Treasure Tower

-%J?Wf ÊOPYR1GHT m9Z BYRAND.MCNALLY & CO. B He approaclied the gate, and was about to knock, when he saw a little figure flitting along the path bef ore him. He recognized Dolores. Why was she roaming abroad alone on the roads at this hour? Was she watching for him? The young man hastened toward her, then paused at the angle of the wall to look at her. Dolores stood in an open space of the path, waving a fan. Her shadow was projected on the grcund behind her in a long, wavering line. The dog Florio sat beside her, gravely looking on. The girl's face and arms, bathed by the moonlight, had the purity of alabaster in contrast with the luxuriant masses of her black hair, and her eyes were dreamy, as íf she moved in a revene. She talked to Florio in a low tone, and occasionally laughed. Now she advanced, mincingly, with skirts outspread, and profound curtsies, wielding the fan, with natural grace, in her right hand, as if at a presentation. Again she abandoned herself to a gliding daace measure, wreathing her arms above her head, with the glittering fan held high in the air. The chüdish vanity of smile and posture were obvious. the imagined herself to be once more at a bail and in a theater. The spectator found the mere contemplation of her light movcmenta bewitching, tut he longed tociuspher in his arms. "Dolores!" She started, and came toward him, with an exclamation of pleasure. Florio barked sharply. "Are y ou glad to see me again?" he inquired eagerly, seizing her hands. "Oh, yes!" "Did you expect me to-night? I feared I should not be able togetoff." "I always expect you." Then there was a moment of soft silence between them, during which he twined her arm around his neck, pressed her little head against his broad breast, and showered kisses on her bair. Dolores drew back half troubled, half ashamed, and, inspi ad by an instinct of coquetry, once more unfurled her fan, making' of the ímgile weapoa a barrier between them. "Look at my new fan," she said, in coaxing aecents. "The garden is too small. so I carne out here to play with it in the moonlight" "Have you met any one on the road?rl "No one. The people are all in the town at this hour." "The fan is very fine. The Lrand duke sent it to you at the door of the theater. " Dolores elevated her delicately arcbed eyebrows in surprise. "You ncliced the messeneer, then?" "Of course I saw him," warmly. "The prince broke my old fan, and I he was very kind to remember the accident," innocently. Lieut Curzon looked at tbe rich toy carelessly. The moonlight shimmered on pearl, tortoise shell and feathers, with a pistured design worthy of Comte Nils, or of Rudeaux. on one side. Tiny points of silver, or steel, sown over the surface, glittered in the moon's ray, as if diamond insects hovered and escaped with every turn of the happy owner's flexible wrist A subtle perfume ernanated from the downy margin. "I will g-ive you a dozen fans if you wish," said the sailor, in a slightly aggrieved tone. Yes, he was piqued and irritated to behold her cherishing the quite uawarrantable gift of another man. Dolores smiled, with a sudden, dazzling gleam of snowy teeth between red lips, and turned her head, archly. At the same time she clasped, provokingly, the princely souvenir to her bosom. "A dozen fans would be too many, only what happiness to take up one or another at pleasure. No! You must not touch me again." She leaned toward him, and passed the fan. niayfully, over his curling hair, with a caressing movement The young man stood before her in all the unconscious pride of his itrength, ai 1 the moon shone on his golden bear.i open brow, and straight features, which wore an expression of hauteur and vexation at the moment, white his blue ey s dwelt with fascination on her i ightest gesture. Dolores paused and contemplated him. "Ah, how good and noble you are!" she Bighed. He drew her once more close to his side. "Dolores, you are a wee bit flighty to-night, but you must be reasonable " "I am reasonable, and not at all flighty." "Listen to me, darling " "I list-'" "You „olong to me. You are to be my wife. ïïe will live and die tope ther." "Shall we ever grow oíd', like grandpapa?" meditatively. "We must grow oíd in ourownfashion," he replied evasively. Dolores recoiled and unfurled her j fan. "Let us always remain youner," she insisted, wiíh a return of fantastic gaietr. "Dolores, give me that confounded fan!" "No! No!" "Then you do valué it more than any gift of mine?" The girl frowned, pondered a moment, closed the fan, and placed it in his nand without uttering a word. His strong fingers closed over the frail treasure. ' 'Wouid you mind my keeping it?" he teased. "No," with a softness whieh was allurir,?, ternpting, almost feline. "Would you care if I broke it and cast it awny?" "No." The muscular hand crushed feather--, substance and pearl stick before he was aware of it, and then he flung the wreek on the otber side of the road. Dolores cast a be-.vildered glanee at the broken ian, but made no attempt to recover it. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Vou are a g-ood little girl not to scold me for such clumsiness, " he said, with real, or assuraed contrition for an ebullition of temper. "I did not intend to crush the thing-. You shall have another to-morrow. " II1& arms were nrotind her, his cheek rested against her face, his mouth sought her trembling lips in a long, ardent kiss. For a time she ylelded passively to his embrace, then she slipped away and paused a fevv paces fromhim. She trembled and grew palé, her black eyes flashed. Then she burst into passionate sobs. "You were cruel to break it!" she exclaimed. She fled away swiftly, closely followed by her little dog, and Lieut. Curzon heard the gate shutbehindher. He waited irresolutely for a time, then departed, tantaliz?ij ant, with the shy, hali-unconscious kiss of Dolores still licgering on his lips Love had come to him with a smile and a song1. He wuid ciake all right on the morrow with the purc:;ase and presentation of a new fan. Little did he foresee the events of the inorrow. A cloud swept over the moon's disk, like a veil. The gate of the garden opened, a figure emerged, noiseiessly, glided along the boundary wall, groped in the path for some object, and as swiftly withdrew. The splendor of the night deepened. 'ine white hamlets slept, as if they were the tombs of th inmates, and the sea heaved and soarkled in the track of leviathan aboot to rise trom the depths. Bursts of maudlin song and jest were occasionally andible in the port, while the ships of the harbor dreamed above theirreflectiona in the tranquil waters. CHAPTKR XII Expulsión. COULD NOT leave the poor fan lying out there in I the road," Dolores confided to her pillow when she awakened the next morning. Then she soug-ht the fragments beneath the same pil. low, where she had placed them on the previous night before going to sleep. The raoon had become hidden by clouds at the opportune moment when she had returned in seareh of the treasure. There was treason to Arthur Curzon, and even defiance of him, in the act For the first time in her life she was required to ponder on the unreasonable and exacting character of man. The garrulous moods and prevalent crossness of grandpapa was a different matter. Her admiration of the handsome officer, and the affectionate gratitude awakened in her heart by his geniality and generosity, were mere surf ace ripples of sentiment as y et in her nature. Her slum bers had been broken by ■Oh, grandpapa!" A- athief! 'lie off with you, once tor all." "Where am I to go?" implored Dolores. She was stupefied and incredulous oí the brusque expulsión. "Keturn to tbe convent, if you wilL You shall not enter my door again. A Bpy! A traitor!" The voice of the old man, piercing and sharp, rose to a sort of howl of menace with these words, Dolores turned away, with Florio under her arm. The morniug was clearand the sunshine dazzling-, yet the sky seemed about to fall on. her head. Was it true that her grandfather had banished her from the Watch Tower for ever? A crushing blow shatters the prism i of a crystal. The shock of brutal, unforeseen ejection irotn her home, by her nearest relative, scattered her ideas in a similar manner. Her first thought was of Arthur Curzon. Where was he? How could she find him in jer humiliation and distress? Dolores lacked the nerve requisite to haunt the quay in quest of him. Or did some instinct of modest pride withhold her from displaying her shame to the world? Oddly enough, the first and rudimentary comprehension of dread of public opinión in her mind took the form of a natural shrinking from the I eye of slender and grave Kr. Busatti, and his yellow, little mother. The recollection of the ladies of the ball, and of the gentlemen who had been kind to her on that momentous occasion, did not trouble her. There remained for her only the safe refuge of the convent. The sad and inonotonous routine of monastic rule was to be the end of all joy and happiness. A sob rose in her throat. She walked slowly toward the town. No one noticed her and she passed other pedestrians as if they had beeu phantoms. Near the fortifications she paused to gaze down on the harbor with a certain wistfulness. Since her childhood the ships coming and going had always inspired an indefinable longing and restlessness in her breast. Now Arthur Curzon was on board of one of the craft. He would be sorry if he could see her. jferhaps they might never meet again. Ah, how she loved him at this reoment! She loved him with all her heart and souL She realized the joy and the bitterness of the emotion. The corve tte Ladislas was steaming away in the distance, bearing the young princeto the Nile. The Italian packet, the Elettrico, was to sail at a i later hour for Sieily. Dolores pursued her way until the walls of the convent became visible. She ho.lted again, and shuddered, as if slie had received the shock of a blow full in her h-sart She trembled and shrank bí'í'k. If she entered that portal, she might never be able to again escape. On one side were the blue sky, the glancing waves of the sea, the warm sunshine toward which her whole nature yearned; on the other, in the cold shadow of the cloister, was the silent aud repressed lot of the nun. The fugitiverecoiled, oppressed with doubt and dread. She hid her face in her hands, weeping, and striving to conquer her own indecisión. Then a swift panic of terror seized her impulsive temperament. She fled back swiftlv to the Watch Tower. Fear lent wings to her agile feet The familiar boundary gained, she leaned against the wall, panting, and closed her eyes. Her senses reeled, and a white cloud seemed to envelop and stifle her. The little dog leaped to the ground, and regarded her with anxiety, his tail drooping. She knocked timidly. "Grandpapa!" her voice was weak and hoarse. There was no response. The outcasts listened intently, the girl with parted lips and dilating eyes, the dog with a sagacious little head cocked on one side, and and ears pricked up. The ripple of the fountain alone was audible within the enclosure. "Grandpapa? Opsn thagate forme. You will be sorrv if you refnse!" Still there was no reply vouchsafed by the obstinate old man. The tppeal of Dolores, more piercicijr and assured this time, only served to arouse the echoes. Jacob Dealtry gave no sig-n of life. Did he hear the appeal? liad he shut himself up in the tower? Fear again smote jDn the heart. of Dolores, a chilling1, indefinable dread of the coming1 night and darkness. She must seek the conventas a shelter, or become a beggar, a f ugitive. VVhat other refuge could Malta offer her? Terrible alternatives of poverty and friendlessness. She wandered away from the gate, and crept into the ruined temple, where Lieut. Curzon had first found her grandfather lying insensible on the pavement ,Her instinct was to hide herself from the lig-ht of day and the scrutiny of her fellow creatures. She was only conscious of a cowardly impulse to put off the fatal hour of return to the convent until evening and when no other course should be possible to her. She crouched in the most obscure corner of the ruin, holding Klorio in her arms. The little dog whined from time to time and licked her cheek. Florio evidently realized the full peril of the miserable situation. Her glance strayed around the rude interior of the temple with weariness and indifference. .She knew the place well. She had often visited t with her grandfather and Dr. Busatti. The altar rose before her and frag-mentsof sculplured blocks lay scattered about sn the ground. If the past appealed to her at all, it tvas when a sunbeam slanted in a folden shaft ath nart the eDtrance. re:alling to her the night wbeD h bad agitated dreams and iecerish starts of walcefulness, whenshe had listened to those conf used and in terraittent sounds below stairs, which indicated that Jacob Dealtry was roaining a bout the Watcli Tower. In addition, the Cavalier of the picture seemed to stand on the threshold of her chamber and reproach her f or some fault. His voice was muffled, vague and monotonous, like the rhythm of the distant sea. She could not distinguish his words. What had she done? Dolores could not understand. She rose, made her simple toilet, and ate her frugal breakfast with a healthy, young appetite. Her grandfather had been up for hours. He did not notice her. The amenities of conversation were rare between them. The girl took the fan in her hand, and contemplated it with sadness. She shed a few tears over the wreek. Ah, hovv beautiful it had been only the previous night, with the moonlight sparkling on the spangled surface! The fingers that crushed the pearl and tortoiseshell structure must have been very strong, and the anger of Arthur Curzon deep. Did she not feel some sweet, feminine docility of subjection to the muscles of this Samson? "He was jealous," said Dolores, aloud, and a dimple deepened in her soft cheek. She glanced at a little mirror; already she was a woman. The discovery frightened and enchanted her. The broken fan still claimed her sorrowful tenderne&s and regret. "What shall I do with it?" she demanded of the Knight of Malta, pausing before the picture. The Knight was mute. She went out into the garden, irresolutely. A boe irom the hive in the rear of the Tower settled on her wrist' She did not fear the insect. The bees made famous honey. "What shall I do with the fan?" she repeated, obeying a childish impulse to question Fate. The bee was mute, and, p-fter basking, a downy, golden body, on the extended arm for a moment, spread gossamer wings, and flev away, as if about to keep a business appointment in the kingdom of the tfcyme. "What shall I do wiih '.Ue fan?" the girl inquired of the pig-eons, the flowers, the dog. The pigeons ceased to coo, and looked at her with brighi eyes; the flowers swayed on their iragile stalks, and hung their heads, languid with their own fragi-ance. Florio bounded through the reeds, and again emerged, uttering a sharp bark, as if to claim her attention for the retreat which he had discovered in the middle of the clump of plants. Dolores caught up the little animal, and bestowed her usual caress, a kiss on the nose. "The very spot!" she exclaimed. "I will bury the fan. Florio knows more than the pigeons, or the bees." She glanced about in search of her grandfather. She had once offended him by diggiDg at the roots of his flowers and attemcting to bury a broken doll. Kow she would ask him to accord her a tiny corner for the fan's grave. The gate was half open. She looked out, and behild the old man traversing the path in the direction of the high road. He was evidently bound on somo errand. She must await his return. When would he return though? Surely there could be no harm in hiding away the fan among the canes! Her life had been so meager of incident, that this oue acquired importance in her estimation. Impatience overéame all scruples. She once moi-e sought and found a broken, rusty kuife, ana, kneeling, thrust her arm through tue barrier of sterns to scoop out a little hole in the earth. The clump of canes should shelter the spot. The task was rudely interrupted. A claw-like hand grasped her shoulder, and she was dragged back with violer:r.e. Jacob Dealtry had entered the enclosure, and discovered her occupation. He pounced upon his graudchild in an accessof fury. "You jadel You devil's imp! What are you about, now?" The words seemed to hiss iu her ear, awakening painful memories. "I am not hurting the flowers in the very least, grandpapa," she protested, ia an aggrieved tone. She was older and stronger than when she had attempted to inter the doll, and need not fear to confront him in a fit of anger. She must learn to brave him. Nevertheless, the rage of the old man mad her quail. She rose to her feet, trembling in every limb, and averted her head. The crisis was terribly brief. One moment a white faceconfronted her, with the pinched features drawn and contracted, and a pair of gleaming eyes projecting from the socUets, and the next she was thrust out of the gate, with her dog, and the bolts drawn. "Go away!" cried Jacob Dealtry through the partition. "Let me never see your face again. A spyl" personated the Phoenicíaa maiden in the tableaus. She buried her face in her hands and wept. Hanger and thirstassailcd her, and then her faculties beca me o-radually dull, coldly benuinbed. i'erhaps she slept. A light-and jaunty footstep aroused her, a masculine voice hummed a strain of the song-, "My Pretty Brown Maid." Captain Blake looked into the temple. , Dolores held her breath, and shrank back further into the shadow. Florio was mute in sympathy. The girl feit overwhelmed with shame. She did not wish to be ceen in her disgrace, just then. What assistanco could this stranp-er give her? She hated Mm, with sudden caprice of unreasonable animosity. If he discovered her retreat, he would laugh and jest at the whole dilemma. Dolores could not endure laughter and jesting in her present plight. "What a .beastly hole!" remarked Capt Blake, aloud, as he lighted a f resh cigar. Then he strolled on. The minutes passed slowly and monotonously. Dolores wished she had detained, claimed the human sympathy of the gallant soldier once he had departed. He had been kind on a former occasion. Why should she shrink from him now? Hope, expectation, thrilling anxiety of waiting, were all awaked in her breast by the incident of Capt. Blake's taking a country walk. If he thus rambled forth from the town, why not another? Ah, she watched, not for him, but for another! Surely Arthur Curzon would come before nightfull. If he loved her, he must be aware, by some unerring intuition, of her need of him. Of course, he loved her. Had he not repeatedly sworn that he loved her? She doubted this much needed tenderness no more than she feared the sunshine would be withdrawn by some cruel whim of nature from her island home At length her quick ear heard another footstep approaching, She rose to her feet with a bound, and Florio rushed out of the. ruin with a joyful bark of welcome. Oh, swift divination of feminine coquetry! Arthur Curzon had soug-ht the Watch Tower, with a new fan in his pocket, to atone for his misdemeanor of the previous night. "Good morning, Dolores," blithely. "Good morning," faltering-ly. "Were you watching for me here, little girl? Bless you! Why, this rum oíd temple would serve as a good trysting place." "Yes," said Dolores, with a sigh. She grew pale, and her eyes sought the ground. "What is amiss, Dolores?" quickly. She flew to the voung man's side, and clasped both of her hands on his arm. ' 'I should have soon died if you had not corae!" she mcaned. "Grandpapa has driven me away. He is in one of his fits of bad tec-.per. He has them occasionally. I dia nothing to offend him, except to hide the broken fan. " Arthur Curzon's ieatures darkened, while a gleam of anger shone in his eyes. "Did he dare to strike or beat you, Dolores? He shall answer for it to me, if he did!" Dolores sighed. "Oh, no! Grandpapa has never beaten me, I think. He has struck me with words of ten enoug-'n, though." She held up her sweet face to him, bathed in tears, for consolation and advice. The young officer heard all, even to the project of retiring to the convent. "Teil me what I am to do," sobbed the girl, hiding her face on his broad breast. "Ah! I have no one in the world besides you!" CiTouching assurance of heloless innocence and faith in his power of protection! Arthur Curzon was moved by it, as many another man would have been in his place. "Why did you think of a convent?" he inquired at length. "ï'ou enould have come to me, my pet." Dolores smiled'faintly. "Eow could I board vour ship? I am not a pírate, or - a - a laundress. Grand papa is always urging my return to the convent." "Curious! He is a protestant," musingly. "It must be to get rid of me," Dolores affirmed, ruefully. Finally, he took her by the hand, and led her back to the Watch Tower. His eyes had acquired a steely glitter, while the Unes of resolution deepened about his mouth. "Poor child! Your grandfather must not be allowed to turn you out of doors as if you had been guilty of some crime. I will make him listen to reason. Later, I shall take you away," he said, with resolution. Dolores looked at him, lips and chin acquiring their sauciest curves. Already the terrible cloud of troublo was passing away from her spirit Had she not cast the burthen of her trouble on another? "You will take me away if I wül go," she 6upplemented. i 'Oi' course." The eloud of misgiving, and perhaps apprehensipn, was gathering now about the path of Arthur Curzon. Change in all relations with the sweet and bewitching creature at his sido had come with an almost appalling swiftness, jarring and perplexing to the utmost degree. If the Watch Tower, with the tangled garden, had been a bidden paradise to the supina native, Dr. Busatti, beeause of the beautiful girl who dwelt there, how much more so was it to himself with his fiery nature of the sailor'? He had not availed himself of a proposed leava of absence, beeause he preferred to linger at Malta and hold stolen intercourse with Dolores. He would not vacate a field xn favor of Capt. Blake, or some other airy trifler. The atmospherè of rêverie was roseate, evea time possessed no due valué spent in softest dalliance, varied by feminine caprices, fierce, little quarrels swiftly appeased to a seduetiye ensuing tranquility. Behold! Here was the fairy princess thrust forth from her garden to beg her bread on the highway! Arthur Curzon knocked on the gate, in turn, with an imperious insistance. Jacob Pealtry vouchsafed no response. The two y oung people looked at each other in mutual dismay. "You see, it is no good to knock,' said the girl, with blanching Hps. Her evanescent gaiety had left her with trembling limbs, and her great eyes fixed beseeehingly on her companion, who held her destiDy in his keeping. (TO BE CONTIXUED. )