Treasure Tower

-JXrf%'WcOPYRIGHT 1892 BYRAND.M?NALLY & CO. J On the left stood the Phoenician, as the first colonist. She was a girl robed in royal purple, girdled with a gold zone, and holding1 in her fing-ers a lotos flower. A temple, dedicated to Astarte, Was behind her, wliile at her feet were scattered rude instruments of astronomy and navigation, linenweaving, and the fusión of metáis. Diana occupied the central areh, as representing Greece in the shadow of the Parthenon. Ciad in a white robe, with the 6ilver crescent attached to ' her dimpled shoulders, the goddess had an aspect of cold and severe beauty. She g-athered aside the veil, which formed a diadem on her head. A . torch, reversed, depended from her arm. On the right appeared the Roman, more mature in beauty than her companions, and in richly wrought garments and sandals. She held a statuette of Mercury, emblematic of commerce, and the wolf on a column, as we: as the ruins of the Forum, indicated lier origin. The rich colorín of the Phcenieian and the Roman formed a oharacteristic contrast with the fair symmetry of feature of Diana. A murmur of admiration and applause greeted this charming group, necessitating a second lifting of the curtain. A trifling incident marred the repetition. A tiny dog, resembling a ball of white, floss silk, rushed on the Btage, peered at the audience, growled and began to bark vociferously. Phoenicia forgot her pose, caught up the animal, kissed him on the nose, and thrust him under one arm. "Florio followed us," she explained, in audible tones, to the hostess. "He would not stay at home alone. I am sorry. Evil little beast! How dare you bark? Eh!" "The picture is now complete," said Gen. Lubomirsky, smiling. "Did not the Sybarites carry these dogs to the baths. held under the arm. and even honor them with monuments and epitaphs after death?" "Who is the Ptioenician?" inquired the young prince of his host, after a pause. Gen. Griffith was at f ault. He had never seen her before, and did not know her name. He fancied she was gome native, Maltese girl used for the occasion. On the stage the Grand Master Villiers de l'Isle d'Adam, in the person of Capt. Fillingham, wearing pasteboard armor in lieu of wrought steel, indicated the scène of fortifications begun in defense of his chosen island home. The Knight La Vallette next appeared. Ciad in mail, he unfurled the banner of the order of St John and trampled beneath his heel the Mahometan crescent. ïhen Lieut Curzon, in uniform and grasping the hational standard, was disclosed by the raised curtain. The young offieer stood on the margin of blue sea, with a lighthouse depicted on the shore and a man-of-war in the distance, embodying later British supremacy of rule, and brought the tableaux to a fitting close. J,ne draperies were once more swept aside and Calypso, surrounded by the Phoenician, the Greek and the Roman, flanked by the two knights of Malta and the British sailor, again tendered a welcome to the august guest. The ball that ensued was opened by the grand duke and the hostess. At the conclusión of the quadrille he said slowly: ' 'I have to ask of the Goddess Calypso the further pleasure of the next quadrille with the youngest and most beautiful of her nymphs, the Phoenician, for a partner. " The Phoenician? Heavens! Who ■was the girl picked up by Arthur Curzon somewhere about the island? Mrs. Griffith did rnot knovv what had become of this Cinderella, and vet the young prince had expressed a wish to dance with her. The hostess bowed assent without betraying either surprise or annoyance at the unforeseen request. As for Dolores, swept from the seclusion of the little garden by the energetic will of Lieut Curzon, she found herself launched amid the most unfarniliar elementa of life. The young offieer had returned to the Watch Tower in the morning, true to his promise, with the stage wardrobe requisite for the girl, purchased by himself in the town, with much secrecy. Oh sweetness of the morning hour, stolen from all the world, in the seclusion of the neglected garden, where Dolores became transformed into the Phoenician muiden, with Jacob Dealtry and the perturbed little dog Florio for audience! How many confidences were exchanged among the ilowers, with the pigeons circling near, and in the shade of the orange tree, while the grandfather sought yet another specimen to impose on his victim, the amateur collector. Mrs. Oriffith had received this fresh recruit to her dramatic staff vvith affability, but in the cold, blue eyes of Miss Ethel Symthe swift disapproval was perceptible. Capt. Blake, in the cause like a galley slave, to use his own term, as stage manager, scène painter and actor in one, remarked, audibly: "What a .pretty g-irl! Really, the sailor has an eye for beauty." Miss Symthe bit her lip in silence. "Are we quits, my lady?" mused the social wasp, resuming his brush with renewed ardor, in the interests of depi:ting the lighthouse and the blue sea on the final scène. The clever pencil of the young lady just out from London had designed the decorations for each tableau, with the assistance of Capt Bleke, and her skillful profleieney was apparent in all the minor details of grouping and costume. She had demurred at the newcomer's fitness to fill the role of the Phcenician. "Darken her eyebrows," suggested . Lieut. Curzon. The ladies made no further objection. The hostess may have reviewed the situation, with keen, feminine insight, and discerned an unexpected checkmate on the intercourse of friend and cousin so opportunely brought togethpr beneath her roof. During the first quadrille Dolores had nimbly divested her rounded limbs of the purple, Tyrian draperies of the stage, and slipped on the pretty pink dress. No necklace of pearls had she, but she tied a ribbon around her throat, in a coquettish little bovv under the left ear. The classical sandal was cast from her ioot in favor of the black satin slippers of her mother, the true shoe o. a Spanish señorita. She was not shy with the timidity of northern races under similar circumstances. She emerged from a dressing- room, holding Plorio tiffhtly in her arms. She mast find her grandfather, who waitcd in one of the colonnades, and consign the pet to his keeping. Her whole nature basked in the light, perfume and warmth of the place and the hour. She paused before a large Chinese vase and rifled it of several roses of the color of her gown, placing one in her hair and the rest in her corsag-e. She resembled the fairy princess of the enchanted palace. All belonged toher in this realm of delight, and she must not be surprised at any marvel. Strains of music floated through the chamber to her keenly expectant ear, mingled with a rather awe-inspiring murmur of voices as of many people gathered together. Where we re all these people? The glitter of gilt, the flowing folds of embroidered hangings and the long vista of lamps, multiplied by the shimmer of mirrors, charmed her eye. Surely the marvelous history of the milkmaid, who dressed in the hollow of a tree to attend a county ball, was no more surprising than that she, Dolores of the Watch Tower, should be here in the palace of the Knights of Malta. Entering a deserted apartment, she paused, involuntarily, to survey her reflected image in one of those glittering looking-glasses. Another girl, who had previously been pacing the floor with marked impatience, approached . and stood beside her, giving a touch of readjustment to her own coiffure, and humming a song meanwhile. "Isthisyour first ball?" she inquired in Italian, scanning Dolores. "Yes," said the latter, turning to the stranger with a surprise which merged into native admiration as she contemplated her. Dolores had not yet entered the portals of the room, and thoue-ht she had never dreamed of any one as beautiful as her companion at the present moment The stranger was small and slight, and robed in pale green silk, draped .with an embroidery of crystal held vvith trailine lilies, leaves, and river grasses. Her blonde hair, ly dashed with sparkling gold powder, ! was caught up with stars of brilliants. A pair of large eyes, full of vivacity, animated her oval face, which was piquant in expression. White gloves of exquisito fineness covered her tiny hands and arms.reaching1 to the shoulder. She held a roU of music. Her inanner was petulant, abrupt, whimsieal, yet assured. She read plainly such flattery of appreciation in the gaze of simple Dolores that her irritation of the previous moment, at being apparently overlooked and forgotten, vanished. '■I have been invited to sing to the Grand Duke," continued the other, lapsing into Enn-lish, and speaking in a tone of blended egotism and familiarity. "I suppose I am to stay out here, like a servant, until I am summoned. I have heard of sucli things before in LondoD houses during the season, bvit I do not intend to put up with it in my day. Just wait until I am fairly launched! Nous-verrons, cherie! The Maestro at Milan says that my voice possesses the same fiexibility as Patti's, and more quality than Neilson's register. I have half a mind to put one of my diamond stars in your black hair, butno! the rosebud is even more becoming. You are the prettiest ereature I ever saw in my life. Do you understand English, little one?" . "Oh, yes," laughed Dolores. "I aro Englisb, or Maltese. My mother was Spanish, I can dance, perhaps, but I should be afraid to sing here. " "I am not afraid to sing before all the Grand Dukes in Christendom," retorted the Undine of the water-lilies, with a little grimance. "I only hope I may obtain an engagement at St. Petersburg soon. I am to make my debut at the Maltese opera-house, y ou know 'in the 'Barber of Seville.' I have taken the name of Signorina Giulia Melita. I was bom in Chicago, and my real name is Lizzie Shannon. I shall be known as Melita all over the vvorld. Are you coming to hear me on Thursday night?" "Oh, how I wish I could!" sighed Dolores, her hands together. "I fear that grandpapa never goes to the theater. " "There comes Mr. Brown," said the embryo Diva, quickly. "Mr. Brown?" repeated Dolores, interrogatively, and much interested in her nevv acquaintance. "You know him, oí course. No? You must have lieard of Mr. Iirown. Why! everybody knows him from Vienna and Paris to London and New York. Mr. Brown is at present my guardián dragon, and keeps all small fry at a safe distan ce. If I were a race horse of blood, you might say he had bet on my winning - invested in me. He is a good soul, too, and looks after my onion soup as well as my future engagements." Mr. Brown approached. He was a portly man of mature age, with a highly-colored countenance, and jet black hair and mustache. He was attired in what may be termed effulgent, masculine evening dress, and had the ponderous grace of mannerof theringmaster of a circus. "They are ready to hear you sing, my dear," he announced, in a paternal and wheezy voice. "Give that aria from the Sicilian Vespers with as much finish as possible, Melita." "Are they ready for me?" she retoi-ted, with a sarcastic intonation. "Supposing that I am not ready for them, Mr. Brown?" Mr. Brown smiled a fat smile, a facial wrinkle that rippled over cheek and jowl as the surface of water is stirred by a falling pebble, bowed foundly, and kissed the tips of the girl's fingere, as if saluting a princess. "Patience, my angel," he said, indulg-ently. "We must strive to make a good impression to-night by our modesty and graee. Later, we shall malee our own terms. Eh?" She sighed impatiently, and shook out the train of her dress. "Come along, then," was her unceremonious assent. I hate being patronized, though." She moved away a few paces, remembered Dolores, ran back, and kissed her suddecly. "You must come to my debut," she said. "Ask for Mr. Brown at the stage door. Bringf your grandpa, too. And - your gloves are shabby, child, " haltiag, with conviction. "I know it," eonfessed Dolores, ruefully. "They are old ones that I found in a box. I tried to clean them with bread-crumbs, and I thought, perhaps, they would not show much." "I have some nice gloves," affirmed the Signorina Giulia Melita, shakinp her head as she scrutinized those of Dolores. "Mr. Brown always carries a lot in his pocket in case I should change my inind about a pair. Your gloves have a great deal to do with your temper. You are a Spaniard and I am an American, so our hands are small. Give rae the package, quick. Mr. Brown. These pink ones will suit you, child. 1 wish I could stop to help y ou button thetn, but 1 may see you again, later. Don't forget the night of my debut, and to come to the stage door. She may bring me good luck, Mr. Brown. Vho knows?" CHAFTEB VIII. Mr. Brown had obédiently taken from the depths of a convenient pocket a bundie of gloves, which combined a rainbow of delicate tints, varying from violet, lemon olor, the blue of a robin's egg, to velvety black, and the ovvner bestowed her gif t with careless good humor. Left alone, after murmuring some confused words of thanks, Dolores contemplated her first pair of fresh gloves with an ecstasy of feminine contentmeat impossible to describe. How beautif ui they were, of a texture like a roseleaf! How deliciously they were scented with some unfamiliar perfume, which may have represented the first, subtle odor of a perfected refinement of civilization to the awakeniDg senses of the girl! She seated herself with the j poodle on her lap, stripped off the old gloves ungratef ully, casting them down at her leet, and assumed the new ones. Then she rose, and glanced about her, irresolutely. Unfamiliar with the mansion, she sought Lieut. Curzon on every side, with herglance. He had promised to wait for her and conduct her to the ballroom. Tiresome Florio must first be given to grandpapa. She went on to the next room of the suite, bewildered by her interview with the singer. In the second apartment a lady had paused to button her glove. She glanced up, recognized Dolores, and came swiftly toward her. She wielded no fairy wand wherewith to further embellish the poor, little naaiden admitted to this paradise of revelry. Instead, her blue eyes dwelt with un expression of wounding disapproval on the flimsy, pink ribbon eneircling the golden-brown throat, and tne coarse texture of the dress. The glance was one to eoldly discern defeets in other women rather than charms. Mies Ethel Symthe. in a robe of pure, white silk, subtly interwoven with glitterinfr silver, which shone like diamond dust scattered over snow, inspired fear, a chilling dread in the soul of Dolores, as she looked at her. Why? What bad she done amiss? The irrepressible flash of jealousy and irritation in the blue eyes of Diana may j have been the annihilating1 ray i launched at a rival, the obstacle in the path, sincc the day of Queen Eleanore and the fair Kosamund. Miss Symthe had not failed to remark the folly of mankind, as evineed by Capt. Blake, and even the Ancient Mariner, Capt. Filling-ham, in lingering near the Phoenician of the tableau. The anxiety and abstraction of Arthur Curzon had inspired in her secret uneasiness and suspicion. Where had he found Dolores? Why was he so solicitous'about her pose and accessories in the scène? Fate having delivered the innocent culprit into her : hands, this daug-hter of her century decided to dispose of her in summary fashion. "(rood-bye," she said with ahaughty ,bov. "You are going away now, I suppose. Mrs. Griffith is too busy to see you again, I fancy, but it does not signify, as I am hei e." lüe radiant lace oí Dolores ciouded, and she recoiled a step. She was expected to go away instead of dancing. The words, look, and manner of Miss Symthe pierced her heart, as the blow of a whip might have stillig her oheek. "I am not leaving yet," she stammered. "Th ere is to be a ball. " Miss Symthe elevated her.eyebrows, and bit her lip. She knew that the Grand Duke had expressed a w h to dance the next quadrille witn the Phoenician. She was aware that Arthur Curzon loitered in an adjacent corridor to claim his partner. Rage and bitterness filled the soul of the youncr lady of many seasons. "You are mistaken," she said, in such acoents that the listener winced instinctively. "You do not know about such matters, of course," with another disdainful glance at the pink gown and ribbon. "You were asked to share in the tableau. Mrs. GrifBth gives the ball to her friends." "Thenwhy was I invited at all?" cried poor Dolores, piteously. "Men will always make a fooi of you, if you allow it," said Diana. "This is your way out. You will find your grandpapa yonder. " She pointed to a door, and waited to see Dolores depart with marked impatience that brooked no appeal. Surprised, dismayed, and not a little aggrieved, the girl would have caught at any straw of delay, had such detention offered. Her pride flamed up suddenly, and she departed swiftly, stilling tears. Miss Symthe rebuttoned her other glove, glided behind a screen of plants, thus adroitly ayoiding Arthur Curzon, and entered the ballroom with a smile on her rosy lips. Dolores, with head lowered, and clasping her dog, ran into Capt. Blake, who started forward at her approach from the court. "Where are you going?" he demanded, extending hishand. "I am to go a way," replied Dolores, in a faint voice, placing her little, trembling hand in his grasp, and looking up at him appealingly and sorrowfully. "The little witch!" thought the soldier, with a pleasurable quickening of pulsation in the región of the heart, beneath his red jaeket "I never saw ! such eyes in my life. " He had placed himself in ambusb. to await her approach, for he had reasoned that she must bring her dog to her grandfather before dancing. He was moved by the complex motive of admiration of her beauty, curiosity as to who she was and a desire to thwart the sailor. "Going away without dancing with me?" he exclaimed aloud. "That will never do." "The lady- I mean Diana- said I was to go away notv. Oh, I am so disappointed!" confessed Dolores, bending her head still lower to hide the threatening tears. "You must not mind Miss Symthe. She is not the mistress of this house," said the gallant captain, in soothing accents. Dolores dried her eyes vvith a quizzical expression. In the game of experience Miss Symthe had thrown the j shuttlecock of dire warning that men ' would make a fooi of Dolores, and here was the first man met by the girl afterward, tossing back the refutation, in uneonscious vindication of his sex, possibly, by admonishing her to beware of Miss Svinthe. Lieut. Curzon waited impatiently, now pausing near the door of the dressing room where Dolores had betalcen herself to change her stage costume, and again pacing the length of colonnade. The ouening quadrille of honor was. over. The new sing-er, Melita, invited for tho occasion, had rendered successfully a brilliant, operatic aria, %vith innumerable bird-like trills and quavers, substituting as an encoré an odd and sad little Russian song in a minor key. Still Dolores did not come. The young officer was vaguely aware that givls requlre an unconscionable time for their toilet. He was too large of soul to notice the frock of Dolores, if he thonght of it at all. He was determined to give her the pleasure of dancing at a real ball, and, well - of dancing with her. Still she Lid not come. The ; blood coursed more quickly in his veins. He paced about restlessly. i;erhaps some accident had happeued to her. The admiration bestowed on her beauty in the tableaux inspired iu him as much distrust as satisfaction. He would seek the grandfather. VVhy had he not done so befare'? He paused suddenly at the sight of Capt. Ulake approaching, with Dolores on his arm. The captain thoroughly enjoyed the situation. Miss Ethel Symthe, who had slighted him on several occasions in favor of Lieut. Curzon, wished to banish Dolores. He would make the latter dance all the evening, if possible, in consequence. Besides, he found it very agreeable to pour flatteries into the unsophisticated ear of his companion. He held a card, and was writing down his own name for a number of dances, Dolores him with puzzled attention meanwhile. She recognized Lieut. Curzon, drew her hand from the arm of her escort, and ran toward him, with a joyous exclamation. "I am g-lad to see you again." she said, simply. "I was away, only Capt. Blake síopped me. He has been so kind," with a light gesture, caressing and grateful, toward her late companion. "I may stay?" Dolores glanced from one to the other in sudden misgiving of her reception in that great world of ballroom beyond, where reigned Miss Ethel Symthe in her robe sparkling1 with silver. Capt. Blake laughed. "Oh, the women!" he said. He uttered a few sentences of explanation in the ear of Lieut. Curzon, and laughed again. The other listened with an expression of surprise and anger, while a steely light shone in I his eyes, and the lines about his lips I tightened visibly. "Here is your ca,rd, Miss Dealtry," added the son of Mars, gaily, concealing- any vexation the intrusión oí Lieut Curzon on his tete-a-tete mig-ht have occasioned him. ''Do not forget your engagements with me." "Oh, no," replied Dolores, smiling-, and attaching the card to her fan by the sil ver cord. The next moment her featuret darkened. "I hate her!" she whispered.fiercely. "Oh, how she has made me suffer!" Evidently she had heard and comprehended the words of Capt. Blake. "What does it matter?" said Arthur Curzon. "Nobody shall cheat us of our dance, Dolores. You do not hate me, little bird?" He would have deemed his tone sentimental, even lachrymose, in auother man. She lifted her flower-like face, as if a caress, all &oftness and alluring sweetness in smile and dimple. "How could I ever hate you?" she questioned. EJHe looked at her in silence. She was there uuder his protection, but surely soma emotion deeper, more subtle, blended of paia and bliss, than i the chivairous sentiment of the gen tleman and the sailor, was awakening1 in his nature. Already the orchestra breathed forth the first notes of Strauss' Swallow Waltz, in which the listener feels the poising of the bird on fluttering wing before launching into wide circles of flight. Lieut Curzon led his partner to the ballroom, and had already clasped his arm around her slender waist, when the messag-e of the Grand Duke was communicated to her. Was Dolores surprised or pleased, tasting a first triumph? Her color went and came quickly, still she did not attempt to withdraw her hand from that of Arthur Curzon, even to listen. "Shall I accept?" she inquired, archly. "Yes." The couple glided away into the midst of the dancers, leaving Mrs. Griffith disturbed and displeased by so mueh audacity and coquetry! Was it a mere waltz, after all, the brief span of time when society accorded these two the privilege of obejing the rhythm of the music, and the rose in her hair brúshing his lips, and her ligiit form obeying every impulse of his guiding and enen-ding arm? Both forgot the Grand Duke, the ball, mere external circumstances. They were alone in a world of life and radianee, moving through space, almost without personal volition, attuned to the strains of delightful harmonies. In the sailor's instinctive yielding to the spell of a waltz measure it was apparent that the sea had been his dancing master, and the wind his musician, imparting1 buoyancy alike to pulse and limb. In his zest of enjoyment he more closely resembled the Frenchman, or the Italian, than the average young Briton, who stalks gloomily through the mazes of the modern dance. As for Dolores, the blood of her race asserted the right of agility and ness, spurmng the trammels of ordinary instruction in the terpsiehorean art. The pupils of the convent school had danced together, during hours of play, as they had laughed or sung-. Dolores had of ten been their leader, but such rudimentary practice of steps could not explain the innate grace of her movements in the Swallow Waltz. Other forms mingled and separated about her in giddy circles, and the waves of soft draperies broke over without submerging her in the folds of silken gauze, shot with variegated colors, the rich bloom of velvet, golden and peach-tinted tissues. Once she was confronted by the calm face of Miss Symthe, making a turn of the dances with the Grand Duke, and ag-ain the singer Melita gave her a friendly, half-amused nod of the iiead in passing. All too soon the music ceased to resound, and Dolores found herself on a terrace softly lighted with tinted lamps placed amid masses of palms and ferns. "I am to dance with the Grand Duke next, I suppose," suggested this southern daughter of Eve, glancing up at her companion through her long and silky eyelashes. "VVill that give you pleasureï" "I don't know. Perhaps I am a littla afraid. I wish our waltz had lasted longer. " "I wish it had lasted forever, Dolores." Calm reason n o longer guided Arthui Curzon, even a clear perception of the reality of things was merging in tha intoxication of the hour. The Swallovv Waltz of the magician Strauss still palpitated through his frame and hnmmed in his ears. He took her card, scrutinized it with severity, and erased the Dame of Capt Blake with a lofty. masculine unconcern oi all rivals. This high-handed meaS' ure was calculated to arouse .ndignatiou in the breast of the mest tamespirited cavalier, and could nly have been satisfactorily adjusted amonjj Continental nations by the allayingof hot blood by means of cold steel. "You must keep the engagement witb the Prince, but af terward you belong to me. Do you understand?" he said, authoritatively. "Yes," assented Dolores, with sweet doeility. Capt. Fillingham quitted a group of gentlemen to accost the young people. His eyes beamed on them through his spectacles with a benevolent and speculative interest. He wore on his breast a formidable array of decorations, in cluding the China, Turkish and Kafflr war medals, and the Swedish Naval Cross of Merit. (TO BK CONTINUED.)