"

This order was still more ungraciously complied with. As Blanche
handed to the bandit captain her bracelet, she endeavored to conceal a
diamond necklace, the gift of Mr. Rawjester, in her bosom. But, with a
demoniac grin, the powerful brute tore it from its concealment, and,
administering a hearty box on the ear of the young girl, flung her
aside.

It was now my turn. With a beating heart I made my way to the robber
chieftain, and sank at his feet. "O sir, I am nothing but a poor
governess, pray let me go."

"O ho! A governess? Give me your last month's wages, then. Give me
what you have stolen from your master!" and he laughed fiendishly.

I gazed at him quietly, and said, in a low voice: "I have stolen
nothing from you, Mr. Rawjester!"

"Ah, discovered! Hush! listen, girl!" he hissed, in a fiercer whisper,
"utter a syllable to frustrate my plans and you die; aid me, and--"
But he was gone.

In a few moments the party, with the exception of myself, were gagged
and locked in the cellar. The next moment torches were applied to the
rich hangings, and the house was in flames. I felt a strong hand seize
me, and bear me out in the open air and place me upon the hillside,
where I could overlook the burning mansion. It was Mr. Rawjester.

"Burn!" he said, as he shook his fist at the flames. Then sinking on
his knees before me, he said hurriedly:--

"Mary Jane, I love you; the obstacles to our union are or will be soon
removed. In yonder mansion were confined my three crazy wives. One of
them, as you know, attempted to kill me! Ha! this is vengeance! But
will you be mine?"

I fell, without a word, upon his neck.

GUY HEAVYSTONE;

OR,

"ENTIRE."

A MUSCULAR NOVEL.

BY THE AUTHOR or "SWORD AND GUN."

CHAPTER I.

"Nerei repandirostrum incurvicervicum pecus."

A dingy, swashy, splashy afternoon in October; a school-yard filled
with a mob of riotous boys. A lot of us standing outside.

Suddenly came a dull, crashing sound from the school-room. At the
ominous interruption I shuddered involuntarily, and called to
Smithsye:--

"What's up, Smithums?"

"Guy's cleaning out the fourth form," he replied.

At the same moment George de Coverly passed me, holding his nose, from
whence the bright Norman blood streamed redly. To him the plebeian
Smithsye laughingly:--

"Cully! how's his nibs?"

I pushed the door of the school-room open. There are some spectacles
which a man neve