournful price
of the Talisman; and with n sigh she
turned away to meet the gay throng of
the noble and the fair-the silken court
iers of wealth and gratifed ambition.
A soft light, like the mellow amber of
the harvest moon, shone from the pend
ant lamps, Illuminating the spacious
conservatory, and the rich exotic fra
GRANGE of a thousand gorgeous Indian
flowers made the air heavy as with in
cense. The dark, glossy leaves, and
large, snowy, rose-like blossoms of a
magnolia rose high around an Eastern
divan. "La Refine Marie sat there, and
at her feet knelt the poet Chatelar his
lutte and sword lay on the purple cush-
ions, and his words were warm and pas
sionate as the songs of that martyr lover
Beautiful Helen," said he, "pro-
nounce my doom-your love to him is
worthless to me it is the light of life
Why should your beauty wither in his
cold neglect, while in my undying ador-
alton"
Hold, Lord Algernon," interrupted
Helen, "who has presumed to whisper
of neglect, or how have L encouraged
this daring?"
1T is too visible, fair Helen; che
leaves your fair side all unguarded, lady,
and the enchantment of your beauty en-
boldens the truest of your worshipers.
Fly with me, dearest Helen, now, even
now! /, too, have wealth, and rank,
and, above all-love-to share with
thee.
Rise, Sir Poet" Kissed voice in the
ear of Chatelar 1--WE will play out this
scene by moonlight, in the garden"
Aubrey = dear Aubrey" shrieked
Helen, "protect mel am innocent; 1
have loved you ever.
MADAM" said her husband, sternly
and coldly, CT am the guardian of mine
own honor, and its avenger Sir Poet,
Ruy Bias has sword for Chatelar
Lord Algernon answered only by IN
sheathing his rapier, and the husband
and the roue rushed out together in the
garden.
The shrieks of Helen soon drew gay
crowd into the conservatory, and, while
the ladies endeavored vainly to remove
the unhappy Countess, the gentlemen
fastened to the scene of the death
struggle going on without. 1t was al
ready decided. Helen saw that the pale
form brought in bleeding, and laid faint
ing on the silken divan, was her husband.
She rushed forward and clasped him in
wild embrace, dabbling in his blood the
silver tissues of her robes. But she
spoke no word in that bewildering
agony; she only listened for his voice.
Helen; my Helenp" he uttered, in a
hoarse, struggling whisper: "the old
love returns with death. We were hap