Dragoni's Daughter.

" Pursuit is useless . Ere this shall reach the Count Dragoni ' s eyes , his daughter will be many leagues away , the bride of Carlo Trevorra , the bandit . " " The pride of our noble house , the hope of our old age a bandit ' s wife ! O , the Virgin and all the saints forbid ! Hasten , recover her , ere she be lost forever ?" shrieked the patrician mother , grasping at her husband ' s arm .

Her touch roused him ; the old count rose to his feet ; the fire of pride and anger ran riot through his veins and flashed in his eyes . He paced the floor with great strides . " Ho , there I See that the gondola be

doubly manned I " he shouted to his page , who bore the summons to his serving-men . Large tears filled his eyes , but he quickly dashed them away , exclaiming , "Away!—tears are for the weak , but I am strong , and will have revenge I Yesrevenge !

, Base-born , menial dog ! Undutiful , deceitful daughter !" " Spare , 0 spare Elena ! remember that she was kind and dutiful until now . It

may be that he forced her away against her will ! " pleaded the stricken mother , with a gush of returning tenderness , as the page entered to inform the count that his gondola was in waiting . An angry , proud patrician went forth ;

but a feeble , grief-stricken , crushed father returned from his interview with the Doge of Venice . Next morning the whole citj 7-rang with the elopement of Dragoni ' s daughter ; groups of ineu assembled at corners , conversed in low tones of the

bandit ' s temerity ; the gaiety of the carnival seemed hushed ; immense rewards were offered by the doge , and stamped with the seal of Son Blare ; the Council of Ten sent out spies , and parties scoured forests and mountain fastnesses for leagues

and leagues around ; but all of no avail , and of but small harm to the youthful pair , safe in their far-away , inaccessible mountain retreat .

So days went by , and " the Ten" remitted not in their endeavours ; but love and caution possessed . eyes more Argus-like than even the dreaded Inquisition ; and so the days glided into weeks and months and years , and the name of Elena Dragoni was rarel y heard in the city that gave her birth .

CHAPTER V . An old man lay dying in Venice . He lay upon a low pallet in a miserable hovel . A light breeze stole through the broken casement , and now and then , like wandering angel fingers , lifted the few scattering

gray hairs from his sunken temples . The restless eye gleamed strangely bright , not with a holy beam , but with that wild , unsatisfied , reckless gaze that tells of a hardened , desperate soul within . Suddenly setting his glances upon a

young boy who in fright cowered down by the bedside , he said sharply , in the feeble accents of one already on the threshold of the grave : " Hasten , Manual , to the palace of the Count Dragoni—tell him a dying man

would speak with him . Speed thee ! " The lad ' s excited manner and strange story obtained but little credence of the porter who guarded the entrance . of the Dragoni mansion , and it is probable that he would have returned aloue had not the

old count , who had returned in the twili g ht from a visit to the doge ' s palace , encountered him in the vestibule pleading for admittance .

"A hoy who insists upon carrying a dying , dirty lazzaroni's message to the most noble Count Dragoni , " said the man , bowing respectfully to his master . " Nay , it is my grandsire , and he is dying . Come , noble sir , he must see you , " pleaded the ladso strongly that the count

, , whose curiosity was excited , joined him , closely followed by the faithful Sylvestro , who only saw in this some scheme to entice the old count into the hands of

assassins and murderers . But neither robber nor murderer waylaid the trio , who soon entered the miserable hut where the old man lay battling with the grim death angel . In choking accents and hurried gasps , while the count stood close at his bedsidethe dying

, man breathed out a few sentences , and yet a strange , joyful revelation was this that sent the Count Dragoni to his palace home a happier man than he had been for three long years . " Count Dragoni "—so spake the dying

man— " you , the proud patrician , have lost an only child . Years ago , I , the humblest artisan that walked the streets of Venice —1 , the plebeian , had a brave , a beautiful boy . Time passed on ; he grew into man-