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FOOTPRINTS; OR, STOLEN AWAY.

[An Original Stokt.]

CHAPTER V.—( Continued). a woman's dbvotiok.

One night, wearied with watohing for her father's return, she. had retired to rest, to dream of Ferdinand and happy days in her old home, when she was sad* denly awakened by the tramp of measured footsteps passing her chamber, and rising hurriedly to ascertain the cause of such untimely intrusion, learned the dreadful truth, that her father had been brought home in his gondola fatally wounded by his antagonist in a duel, in which he had been the chief aggressor, and it was feared that the young Count Di Ean Cruas would not survive the wounds he had re* ceived from the rapier of the infuriated Don. Yes, in a gaming saloon he had heard of the Count's treachery and previous marriage, and by a direful chance Ferdinand himself entering at the fatal moment, the Don challenged him~they fought, and both fell. In a few brief moments the Don breathed bis last, while the Count was carried home in a fainty condition, attended by the most skilful physician, who, however, could give but little hopes of his recovery. Frantic with grief, poor Inez knelt beside her father's bier, praying for one word of love and joyous ness, but that loved voice was for ever silent, the faithful heart could respond ho longer to her tender feelings. Bye and bye, with a calm courage born of sorrow she desired to be taken to the hotel where the Count lay, that she might take her place beside his couch, and perhaps soothe his dying moments by her gentle ministry. She was ushered into a dimlylighted chamber, where, stricken in the prime and bloom of manhood's strength, lay Ferdinand, the loved, the idealised lover of her maiden heart. Softly the attendant retired as Inez drew near the sufferer's couch. His dark eyes opened, and rested upon that lovely face with a smile of rapturous surprise, then a sudden shudder shook his prostrate frame, and he groaned aloud in the aDguish of mental suffering. Kneeling by his side, Inez took his hand in hers, and covered it with pas* sionate kisses. For the moment all else was forgotten but sorrow for him, her li dol'A er, Ouly love< She forK°* that his hand had sent her father's soul into eternity, that his neglect had caused her many weary months of suffering suspense; she only remembered that be was restored to her, to love and watch over, to tend and cherish with all the devotion of a woman's nature. '"' But iußtead of the expected caress, the fond welcome, her eager heart longed for, Ferdinand drew his hand away from her clasp with an exceeding bitter cry, and fixing his despairing gaze upon her astonished countenance, exclaimed in tones of passionate remorse— " No, no. Inez, my lost love, never more, fouch me not. I am unworthy; I am polluted; I am accursfd ; alas, alnn!

that would I.had died before I had seen your bright, peerless beauty, or taught you to lore such an one as I." The exertion was too great for him in his present weak state, and with a low moan of anguish, he fell into a death-like swoon. Seriously alarmed, Inez summoned the attendant, and retired to the alcove beyond, at one" moment wondering greatly what his strange incoherent utterances could possibly mean, the next attributing them entirely to the. encounter with her father, and its fatal .consequences. Inez was fully,persuaded that the Count only •drew rapier in self defence, knowing well heir poor father's hasty, impetuous temper, and repulsive as was the idea of blood* shed to her tender heart, she could but mingle pity with reproach, as she gazed upon that prostrate, handsome form, and realised that ere long he too must render up his account to the Judge of all men. Unseen by him, yet watchful of every change in his evidently critical position, Inez remained in silence through those weary hours. After some, time he revived, looked anxiously round, then seeing»no one but the nurse, sank into a profound slumber, from which he did not waken until the sun had risen high in the cloudless azure of the morning sky.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONFESSION. Inez had been persuaded by the anxious physician to take some rest and refreshment, Ferdinand appearing to Have / derived much benefit from his quiet sleep, so, with many charges to the nurse to call her if any change occurred, the weary maiden retired to an adjoining chamber. A few hours later she stood again beside his coach', watching him as he lay in a light dreamy slumber. Presently he awoke, and Inez bent her beautiful head, and kissed him softly on that broad smooth brow, where the raven curls clustered in such rich profusion. But again he shuddered at her caress, and the shadow of a great fear, fell upon her heart. Had he ceased to love her— his wife, his bride of an hour ? He was calm now; a steady light shone in his sunken eyes ; a steady resolve was - written on his dark, handsome, features. Inez sat down beside him. and spoke soft, gentle words of comfort, even while her own teats were falling fast. He looked at her long and earnestly, as though he would drink in those gentle tones and tender looks; then in a tone of sorrowful self»reproach he cried " Inez, my love, let me make the only reparation I can, while yet I have strength. Let me hold your hand while I make confession of my sin, of the deep, dark, wrong I have committed against you, and against one who is beyond the reach of restitution, but who I believe now hovers round us, and knows my deep repentance." Slowly he spoke, and the great drops gathered on his brow, while his features worked in very agony of remorse and shame. " Oh! Inez, will you not loathe and despise me when I tell you that ere I ever saw you, heard your sweet voice, or learned to love you with a love as fatal as it was fervent and since, I had forfeited the right to do so, being already wedded to the hapless Lady Cordova." Tjyith a low cry of anguish, Inez covered her face, that beautiful face that had caused her this bitter sorrow, with both her white, jewelled, hands, and cowered as though a dart had pierced her very ... aoul. N Slowly Ferdinand continued, " Yes, I know the revelation shocks and , disgusts your pure soul, but I was mad, Inez, mad with an insane longing to possess such a treasure for my own, and when I-parted from you in Toleda I had -sot enough courage to tell you the truth, that far away, in a quiet Swiss valley, a gentle, guileless, woman and innocent babe awaited my return, and claimed the noblest affections of my manhood. Alas! my wife, my pure angel, how she watched .for my coming, till the truth slowly dawned upon her mind that I, worthless as I was, had only wedded her for the sake of her fortune, fthat she was the trusting unsuspecting dupe of a gambler and debaucher. Spurn me, Inez, reproach me, despise me as I deserve to be despised, but believe me that I never intended to become the reprobate I now am. That I married the Lady Cordova for her money I admit, mercenary wretch that I was, but I honestly meant to remain true to her, for she loved me with a deep, unchanging affection, and sought by every tender endearment to lure me from my evil courses. But there was one who had ever been my evil genius, one who had loved with all the depth of his nattire, the maiden I had won. The Lady Cordova had never encouraged his attentions, indeed, she openly avowed her dislike to them, but still he followed her, and sought by every available means to win her love. That treasure was reserved for worthless, * reckless, me, brnte that L was to trample on such pure affection. Inez, I speak as . , a dying man. I never loved woman until *.. I beheld you; your beauty held me captive, and made a slave of my reason." " Cursed fatal beauty," murmured the stricken girl, " what hastthou wrought?" " Nay, nay, say not'so; 'twas my sin, . not thy pure beauty that wrought the '■ ruin. But hear me once,, then curse me if you will, my lost, my only love. I have said that i)i Courcy loved my wife with the most passionate affection, and when he found that her heart was given ■ tome, be became incensed with a mad, wild, jealousy that vowed revenge and retribution. He hid his secret feelings beneath a guise of friendship, and sought my society at every available opportunity, ■while with all the subtlety of preconcerted design, he lured me on in a course of wild dissolute pursuits that soon made havoc of the fortune I had won with my bride. Madly I plunged into a vortex of pleasure, any regular resort being the gaming saloon and such questionable amusements, where in company with his chosen spirits he led me on, till I stood upon the verge of ruin. , Eendered desperate by continued losses, I drank heavily and thus offered renewed opportunities to the spoiler. In an unguarded moment I signed some"papers that were afterwards proved to be forgeries; then terri6ed at the' idea of the consequences of my almost unconscious act, I broke loose from my iosidious captor, and returned to Spain to beg further resources from my already impoverished family. I went alone! careless of safety: I wandered o'er .- the mountains, wa3 captured by brigands, ■wounded, robbed, and left for dead. Your father rescued me .(ah ! be saved my unworthy life only tolose his own, aud by my band—oh ! fates, how can ye be so cruel?) and "brought me to his home, r where I was tended back to life by your *■ -oving care, and alas, too soon I learned to love the sweet presence that watched o'er me in airy weakness, til} I wakened as

one in a dream to the consciousness that it was not for me to ba;sk in the sunlight of your beauty, or win the* blessing of your love. Inez, you know how we parted; how I thrust back the burning words that were surging to my lips, and tried to quench the fire that burst out anew at every 'glimpse of your gentle, pure and matchless beauty. I returned to Switzerland, to find myself a "father, and in my wicked folly treated that faithful heart with cold indifference ; ah, cruel neglect. " I told her I was afraid to remain in Sausanne, lest I might be traced to the authorities, for I knew Di Courcy's relentless power. I told her of my can • ture by the brigands, and of your father's kindness, and my desire to reward him. I bade her farewell ostensibly to go on an Alpine tour into Italy, there to obtain employment, as my means were quite exhausted. I would not go home to I Satille, I felt too guilty ,to meet my mother's loving scrutiny, so contented myself with writing to her. She promised to come over to Sausanne and stay with nay wife and child, and if possible (my wife's health was very delicate) take them back with her to Spain. "Telling her this, I left her ; something told me for the last time as she hung on my neck and entreated me to return as soon as possible, for the sake of the little one. " She asked me to name that sleeping innocent; I called her Inez, while the hot blood rushed,to my brow in gailty shame as I kissed that downy cheek. ' " Bye-and bye I came to Venice, and met Di Courcy at the gaming table. He taunted me unmercifully, yet pretended to prove himself my friend ; he led me on again, and the old passion for play seized me with redoubled force. For some time fortune favored me, I won laree sums of. money nightly, and my infatuation in* creased. •• Then it was that I met you again; the accident to your gondola gave me a favorable opportunity to renew our acquaintance, and I believe I was mad when I went through the farce of a betrothal, vainly hoping that some unforseen circumstance might set me free. Yet there were moments when I loathed and plunged yet more madly into excesses to drown the voice of conscience. Blindly I placed myself more completely in my enemy's power, higher and yet higher stakes were laid, until one night I found myself utterly ruined. "Bitterly I reproached him, only to meet with cutting sarcasm and stinging retort. He knew my secret, he knew of my love for you and threatened to inform the Lady Cordova of my lawless doings, if I did not discharge every fraction of my debt to him. " Madly I played again as he bade me, sometimes winning largely, at others losing as heavily. At last' I became desperate, and one night, inflamed with wine, and angered by his taunting manner, I bade him do his worst. Then he avowed his . motive. He declared he would press your father for some large amount he had won from him in play, and knowing his utter inability to meet the demand, offer to cancel the whole if he would consent to give him your hand. If the Don should question his right to this tslaim he threatened to expose my duplicity, and prove the futility of all hopes of his daughter becoming my wife. " Half, blind with rage and fear, I played again, only to Jose still more heavily. How I reached my hotel that night I know not; I only remember his exultant laugh as I flung myself into my gondola and left him standing on the balcony above. "I found a letter awaiting me from Sausanne, telling me of the sudden and serious illness of my wife, and entreating my speedy return. "Ah! what a wretch I must have been ! I shudder at the thought of my own evil passions. I actually hoped my poor wife's illness might prove fatal. I did not pray for her recovery. " Then I formed a fatal resolution. I knew Di Courcy's power and thought to forestall him, and prevent him robbing me of the treasure I hoped, in the event of Lady Cordova's death, to make my own " Then I planned the hasty stolen marriage, and in your trustfulness you came to me, and the solemn farce was played out to the bitter end. I knew then that nothing would induce you to marry another, and hoped you might never learn the truth, but that I might return to claim you in a few weeks, and take you far, far away from the scenes of my sinful conduct. • "I had hoped Di Courcy had not known of tLis, but he was well informed of my actions, and suddenly changing his mode of revenge instead of using his influence with the Don and exposing me, suddenly left Venice, and as I have learned since, hastened to the home of my wife, who was still very ill, laid bare my duplicity, and besought her to accept his sincere affection, and immediately she was strong enough, fly with him to happier scenes. " Need I tell you her answer, Inez ? (To be Continued.)

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS18830915.2.3

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4586, 15 September 1883, Page 1

Word count
Tapeke kupu
2,587

FOOTPRINTS; OR, STOLEN AWAY. Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4586, 15 September 1883, Page 1

FOOTPRINTS; OR, STOLEN AWAY. Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4586, 15 September 1883, Page 1

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