The Treasure Tower

fcOPYRIGHT 1892 BY RAND.M9NALLY & CO. CHAPTEB II. A MALTESE SÜITOB. A Y ST. GREGory confound all Eng-lishmen!" repeated Dr. Busatti in a hissinff whisper bet ween olenched teeth as he walked home, after separating from Lieut. zon. He glanced over his shoulder, cautiously, in the very utterance of the malediction, as if to ascertain whether or no the saint invoked had blighted the stalwart enemy on the spot But the officer pursued his way at a light and brisk pace, without a backward look. Dejection gradually subdued the fierce wrath of jealousy in the breast of the physician. Why was Dolores so portionless a maiden? He asked this question, piteously, of the blue sky and limpid sea. In his family, the bride had always brought her dowry, her household linen and embroideries, however modest, and he had been educated to laudably respect the possession oi worldly goods. Stiil he was irresistibly attracted and charmed by the arch beauty and winning ways of Jacob Dealtry's granddaughter, whose smiles animated his grave and Somber humor on those occasions when lie sought a pretext to visit the Watch Tower in the country. Dolores was glad to see Dr. Busatti. She was glac to see any visitor in her restricted existence. She played with his devotion as a kitten sports with shadows, placing the paw of innocent curiosity on dark phases of passion in human nature in mere sportiveness of mood. He had cradled himself in the svveet delusions of the present hour, without too accurately detining the future, even in his own mind. Jacob Dealtry's span of life must of necessity be brief; and, possibly, when Dolores was left alone, the heart of his own home circle would be sof tened toward the helpless orphan. He was a dutiful and obedient son, and had never rebelled against paternal authority, while always to carry his father's messages to the Tower as an opportunity to enjoy the vivacity of intercourse with Dolores, albeit she of ten bewildered as well as dazzled his sober f aculties. Not the least element of his satisfaction consisted of the secrecy of his course. The paradise of little garden where dwelt Dolores was remóte, and safely hidden from all eyes save his own. Even his mothep did not suspect his pen shan t, and Giovanni Battista especially feared his mother. The intrusión of the British sailor, alert, handsome, and keen of eye, on the paradise of the .Watch Tower was a rude shock to indolent possession of the citadel. The disciple of Eseulapius was irritated and alarmed, without constitutional irresolution being confirmed into swift and decisive action. He was dissatisfied, even depressed, by the circumstance. Af ter all, the officer might never return to Jacob Dealtry's dilapidated abode. Absorbed in these reflections, Dr. Busatti reached the town. As he approached his own dwelling1 he observed two persons, who had paused near the shrine of the angle of wall, engaged in earnest conversation. These were a tall priest, whose form, ciad in black robes, and beaver hat with a wide briin, was sharply defined like a silhouette against the relief of white wall, and a fat, little woman, with a round, yellow face, and a tendency to black mustache on the upper lip. The tal) priest, drawing a tortoiseshell box f rom his pocket, took a pinoh MCT- - -rrV ,'. . Lij, ■sap of snuff with an appearance of slow enjdyment. The little woman held the silk mantle, the faldetta of Malta, over her head, which fluttered in the wind. The couple concluded their colloquy, with many nods of mutual understanding-, and inuch animated gesticulatioD, hen walked on slovvly. Dr. Busatti recognized his mother nd his maternal únele, the priest of neighbormg parish. Why did a jloomy eonviction smite him that they vere talkinsy about himself? Why id the roseale picture of pretty Doores, pausing beside the fountain and ,he orange tree, fade as he entered the hill shadow of the street? "Good day,my uncle," said Giovanni iattista, his relatives at ,he door of the paternal home, which was a modest nook of au old and pacious mansion. "Good day, fig-lio miol" replied the )riest, with benevolence. Madame Busatti surveyed her son cornfully, tossed her head elig-htly jeneath the folds of the faldetta, and uttered a short and contemptuous augh. "I have been fora walk in the countrv," stammered Dr. Busatti, with an apprehensive glance at the maternal countenance. "I know where you have been," she retorted sharply, and entered the house. The unele patted the young man on the shoulder reassuringly, and regarded him with asly smile of humor. Giovanni Battista Busatti the eider a government official, wbo had reared seven ehildren on a small salarv. Studious in taste, he was compiling a history of his native island in moments of leisure. Thin and cadaverous like his offspring, he was mild in disposition, and wholly swa,yed by the influence of his wife. Maddalena Busatti led an existence divided between thrifty cares of her household and attending mass at the parish church. Antonio, still more slender and dusky than his eider brother, was a student of law at the Lyceum and University. Five docile and swarthy young sisters completed the domestic circle. Doctor Busatti took his accustomed seat at the table, and kept a vigilant eye on his mother. The goodhumored gossip of the uncle, who shared the meal, did not divert him from the suspicion that something unusual had happened to excite the ruling spirit of the place. He had not long to wait. Signora Busatti, after talking with her customary volubility on indifferent topics during the first portion of the meal, placed her two plump arms on the table and announced, with a comprehensive glance at her numerous offspring, "Giovanni Battista must select a wife." "Yes. A good wife aids a physician to win the confidence of the community," added the priest. "I was airea dy married atyour age," echoed the father. Antonio smiled with the supercilious smirk of adolescence, and dipped a morsel oí Dreaa in onve on. he Bwarthy little sisters giggled and nudged each other. "ïhere is plenty of time," said Doctor Busatti, in feeble protest, and feeling himself surrounded by domestic conspirators. "There is no time to lose," rejoined the mother. "I am in no haste to wed," demurred the son, wiping his brow with visible dread of arousing family wrath. "I can very well wait for another year." Then Maddalena Busatti planted her elbows yet more firmly on the table, and spoke at length. The uncle was present to support her in unfolding her matrimonial schemes, but she required no aid, spiritual or temporal. She was a host in herself. She had found a suitable daughter-in-law in the plump heiress of a certain wine merchant down at the Port, Caterina Vaceiliby name. "Caterina Vacelli?" repeated Dr. Busatti, in troubled accents. "I have never seen the girl. " "Your uncle knows her well. He baptized her in infancy," was the glib rosponse. "Is she pretty?" inquired the suitor, ' dolefully. "As pretty as your own sisters,' affirmed Madame Busatti with enthusiasm. The five maidens again tit tered, and whispered together mucli flattered by the unex peoted compliment, while Antonio dipped another morsel of bread in oil munched the delicacy slowly, anc scrutinized them in turn with that j latent, fraternal derision observable in the youth of all races at times. "There is a fine wedding-dowry, my son," ly. "The wine merchant will not stint the supply of linen to become J conuected with our family." Dr. Busatti sighed deeply, and shook his head. "We will speak of the matter later, another day," he said, with a gesture of indignation. Here the mother's patience became too severely tried; her black eyes snapped angrüy. "Caterina Vacelli will be won by another while you wait," she cried shrilly, and without finding it necessary to explain that she had made all requisite overtures in the name of her ; eldest born. "The grandchild of that here tic, Jacob Dealtry, has bewitched thee, Giovanni Battista; fooi that thou art'. Have I no eyes? Do not attempt j to deeeive me! Ah, I know all! It is true that the girl has had some instruction froin the Sisters and attends church, especially on Festas, but she is without a penny. A fine bride for my son, truly! The other day she took her mother's wedding chain to the Monte di Piëta and actually pavvned it to buy some finery. " Dr. Busatti winced and his brow clouded, yet he remained silent. His father rubbed his chin meditatively and regarded him with a quizzieal expression which said more eloquently than words: "So this is the secret of your willingness to carry archaeological treasures to the Watch Tower? Your mother is more clever than the devil about finding out things, and it is useless to resist her." The meal over, the uncle drew forth his favorite snuff box, and the family union acquired the character of a solemn conclave. Dr. Busatti did not venture to inquire how that fatal i stumbling block in his own path of timid and vacillating love-making, the visit of Dolores to the pawnbroker's. had becouie known. In the end he submitted to the decrees of Providence. He was presented to Caterina Vacelli, who proved to be not very roung, and with shoulders rounded in a curve which would ïave been pronounced a humpback in a bride less well dowered. Giovanni Battista f ailed in none of the duties which his new position enailed upon him. He promised to ;ake his wife each year to the festival of San Gregorio, according to the old custom. üe brougnt ner canes mmpounded of honey, sugar, and hempeed, to the satisfaotion of both f amiies. The mocking student-of-law, An;onio, sang in a ciear, tenor voice: 'In the wedding, or matrimonial icontract, They make this conjugal bargain, That he (the bridegroom) sball take her to the festa of San Gregorio. Shall set her upon the wall, Shall buy her a slice of sweetmeat, Made of hempseed, Kor that is the kind that best pleases his lady, the bride " Thus material wisdom triumphed, ! and Dr. Busatti haunted the little , garden of Jacob Dealtry no more. CHAPTER III. OVER A CUP OF TEA. HE SAILOR ENters like the proverbial buil in a china sho p," thought Capt. Elake, as Lieut. Curzon, puslimg aside the hanginers of a door behind him, struck his ow, and sent the cup of tea which he was about to drink spinning from his rasp on the floor. "I beg your pardon," said the newomer, halting in dismay. "The place s dark " "Oh, pray don't trouble about me," eplied Capt Blake, airily, and conemplating the fragments of rare Saturna ware scattered at his feet. "You are late, Arthur," said the ïostess, greeting the new arrival with unruffled suavity, and ignoring the broken cup, except to order a servant .o remove the debris. "I have been for a walk in the country," Lieut. Curzon reoined as he wiped his heated :row on his pocket handkerchief. ' 'Your tea room is deliciously cool and fragrant, Cousin Maud, but it is dark after the sun. I am awfully sorry to have smashed your china." "This is my friend Miss Symthe, just out from England," interposed Mrs. Griffith, smiling, and presenting a young lady who was pouring tea at the table. "Will you take cream and sugar, Lieut. Curson?" inquired Miss Symthe in caressing accents. "Both, please. " "Do try a sandwich, or some bread and butter," supplemented the hostess. "You must be half starved after your walk, We intend to keep you to din ner as well, even if you disobey ship's orders." He laughed as he accepted his cup of tea. "Perhaps Harry would not be too hard on me if I overstaid mv leave, forgetting the lapse of time in such charming society as an unlucky sailor is always sure to find in your house, Maud." Mrs. Griffith sowed a tiny seed, destined to bear later fruit, in her reply, as she selected a sandwich for her young kinsman with her own fair hands. "I faticy Harry would not be too íard on you if you disobeyed orders iltogether." The Ilarry in question. otherwise Captain the Hon. Henry Jlontagu Fitewilliam. C. B. , in command of H. U. S. Sparrow, was a veteran officerof lignificd, not to sav severe, mien; an nflexible disciplinarían, who made the ives of midshipmen and suboffieials a ourthen by reason of a vigilanse leemed little short of galling tyranny md oppression. Lieut. Curzon found transition of mood and surroundings alike soothing ind agreeable. The idyl of youth and beauty in rags was dispelled by the presence of Mrs. Griffith and Miss Kthel Svmthe, who bestowed upon the leeply appreciative sailor all those jraeeful and delicate attentions whereevith wily sirens on land win the hearts of the followers of the sea. He vas hot, a little tired and vexed, with ■ill a young man's sense of amour propre, that he had clumsily broken a cup on entering the room. The eye of that son of Mars, Captain Blake, was still upon him, with an undefinable mockery, as of one who had score d a point in the social game to the discomfiture of a rival branch of the service. Mrs. Griffith had never been more sympathetic in cordiality of welcome. Miss Ethel Symthe, with her calm, fair face, and erect figure, was pleasant to contémplate. The softly modulated encouragement of their words and smiles pervaded his senses like a subtle perfume, even as the silken folds of their yellow tea-gowns, all creamy lace and knots of ribbon, brushed his arm. He had regained his own sphere once more after that country ramble, which should have been too trivial to leave even a surface impression on his mind. It is in such mornents of extreme reaction from the unforeseen that men of impulsive temperament cast anchor in the home haven and beeome sédate husbands. Mrs. Griffith, as the wife of a military man of high rank, was the power behind the throne in the places where the general was stationed. The tact and amiability of her personal infiuence were perceptible at Gibraltar, Cyprus, and in India alike. She was ever the Donna Pia of the miniature court of Urbino, organizing the festivities, adjusting all petty differenr.es, giving zest and piquaney to gaiety. Her acquaintances ranged over more than half of the civilized world. llemoved to a new station, tne laay invariably adapted her tea room to ( the requirements of a large circle, as in Arab adjusts his tent Henee, in . the palace of the Knights Templar at Malta, the low chamber opening1 on a court had a design of bamboo aeross the ceiling; the walls were wainseoted with panels of cedar, palm and red pine; and the floor. covered with delicate matting. Vases filled with chrysanthemums; old screens of six panels, quaintly painted and heavily gilded; and divans covered with draperies wadded with silk, imparted, with the fragrant woods used in decoration, a pervading hue of rich brown to the room. In one corner was a curious household shrine dedicated to Buddha, with a brass lamp suspended before it, and a shelf, with a circular' mirror and tiny trays for offerings of flowers, rice, and incensé. On the present occasion, Miss Symthe had insisted on kindling' a stick of incensé in a tiny brazier before the god, with a mischievous glance at an elderly clergyman with a weak chest Arthur Curzon, soothed by these feminine flatteries, asked himself what scheme his cousin might be maturing in her brain, on his own behalf, with a sentiment of awakening1 curiosity, as his glance followed the movements of the stout and handsome tnatron with the smooth black hair, clear complexión, and tranquil gray eyes. Mrs. Griffith was an invetérate matchmaker. No doubt she had a bride ready for him. Who, then? Miss Ethel Symthe, of course. Did he not know feminine tactics? The young man was expansive in responsive greetings to the Ancient Mariner, otherwise Capt. John Fillingham, on the retired list, whose reminiscences extended over forty years of active service, chiefly in woodon ships; wars; the suppression of the African slave trade; or cruising1 off the Mosquito coast. He had shared the fresh impressions of life of midshipmen with Arthur Curzon's father, the admiral of many engagements. A kindly old gentleman, warming rheumatic limbs in the winter sunshine of the Mediterranean shore, and with a countenance like the battered figure-head of a ship, the Ancient Mariner scanned thenew-comer throughhis gold-rimmed spectacles, and remar kec to Miss Symthe, sotto voce: "A flne tad, and he will prove an exeeedingly clever man, if I am not much mistaken. A chip of the old block, as well. They are called the mad CurEons, you know. His father, Admira' Jack, feil in love with such a pretty ! fjirl, but without a penny. She was a nursery governess, ors something o: that sort He saw her orossing a thop oughíare naar his club on a fogjfy morning. She had neatly turned ankles. Dear me! it seems but yesterday! I was best man at the wedding We were middies together. " "Fancy!" murmured Miss Symthe, and a slight glow of animation warmed ïer cheek. "These iellows are pampered nowadays," continued Capt. Fillingïam. 'In my time, we had to put up with salt horse and weevily biscuit, without too much complaint. The uncle, Arohibald, if I am not in error " "John, dear, have another slice of Dread and butter," interposed Mrs. gillingham, a brisk matron, still proud oí her formas re vealed ;o advantafre in a Paris robe. The Ancient Mariner frowned, with an expression of afEronted dignity. He was fond of unraveling the thread of reminiscenees of dates, places, and people, when he found a congenial listener. Mrs. Griffith gave the Lieutenant a gilded bonbonniere, with the admonition: "Ethel is very fond of chocolate." The officer started from his reveries, and presented the box to the younL lady. As he did so, the heavy medal feil from his pocket and rol led on the floor. He recovered it hastily. "What treasure have you there?" inquired Miss Symthe, who possessed an unusually sharp pair of blue eyes. "A Phoenician medaillon, "was the careless rejoinder. "Where did you find it?" questioned Capt. Fillingham, with interest aroused. "I bought it," said Lieut Curzon, and paused abruptly. "Dear me! You got it of a native, I suppose?" pursued the old gentleman. "No. Mr. Jacob Dealtry sold it to me over yonder." Capt. Blake laughed in a cynical fashion. "Has Jacob Dealtry any pretty daughters?" he insinuated. "No," said Arthur Curzoni with superfluous curtness. "Surely he has a granddaughter," insisted Capt. Blake, playfully. The hot blood mounted to the brow of the sailor. "How did you know?" he demanded haughtily. Capt Blake slightly elevated his eyebrows. drained his teacup and replaced it on the trav. "Jacob Dealtry," repeated the Ancient Mariner, in a tone. "Where have I heard that name? There was a Capt. Frederick Dealtry on the west coast when I was first lieutenant on the Coquette. I fancy the eommander was a Dealtry, who got himself into a mess about the of the Wasp at Salamis. Don't you remember " G "John, dear, some more tea will do you good," said Mrs. Fillingham, who spoke with a hasty and an authoritative lisp. nThe Ancient Mariner glanced definantly at his helpmate, while consenting to a judicious epienisnment oí cup, ana nxea Liieut. Curzon with his glittering eye. 'Ah! Now I.have it!"he pursued.ig-norng feminine interruption. "Jacob )ealtry was the name of the merchant, r trader, at Jamaica, who disappeared o mysteriously after of the marriag-e of his only son in Spain. I was in the West Indian waters at the ime, in command of the Vulture. We g-ave a ball to the ladies in the harbor of Kingston on the very night. Kext iay the whole affair was town talk. t was most extraordinary, you know. Che trader was supposed to be well off, and he had disappeared without leaving a trace. Ensign White told me afterward about the son's return the following year with his Spanish wife, and his search for the missing Darent. He hinted at foul play and robbery. There was something wrong. Stop a bit, though! Was the name Dealtry or Brown?" Capt. Blake laughed again his mirthless, jarring, little laugh. CHAPTER IV. ST. PAUL' 8 BAY. ES. GRIFFITH invited her friends to a picnic at St. Paul's bay on the ensuing day. The weather was fine, and the spirits nf t.lift rartv in w Oí Ulo JJbi y,y íu harmony with the exhilarating tones of their surroundings. On one side the island, barren and arid, caught the pervading radiance of golden sunshine, and the shadow of passing clouds in orange and purple tints on rldge and hollow, vivid, yet delicate and evanescent. On the other the limpid waves of the bay rippled gently on the strand, and the blue sea spread beyond rock and inlet to the limit ol a transparent and luminous horizon. Everywhere was the permeating effulgenee of a southern light and color, to the eye and steeping the senses in a soft languor of indolence. The warm sea breeze mingled with the perfume of flowers in adjaeent gardens. Occasionally abird winged its flight across the zenith. Little craft steered into the bay as the storm-beaten vessel of the apostle is reputed, by tradition, to have once so'ught refuge here. The clergyman with a weak chest listened to the ruminating conjectures of the Ancient Mariner as to the muchdisputed voyag-e of St. Paul, and whether the island visited had been Melida, Melita, or Malta, while the ladies manifestcd a half-fearful interest in the viper, and the possibility of descendants of the reptile lingering-on the spot. Mrs. (irifiith, handsome and suave, in her maize-colored draperies, appealed to hernauticalcousin, Arthur Curzon, as to whether or not the wind Euroclydon was the northeast current which wafted hither the apostle of the gentiles. "Very possiDly," assented the young man, with indifference; for Miss Symthe was in the act of transferring a rosebud f rem lier belt to hia buttonhole at the moment. "Tradition is a bore, don't you think?" added Captain lilake, as the young lady bestowed a similar gift on him. "Not at all," she rejoined, in a tone of reproof. "All about St. Paul's bay is most interesting. " Here the clergyman opened a Testament, which he carried in lieu of a g-uide-book, and read aloud several passages in the Acts. Capt Fillingham became inspired with a kindling enthusiasm of conviction. "I believe we are standing on the very spot where St. Paul landed," he affirmed, with a sweeping gesture or his right arm, which included sea and shore. "The violent wind had beaten the little chaloup about until the sailors were in despair, and all the cargo had been thrown overboard to lighten the vessel. Only the . prisoner Paul, who must live to see Kome, was sustained by unwavering courage, and strove to reanímate the spirits of his companions. A man among men, in storm and darnness!" "Paul was upheld by faith." interpolated the clergyman. "On the fourteenth night af ter quitting Crete, Paul counseled all of his companions to eat bread, and strengthen themselves, and in the morning they sighted land, when the sbip was driven into this bay by the tempest with such fury that the prow waa buried in the sand, the waves washed over the poop, and the whole craft was broken up. Am I right?" (TO BE CONTINUKD.)