Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1892-04-01

He began by stammerlng appeal for
pardon for his boldness; but surveying him
with a look of naughty surprise she would
have passed out of the church without a
word, had he not placed himself before her.
"You shall listen to me-" he said holly.
II love you; I am dying for you. God did
not give you such beauty that you might
destroy those who adore you with cruelty.
Have you no word of kindness for memo
pity?"
"Allow me to pass" was her reply, cor
/ will call the sacristan."
"Have you no hearth" he cried violently
cam I to listen to the rawlings of every
adventurer who crosses my pathW she
said, in the same cold tone.
"AdventurerP he gasped, his face flush
ing deep crimson with rage and shame,
II an adventurer!'
"What else?" she replied calmly. elbow
should you dare-a beggar in rags-speak
of love to me?"
Ii she had meant to insult and exasper-
ate him, she had succeeded but too WELL
With his eyes starting from his head, and
the foam on his lips, he glared at her a
moment; then, lifting his hand, he struck
her 1t was an act of frenzy, the concen-
tration of his long suffering and despair in
one supreme moment of utter abandon.
The next instant he was groveling upon
the ground, kissing the hem of her gar
ment, bathing it in tears and sobbing
prayers for pardon, self accusations, curses
upon his own brutality; while she, tower
ing above him in her outraged pride,
gazed down at him with white face and
flashing eyes. "Coward!" she said in a
slow, deep tone; "coward!''
eyes, yes," he cried, still kneeling;
"worse than a coward villain, a dog!
Oh, that I, who would have died for you,
should have done this! Blasted be the
hand that was raised against you! But you
shall be revenged. Yes, myself will re-
venge YOU"
She made no reply, but pushing him
aside with her foot, went out of the
church, leaving him kneeling upon the
floor, weeping and calling maledictions
down upon his own head.
The next morning before she had arisen
her maid brought her parcel which had
been left at the door by messenger. Sup
posing it to be some article from trades
man she united the wrapping and found
beneath small wooden box. Removing
the lid she gazed within and dropped the
box with cry Of horror.
There, at the bottom of the box, it's fin
gers contracted, as with the agony of the
blow, was mans hand severed at the
wrist! A bit of paper lay beside it OIL
which were written these words:
"The infamous hand that desecrated love.
You are revenged."
For a long time she lay silent and
thoughtful, with the strange parcel beside
her. Gradually the cold, proud expression
of her features gave place to a look never
seen there before. At last she arose. and
gazing at the severed hand for some mo
ments lifted it from the box and kissed the
ifeless fingers.
All that day she remained at home, in
the seclusion of her chamber, and all day
curious struggle seemed to be going on
in her mind. Now she paced to and fro in
an agitated way; again she sat in her chair
with her cheek resting upon her hand,
buried in profound meditation.
At nightfall she suddenly arose, dressed
herself in plain walking costume, and
putting on a thick veil left the house
alone. There was no hesitation in her step
as she went along the darkened streets to-
ward the commoner quarter of the CITY,
Arriving before a large, gloomy build
ing, whose tenants were evidently of the
poorer class, she spoke to the concierge:
''You have a sick gentleman among your
lodgers?"
''Signor Carnese?" replied the man.
"Oh, yes, poor young gentleman. He is
badly wounded. He will not say how,
butt
eShow me his room.''
Whatever questions he might have felt
inclined to ask were efectually silenced by
the piece of gold thrust into his hand.
Leading the way to the very top of the
house. he pointed to a door, and saying
''That is his room, signora," took himself
down stairs again.
She entered the apartment cautiously.
The poor scholar was lying upon his bed
with his face to the wall-she could see,
even in the darkened chamber, how bag
gard and white it was. Outside of the
coverlet rested his right arm, bandaged at
the wrist. AS she approached him he stirred
and moaned:
"Water,"
She found glass upon the stand near at
hand and placed it to his lips. She re-
moved her veil, and as she bent over him
he saw her face,
''Youp' he said, striving to rise But
she pressed him gently back upon the pill
low
eyes," she answered softly, sit is L."
"Ah," he sighed, ''now can die happy"
"On the contrary" she. REPLIED "you
must live-for my sake, Marco"
Poor Marcos chief danger now was that
he might indeed die of pure happiness.
But he did not die, for seldom has man
been nursed in illness and pain as he was
nursed by the woman who had once scorned
him, but in the sudden awakening of her
own heart had discovered the worth of
such love as his.
eyes," she said, when he was GONZALES
cent at last and able to sit up in his chair
by the window, "when I saw that poor
hand something in my heart seemed to
melt and give way, and knew that loved
you, Marco"
1t is her husbands right hand, the hand
that smote her in the church of St. Lucia,
the hand of the man she loved as few men
have been loved, that is kept in the por-
phyry casket in the boudoir of the Signora
Carnese.-Charles Lorin Hildreth in Phila-
delphia Press