The Weekly Journal. — 1904-12-23 (Hartlepool, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER H.  arid  "I will not trouble you with the details of any captivity," said Heave, after a pause, "suffice it to mention that the knowledge of whose hands I had fallen into dawned ou me soon enough. "There was a remarkable brigand in Calabria at that time known by the name of Lorenrz Treectii, celebrated for having quite recently murdered an Englishman and an American on the failure of his exo,litant demands for ransom. Now, ray own people arc, as you know, considerably wealthy, so that I had no immediate fear of sharing the fate of those unhappy travellers. Still, as several days passed without any answer to the appetite I had been compelled to write, any triad grew more un easy, and Trecchi's conduct towards me as his prisoner grew less reassuring than it had been at first. "Had it not been for the compassion of Teresina things would have guile very badly with mo indeed. She was a strange woman, full of passionate impulses, and torn by conflicting emotions. Der love for her ahild, which was then rather over two years old, with the head of a cherubim of Raphael, was something almost frantic in devotion, and yet he blind fatal attachment which bJund her to the outlaw often seemed to triumph almost over maternal instinct. "sigh up in the mountains the brigand held a kind of rude court; for, an is wellknown, the pease:lts of these wild districts have an admiration for, and secret sympathy with, a man who makes war upon the rich, and is often generous enough to the poor. But one day I became aware of some unusual danger threatening the lawless community. Two of their number, it seemed, had been captured by a party of soluters went out at last by the authorities to amok* this thieves' nest, and as these two might be led to turn informers it was thought expedient to remove into still more inaccessible quarters. Onco more I was gagged, blindfolded, and led over rough ways, then thrown into the further blackness of the cave, which was to servo as the home of Treechi and Tereeins until all pursuit was over. "Days passed, and the brigand, whose followers had dispersed for a time, lay in sulky silence. his hand continually on a weapon intended to put an end to my existence should I attempt au impossible escape. By his side was a goat-skin bottle gradually growing emptier, for like many civilised folks down on their luck he had flown to its contents for consolation. "The horror and misery of that cramped confinement will never be effaced from my recollection. Even poor little Towne was miserable, and to stifle his wailings the another had continually to rock him to sleep within her arms. Every now and then the woman was sent out by her ruffianly lord to reconnoitre or to fetch ptovisions, returning completely spent by the long roundabout distances she had travelled to avoid detection. But the child whom she always carried with her woe sportive and joyous froni breathing the fresh air, and that seemed to recompense her for the fatigue. Temente,' growled the brigand, after two weeks of inactivity and potations that would have killed an ordinary man. 'go thou to the town and nee if there is yet A letter from the signor with news that the terms of his ransom have been agreed to; for by the Holy Mother I weary of his company, and his keep is too espensive for poor folks like tie,' he ended, with a brutal explosion of mirth that rumbled through the cavern and made my blood curdle. " 'Chou kuowest well elough I cannot go,' answered Teresina, gloomily, for the child had suddenly fallen ill and had all the appearance i of being n a high (oven " Trecchi sat upright'and looked at her with one of his compelling glances. "The money! "he said, fiercely. I must have the money, to get away from this accursed land, where they hunt me down like a deg.' "Teresina rose to her feet with a smothered shriek, both hands clasped tightly on her heaving bosom. 'And for that thy child may die; for the paltry, ill-gotten gold which will purchase thy ireedom and our desertion!' "Her voice broke into a sob. It was no longer the proud Teresina, who bore her false honottre like a queen among the rude peasantry. but the passionate, loving woman, already feeling herself helpless and betrayed. Prole the dark comer where I witseased all