Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1032) (1900 01)
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CopyrienuT, 1883, Bx Brapie & ADAMS. a aN Es me i ne ENTERED 48 Szeconp®CLass MATTER AT THE Nzw York, N. Y., Post Orvice. January, 1900. Ho, 1092 Elegant Egbert; OR, THE GLOVED HAND. A MISSISSIPPI RIVER ROMANCE, Published Every Month. BY PHILIP 8. WARNE, AUTHOR OF ‘A HARD CROWD,” ‘‘THE CREOLE COUSINS,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I, THE MAN. Sr. Loum a quarter of a vere A since! Leaning carnlessly against the fore-guards of one of the many steamboats lying along her levee, stood a man who in physique displayed that perfect adaptation of best doccribed s “ sm] MONSIKUB STANHOM, I CRY KOU PARDO M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, (JAMES SULLIVAN, Propritcror), 379 Pearl Street, New York, 10 Cents a Copy. Vo {XXX $1.00 a Year. e . | by the epithet elegant. The idea was further carried out in matters of dress, from his spot- less linen to the kid gloves which incased bis hands, whence the appellation by which he was familiarly known—* Elogani” Egbert. A close observer, studying his face while he was absorbed in the animated scene spread out before and below him—the transportation of freight to and from *:e deck of the steamer by a coubie line of hurrying roustabouts, the arri- val and departure of passsengers, ete.—might have detected something, whether of the eyes or lips, or both, which bespoke a soul over- shadowed by a great sorrow, But struggling through the film, so to speak, of sadness, there appeared in his eyes a hard look, and about his lips a stern set which told the soul’s fiexce pro- 6. test, Suddenly the man starts; his face lights, dis- pelling the shadow like a burst of sunshine; and with a half-suppressed ejaculation he bends over the guard. ; A "ass =e r oth S An open barouche sweeps down the leves, a gentleman leaps out, assists two ladies toaligit, and escorts them on board the steamer. The gentleman is tall and well-formed, with the off-hand frankness of a kindly nature born tocommand, Blessed with a sanguine tem ment and the sound health of an active life un- impaired by dissipation, Felix Cornish is ready to grasp every honest man by the hand and slap him on tho back fora clever fellow. According to his philosophy, only upstarts and dyspeptica stand on their dignity. And yet there is that about him which shows that, his pride once roused, he could be as immovable asa cliff of granite. ; Of Mrs. Cornish, Felix's mother, we need only say here that she has that hauteur of manner not unfrequently affected by Jadies wha pride themselves on their family. F.F. V. is = i = ee ae HI ut it is the younger lady who claims Elegant Egpbert’s attention. ae ty Ah) ‘SU : N, If i INTRUDE UPON YOUR MOMENT OF PRIVAQK.” .
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~ 2 Tt was a happy inspiration that fixed upon the name of Sibyl for her.. With her tall form in. the flowing draperies of the East, and her dark face alight with holy enthusiasm she might well have served as the oracle of | some weird grove, or as a priestess in some _ grand old temple. In more modern costume, and surrounded by the civilization which has wrested the ig em scepter from the church and put ‘Old Probabilities” in the place of omen and augury, she takes her place as a gocial queen, where her glowing brunette beauty sends a warm thrill to the heart of every ob- | server. When this woman passed from his view, the swift pallor of pain overspread Elegant Egbert’s face. He set his teeth with a tremulous inhala- tion that was almost a sob, and clenched his pr 80 Dercely that the glove split across the | The paroxysm was as brief as it was in- tense. Then ge, sardonic laugh rose to his lips, ‘‘ Bah!” he muttered; “ I thought with such folly. What can such as she be to one like me? Me/” And. he seemed to spit the word forth, so withering was his self gen Thrice the steamboat whistles blew their dis- cordant signal. The bow bell was rung, the ngplanks hauled aboard, and the nose of the ‘River Queen ” swung out into the stream. Impatiently Hiegant Egbert brushed the cold drops of sweat from his forehead with his hand- kerchief, and raised his hat, baring his throb- bing temples to the cool breeze caused by the motion of the boat as she gained headway down the stream. When they had passed below the city, he saw the last red streaks of departing day, Then the full moon rose, a blood-red disk, above the trees along the eastern bank of the river. For perhaps half an hour the solitary man stood looking straight before him in gloomy in- Lrospection. -Then he roused himself with an impatient shake. moving his — one of which had been destroyed as we together and threw them into the river, Be- fore donning a fresh Was done | ave described, he rafled them | RT. ELEGANT EGB ' scarcely an inch of acepiy corrugated forehead between his arched brows and the rocts of his eee, hair. Anon he ran his fingers throuch his hair, | and shook his head from side to side, as if on | the ver, laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks, of distraction. At one moment he | and the next he was the impersonation of utter | ‘woe. “ Ah! Monsieur Longe Jaque,” he sighed, “I see you have ze heart sympathetique. You viil note refuse to drope ze tear vis un des misera- bles! (one of the wretched ones), ‘*Helas! ze heart of ze exile is heavy! Paris! Paris, Vadorabie! “Tama youngman, I live in ze housetop—~ five story. Hh, bier! Ihave air and sunlight, So moche ze better for my art, I paint—paint —paint. Am Itired?—puff! puff! puff!—I have my pipe. Am [hnngry/—tap! tap! tap! tapi— four stairs—ching/ 1 filip my sou on ze coun- ter—‘Bon sow, Madame Gouchement, Un pe- tit pate, sii vous plait, _ Voila mon soupert (Good-evening, Mrs. Gouchement. A little sasty, if you please.’ Behold my supper!) Am lonely? am I sick? am I sad*—all6ns / allons 1 (away !)—ah! le grand Boulevard! Ze light— twinkle! twinkle! twinkle! Ze horse—prance! rancel prance! Zé musie—trom! pom! pom! Ze lady smile—ze child laugh—ze soljair marsh! marsh! marsh! _ Beautie,. perfume, happiness a Ah! cela c’est lavie! (Ah! thatis e!) “And mon ami! mon ami! le Jardin Ma- bille!. Ha! ha!. hal ha! Mille diables!. Hal pal bat hal Oh; mon Dieu! Ha! ha! ha! a In the wild conjurings of his recollections the volatile Frenchman had lost every trace of sad- } ness. He launched forth into a déscription of ; the famous Parisian resort, until Long Jack rex | called hint to the original purpose of his narra- | tion by the question: ’ | ‘And Helene accompanied you in these | visits?” | ** Ah! Helene! Helene!” sighed M. Bourdoine | plunging again into the depths of woe, But t | maust tell you the tale melancholique. | “Ylove my art—I adore my art! When ze Paris! vat spote in ze vide, vide world, is like | H ] ir, which he drew from | sun shine and ze bird sing I have my little holi- | his pocket, he stretched out his. right hand.in | day in lacampagne—vat you call—countrie. I ) the darkness, which the red moon as yet did little toward dispelling, and muttered, fiercely; “When God willed that the hand of every man should be turned against Cain, he branded him on the forehead!” After a momentary pause, during whiee he breathed hard through his set teeth, he burst into a discordant laugh, and said: Poor Cain!” With painstaking deliberation he drew on the gloves and adjusted them to the hand. “Now back to the farce of life!’ he sneered, and entered the lighted cabin. . The first sight that met his view was Felix cane chatting easily with the clerk of the The first sound that greeted kis ear was a g@an’s voice raised in unbridled distress, crying: “Ah! mon Diew! Mon argent, c’est ma vie! Helene! Helene! Jetai perdu!” (Oh, God! My money is my life!: Helene! Helene! I lost you)) CHAPTER IL THE WOES OF M. BOURDOINE. AT a small round table in the forward end of the River Queen sat a fair specimen of a Missis- sippi river gambler of the old school, yelept png Jack.” Every inch of his six feet of stature proclaimed the “sport "—a, white bea- | ver bell-crown hat, with a “ weeper” a hand in breadth; musteches waxed to needle-points; neckcloth gay with red and *‘claw-hammer ” coat wlth brass buttons; gaudy waistcoat; cross-bar pantaloons, very tig 6 in the legs and strapped down over gray-checked iter-tops; a heavy-linked gold chain, reach- g round the neck; diamond studs; skull and exoss-bone sleeve-buttons in cameo; and a large | amethyst seal ring. Add to this, a ratan cane, as slender as a willow ; by a silken cord, a diminutive bull-dog, not wore than six inches in bight, Vis-a-vis with Long Jack sat a dapper little Frenchman, whose most marked feature was an snormous im’ : portion for the Cardiff giant than for its actual wearer, He spoke with that lightning volu- bility only attained by his volatile nation, ac- com ng his words with a play of gesture simply wonderful in its intensity of expression and abruptness of transition. : Now his fingers were spread and his shoulders shrugged up tp his earg, while there was left have | yellow; blue | wand, and, held in leash | al and mustache, in better pro- | lie on my back under ze tree. I vatch the vite | cloud sail in ze bie. Ze rivair tinkle! tinkle! | tinkle! ze bird tweet! tweet! tweet! Heoute / on !) vat [hear? A voiceangelique! I start; rise so—on my elbow; I look here, I peep zere, “‘ Ah! mon Dieu! vat heavenly sight meet my view! A form celestial! A naiad vis ze hair flowing like sunbeams! Her leetle foot, vite— ah! ciel / vat shall I say?—like a lily floatin ze vater of the streamlet. Ze vater kiss ze foot and laugh. Ze sun peep, but ze tree put up his leaf-hand to hide ze ankle. “ Graee de Dieu! eet is romantic! Mot! (1) —I am jealous of zee little bird zat shall look! I hold my breath, I put my hand on my Allons, donc !—she looks 5 sees me. **4h/ she scream so. Like ze fawn afright, she jump up and shall run away. ‘** Pardon! mille pardons!” I cry; ‘ma'm’selle shall have no fear. Who shall harm yone [of soche divine beautie? See! I am a painter. Ma’m’selle shall let me put her form peerless, her smile angelique, on my canvas. Ah! I | shall ye & picture zat shall hang in ze Palais | Royal | VAllons, done! she blush, she laugh, she sit in on ze rivair bank. arrange her robe! ah / ‘vone ow ze foot : Ye j | } shall take carel—so! peep from under ze robe, ze hair ripple over ze shouldair, ze eyes—ah, le ciel n’est pas si bleu! (the sky is not so blue]) , f “T paint, I make lovel My divinity smile; she drop her head on my shouldair; I feel her } : ; a2 in ze heuse-top, my affinite, ta balke ellen, is nestling in my howe Eh, bien! verefore shall ve call-in ze notary or ze priest to Se vis iron ze golden link gat bind ust—ze je celestial ze affinite of ze soul? Tn ze aes ve make a paradise, vis yone Adam and vone Eve. It note take money to do zat—no servant, no equipage, no establishment. I have my art, my chocolate, my ragout, m ~ pate—ciel sur monde! (heavenon earth Th ave Helene angelique! And Helene!—she is nimble of ze finger and shall make toys. She sing ze whole day long! Vy note?—she have her Gaspard! ‘‘Helas!” sighed M. Bourdoine, indicating by voice, look and gesture the beginning of the sad portion of his story, ‘tin ze evenin take* m diviniie to ze opera, Portlen! bet smile te like ze shimmer of angel vings! Her eyes. sparkle, her cheeks flush, she gras my arm and trembie, and pant, so—ha/ ha! ha} And M. Bourdoine, with vivid ntomims, reproduced the excitement and delight of an impulsive girl on her ‘initiation to the won- ders of a French play-house. ‘All ze way home ‘she can note valk. She dance, she skip, she caper. Vonce more in ze housetop paradise, she cry: ‘ Le dallet! le bal- let! Ah, Diew! ve two must dance ze ballet} call?—tight. Nimportel (no matter!) La Na- ture had her given vone costume unapproach- able! Grand ciel! cela fut une danze guse dieux! (Great Heayen}-thery wasa danee for the gods!) ** All day Jong she smile and smile, and valk o petits pas (with tripping steps) and ven ze night come she cry; ‘ Le peted | le ballet ? She sit on my knee; she twine her lovely arms about my neck; her fragrant lips kiss mine; vis her si!ken pee she pat my cheek, ‘Mon cher Gaspari, ballet ! le ballet’ Ven I frown she peep un- der my brows vis her starry a and she say, so sweet: ‘ Aimable Gaspard Niatmes tu pas ta petite cherie ? (Amiable Gaspard! Don’t ou love your little dearic?) Le ballet! le bal- “Shall I say no? Sacrebleu! I am note ze stick or ze stone! Iam flesh and blood! Last night, to-night, to-morrow night ve go to ze bal- let. Ze manager -sees Helene—her.beaute an- gelique, her vivacite childlike—eh bien! vat eye does note! ‘“‘ Helas! vone leetle moment, vone moment - execrable! I leave my angelique Helene alone. Ah! mon ami, pity ze misfortune! Ze manager —le diable in ze drama of my life—invade my ‘ise and tempt my Eve vis ze ballet! “ Oh! moi miserable! No more my divinite dance for me alone! I see her behind ze foot- light. Ihear ze house resound vis ze vocifera- tion of ze public, gone mad vis ze ravishment of her beaute and of her grace. **Oh! moi miserable! in my lost paradiss I have a grand ladie; bote vere is my Helene an- gelique my childlike Helene? Ze flatterie, ze uguet, ze jewelrie! AhI/ grace de ciel! ma an !ma pauvre petite! (grace of heaven! my ittle one! my poor little one! “Vone night I g0 home—oh ! moi miserable ! On ze pillow vich her head seraphique has press- | ed is a bit of paper; a bouquet of forget-me- | note shall hide ze writing execrable, zat it note | tell me my Helene, ze affinite of my goul, has | gone to America. On ze table is her handker- chief. See, monsieuwr! zis frail relique.” | _ From his breast-pocket M. Bourdoine pro- | duced a dainty Jace oes ag bee yellow with os and handling, and_ buried ‘his face in t, to check his fast-falling tears, while he moaned: ** Helene! Helene! coeur de mon ceur ! (core of my heart!)” For a time the narrator was dissolved in a on of tears. He soon recovered, and went ms <1. : r . 6 f | o heart flutter like ze bird; I drink ze perfume o « Monsieur of 20 heart. sympathetique shall my own)! : ‘ And you marry her and take her to Paris?” asked Long Jack. ; | “Marier! repeated M. Bourdoine, with a i shrug of amazement, ‘ Pourquoi? (where- | fore?) Diable! I am note rich. Vere-of shall I furnish a house? Vere-of shall I bire servants? | Vere-of shall I buy ze horse and carriage? Eh, bien! I have no establishment. My art is | adorable—my art is divine; but ven Ihave my chocolate in ze morning, my ragouwt at noon, and my rags pate at night—sacrebleu! I have no sou left! “No. I tell to la belle Helene ze beantie of Paris until her eyes ene like ze drop of vater in ze stream. Vone veek I tarry vis ze r breath. Grace a Dicw! la belle Helene est la 3 } atone? (Thank God! the beautiful Helene is | pardon ze outward manifestation of | affinite of my soul. TeAVE~ ment vere ze spirit has been broken for twenty long year. For twenty year I have follow zy hear of her now here now here! I go—helas/ she is flown! Now ft | have vord from her in Memphis, Ah! mow eur, ze steamboat stand still! ze veel go back- vard{ I pant! I fly! Helene! Helene! je viens ? (I come!) Il. DESPAIR AND GRATITUDE A LA MODE FRAN- CAISE, ;, LONG JAcK had not plied M. Bourdoine with 20 distillation Amerique” for nothing. Though vital to our chronicle, the story to which we lave just listened was merely incidental to the bird and tree and flower. Ven I go back to my | K@mbler’s deep-laid scheme. Its real purpose: “ Bote my divinite have no costume—vat yous
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) rat 4 5 # : o's 7 \j cm | ‘was seen In the fact that two minutes aPter’ the close of the narration of his life-sorrow M. Bourdoine’s whole soul was engrossed in pairs, be ign fours-of-a-kind; fulls, flushes and Waxing hilarious with success and furious at loss, trembling with anticipation when he held a good hand and frowning with vexation when fortune proved niggardly, the impulsive French- man was to the gambler as an open book. On his part Long Jack’s face was as impassi- ble as that of his little bull-dog. Beginning within reasonable bounds, the stakes were increased, as M. Bourdoine was goaded to recklessness by alechol and loss, until the Frenchman leaped to his feet, tearing his hair, and crying the words that arrested Ele- a Egbert’s attention when he entered the sa- on of the steamboat: “Ah! mon Diew! Mon argent, c'est ma vie! Helene! Helene! Je tai perdu!” Bursting through the circle of spectators grouped about the table, he staggered a few steps blindly, a pistol-barrel gleamed in the lamplight, and a sharp report startled every- body aboard the boat. But the tragedy was prevented, Elegant Egbert had leaped forward and caught the hand of the momentarily insane Frenchman, so that the ball pierced the cabin cciling. Allons donc!” cried the aeinctate man, melodramatically. ‘‘Stope me note. Je salue la mort! Al death!) Helene! Helene! Je Cai perdu “Why, Monsieur Bourdoine, what is the mat- ter ’ It was the voice of Felix Cornish, and the speeker grasped the would-be suicide, and con- strained his attention. “ Ahl gracea Dieu! Eet is Monsieur Cor- neesh!” cried the Frenchman, recognizing his detainer; and without more ado clasped him in his arms and wept on his breast, The forward end of the cabin was now filled with an excited crowd called from all parts of the boat. Several ladies had now come before the curtain which partitioned off the rear end of the cabin for their especial use, and stood pale and trembling spectators on the outskirts of the Cirpar. “What is it all about, gentlemen?’ asked Felix Cornish, making himself heard above the Babel of voices. Half a dozen yonchsafed the information, when M. Bourdoine himself took the word from their lips. “ Ah! Monsieur Corneesh, cing mille dollars! five thousand dollars!) All ze egacy sent of eaven, by vich I shall recover la belle Helene —z affinite of my soul! Ah! mon bon ami, vai have I bote to die? Behold! behold!” And dragging Felix to the table he picked _up his now empty pocket-book and flourished it about his head, much as a stage-Indian flourishes a scalp. From the pocket-book slip a ten-dollar gold-piece which had been over: ooked. Picking it up the Freichman displayed it between his r and thumb. “Voila le dernier souvenir dun pauvre sot ! (Behold the last remembrancer of a poor ah able) fool!)” he cried, and added, with a sardonic laugh: ‘ Parbleu! @un sot pauvre! (of apoor (in igent) fool!) In his despair he could perpetrate a pun, by transposing the adjective pauvre. Then he threw the coin from him in stagy dis- dain, crying: “ Ala mort! a lamort! (todeath! to death 4 “‘T won't leave you without a stake,” sai Long Jack, tendering his late adversary a hun- @red-dollar bill; “‘and I wish you better luck next time.” There was little magnanimity in the act. It is a gambler’s superstition that it is unlucky to leave his victim without a dollar. M. Bourdoine waved the money back loftily. A hundred dollars!” he eried, ‘ Ah, ciel! vill zat find my Helene? No! no! ze rivair vill drown my sorrow!” The gold eagle which M. Bourdoine had tossed from was snapped up and dropped into the pocket of the cabin-boy, who immediately as- sumed an unconscious air. But Egbert had seen him, and now demanded restitution. When the coin was reluctantly yielded up to him, he said to M. Bourdoine: te Wait, sir, until I see if I cannot retrieve your loss.” Turning to Long Jack, he pursued: “JT presume, sir, you have no objections to neughiing the game, with a change of adver- sary?’ Long Jack looked up, and the eyes of the two men met, V—_—_—_CoO a RR TTT ELEGANT EGBERT. SS rT Both started, and turned a shade paler. A look of perplexity came into Long Jack’s eyes, and while he studied every lineament of the other’s face, he said slowly: ‘¢Tf I mistake not, I have the honor of meet- ing a gentleman sometimes known as Elegant Egbert?” ““T am so known,” admitted Egbert, “J have heard of you, and am greatly pleased | to make your acquaintance. I am not wholly without reputation, I think Tmay say, as Long Jack, No, sir; I have no objections to meeting you when and where you will, stakes limited or unlimited, as you choose.” “T only stipulate that each shall have a show for his money.” ‘‘ Here, boy, bring us a dozen packs of cards.” For two hours neither Egbert nor Long Jack | oke a word beyond the technical phrases of | the game. . Then the latter rose and said: “« Mr., Egbert, I have had enough.” ! And addressing the crowd, with a smile | which, under the circumstances, was a marked success, he pursued: “‘T think, gentlemen, that you will all allow that ten thousand dollars at a sitting is not mean.’ He was pale to the lips, but otherwise per- fectly self-possessed. What his secret thoughts were who could ess? It issafetoinfer that Elegant Egbert | ad not made in him a stanch friend. } The successful contestant betrayed no emo- | tion whatever, unless we take into account a slightly bored expression. uietly he handed to M. Bourdoine five thou- sand dollars, and the original ten-dollar gold | piece, while the remainder @ put into the breast- | pocket of his coat, with seemingly as little con- | cern as if it were an old tte age | But not so stoical was the Frenchman. With | clasped hands and a face that was a study he | zed upon tho money for a time without touch- | z it. ‘Ah! ge delusive siren zat shall vin all heart | —ze arbiter of joy and pain—ze power zat shall | give me back my” Helene angelique, or deny her to my arms!” be apostrophized, in a sort of ecstasy. Then seizing upon the money he pressed it to his lips and heart, and shed tears upon it, mur- | muring: “Give me back my Helene—eet is all Task! “And to you, monsieur,” he pursued, raising his streaming eyes to Egbert’s face, * do I owe zis princely gift—note only my life, bote zat viech shall bring joy and brightness into my life! Ah, monsieur, accept ze adoration of vone grateful heart, zat shall burst vis ze sentiment unutterable!” And but for his shortness of stature he would have fallen upon his benefactor’s neck. As it was, he clasped Egbert in his arms and bedewed his waistcoat with tears. More than one of the spectators smiled at the | effusive gratitude of the emofional foreigner, | and one rough fellow muttered something about bis being a ‘* dog-gone fool.” But standing beneath the curtain which se- questered the ladies’ cabin were two fair young creatures who were differently impressed. Sibyl Cornish” saw Elegant Egbert rest his hand kindly on M. Bourdoine’s shoulder, while | into his face came an expression of gentleness which made her womanly heart go out to him | in grateful appreciation. oking about for some one with whom to share her emotions, she saw a petite blonde standing near her, with her face all alight with admiration, and perhaps something more. ‘*He is a noble gentleman, I know,” said’) Sibyl, addressing the pretty stranger. ‘‘Do > you observe that he appreciates the gratitude of | he Frenchman, where almost any man would | be impatient at its demonstrativeness?”’ ) The blonde looked up with a glad smile, ‘Thank you,” she said. ‘‘ He is my brother.” | ‘‘Tndeed?” exclaimed Sibyl, with a slight | flush. “And the man to whom he has been so generous is my old French master.” Impulsively she extended her hand, which the blonde cihened as cordially. Meanwhile the Frenchman was crying: * Ah! monsieur, you vill note deny me your name, vich Helene shall commend to ze saints in her prayers, and teach her little vones—if Heaven shail vouchsafe such gude gifts to crown our happiness—to lisp vis blessings!” Several laughed aloud, and even Felix Corn- | ish smiled at the Frenchman’s long look ahead | in the matter of matrimonial contingencies; but | bert said, vely: ‘You may know me as Egbert Stanhope,” At that name Long Jack started. | strong | breast labored mightily with sobs which were “Stanhope! Stanhope!” he mused. “ Where have I known the name of Stanhope in connec- tion with that face?’ But he gnawed his mustache, as if the memo ry eluded him. “Mr, Stanhope,” said Felix Cornish, extend- ing his hand, “ allow me to thank you for doing for my friend what could not perhaps have been | done in any other way, by restoring to him the | identical money with which he was to prosecute | his unfortunate search. Whether it be success- | ful, or still delusive, as in the past, you have at — made him perfectly happy for the time eing. “‘ And it isa great boon to be perfectly hap- py,” said Egbert, with something of cynicism end more of sadness in his tone, as he accep | the proffered hand rather coldly, ‘But you make too much of a little matter. Allow me te bid you good-evening.” “Ah, ciel! bear him!—a little matter! Bote surely monsieur vill drink a bottelie of vine be- fore taking his leave?” urged the Frenchman. “No, thank you. I never drink wine,” said Egbert, with a suppressed shudder. ‘Never drinks wine!” mused Long Jack, who never let anything slip which might be of re- motest importance. ‘*Stanhepe! . Stanhopet And never drinks wine! Heshudders, Did “he ever drink wine? Is there an unpleasant asso- | ciation with wine in his But he saw Egbert withdraw with the ques- tion of identity yet unsolved. CHAPTER IV. THE HAND OF FATE. Wirn quickened heart-throbs Sibyl Cornish saw Egbert Stanhope approach. She heard a rippling murmur of gladness at her side, and saw the yretty blonde spring for- ward to meet him wich a radiant smile. She saw his face brighten, banishing the cloud of sadness, to give place to a look of ineffable ten- derness; and noted the caress conveyed in the simple touch of his fingers on the with which his sister clone to his arm, It struck Sibyl a little oddly that the gentle- man should be gloved while the lady’s hand was | bare; yet his careful toilet seemed so much a part of himself that the impression vanished be- tore the new emotions called forth by the sound of his voice in the single low-spoken word: AS thoy posed Sibyl, the blonde flashed the Si e blonde flas upon her a aa e of pro if gladness which called a responsive smile of sympatby -to Miss Cornish’s ips. Following the direction of his sister’s eyes, Egbert met the dark orbs of the brunette beauty fixed upon his face. - Adele felt him start, draw her arm more closely fo his side, and hurry her forward. Her surprised and questioning gaze saw a flush mount to his temples and a frown of pain or vexution bend his brows. “ Why, Egbert, do you know her?” she asked, on the impulse. eee ane aie 4 “The lady we have just passed. “ No—I ne not know her—she is a perfect stranger to me.” He spoke disjointedly, with the iteration of one who wished to leave no room for further questioning. When the door of her state-room had closed hands about his neck and interlacing the fin- gers, she raised on tiptoe and drew his troubled face down until she could kiss him. Her lips framed no question, but her wistful eyes asked—oh, so pathetically !\—to be taken into his confidence, and to be allowed to com- fort him. Egbert Stanhope brushed the fair hair off her temples, took the girlish face between his two palms, and gazed into her eyes until his own were suffused with tears—and hers, too, at sight of his. Then he gathered her sunny head close down over his heart, and kissed the threads of gold . and again and again, while his rame quivered in every nerve, and his the more terrible by reason of the great though ineffectual strength exerted to repress them, And she, who bad never before witnessed such an outburst, was terrified, and clung to | him, crying: “Dear, dear Bertie! what is the matter? Tell we !—oh, tell me, my darling brother!” But a strong man does not babble his gricf, even to a heart overflowing with such gentle sympathy. For perhaps thirty seconds Egbert struggled | between them and strangers, she took his hat — _off and laid it in the berth, Then slipping her
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——_ for self-mastery; even so short an interval | #6 fricnds of long eg, whose magnantmity | Felix, with mock f seeming an age to the startled girl.. Then the tense muscles relaxed, he released his sister from that close embrace, and with a deep- drawn breath got himself again in hand. By ae RD i guy Le ohh ng said, ‘T your pardon, dear, for frightening you with my fe Now Richard is himself again! —eh, petite?” He smiled at her with an attempt at pleasant- ry which was a wretched, a pathetic failure. Looking into his face through the tears that t. glistened in her eyes and hung pendent rom her long lashes, the heart of the girl was 80 wrung with pain that she cried: **Oh, Bertie! Bertie!” And thinking only how she could. put into | most forcible expression the great pity and love that burdened her heart, she caught up his hands and carried them to her lips. With a half-smothered ejaculation, he snatch: | ed away his hand—his right hand /—and started back, his cheeks paling and his eyes dilating with unmistakable terror. Startled and shocked, the girl shrunk away, gazing at him in wonder. Then her lip began to quiver with wounded sensibilities. Had the great outpouring of her heart been repulsed? Egbert read her irgenuous face, which so faithfully registered every passing thought, and the reaction of relief made bim fairly ‘ fy Ged!” he mused. ‘ For one agonizing bo ep I thought that she knew or suspect- E98 He shuddered in spite of himself. But he hastened to take her in his arms and Bay; % Forgive me again, darling; Iam ina strange mood to-night. But never, never for an instant doubt that I appreciate your sympathizing love. What other brother has such sweet affection ac- corded him? Oh, my one treasure!” he cried with a sudden excess of tenderness, ‘‘ how could I—how could I— He checked himself, and released her. With a fad smile, he said: ° ‘We are not getting on much better, aro we? Come, pet, forget it all. Let us go out on the hurricane deck. The night must be delightful if it has kept the promise of early evening. I will share your singing with the man in the moon.” He made a brave effort to assume the light- ness of tone with which he was wont to address her, and with effectionate solicitude threw a- fieecy cloud of lace—a ghey feminine device— about her head and shoulders, and took from the upper berth a Spanish lute of exquisite workmanship, yellow with age and worn with long use—an instrument selected for its won- drous mellow tene, and brought across the seas a gift to “sweet-voiced sister Adele!”—and so he led her through the lighted saloon out into the calm night. |v The scene from the hurricane deck was tran- | quilizing and inspiring. The moon, at its full, | was now half-way up to the zenith, shedding a pale luster over the seeks landsca From the boat to the eastern ie, where the woods. lay a line of black shadow, stretched a path- way of shimmering silver. In the wake of the | steamer were following billows of snowy foam, | ELEGANT EGBERT, vould make as a personal favor.ze unparalleled enerositio bestowed upon even so heapbie a riend as I. Zh, bien! vill you den pupil, whose maiden lipslend a new charm to ze graramaire dry-bone—‘ J’aime—tu aimes—il aime,’ (I love, thou lovest, he loves)—hal! hal ha!—parbleu/ eet must sound sweet from zo lips of ze vomen grown! Can you deny to her ve ecstatic pleushair to say zat she love her old master and shall Teas his gratitude? And her excellent parent, ze gracious Madame Corneesh, | who vas attract by zo marvelous beautioe of ma’am’selle, ze sistair of monsieur! Ah! Mon- sieur Stanhope is so gallant, he cannot re- fuse—” At the sound of M. Bourdoine’s voice, both | Egbert and Adele started up, to discover tha Frenchman standing with his hand on his heart, and his form bent in a most deferential bo WV, Egbert’s first emotion was great annoyance; but as he gathered the drift of M. Bourdoine’s | , he turned pale and compressed his li purpose “ih pal Pp ps In that moment he might have rudely re- ae the overtures of M. Bourdoine’s friends; t the girl bent and whispered in his ear: ‘Oh, do let them come, Bertie, dear! It is that beautiful lady with whom you saw mo standing. When you were looking so grand, dear, she drew my attention to it of her own accord, not knowing that I was anything to ou, At that a wave of crimson swept up to Eg- bert’s forehead, and his eye ranged the lengt of the boat and picked out the stately form of Sibyl, who had her hand extended, pointing out over the water. In the breast of our sad hers there was a terrible though silent struggle which brought beads of sweat to his brow, an made his voice busky when he said, slowly: **Monsieur Bourdoine, we shall count it an honor to know your friends, I bog you to feel that what I did for you is noteworthy only in this unexpected result.” When, after effusive th the Frenchman turned briskly to seek his friends, Adele reward- ed her brother with a kiss, but found him ony unresponsive, Then she experienced her first misgivings. Yet she could not read his thoughts, nor did she catch that which half- shaped itself into words: **It is the hand of Fate!” Neither knew that at a little distance stood a man leaning emg the guard, with his chin in his hand, watching them with a reflective frown and muttering: “Stanhope! Stanhope! He shudders at the mention of wine! His sister is an angelic blonde and sings like a siren! Humph! Stanhope! Stanhope!” CHAPTER V. A TERRIBLE DISASTER, M, Bourpornn’s delight at ee Sibyl knew no bounds, He Fissed her hand in his wildest ecstasies, calling her his idolized pupil, the brightness of whose smile au envious destin had denied to his-longing vision for years which seemed ages, In a front he asked atter her mother, blessed his patron saint for the happi- ness of this unexpected meeting, praised the bounded by divergent lines of toppling wave-| glowing, womanly beauty of his quondam pu- crests, Just over the stern Egbert found Adele a seat | and sitting down at her feet, leaned his head | against her knee. e girl’s fingers toying with the strin il, and poured into her ear all his sorrows and joys, adding a most extravagant eulogium on is deliverer from the depths of despair, In the midst of all this, the party went in of | quest of Mrs, Cornish, when Felix espied Egbert her instrument, woke a few sweet chords, which _ and Adele leaving the saloon for the hurricane shaped themselves into a prelude whose sadness | showed the burden lying on her heart. Then | deck, and exclaimed: - “By Jove! sis, Monsieur Bourdoine’s savior out on the still air of the night went her voice | knows my little blonde divinity! There they go in tones low and clear as the soft breatnings of a flute. Like David of old, she was vos her king from his melancholy by the magic of her woice. The last sweet note died away, and singer and fus!rument were mute. Looking into her ‘brother’s face, Adele saw fat A dreamy calm had settled down upon his oertrLed spirit. With her soft fingers she | brushed the hair off his temple, kissed him | there 2 ze Lins Soegs caress, laid her cheek against the spot, and sat perfectly still. They made a fair picture—the man of thirty- | five, who already bore tokens of rude buffeting jn he warfare of life, and the nfaiden of scarce peventeen, just beginning to peer with wonder ing eyes into the opening future. . eir sweet reverie was interrupted by a foot- | fall end a voice, __“ Ah! Monsieur Stanhope, I cry you pardon, if I intrude u M honed moment of privacy. Bote a kindly Lrovi ence have brought to me | together. » “Tt is his sister,” said Sibyl, quietly. “The deuce it is!” cried Felix. ‘ In that case there is nothing for it but to cultivate him, Monsieur Bourdoine, we look to you to bridge over the gulf of conventionalities.” The Frenchman was delighted with the idea; but Mrs. Cornish when consulted, cried: ** A common gambler, Melix! I confess that I am surprised— ‘Mamma, he is not a common gambler!” cried Sibyl, with more warmth than she was aware, until recalled to herself by her mother’s society stare of surprise, when she flushed in pretty confusion, ** No,” langhed Felix. “I should call him an uncommon gambler!” ** But you have gambled yourself, Felix—and and mamma, too, in Baden-Baden,” urged ibyl. “Abl That was in Baden-Baden,” replied to my | Set RN Sn ee Le en ee ee Se ee which evidenced the cultured and well-informed Spradeagaenedieag peagucietemmmaadederememtinripeienaiancetnsmamadaes pence vity, having his sly fling at his mother’s social ethics. “ But there's his sister—” “True! true!” cried Felix, with genuine ant- ** No man could be very objectionable blonde divinity, you ou were rather struck with her yourself. Let me see—she resembles Countess—Countess—ah—I beg your pardon!” “For shame, Felix!” whispered Sibyl, whe saw his covert laugh, But the chance resemblance fancied or real carried the day, and victory lay with po ha Felix and M. Boarvaine, as pproes to Mrs. Cornish, representing blue-blood exclusiveness, | andher patron saint, Mrs. Grundy. The formality of introduction over, the Cor- nishes expressed their participation in the obli- | gation of their friend M. Bourdoine. | The conversation then turned on themes sug- ages by the beauty of the night and the moon- it scenery. Felix found his blonde divinity a very shy mation, with such a sister. M know, mother mine. won her confidence, and he soon had her laugh- ing merrily. Then he begged for a song, which she con- ceded readily, and executed with unaffected little pass, at first, but his off-hand frankness grace, Of courss a promenade followed. Felix understood the cards in this little game full as well as Egbert understood poker. As for that had } them aside, and giving himself up to the full en- joyment of the moment, talked with a brilliancy him to avoid Sibyl Cornish, he put atleman, In half an hour Sibyl had forgot- n everything else in the fascination of his con- versation, : But now there appeared evidences of excite- ment on the boat. A number of passengers came out on the hurricane deck, and officers and men were seen to move about hurriedly. aan pended = ey edaiar se wae — oud, a ar astern above Pte which sod after rounded a bend, discoverin beneath it the rows of twinkling lights whic make up the spectacle of a Mississippi river steamboat as seen by night. It does not come within the province of our story to describe in detail the incidents attend- ing a steamboat race—the increasing excitement of passengers and officers of the boat alike, the spirit of gambling which. betrayed persons of ordinarily staid habits into the most reckless betting, the fierce animosity springing up be- tween the captains of the rival boats, as they ran side by side, and extending even to the pas- sengers, leading to much profane recrimina- tion, and almost to an exchange of pistol-shots. But in the midst of the excitement came the legitimate result of criminal recklessness on the part of the managers of the boat. There was a errific explosion, followed by the hiss and roar of escaping steam and the shivering of timbers, a the appalling cries of the wretched vic- ims. The forward of the boat was blown to atoms, the debris of splintered timbers, of mu- high in the air, to fall back.into the on the deck of the rival boat. The after part of the hurricane-deck was raised and thrown over, with but little splinter- ing, precipitating those uponit over the stern of tie boat into the river. Half-stunned by the shock, yet revived by the plunge into the cold water, Egbert Stanhope ecame conscious that he held something in his arms. The lights from the surviving steamboat showed him that it was Sibyl Cornish. In her bewilderment and terror she clasped him about the neck with a strength that bade fair to strangle him, and despite his efforts he sunk beneath the turbid waters. Then came the awful fight with death b drowning. There was a strange ringing in h ears, and his breast glowed as if it held a fiery furnace. When he involuntarily gasped for breath, the water rushed into his mouth as if be. to get at the seat of life, s he came again to the surface he raised his hend, and with his open palm struck her fairly in the face, stunning her by the blow. It was the only salvation for both.“ Only then he sue- ceeded in tearing ber arms from about his neck. He might have miEPawes her then, but while he was yet gasping for breath and gatherin, his scattered wits he saw a yellow mass near ust sinking, and realized ata flash that it wae is sister Adele’s hair. To snatch her from the embrace of death was the work of an instant. But in the effort his own head went under water again, and whes tilated humanity risin ver 4 igbert himself, whatever the scruples ‘seis bit ide eae ca a
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OT OI Fe BILE aa tn ALE bE it : he once more reached the surface he was so ex- hausted as to be almost helpless. Doubly burdened as he was, he could not Jong ght against the terrible sucking of the cur- rent, as the eddies sought to drag him down. The water was again to his lips when a voice cried: * Let me ire you!” And he felt Adele lifted higher in the water, and drawn from his arm. Turning almost blindly he saw Long Jack, who seemed in full vigor, “For God's sake, save her!” aspirated Egbert, and then by a desperaie effort he fonght his way out of the reach of the waves that sought to strangle him and lifted Sibyl’s face clear of the ‘water. For the time he cculd do no more than sus- tain himself and his unconscious burden, and that with difficulty, until his hand touched something hard; and a moment later he had drawn a piece of the wreck to him, and so floated, panting and trying to clear his lungs of water. But there was one thought that had power to ‘wake the sluggish currents of his blood, and send them tingling to his brain. He held her in his arms! He had saved her from death! Whatever the futwre might hold in store, for that moment she was all his. And he held her close over hig heart, and kissed her wan, uncon- scious face. But his first duty was to seek assistance. He saw that the engines of the surviving boat had been reversed and her helm turned so as to bring her about; tut her terrible impetus had carried her far below the ill-starred River Queen, in a long, sweeping curve. As she ap- proached the wreck on her backward‘course she was far out of the line along which Egbert was drifting. He cried aloud for help, but the roar of escaping steam, which was set free from her overtaxcd boilers to prevent a second catastro- phe, would have drowned a hundred voices; and he suffered the chagrin of being passed un- noticed. Back over the water was a terrible scene. The river hull of the River Queen had fille¢ and gunk in comparatively shoal water, leaving a portion of her shattered upper works above the surface. A number of poor wretches had man- aged to climb upon the wreck, to be again driven into the water by the flames, which had caught perhaps from the cook’s range, and wero now lighting up with lurid glare the scene of tragedy. The nieweges: | waves were dotted with struggling forms, which here end there threw their arms aloft with cries of despair and Gisappeared from sight. They were fortunate who found poe of the wreck by which to buoy themselves up until they were reached by the boats sent to their rescue from the other steamer, Egbert might have been among these, but while most were held by the counter-currerts caused by the shoaling of the river, he had been caught by the rapidly-gliding waters of the deeper channel, along the edge of the bar, and was thus borne away from suoeor. In his enfeebled condition he could not hope to make bead against the current which sets from the banks of a river toward its center, and so work his way ashore, There was nothing but to wait until the boat bad exhausted her labors at the wreck and resumed her course down the river. Could he hold out so long? And if he sur- vived, what of the unconscious Sibyl? Oh! the untold agony of that moment! “Sibyl! Sibyl!” he murmured, and sought to kiss her back to consciousness. But her lips were cold and clammy, as if she were already dead, and he shuddered at contact with them, Then he remembered that he had struck that still, white face, not in anger, but to save her life and his own, and yet he kissed it as a sort of mute petition for forgiveness. And he al- most wished ‘that her arms might again be so tightly clasped about bis neck, if only he could feel that she was not dead. But if she lived, could she ever be aught to him? With the thought his soul was again racked with pain, compared with which the outburst in Adele’s presence was as nothing. Now heraised his gloved right hand out of the water, and gazed at it with such fiery tears as on. seldom shed coursing down his cheeks. ith white despair in its rigid lineaments, he raised his face to the calm night sky and cried: “Oh! is there a just God?” ssohed ances Ge kngnieh oh eben moines and a of untold myriads, an ‘the deep heavens gave forth no aanwek. ELEGANT. EGBERT. CHAPTER Vi. LONG JACK’S LOVE. -_ : Ty was natural that Mrs. Cornish should seize upon the nearest person fer support; and, M. Bourdoine being as ignorant of the art of swirn- ming as of the subtleties of poker, it was equally natural that he should clutch Mrs. Cornish. The two would doubtless have drowned each other, had not the strong arm of Long Jack dragged them upon a piece of the wreck, He had no little difficulty in disembarrassing | himseif of them; for both evinced a disnosition to cling to him, M. Bourdoine filling up the in- tervals of coughing with a chaotic jumble of English and French. But, havirg got them seated on the wreck, Long Jack left them hold- | % i | little on the current, and out over the river on | either side the rescuing boats were rowed down ing to each other, and was himself free to go to the rescue of Adele, Thé gambler did not regain the raft which he | S |; possible to pass them, if they were still afloat. had left. He was caught in. ths eddy which bore Egbert away, and carried some distance down the stream ; but not being so much ex- hausted as the latier, be saw the danger and managed to swim back into the slower water. Left alone with his uncénscious burden, Long | Jack could not but be struck by her exquisite beauty as revealed in the moonlight; and in that moment he conceived for her a passion which was perbaps the purost sentiment of his life, and yet the essential selfishness of which was destined to bring to her, and to those most dear to her, their greatest sorrow and their greatest joy. 5 ea thos ofher grief and by her clinging trust t= him. <Al!l that was best in his nature, too, was stirred tuto new activity, Was it possible that he could win the love of this pure girl? Whet if Egbert were drowned? Conld he in a measure take his place as her protector, and so win his way to her keart? The a began to look back upon bis reck- less and vicious life with the most poignant re- grets he had ever experienced, and to plan anew for the future. But Long Jack’s story of Eebert and Sibyl had passed from Jip to lip, and there were scores of eyes watching from every part of the boat that they might not be passed. The engines had been slowed down until the steamer gained but the stream all abreast, so that it would be im- Irom time to time lusty lungs called forth the name: ‘** STANHOPE!” After calling they waited and listened. Presently a faint sound came over the water. Then a wild cheer went up from one of the | boats, the rowers bent their oars until the The action of being lifted into the boat which | soon came to their relief revived Adcle so that | she began to cough; and by the efforts of Long | Jack she was soon restored to full consciousness and comparative comfort. M. Bourdoine and Mrs, Cornish were picked up by tho same boat, the latter for the nonce losing her fine-ladyism in weeping like an or- dinary women over the uncertainty which shrouded the fate of her children. Of Felix nothing’ was known, and of Sibyl only that she had the support of Egbert. Here the tender heart of Adele found scope for its gentlest ministrations. Wrapping ber arms about the stricken mother, she whispered words of hope into her ear, though a strange palsy seemed to seize upon every faculty of her own being when she thought of Felix—truly “the happy” !—lying white and rigid in the bot- tom of the river, his hair partaking of the wav- ing motion of the weeds that wrapped him about like cerements, and his glazed eyes insen- sible to the impurities that lodged in them! Was their laughing light forever extinguished? she asked her heart; and the mother wondered at the closeness of her clinging embrace, and the tremor that shook her frame, and the sobs that broke her murmuring utterance. On reaching the steamer Long Jack and M. Bourdoine went to look for Felix and Sibyl and Egbert among those who had already been brought on board, and failing to find them, watched each incoming boat, until at last one brought Felix. He was unconscious, and those tvrho brought him said that he had fainted on being dragged from the water, where he was sustaining bim- self with difficulty. from his garments was red with blood, and sub- sequent examination proved that his leg had been broken atid severely lacerated, doubtless by a splinter of the riven deck, His mother could not be kept away from him, but at the sight of blood fainted, and was re- vived only to go into violent hysterics, gentle hand was not wanting, though in thet time, when so many demanded attention, and so few could give it, he must bave been negiect- éd but for Adele. Her pale yet resolute tace was the first on which his eyes opened. Her — chafed his temples and held water to his ips. *But her moment of keenest anguish came when she learned that the boat had resumed her way aud Egbert was not yet found. Tien she forgot every one and everything else ina dumb despzir that was terribie to witness, She did not cry out; she shed no tears; she only nted and wrung her hands and looked help- essly from one to another. Long Jack told her that there was one hope left. They might overtake him further down the stream whither he hed been borne by the rapid current. . Adele took the hand of the man who had saved her life and who gave her the only hope of her brother’s safety, and, forgetful of Felix, dragged him off toward the bow of the boat, where she made him watch on one side, while she watched on the other; but all the while she clung to his hand, as if it were her only stay. Long Jack was touched by the exquisite pa- nearly snapped, and the boat leaped forwar All the other boats turned toward the seme pointand went skimming over the water. The gled cry was caught up by the watchers on the steamboat, until the Jamentations of those who bewailed the loss of friends and the groans of those who writhed in physical an- Soe were drowned by a sound of rejoicing. ut she whose heart had leaped with thewildest thrill of delight and thanksgiving hung fainting in Long Js ck's arms. Remembering the instinctive antagonism be- tween himself and her brother, Long Jack turn- ed sick with dread, In that instant, if by an effort of the will he could “have made Egbert sink before the rescuing boat reached him, would he have willed it? But Egbert did not sink. Eager hands seized him and held him, while others lifted the bur- den from his stiffened arms into the boat, Then he was dragged over the side, and the littic fleet of skiffs waited for the steamboat to come up. M. Bourdoine, who had been Siewry | upon Mrs. Cornish (her maid being emong the lost) alternately Landing her her bottle of smelling- | salts and receiving it from her, in keeping wit | the ebb and flow of her emotions, and running ; 80 that the bl hither and thither for water, or information, or whatever else she imagined she wanted—M. Bourdoine, hearing the shout, carne forward, and, being a little man, he of course felt it in- cumbent on him to relieve six-foot Jack of his burden. Long Jack paid no heed to him, nor to his lyglot ejaculations, further than to elbow 1im out of the way, while he laid Adele down ood eculd go to her head, and whipped her palms with his so smartly that he brought her to in a trice. As soon as she was herself again she pointed | down to the wood-deck, where the boats would The water which dripped | be received on board the steamer, and said: “Take me down there. I want to be the first to receive him.” = Of course she started to go herself, and equal- ly, of course, what with her exposure and | fainting and all, she was weak, and her steps | were poor, tottering things that would have | herself upon him, and almost eons her in the hurrying crowd. Then Jack Buta | id what was a very sensible thing to do, con- sidering his amatory aspirations—he picked the frail little beauty up in his arms, end elbowin aside all obstructing humanity, burried wit her down the broad stairway leading from the cabin- deck to the wood-deck, CHAPTER VIL THE GRAND SULTAN. . Frnst they handed up the unconscious Sibyl. Adele gave her but a passing notice. Sho was only a woman, you know! But when the king came up, supported on either side by lusty roustabouts, and looking pele, and weak, and everything else tbat was calculated to make him _a_ suitable oe on which to lavish an ocean of love and solicitude and all the rest of it—then didn’t she fairly hurl neeze the breath out of his body, and smother him with kisses, aad baptize him anew. with tears, and manifest her delight with bubbling laughter, and cooin epithets of endearment? And didn’t she insi on supporting bim on one side, and walk beside him with her arm about him, deluding herself with the thought that she was him? ‘though, poor soul, her weak limbs ti 38
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6 beneath her light weight that she almost had to cling to him to keep from sinking. Well, they got the rescued man into a berth and installed her as chief nurse, But the minute he fot her alone he took her hands betweon his and said: “ Adele, go to her—I shall get along well enough—and, if you love me, do not let her want for any care you can bestow. Don’t let her die, dear !|—don’t let her die!” And Adele saw all the intense passion held under such strong restraint, yet forcing its way fo the surface in that appeal and into her eyes came a great wonder and delight, After all the melancholy years bad he at last fourd that which would assuage his secret sorrow? He could not bear her look, but turning his | face into the pillow, and putting her hands away, said: “ ! Go!” And she did go, having kissed him, and thrown all the melting tenderness of her soul | into the caress, And in her eyes ‘was a new | light, and in her heart a new love for the wo- man he loved. Henceforth Sibyl Cornish would share the love she had hitherto given solely to her idolized brother. And Egbert, lying alone, and remembering when in his anguish and desolation of heart he had cried: “/s there a just God?’ now asked himself: “With such a love, have I a right to com- plain?» Dear sister, have I failed to appreciate the boon of your devotion?” Meanwhile, M. Bourdoine had received his | unconscious pupil with exclamatory grief. Trot- ting beside Long Jack, he had held her limp | band, raining tears and kisses upon it, apostro- | phizing all the saiuts in the calendar, and calling | on them to look upon the piteous spectacle, and | to take compassion on ber youth and beauty. Soon they had her in a state-room, and M. | Bourdoine, being a terrible male creature, was | excluded; but he hung about the door, besieg- | ing every one who went in or out; and so Adele | found him, ‘‘Ah! grace a Dieu! Ma’am’selle Adele!” he cried, catching her hands, ‘ze gracious saints have hearkened to ze prayer of vone humble sup- liant! She lives!—my pupil lives! ze light, ze sautie is note blotted from our firmament!” “Do you think she stopped to discuss the mat- | ter? Not she! With = aich of gladness at M. | Bourdoine, as a reward for his good news, she | vanished through the door of that state-room as noiselessly as a sprite. Nor did she heed the hurried admonition of the impromptu nurse in attendance, but instantly possessed herself of the white hand, and bending over kissed the pale lips of the woman whom Lgbert loved / and cooed: ; | ** My dear, I should like to hug you, if my | clothes were not all wet. Thank God! we are | all safe!” And then, being a woman, and hence, of course, a natural matchmaker, she whispered: | ‘“*He’s worried to death about you, and sent me to take care of 7s The dear fellows have no idea how wuch killing we can stand, do they? And shall I run and tell him you are in riotous good health? He begged me not to let you die, you know.” Sibyl had not known it, but she was evidently lad to be informed, for a faint flush came into wan cheeks. “Thank him,” she began; but Adele stopped | her with a kiss. ** No, no! you must do that yourself. CanI | es ph pl for you? No? Then I’m off, Good- ) ry, dear. Back to Egbert, and, teasingly | “*She’s well enough to blush rosy red when I | told her what a foolish boy you were. La! what | a coincidence! Why, you're blushing, too! | That I should ever live to see my self-possessed | brother blush like a school-boy !” She laughed at him mercilessly. But he could | stand it. For the time such gladness flooded his soul that the cloud, to its last vestige, was vanished, But then a pang of remorse smote Adele’s heart, and the brightness that came into Egbert’s face seemed to have been transmitted from ers, Along the floor of the cabin were ed mat- tresses, on which were siretched the poor wretches who had been sacrificed to the Moloch of steamboat-racing. Some were maimed and torn by splintering wood; some lay in a ghastly went honct praee 2 gy — writhed in an SCA esca, steam. y on the oF peter lay Felix Cornish, bearing mental as well as physical pain with preened tive, like a hero. a had saved Adele Stanhope’s life, ELEGANT EGBERT. when Felix would have given his other leg for | the privilege, The sufferer had noted the ex- ression of trust with which Adele bad taken ack’s hand when she led him off to look for Egbert. Felix would have throgm in an arm along with both legs to have. her rely on him like that. Later Jack appeared bearing Felix’s own sister in his arms, and behind him Egbert walked feebly, encircled by the arm of the over- joyed Adele, to have had whom embrace him, and look so lovingly into his face, poor Felix would have given both arms and both legs. While he was rejoicing at this assurance of his sister’s rescue, Felix could not help feeling that all the luck fell to Jack while he lay there help- less and deserted. In the midst of his repinings, a prett / fairy, with a face of remorseful compassion, itted to | his side; and then Felix was happy again. He never took his eyes from her face while she beat up his pillow and made it lie as light. as swan’s down. When she took her hand away, he turned his head so that his lips brushed the soft pink palm—the merest accident in the world! Of course she never noticed that; only she was busy for a minute about something which necessitated the turning away of her face so that Felix could not seeit. But she wassweetly unconscious when she told him about his mother and pel and Egbert, and even M. Bourdoine. Then Felix, to whom the mere sound of her voice was become a luxury, practiced a very commendable piece of self-denial, * We're a sadly selfish lot, I’m afraid,” he said. ‘‘Here we haveall been accepting your generous services. as a matter of course, instead of insisting on your immediately seeking a change of clothing. You will take cold in those wet garments, and then I shall never for- give myself.” Did not it make her eyes sparkle that he should be the first to think ‘of her comfort! And leaving Felix to think. how exquisitely ure blondes blush, she straightway performed er first act of obedience to him. Well, in due time the boat reached Memphis, and Felix was carefully moved to his suburban villa overlooking the broad Mississippi. The excitement being past, reaction set in and Adele was now thoroughly prostrated, Of course Felix would hear to nothing but thet she should be taken.to his home. Egbert, with his Ce was in hopeless minority. . Bourdoine was to make the ) aa of ais old pupil his head-quarters while prosecuting his search in that vicinity. Finally, Mrs. Cornish, who had. swallowed (figuratively !)a man who had shown that he could gamble, could not utterly ignore a man who did gamble, professionally, the same hay- ing saved her life; and Long Jack was giyen to understand, in the phraseology of ordinary civility, that he would be well received when- ever he chose to honor Riverside with his com- pany. Of course Long Jack understood that, ut having an end of his own to attain, he ac- cepted the invitation literally, and rode out oa horseback after an interval of just two days. Perbaps it was due to the sri yins properties of country air, perhaps to something else, bat | after one long night’s rest at Riverside Adele rose as fresh asa buttercup. Ordinary return for hospitality extended would determine that | she should share with Sibyl the duty of atten- dance on the sick man, who lay in the room just off the library. On the other hand, while Mrs, Cornish was recovering from the shock her neryes had sustained, and Felix was disabled, the entertainment of their guest devolved wholl upon Sibyl. So it came to pass that while Sibyl was showing Egbert the grounds, or making as ctable an opponentas might be at billiards, Adele was reading or singing to Felix, or bathing his fevered temples with the tenderest fingers in the world—a very nice ar- | rangement indeed, since it proved eminently satisfactory to all the parties concerned. So matters stood when Felix became con- valescent, so that he could be wheeled into the library, to recline among the cushions of his in- | valid’s chair, looking for all the world, in hig | dressing-gown and smoking-cap, like some luxu- | rious ol ‘tan, | would lie by the hour, having bis lightest com- | mands executed by the veriest slave to his ca- d—or, rather, young sultan, There he rice, And every graceful movement of her ithe figure was followed by his lazy eyes, the rogue expressing unnecessary wants just for the luxurious pleasure of seeing her walk ucross the room, Then the amatory deities treated Felix very handsomely, though he did not see it in that that. she had one of hee Eat stack | risich is one of her bilious w as good & name as any for hypochondria result- ——_- - ing. from fashionable inactivity. It was now her turn to haye Adele to read and sing to her, and poor Felix “‘had his nose put out, of joint,” as the children pay Solitaire and dummy whist had no charms; reading was a bore; and even his meerschaum lost its attractiveness, Adele not being by to go over that little fiction about tobacco-smoke be ing agreeable to her, when in truth and verity she ested died of suppressed inclination to cough, But the result was that while she was gone his fancy tenanted her vacant chair with a phan- tom quite as angelic as the original, and into Mrs, Cornish’s room would stalk a sultan, invisi- ble to ordinary sight, and obtrude his melan- choly face between Adele’s eyes and the page she was reading. When she came down to him at last his face would light up with such evident leasure it made her Slush, which enhanced 1er beauty: and contrasting the happy smile of the attended sultan with the forlorn ruefulness of the deserted phantom, she pitied him im- mensely, and made up to him in the quality of her attentions what he lost in quantity. So it came to pass that one day, when she was arranging his pillow, he put out his arm unex- sectedly and drew her down upon the arm of is invalid-chair. Of course she cried, in a hushed, scared voice: **Oh! let me go, please!” And equally of course she struggled, just a little, to get away. But when she found that her weakness availed nothing against his strength, and that he was drawing her closer and closer, langhing at her confusion, then she got faint and trembly, and sunk all afiutter into his arms, From that interview she bore away no very clear recollection of what Felix had said or what she had replied; only it was there that she conceived the idea that heaven must be love- making made perpetual, with no ‘‘ mai ~ying or giving in marriage” to spoil every thing |” When they were interrupted by footstups she ran away very much flustered and with her blonde hair tumbled about, and ringing in her ears the terrible words that Felix ‘‘ meant to have it out with Stanhope that evening over the cribbage-board.” Of course she had a “good ery ” all by her- self, which needs no description; but how Felix “had it out with Stanhope” was a more com- plicated matter, and must be assigned toa new chapter, CHAPTER VIII. FELIX ‘‘ HAS IT OUT WITH STANHOPE.” By this time Felix was so far improved that he made his appearance regularly in the dining - room, being usually supported thither on the one side by Egbert and on the other by Adele, But on the day of the remarkable interview re- ccunted in the last chapter, Adele, instead of appearing in person, sent her excuses, and that she would content herself with a little toast and tea in her room, and retire ney, Egbert looked up with a quick anxiety which did not escape Sibyl. Of late very little that he said or did passed unnoticed by her, “Ts Adele unwell?” he now asked. “I will go and see what is the matter,” vol- unteered Sibyl. But Felix in 5 “Don’t trouble yourself, sis, She was here only a few minutes ago; and if I amany judge, all she needs is a little letting-alone. y Come, old fellow,” addressing Egbert, briskly, ‘‘ we can’t let our appetites wait on the pexniors of anything so variable as a woman. e must wink at their whims, and in return the dear creatures indulge us in our pet selfish- nesses,” Being out of Egbert’s range of vision, he frowned hard at Sibyl, who was looking at bim, put his finger on his lips, to imply that “ mum was the word,” and smiled knowingly. Now Sibyl, being a woman, had had her eyes open, so that she was in a measure prepared with the key which would unlock the mystery of this pantomime. She turned away to rin the bell and order the immediate service 0 dinner, just in time to hide the swift flash that rung to her eyes and the soft flush that man- tled her cheek; and with the babe-like innocence with which the Lords of Creation are so often deceived by their subtle rulers, she said: **Oh, welll every woman has moments when she don’t want to be teased even by her best friends, If they are wise, they let her have ber way. if you are ready, we will go right Of course Fgbert ed by course a anxiety was y 60 high an authority; and he wheoled nt, to see A es
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Wélix looking as ff he meditated nothing more ethereal than lamb with caper sauce. e did not prove so much of a gourmand, however, as to grudge time to eg hw his unusual flow of irits compensated in a measure for Adele’s absence. When they had returned to the library, and the cribbage-board was set with its pegs in the end-holes, Sibyl suggested that, lacking Adele, Mrs. Cornish might find the company of her own daughter agreeable; and the gentlemen were leit alone, And now, for the first time, Felix began to experience a feeling of extreme awkwardness and diffidence. He had never before been so struck by the sad gravity of Egbert’s face when at rest. There was not more than ten years’ difforence in their ages, and yet the lover felt the bashfulness of a boy in the presence of a sedate man. *Confound the subject!” be mused, when they had sat for some time in silence! “Is there no way to introduce it—gradually, now would be the way, according to my notion. i don’t want to knock him down with the pro- posal without any warning. How infernally uuconscious he sits there, while I’m all afire.” Then he found audible —— * Ahem! 4 the way, Stanhope, how do you Mind Riverside?’ ‘It is a noble estate, of which any man might feel proud, If I did not love my own home on ‘the Obio so well, I should envy you this beauti- ful prospect over the Mississippi. Now that it is suggested, I shall count upon you as my guest during the coming summer,” ‘‘ Ah-—yes—of course,” replied Felix, abstract- edly. He was musing: ‘Thunder and Mars! what has this got to do with Adele? I can’t very well say that we should like to spend our honeymoon on the Ohio, That would be getting the cart before—” But here the st look of surprise on Eg- bert’s face recalled him to a sense of his some- what informal acceptance of the invitation so «courteously extended. **Oh! 1 beg your pardon! Yes; I can answer for both my mother and Sibyl. e will all be delighted to visit your Northern home. I only regret that this accident has Jaid me so effectu- ally on the shelf that I haven’t been able to make your stay here more pleasant, But as soon as I get on my legs Vl show you some of the country.” ““T owe no slight debt to your sister in that direction. In our horseback rides I believe that there is scarcely a spot within ten miles that has escaped us,” ! ‘‘Hanged if the thing ain't -working itself out! was Felix’s delighted reflection. ** Here’s an opening right to my hand!” So overjoyed was he at the p; that - veg brightened radiantly and he burst orth: “We're quits there, old fellow! While you were taking brake and brae with Sibyl, what ‘should I have done with this confounded game deg, it it hadn’t been for Adele—ah—ahem !—ah —that is, your sister—ah—Miss Stanhope!” Felix was a hopeless wreck. He had run plump into the ditch, and his floundering was simply amazing, as Egbert’s blank stare showed, Had he let well enough alone, the mere use of Adele’s name might have passed unnoticed, just as the proverbial bull in a ornate = (a would mre no havoc as long as he stood still. It is only when he indulges in ground and lofty tumbling that the crockery begins to fly. “Hang it iy Sagara el eried poor Felix, ‘throwing down his cards and getting very red in the face, ‘‘ I wasn’t cut out for a diplomatist, because I never could slide into anything grace- fully. I always go up-stairs two at a time, and eat as if there were only ‘twenty minutes for refreshments,’ and make a confounded muddle of everything where anybody else would use tact, and have it all straight and smooth. Blest if I don’t think it’s in the blood! “Well, I thought that for once in my life I had things fixed; and here I’ve gone and tum- bled head over heels into the midst of the pud- die, The long and short of the whole business is this: I’ve had your sister, Adele, at my elbow day after day, and she’s treated me just like an angel. And I'd have been a wooden man if I hadn’t failen in love with her. But, for that matter, | was gone | before we soared sky- ward from the deck of the River Queen—” But the cards had fallen from Egbert’s hand, and he had risen out of bis chair, looking so white and strange that Felix came to a full stop, and began again in a totally different tone oice: eT fiatio, old fellow! What the deuce is the matter? Ym not a Blue Beard. nor an ogre, ELEGANT EGBERT. that you need look so dismayed. Zounds, nian! it’s not a criminal offense to fall in love with a pretty woman!” . “No,” said Elegant Egbert, as if Felix bad stated a most ordinary proposition, and he wished to express his acquiescence in its sound- ness. But at the words criminal offense he had winced as if stung. ‘* Well,” resumed Felix, with an attempt at lightness, ‘‘ you see, as you seemed to stand in some degree in the position of the stern parent, ou know, why, I thought it was the proper hing to tell you how the wind lay, and get ae consent and blessing, and all that sort of ing. id Rb !”- said Egbert, in a constrained, husky voice. “And you have spoken to her about this?” “Spoken to her!” cried Felix, in amaze. ‘‘What do you take me for? Why, of course I bave spoken to her about it!” “What did she say?” : ** Deuced cool and catechetical!” thought the bewildered Felix. ‘‘Blest if I don’t feel as if I was up before my old schoolmaster, after a mid- night visit to the orebard!” uf aloud he said: ‘* Well, as for that, I don’t know asI could repeat just what she said; but I kvow that it was enough so that it leff no reason for me to envy the archangels. What more do you want than that?” Egbert steadied himself by placing his hand on “ong back of his chair, where it shook percep- tibly. sj beg your pardon, Mr. Cornish,” he began, as if the words choked him, when Felix inter- rupted: *‘Look here, Mr. Stanhope! if the pinch is in the pocket-book, I think I can show you an estate free from incumbrance and backed up by cash and collateral that will satisfy you, if you | are as reasonable a man as I take you to be. On the score of character I can refer you to a | thousand of the best men in the Mississppi val- ley, and tothousands more all over the State of Virginia, where the Cornishes have been known with honor for a hundred and fifty years.” Here was tlie first touch of pride that Felix had evinced since our acquaintance with bim. Now he had risen to his feet, supporting himself by the table. There was nothing of his mother’s petty peur of social position; but he stood erect with bis head thrown back, pale to the lips and with eyes flashing. The whole man said: ‘: We have been honorable men!” Egbert raised his hand to stay the other’s rapid words. ‘ It is not that,” he began. ies But the impetus of the excited man carried him to the end of what was marked down in his thoughis, “T have taken you on trust. Ihave none of the detective spirit, and should never think of questioning you, when I have you wae? before my ¢yes to torm my judgment from. But I do not ask you to risk your sister’s happiness on ay uncertainty.” e would have bitten his tongue out before he would have intimated that the thought was in his mind that be had taken Adele, too, on trust. In fact, it was not there. So perfect was his confidence in her that it never occurred to him that she was necessarily so inseparably involved with ber brother in this regard that his words might apply to her with equal force. But Egbert’s thought supplied the link, and the words fell upon him with crushing force, “Stop! stop! I beg of you! It is not for me, Heaven knows, to nh ga a certificate of charac- ter from you!” he said with a humility that left Felix open-mouthed with bewilderment. ‘I cannot be too careful of her. She is all I have in the world to love.” He paused, seeming to choke with emotion, and his a t was so utterly wretched and for- lorn that Felix pitied bim, not being clear as te what it all meant, more than he hai ever pitied any human being before. But Egbert ost immediately resumed: “But nothing was more foreign to my thoughts than any sordid considerations, and of your character as a man I am satisfied from | what 1 have seen of you. Perhaps I ought to have been prepared for this, but—but it bas taken me so—unawares.” His eyes, which had been resting on the car. — t, now began to wander about the room, ‘as if Ke ware seeking some avenue of escape from a pose of oppressiveness, and he put his hand to . “My friend,” he said, suddenly ao = . - eyes to Felix’s faco, in a sort of weary p ase you do me a favor? Will y matter rest just ou let here until—until— Lani 73 not feeling well. Tet me take the air ® minute.” And leaving Felix to stare after him, open- mouthed, he turned and burried out. of the room, murmuring to himself: “* Adele! Adele!” Felix heard the front door clang. Then his feelings found vent in a very forcible expletive, after which he sunk back’ into his chair and thought. “Well,” he exclaimed, presently, ‘‘ this inter- view presents features which are somewhat pe- culiar. Stanhope never showed signs of mental aberration before; but what is all this row about?” But nothing came of his cogitations; and though he waited until eleven o’clock, Egbert did notreturn, Then, being a man, the puzzled lover went to bed toawaitthe issue of the mor- row. When he dropped off to sleep, Felix did not feel sure whether he had “had it out with Stan- hope” or not; but on one point he was perfectly clear—he was determined to have the girl, her excellent brother nolens volens. Therefore there was nothing to disturb his repose, CHAPTER IX. A FALSE INTERPRETATION, Srpyz stood before Adele’s door. ‘““Won’t you let me in, dear?’ she pleaded through the wooden barrier. The door swung open, discovering Adele with her hair flowing about in waves of sunlit gold, an unmistakable redne’s about the eyes, and just a suspicion of the rubicund at the end of the nose. In look and attitude there was that | shy pleading which gave to her an air almost infantile and altogether angelic. How was this nous brunette beauty going to take the cap- ure of her big brother’s heart by a little midget of a blonde? | The answer came uron her with a swoop; and | before she had time to take breath Sibyl had caught her in her arms and was smothering her with kisses, and scolding her in that cooing fashion which means just the opposite of what } is said. Of course they cried together, laughing all the while, and when Sibyl held Adele at arm’s | length to look at her, with a sort of amatory cannibalism in her eyes, the little culprit: blush- ed fiery red, and was immediately clutched again and held with her face in Sibyl’s bosom until she narrowly escaped Desdemona’s inter- | esting fate. Well, Sibyl was devoured with curiosity until Adele had told her all about'it, Then they dis- eussed it in all its bearin They wondered how long it would take Felix to “have it ont with Stanhope,” and how hoe would «Misc it. The idea of making a game of cribbage subsi- diary to a negotiation of that character! Welll well! men were strange creatures, to be sure! A subject so vast and so many-sided could not be gone over all ina breath; and then the im- pending relationship of sisterhood was so novel | and so altogether delightful that they must ) have a foretaste of its sweets; so Sibyl found it | impossible to leave Adele that night, And when | the moon got round so that it could look in at | the wést-sindows (which was sometime after ) midnight, however) it witnessed a picture which would have warmed the hearts of gods | and men, Cl in each other’s arms, so that the threads of gold intermingled lovingly with the ebon floss, lay the two fair creatures ee | in peaceful sleep—sleep, which lends to mno- | cence and beauty its most ethereal charm, and | shows moral and physical deformity in its most ) hideous aspect. But the morning brought its cloud. Sibyl made her a rance in the library, with a puz , zled Jook on her face and in her hand a note. | “What is this, Felix?” she asked. ‘This note has been handed to me, from Mr. r ngore to the effect that he has gone for a ride, a if a not back in time for dinner, we are not to wait. Adele looked surprised and then anxious. Felix tried to look unconscious and uncon- cerned. Just then he was thinking thoughts that, in the presence of the ladies, were as well | left unrealized. ““Why, I don’t know,” he said, taking the note and reading it. ‘‘ Did he leave no further word than this? When did he go?” To settle this point the servants were b: to requi mang ty is developed the 4 facts; Egbert’s had not been a dur- ing the 6; een’ eubes he come to the sta much ordered that had been placed at his
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Si ee , and ridden mips 1 if the devil and all was after him.” Having culled these facts, the three were left gazing into one another’s faces, Adele instinct- ely drawing near to the side of the man whom her heart had selected henceforth to be her pro- r. ** Felix,” she said, in a low tone, causing his heart to thrill at the sound of his name for the first time on her lips, ‘‘has this anything to do with your interview of last night? What did he say?” : Now the whole situation seemed to Felix without rhyme or reason. Moreover, the man who had lost his presence of mind before one of his own sex s no chance whatever between those two dear creatures who stood looking at him with their great liquid eyes. They had him in a.corner, from which poor Felix could see no possible way of escape except straight across the flower-beds, So putting on his heavi- est top-boots (metaphorically speaking) he pluriged forward to this effect: “He acted just like a confounded idiot—” And here the luckless fellow checked himself, ae more deeply with mortification than he | ) had before with anger. With instinctive delicacy he reached out his hand and put it on Adele’s, and then went on with an houesty which must have won any | most hysterical. one’s forgiveness: | “T don’t want to call names, littla woman—- | lowed to pass. Then, while Sibyl] moved rest- | most of all your brother. But I feel as if he | lessly from place to pee wringing her hands | hadn’t treated me very handsomely, If he’s got anything to say, why don’t he say it, with- . Out so much hemming and hawing that nobody can understand? Then you’d know how to take him.” ‘‘Well, but what did he say?’ interposed Sibyl, to whuse comprehension her brother was “rapidly making things no clearer.” “Why, he said he didn’t care anything about the money, and I was a clever fellow enough, but he begged my pardon, and he wasn’t feeling well, and would I let the matter rest while he | took the air.” The ladies looked at one another blankly. Lither Felix’s summary wasvery fragmentary, or that interview must have been a very strange one. But before any comment could be made, Felix seized Adele by the wrist, and drawing her close to his side so that he could pass bis arm about her waist, said: ‘See here, my little beauty! One sive. at | ave least, is settled and sealed—I am bound to you, if the dev— I beg your pardon again for my unfortunate choice of prc) peer ” cried the almost distracted lover. ‘But what I mean to tay is, brother or no brother, ’m going to have you all the same!” She thought that he was “just splendid” to be so hotly determined to possess her, though of course it was rank heresy for her to ° opposing Egbert’s will. If it came to a real issue between them—which Heaven forbid!— a she would stand peutre and let the iG man win, like the knig ts of old! ‘*Confound him! he can’t expect to have you all to himself forever, if you are the only thing he has to love. By the way, that was the prei- tiest and most sensible thing (one way of look, ing at it) that he said during the whole conver, gation. “On!” exclaimed both ladies in chorus, draw, ELEGANT |EGBERT, the hostler said, ‘as ' say, Ti tell him: ‘Go in old fellow! ‘You're welcome to all the love she'll give you. Iknow you can’t cut me out.’ Ain’t that right, Sib?’ — ra al to heaven, he erfed through his set teeth: : “Oh! why do I live? Others die all about At that Sibyl took possession of the other side | me, clinging frantically to this hollow moceer yg of him, opposite te Adele, and assured him that | he was the best brother in the world, and that | nobody ever could, would, or. should ‘cut him | out” of her affection, | After that every one was much relieved, If | this was the only opposition to his suit, Felix expressed himself confident that ‘‘ Stanhope | would weather it,” while Adele. built up a Uto- | pian scheme, in which they were all to live to- | gether, forming one happy family, so that Eg. bert could have her just the same as he always had, and Felix could have her, too. The day was got through much better than | the promise of the morning. Adele’s happiness was tampered by her sympathy and anxiety for her brother. Felix put that curb of decency | upon himself which he would have employed bad he been attending the funeral of a member | of his club with whom he had but a sligbt ac- | | Quaintance. Sibyl was abstracted, and rather | inclined to start at unexpected sounds, When the night set in without bringing Eg- | | bert’s return, both ladies became restiess, and about nine o’clock the sound of a horse’s hoofs | coming up the drive-way made them both al- Perhaps two minutes of suspense were al- | and almost sobbing when she was where Felix | could not see her, Adele, whose relationship warranted it, threw a light scarf over her head | and ran down to the stables, ““Wasn’t that Mr. Stanhope returned?’ she asked the hostiler. crust, “ And where is he? He has not come to the | house,” “Dunno, missy. Reckon he’s ober yander, some’r’s,” pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. ‘‘’Stid o’ goin’ to’ards de house, he went to’ards de ribber gyarden.” Without more words Adele hastened in the direction indicated, and the hostler was left in pic possession of his domains, muttering to him- self; ; ‘*Punno whah he is, an’, what’s moah, I don’t keer. All I know is, it’s ten to one ef he hain’t done gone ruined dat ah bay mare, Jist look a’ her!—stan’in’ dah all of a lather, an’ trem- blin’in every j’int! He’s from the Noaph, he is! No ’count, nohow! .Reckon, now, he t’inks -h hosses is made o’ iron, or somefin’ or udder!” Meanwhile Adele had gue a@ garden, far enough from the house to be secluded, on aslo overlooking the Mississippi, and there in the moonlight she came upon Egbert. looking the | wreck of his wunted self. A cry: “Oh, Bertie! My darling, darling brother!” And she precipitated herself upon his breast, clings to him and sobbing as if her heart would break, = ; es, missy,” was the reply, as short as pie- | CHAPTER X. THE MEASURE OF SISTER-LOVE, Wuaen Egbert Stanbope left the presence of | Felix Cornish he was almost beside himeclf | with pain. Out across the moonlit lawn to_ the | ing the same inference from Felix’s chance | river garden he strode, with the instinct which | words, leads a wounded animal to seek solitude. And Their eyes met like a flash, and by another | there while the lover laid aside his perplexity curious coincidence eg 8 both blushed. "is that the solution?’ cried Sibyl]. ** Oh, you etupid fellow!” cried to think you should give us the key by accident, after puzzling us with such irrelevant matter!” “What is there to‘ oh!’ about?’ asked Felix, a little impatiently. ‘‘ And if the thing’s clear be. you, Iassure you it’s the pitchiest of pitch me But Adele was sobbing on his shoulder, and | murmuring something about “poor, dear Kg- bert!” while Sibyl had turned away, and was ing to bring the color back into her face, whence it had fied, leaving her pale to the lips. “T await enlightenment from your superior powers of penetration,” said Felix, with the air | of a wartyr. “ Felix,” breathed his lady-love in his eer, “aren’t you touched that my brother’s great | love for me makes it so hard for him to give me > another, however much he may esteem | “ Is that what’s the matter with him?” cried _ Felix, not overflowing with s thy. “ Wel 1 trust that I love area . dele. “ And | I is to Page. Then, until he should have had his re , and the fair | young girls wandered hand in hand through the vernal pastures of dreamland, this man walked the night through, wringing his hands and | ee 7 : “ Adele! Adele! my one darling!” was the burden of his grief, “is the blight of my life about to fall upon you? Oh! dearest, Ihave | been blind! blind! that I never foresaw this! | Better had I put mountains and seas between us! Rather had I banished myself from your | side forever! Now every smile, every caress that Be: have given me is a separate stab. “«T, who should have so guarded you with my love that the winds of heaven might not blow upon you too roughly—I have betsayed the trust our dead mother reposed in me—I have | blindly, selfishly let you minister to m plague stricken life, until you have imbibed its foul con ‘on! * Adele! dear!” head sunk upon his breast, and he covered his face with his hands, overcome by the poign- ener of bie artet. So until breast was shaken by a terrible with clenched hands and stern Adele! it was not thatI did not love this fiend’s jest which they call life, while I— who have walked carelessly’ amid pitfalls of de- struction—I who have faced death a score of times, shaken my fist in his face and braved his stroke—J am left to cumber the earth, a curse to myself and toher! Of the hundred ret free the. other night on. the river, to whom would oblivion have been such a boon as to me?” Later he tore the glove from his right hand, held i¢ so that the moonlight streamed full upow it, and gazed at it while a dozen phases of erro- tion followed each other through bis tortured soul, At the last he laughed with blood-curd- ling irony, and cried aloud: ‘** Ob, man! behold thy humanity! Oh, God? look upon thine infinite justice!” So the night passed, and. before the sun had brought the light and gladness of a new day he was coursing madly across the country on horseback. : The sun was already past the meridian whem he got scant refreshment at a farm-house, and turned to retrace his steps, But when he had reaches the house, he was as loth to meet those who awaited him within, and as ill prepared, ae he had been in the morning, With that dread upon him, he again sought the river garden, whither Adele followed him, to preci itate herself upon his breast, cry!ng: < Oh, Bertie! My darling, darling brother!” With a great quivering cry he clasped her close in his arms, and bent until his cheek rested. against hers. His mind had been full of her so long that he forgot that she was not in possessiom of facts which were so painfully familiar to him, and therefore could not share his feelings or understand bis allusion; so his first words were: PS my precious one, can you ever forgive: me? And she, answering from her own standpoint, replied: ‘Forgive you? For what? For loving me so much? Did it pain you so, dear, to give me up to another? But I will love you just the same —itore, if possible, now that I know how you need me. You know that nobody, however near they might be to me, could take my bro- ther Bertie’s place. Why, Felix is willing— he’s glad to have it so—that we should all live together, so that you can have me just as much asever. He isn’t jealous one bit, though I told him tbat, if he didn’t let me love you just the same, I should hate him. He said he’d subscribe to that, and that you shouldn’t lose anything, while he gained—” F And there she stopped, remembering that that. was the place where the blush came in, During the delivery of this speech Egbert’s: fervid emotions had time to cool, and gradually he comprehended the interpretations that had. been put upon his strange vior. Had he been content to let matters take their course, here was an avenue of escape from the necessity of ugly explanations, left open to bim by Felix’s lack of penetration. But the difficul- ty did not lie here—the dread possibilities of the future loomed as black as ever. She, so frail, so childlike!—how could she withstand the storm that Lae over her life, ready to burst at any moment? He couid but clasp her close in the arms that were powerless to protect her, aud breathe heavily with pain. he saw that she had not won him back to composure, and so tried another tack. “Come and sit down, dear,” she said, and. gently drew him to an iron garden bench, Passively he submitted himself to her guid- ance. When he had sat down, she perched her- self in his lap es she had done ever since she, was a little girl, and he in a measure took the lace of a father to her), drew his arms about er, nestled her bead on his shoulder, and so, stroking his cheek with her soft palm, looked, up into his face with her most winning smile. “Don’t you see?” she said, “I am your own little Adelo, just the same? I sha’n’t be one bit more of a grown-up woman than I always have been. I told Felix that I should sit in your lap, and he said that was all right.” (Just what Felix had said was: ‘All right, my lady, pro- vided, to wit: that you let me Sore your lei- sure—say during the few minutes each day wher Stanhope is ng the air!—in the same way;” but it wasn’t necessary to quote the proviso in secking to comfort Egbert—wasitf) ‘So, you see, you can pet me just as much as you lile.” nd again she smiled in his face and kisseé him. hol een Was so innocent and ehiltiha thet Abe or “weary man was touch beyond expression. y= ~-
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ete pli eg tntoan eration a soured: ‘Oh, my little darling, how I wish I could take you away from everybody and every- thing, where we should never know a moment of in!’ : ert again he was shaken by astorm of sobs, something like the outburst that night in the state-room of the River Queen. Now a great hush fell upou the child-woman. She twined her arms about his neck so closely that it would have been painful to him, bad his emotions left him free to notice it. Her breast began to rise and fall with labored breathing, and every muscle in her slight frame began to tremble. For perhaps a minute they sat thus, neither moving or speaking. n the 1 put her hands on the man’s shoulders, and drew back sq that she could look him in the face. “Egbert,” she said, in a-voice so hard and husky that it would not have been recognizable as bers, “if it paing you s0, I will give—him— u She choked, seemed to swallow something, and added, ina rasping whisper: “Only say the word.” With the moonlight falling full upon it, every westige of color had left herface. Her t eyes were distended with a terrible, shrinking dread, as if she were waiting for ber death- blow. Pending his reply, she held her breath. The man was greatly shocked. For the first time he realized what he had made ber suffer, Hastily he cried; ; Adele! Adele! Why, my little pet! did you imagine for a moment that I would let a selfish love come between you and happiness? No, dear, you have made a mistake. My test happiness would be to see you loving and loved by a man worthy of your tender heart.” Then came the reaction. The girl seemed to collapse, so suddenly did she sink upon his breast, to lio there, limp and helpless, breathing in great gasps, and moaning with every exhala- tion: “*On!—On!—On!—On!” And Egbert Stanhope knew how much his devoted sister had offered to sacrifice for him. By and by tears came to her relief, and then her naturally sunny temperament gradually as- serted itself. : When she was calmer, he said: “Go into the house now, dear, and try to re- gain your crt este Pa ay me again for bject ou 8 ny down, and rose to his feet. “* Won't he come, too, Egbert?” she asked, timidly, still clinging to his hand. ‘*No—no,” he said, with almost a shudder, “Not yet! There! good-night.” He kissed her and turned away. A moment she looked after him, wistfully, as ne walked with bowed head, and then yielded him that unquestioning obedience which wasa of her nature. Left alone, the demon of unrest again seized upon Egbert Stanhope. “So much a sulld, vob with a woman’s te- n he was plunged into troubled thought, until once more he burst forth furiously: ‘‘Oh! let the mocking fiends and Omnipotent Beneflcence fight it out between them! What is Felix Cornish tome! I am the guardian of mo man’s honor! Honor! Curse him! if he ever dares to look upon her as a source of disparage- ment to him, P'll—Pl kill the hound!” He hurled forth the threat with clenched hands, and blazing eyes; but as suddenly his melted into helpless oat darling! my pure darling!” he that I am powerless While he walked with his hands pressed over his white face, and the tears tri g between his fingers, he was disturbed by the sound of a footstep, and looked ap, to behold— CHAPTER XI. A STRANGE WOOING, Apex SranHopz left her brother’s presence to avert!” ELEGANT EGBERT in a very puzzled trame of mind. From his own lips she had the assurance (and his manner had confirmed it) that he had some cause of distress other than pain at the prospect of shar- ing her love with another, perhaps here is as ® place as any to tell what Adele knew of her brother and of his secret sorrow. Her memory of him dated back to her seventh year, ten years previous, when he had been sum- moned home from abroad to comfort his mother in her recent widowhood. Child as she was, Adele had been struck by the air of melancholy and cynicism which so ill-befitted a young man of twenty-five; and just at first she stood a little in awe of the brother whom she could not remember having seen, since he had left home verbo A her babyhood. But after that meeting, when the widowed mo- ther bad hung so long on his breast, with such profuse weeping and such yearning tokens of endearment, she had lifted little Adele and placed her in his lap, saying: “Egbert, my son, I give her into your keep- ing. She is my most precious possession. I need not ask hog to love her when I have fol- lowed her father, as I feel that I shall do before long. Adele, you must love your brother with unremitted tenderness, If he is ever sad, you must win him back to smiles as you think I would do.” Then Egbert had taken her chin in his hand, and raised her sweet child-face, and gazed into it with such admiration and longing, wistful love that her whole heart had gone out to him at once, He had always been marked by the same scrupulous elegance of atti As intimate as were their relations, she had never seen him without gloves, At tawlé they were white kid; at other times of a color suitable to the occa- sion. Even at his mother’s death-bed Adele remem- | bered that they had not been removed; for the | dying woman had taken his hand and laid it between her cheek and the pillow, and so kept it until her spirit took its flight. Only once bad Adele ever referred to this strange custom; and then her mother had be- come so agitated that the child was frightened lest her excessive grief should snap the frail tie that bound her to life. Sbe had cautioned Adele never while she loved the memory of her mother to refer to this before Egbert: and henceforward it had remained to the gir] a seal- ed mystery. Only this she knew: in some way it commended him to her tender, commicera- ting love. Of surmises she had entertained but one—that it was in some way connected with some woman in his past life, since, until Sibyl Cornish he had treated with a cold, distant co all women except his sister, and on her he had lavished all the tenderness of his rich nature. But beyond this bare fact the surmise had nothing to rest upon, As we become accustomed to en y shine by page Mg ordinarily Adele now thought nothing of this difference between her brother and other men. But when he was sad, then she knew that the sorrow of his life bore heavily upon him, and she would infuse into her manifesta- tions of affection all the yearning love that she had seen in her mot manner toward him at such times. Now she did not see what could be the con- nection between his secret-sorrow and her mar- — with Felix; but she felt that it was this, and not a selfish clinging to her exclusive love, that was the occasion of his distress, However, her quick perceptions showed her that it was better to leave Felix and his sister in the im- pression that b4s strange behavior sprung from’ even a vulgar jealousy, than to lead them to suspect that it had any unusual and mysterious source. She found Felix frowning with impatience, you love me, 9 cured streaming through her sonl, she could not be sad in his presence, though at the same time ber heart bled for her brother. “T’'m mighty grateful to him, I’m sure,” re- plied Felix. ‘‘ But I stick to it—he’s worse than a Turk. Even they do not, so far as I have heard, shut up their sisters so that no one can get a peep at them, But why didn’t he come in with rout Is he going to mull over it all night, out there in the moonlight?” She stopped his lips with hers, and, instead of answerin — went over to Sibyl, took both her hands, an into her white, pleading face with an intelligence that read its secret. ** Will you go out to him, dear?’ she asked. “Perhaps you can have influence with him, "i I ay hanes . oi @ was hoping a good er sorrows stricken brother, if these two could be brough® together now, ‘Oh! no! no!” cried Sibyl, shrinking back in dismay, while the rich blood streamed all over her face and neck, “And why not prayt asked obtuse Felix. “That's just the thing, If I wasn’t laid on the shelf, I’d exercise my prerogative of host, and go out and drag him in by the scruff of the neck, and have done with his nonsense, As the duties of both host and hostess now devolve upon you. what more appropriate than that you shoul beg him, of his good pleasure, to deign to honor us once more with his gracious company? Tutt tut! no woman’s quibbles! The whole sex have a budget of objections, when they don’t want to do just what they ought to do,” “Go, dear,” whispered Adele, “I think he wants you now, more perbaps than he ever will | again, if you do not gotohim, You don’t know | ’ how pained he looks. He’s all alone! won’t you go to him, my sister?” Thus urged, Sibyl Cornish followed the promptings of her own heart as well, and two minutes later her step aroused Egbert from his painful meditations. Thus far she had burried all breathlessly, not giving herself time to think: but now that she stood in his actual presence her embarrassment was overwhelming. What would he think of her? was the question that made her stand with eyes on the ground and cheeks flaming crim- son. But now that she was come she must not stand there confessing her secret by her silence and a eye ey Raising her eyes timidly to his face, she said: “Mr. Stanhope, will you not come inf We are all very anxious— And then her leaden Senge refused to articu- eo another syllable, palsied by his fixed re- & He had indeed stared at her in disconcerting fashion, as if, putting aside all external dis- guises, he were reading her secret soul. He saw her stop in helpless confusion, and cover her face with her hands. One step, and he clutched her wrists and tore her hands from vefore her face, ing breath, pe only on his w iercely he cried: ‘“ Why have you come out to mo? wr. are bony now a and now red? Why do you trem- a my ere is your pride—your self-posses- n * Don’t! don’t! she pleaded, not comprehend- ing fully what prompted her own words, bus only dimly conscious of some blow to be averted. He laughed. “Shall I tell you?” he cried. “Itis because You know you do! See! see! you and Sibyl anxious almost to-distraction, though cannot deny it!” she cur her feelings bravely to any but a woman’s penetrating scrutiny, ** Well, how did you find man half-jestingly, half in earnest. His little lady-love went up to him, and put | her finger reprovingly on his lips. “He is in the river garden. Don’t be impa- tient with him, you hard-hearted boy—he’s not going to interfere with our happiness. But if e bade me not, do you think your selfishness would be gratified? When you owe ever worn | to his magnanimity, how can you call wicked names?” ! The power of her love for Felix was manifest in the lightness of tone she adopted. With the had fainted witi great joy of the consciousness of his love se- No woman of spirit would endure such in- | verted wooing asthat, Although her heart was s—this dog in the at his feet, her pride was stung r, and where is he now?” asked Felix, spurning the weak fluttering thing, mounted, if } the front, and or the time, right royally over its downfall. With the exertion of all her strength she / sought to wrench her wrists from his grasp, _ while she cried with blazing eyes: : ; / \ | \ “Let me go, sirl—this instant!” “Never! Never! All the powers of hell shall not deprive me of the prize [have won!” And with one mighty sweep of his os ag Bt eaught her to his hi and fell to covering her face with kisses, burden. She excess of emotion. “Shall every living thing have its mate, and He held a op and unresistin
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_ followed by bh 1 alone be denied?’ he cried, alond; and now, as ~ ever, he seemed to apostrophize his gloved right hand. ‘‘No! no! I defy you all—all! What have I done that I should be singled out for the cup of Tantalus? I have that. which will win the love of my kind. And shall I not accept it? I will! I will! Come what may, I will grasp the good that has fallen to my lot!’ With the unconscious girl in his arms he ~ strode to the house and into the presence of his sister and her lover, to their not slight astonish- ment. Sibyl’s cheek rested on his s oulder, and her arms were about his neck, where he had placed them; so the other two could not see that she had fainted, and thought this a rather strange way for a lady of such stately propriety as Sibyl to come before them. Excitement had brought an artificial color to Egbert’s cheeks, and his eyes flashed brightly. ith forced pleasantry he cried: “Well, friend Cornish, they say that fair ex- | change is not robbery. If you deprive me of my sister, you will doubtless be willing to give me yours in return.” “Eh? What? Sibyl?” cried the bewildered Felix. ‘Well, here’s a situation for you! With all my heart, my dear fellow, if thelady herself bt able.” ““T have reason to believe that she is agree- able,” said Egbert, with rather grim humor. “Oh! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” cried ) Adele, fairly jumping up and down, and clap- ping her little hands, ‘* Oh, you love!—just let me get at you!” And she rushed forward to devour with love the woman who had crowned Egbert’s:life with hap iness, tered upon the stage in the person of Long Jack, CHAPTER XII. LONG JACK’S THREAT. In order to preserve uninterrupted the ms one continuity of events, the minor threads of our narrative have been suppressed, to be now taken yeaa they begin to affect the pattern of the ric, M. Bourdoine had again encountered disap- pointment. The phantom of his early love still eluded him, like an ignis fatuus, He sought his friends with the pitiful tal fairly eabcavias in the Slough of Despond; an for one whole day Sibyl and Adele were at their wits’-ends trying to console him. | Just before the arrival of the dinner-hour he | wiped the tears from his eyes, shrugged his | shoulders, and said: “Kh, bien! eet is z2 Fate implacable. Vat | am I zat I shallnote bow to ze decree of Provi- | dence? Ze fool shall clond ze present vis repin- |ings of destiny immutable; ze vise man shall | bask in ze passing sunshine! Purbleu/] am I | vone ingrate, zat I shall remain melanchojique | vis two soche divine consoler?” And he kissed their hands in homage to their | beauty. | At.dinner he grew merry over his wine with Felix, and later he made one of the fair giris | play on the piano while he danced with the | Other. As: he was a “divine” waltzer, they | were nothing loth; so that M. Bourdoine’s day |of despaix ended with one of the pleasantest | evenings they had enjoyed. Having in set matters in train for a re- hy didn’t you say all this last night, like ; newed search for ‘‘la belle Helene,” M. Bour- a civilized being and a Christian? Here you have been making us all uncomfortable for a day to no earthly purpose,” egeiy Felix; ate sone he was interrupted by a cry from ele. WY Why, she has fainted!” “Yes,” admitted Egbert. ‘* Which accounts for my fetching her into the room in this fashion.” ** And you have been standing here talking all this time—” But the girl stopped in breathless maze at the _ enormity “Stay where you are, Adele. I think that J can take care of her,” said Egbert, and without further words marched out of the room as he had come, When the door closed, Adele tarned to Felix, ap e laughed. “Is it possible that you are surprised at any , unusual proceeding on the part of that very original gentleman? Have you yet to learn that he is the ghost in Hamlet?” ** But Sibyl?’ “Oh, don’t worry about her. I never heard of a young lady dying in a faint—did you? Trust her to come round as soon as is conven- ient for the parties most nearly interested.” Meanwhile, Egbert had borne Sibyl into a sitting-room and laid her on @ sofa, while he ex- erted to reanimate her limp form. In the first moments of returning consciousness he | wanted her all to himself. And her first wakin pomneytre was of her lover, kneeling beside her with his arms about her, and whispering into her ear words that it gladdened her heart to hear. Under her gentle ministrations all the sore- ness of Egbert’s long-tried heart was allayed. For the time, at least, he was supremely happy: By Felix’s suggestion nothing had n said to his mother about his suit with Adele during Egbert’s strange absence, and as it was late when Egbert and Sibyl reached an understand- ing, he further counseled that the whole matter be deferred until morning. “Tf you tell her now, she will be in a pucker allnight. Break the glad tidings at the break- ing of morn, and she'll have the whole day in which to regain her wonted equanimity.” — Mrs. Cornish received the intelligence with so illa ayy es ee hee by gensecnn pares and then, ignoring her hypochondria, biliougz tack, or what not, had herself dressed and went ’ down to Felix’s room with colors flying. But po pone cence with her son ee her hrou e roles of an outraged society queen, the pecottg of ungrateful children, etc., to be ria, melancholy martyrdom, and lastly that state of dignified acquiescence which enabled her to receive Egbert’s proposals. for her daughter’s hand and Adele’s shy ad- vances of affection with at least unruffled com- So the course of true love bade fair to prove ; the rule by an exception, when the marplot en- | doine’s business. in the city was concluded, and | the day su uent to the double betrothal saw | him regularly. installed at Riverside, on a visit of indefinite length to his old pupil. His delight af the matrimonial prospects of pee JE Rn 3 people knew no bounds, He felici- tated Felix; he felicitated Egbert; he felic'tated Adele; he felicitated his pupil adorable. He even went with his congratulations to Mrs, Cornish, who, having been shocked out of her hypochondria, now favored the family with her company ; and the wry face with which she re- ceived his eulogies of Egbert and his rhapsodies over Adele kept Felix in a constant state of in- ternal laughter. But over one thing Felix ped the corners of his mouth in dismay, while M. Bourdoine ele- vated his eyebrows and shoulders in astonish- ment, bert would not hear to Adele’s mar- — until she had turned eighteen, which was ill a year distant, though he was possessed of a feverish armiety to hasten the consummation of his own morringe with Sibyl, and had pre- vailed upon her to the day upon the first of February, an interval of only two montis. And now for the bete noire, Long Jack. When introduced tothe notice of the reader on board the River Queen his dress and man- ners were in keeping with his character of a “c visiting Riverside he showed that in attire and demeanor he un the amenities of a gentleman as well. He catered to Mrs. Cornish’s pet Rrejunoes and vanities so skillfully that he won her from thinking ‘‘Long Jack” a ‘‘low fellow, no | doubt,” to esteeming Mr. John Boardman above | Egbert. He waxed enthusiastic over ‘the Little Cor- poral” to M. Bourdoivne. He praised Sibyl’s skill at riding, criticised her water:colors, and | showed her how to mount some of the more | delicate alge—her botanical hobby. Felix ronounced him aclever fellow because of his Teemiades of wines, turf, and. sport with rod and gun,and his never pointless stories, Egbert’s instinctive repugnance was conciliated | by unvaried cheerfulness, dashed with a shade of formality. " : : But it was to Adele that he paid an especially delicate deference. , Whether he accompanied himself on her lute, or formed one of their quar- tette at the piano, where Adele’s clear soprano pleaded sweet! ig pioals mellow ae and bert’s bass, his fine tenor voice was always iabaned to charm her senses. He had that happy faculty of making ber feel that nothing that she said or did esca him, which, while it was wre ripion rae so little obtrusive as to be not atall em ssing. As for Adele, what with her gratitude to him in particular, and her pric faith in mankind in general, she thought him a very agreeable gentlemen. A day or two su ent to her betrothal she soosenes a seat. beside him for a drive, r chatting for half an hour, Jack’s fluency \ ‘ Pie rae 2. he : DLA ye eee er ee a’ oS Tien eins Rt 0 paar sc J of speech gradually left him, until Adele foun® that she was doing most of the talking. She she whip shantly-enrtke lorese:denkanitieakig e whip at a fly on the horse nk an z ve je Aaccrn § “What is the matter, Mr. Boardman?’ she asked, ‘You don’t seem to be enjoying the drive at all, Here I have been calling your at- tention .to that cloud, and I don’t believe you have heard a word I have said.” ‘*Excuse me! . Yes, it is very fantastic,” he said. Then, resuming his occupation with the wines he went on: ‘Miss Stanhope, I have brought you out to- day, having something particular to say to you. You must have noticed my preference for your eaciety. Lowe you the bappiest moments of my life,and I have sometimes dared to. hope “~ you were glad to have me come to River- side. But bere he was interrupted. ‘‘Mr, Boardman!—please!” she cried, in evi- dent distress, Jaying her hand on his arm. He dropped the whip with which he was toying, and instantly put his hand down upon er Ss. ‘* Adele!” he cried, with sudden fervor, * you are the sun of my existence. Ilove you so that: with you hell has no;terrors, and without you heaven has no charm! My darling, I know what is trembling on your lips—I can see it in your eyes. I have been too precipitate. Don’t answer me now. Forget what I have said. Give me time to show you what I can do to make you happy.” The pain in the man’s face was unmistakable, and his eyes were full of dread, The girl was so moved that she took his trem- bling hand between both of bers, and said, with starting tears: ‘‘Oh my dear friend! you must. not think me a coquette. I did not-foresee this— indeed I did not, I have found pleasure in your companionship, but not such as you wish. And you must accept my answer now as final. It will save us both pain.” “Stop! stop!” he pleaded, “I want to tell you something. When you first saw mel wasa professional gambler, and I have done. worse things than that. Ido not pretend that there is any excuse for wickedness, but there may be extenuating circumstances; and what a man is. depends as often upon his surroundings as upon , his natural inclinations, ‘*] began life as innocently as any one, I was enthusiastic on the side of principle, and believed in the goodness of people. But I was deceived again and again, until I learned to distrust everybody. lt was an easy step to hate. and then to disregard the rights of others, “But, Adele, when we were alone in the water together I loved you, and my whole life underwenta revolution—” “Ah! after all that I owe you, to think that I should cause you such pain!” sighed the girl. “Don’t!” hesaid., ‘‘I did not mean to remind youof that. Lonly wish to show that you gave me a new incentive to lead a life the antipodes of that I had been leading, And as an earnest of my sincerity, I have engaged in a legitimate business in Memphis. ‘* Adele, don’t thrust me back into my old . life, with. this disappointment added to all its bitterness. You can save me. Isnot the power in some degree indicative of the duty? Will you put it aside lightly?” “ But you need not let this turn you back from right” ig : “JT care nothing for right in the abstract. I know that I could not make you happy without a certain degree of : Pepe I only desire it as a means to that end,” **T am pained to hear you speak so,” said the girl, gravely. “But you can make all right, Give me your’ love!” The girl shook her head, ‘* Tt is impossible!” “‘ At least give me time to try to change your decision,” “Tt is useless... While I regard you with sin+ cere friendship, I have not and never can have: a spark of love for you.” The man gezed into her face a moment, and then his head sunk upon his breast, while a gloomy frown contracted his brows. For perhaps ten minutes he neither moved nor spoke. Then Adele ventured timidly: “Had not we better turn Mr. Board- man?’ ““One moment, if you please,” he replied. “Would you consider it impertinent if I were. to ask whether a have bestowed vour affeo tions elsewhere * $$ eerie
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Pe at She was not an or annoyed. She pitied him from the depths of her tender heart. “Would it do any food to answer that ques- y- " tion?” she asked, gen “Tt would influence my future course.of ac- tion,” he replied, moodily. She thought a moment, and then answered: ve es, I ave.” ** Ah?” he exclaimed, quickly. “Then you are already engaged? Otherwise you would not answer meso frankly “ “And to Felix Cornish?” ee Yes.” A quiet dignity had crept into her manner. He wae Gane hel too ee Again he was silent. His pale lips graduall became rigid with determination. + ‘‘ Miss Stanhope,” he began again, ‘* you love your brother?” “Well?” wonderingly. ‘You would do much to secure his happi- ness?” * Certainly.” “Or to prevent an overwhelming calamity from falling upon him?” ‘‘ What do you mean?” asked the girl, a vague terror coming into her eyes. _ "Have patience a moment. He has not led a y happy life?” 266 om one has sorrows, I suppose,” «‘ But an especial cloud has overhung his life?” His piercing eye’ was reading her She changed color, but remained silent. ‘« Miss Stanhope, I have noticed a growing in- timacy between your brother and Miss Cor- nish. Has he already declared his love for her and been accepted?” “You havé’no right to ask—” “You need not answer me, I see by your face that he has. Once more—your brother has an unusual habit of dress, Have you ever been informed as to the reason?” The girl’s cheeks flamed crimson. “Mr. Boardman,” she said, with dignity, ‘I need hardly suggest that your conversation has taken a very unacceptable turn.” ““Tf you do not know what lies beneath that glove, he pursued, not heeding her, ‘‘ I can tell ou. ™ A look of burning curiosity for one instant flashed in her eyes. Then they dropped before his exultant gaze. “Mr, Boardman, take me home at once.” “ Adele, 1 have no desire to persecute him. Nor would I turn -T hand over to protect the Cornishes. But if 1 were to tell what I know, Sibyl Cornish would shrink from her lover in loathing, and Felix would eject him from his doors. For your sake, Adele, I will keep his secret, even from you, whom he has kept so carefully in the dark.” “Mr, Boardman, I demand to be taken home tk I will not listen to another word. ‘‘ Rither you must, or others shall.” “For gn and in my bedi yet eee I defy you to produce anythin $ prejudice,” oy Must I teil you then?’ 3 oie ‘s T will not hsten to you! Let me get out of the carriage. I will walk home.” She rose, as if to leap out. He clutched her wrist and forced her back into her seat. ‘¢ Adele Stanhope, all women are recklessly swayed by impulse; but if you allow passion to dominate your reason now, on our return I will denounce your brother as—” And he fairly hissed the remaining words in her ear. The blood streamed all over the girl’sface and neck. “You are a falsifier and a slanderer!” she ed. ‘“‘ Look back over your acquaintance vith him. Have you ever seen his hand ungloved?”’ It was true, she never had, “ Of what other man could that be said? Who wears white kids at an ordinary family break- fast? Why should he?” The questions were unanswerable. “Look at his face. Is he not a prey to secret sorrow? You know him intimately. Have you never been astonished by outbursts for which you could not reasonably account?” The scene in the state-room of the River een! His strange behavior over her betroth- ! Her mother’s pitying grief, and a thousand and one incidents, all linked in mystery. The girl was completely * Adele, I do not say that the indiscretions of a man’s youth should follow him all his life jong He may have repented and reformed. Need I picture to he what effect this exposure will have on his life?” ELEGANT EGBERT. ** Stop! stop!” pleaded the stricken girl. ‘‘Give metime! Take me home now, please.” Without a word he turned the horse’s head. CHAPTER XIII. THE DIE IS CAST! Wnuen Adele and Jack reached Riverside, Egbert and Sibyl were boating on the river. Mrs. Cornish was having her beauty-sleep, an Felix was taking a bath—a luxury in the enjoy- ment of which he emulated the old Romans, and which was sure to occupy him until dinner- time. “Adele employed this respite to regain her composure, and when she met the rest of the houseliold at-dinner, only Sibyl noticed any ehange in her, Two days later, Jack, who was to be one of the quartette to practice a mass, sent his regrets and the information that he was suddenly called away from town. Then Sibyl drew the most natural inference, and kept her own counsel. But from the unsophisticated M. Bourdoine Long Jack had learned all about the engage- ments, and was, as he would have said, “ play- ing his cards fine.” To Felix Adele was just the gentlest betrothed that ever was. ‘And he accepted it all like a Grand Sultan, never dreaming how much of her tenderness was remorseful, because there was a battle going on in her mind whether she should sacrifice him to save Egbert, But hardest of all was her intercourse with hor brother. a A great change had come over Egbert. His accustomed almost melancholy gravity had given place to a strange fickleness of temper. He could scarcely endure to have Sibry] out of his sight. If she were gone but half an hour, he grew restless and almost fretful. When parting with her at night, he cling to her hands as if for the last time; and in the morning he reeted her with asense of relief that woald not e concealed, One night on awaking she found him pacing the lawn beneath her window. When, after Nema him awhile, she again sought her pillow, her heart swelling with hap- piness and love, and on ber lipsa prayer for idance in making his life one long summer ay, hea clock on her mantlepiece ‘chimed three In company with others there was nothing “snoony ” about him. He seemed artificially exhilarated, and his ebullitions of wit and his brilliant conversation charmed his hearers. But they were much alone together, and then he was'silent for the most part, or spoke short sentences in a low, almost caressing tone. He would sit holding her band, and when his eyes rested upon her, it was with a sort of remorse- ful tenderness, All this Adele noticed, and she shuddered at the thought of Long Jack’s threat being carried into effect, . But another influence was at work. As she reflected on the ten years she had known Egbert so intimately, and now listened to the noble sentiments he uttered, she began to won- der how she could have entertained for an in- stant Long Jack’s absurd charge. The gambler’s departure she construed as an ignominious flight after the failure of his scheme; and as the first of February ap- proached, bringing the conclusion of the pre- parations for the marriage, in the absorbing in- terests of the occasion she almost forgot Long Jack and the anxiety he had caused her. But the day before the great event Jack made his appearance, and having got her alone in the. wing-room, said: ‘* Adele, I have given you the time you asked. Iam come now for your answer. Understand, if you refuse my terins, the happiness of your brother and his affianced is wrecked, and you and Felix will be in no better situation. You 44 may be a great misfortune, but that you can successfully impeach his honor I do not believe —I know that you cannot! While I would do all within reason to spare kim pain, I would be untrue to myself and to him to make so dispro- rtionate a sacrifice as to wreck my life and orswear my womanhood to shield him from that distress for which the love of his wife and of myself can afterward compensate. . No, sir! Ispurn your proposition, as an insult to my brother and to myseli.” She turned to leave the room, but he caught her wrist. * Adele, you are beside yourself!” he cried. “You may selfishly refuse to shield him, hoping to retain Felix for yourself, in spite of the dis- honor; but you cannot discredit the fact that I assert * You tly mistake me, if you think Iam actuated by selfish motives, As strange as it may appear to you, I would stake my life on my brother being incapable of what you charge him with, Allow me to pass, if you please.” ‘“* But all appearances are in corroboration.” ‘Then they are mistaken appearances,” “ Oh! when will a woman reasonable? - I swear to you itis true! If you do not listen to me I will summon the family this instant and denounce him before them all! You need not be to the trouble of leaving the room, for I shall require your attendance with the rest.” : He approached the bell-rope and took it in his and, ‘Yes, or no?” he demanded, sternly. The op turned pale and faint, but in a firm voice she said: ‘‘ Emphatically and irrevocably—no !” dang Jack gave the bell-rops a_ violent wrench. Adele stood breathless. ‘ The door opened, and a servant appeared, * For the last time!” whispered Jack. ‘Shall I say that you want a glass of water?” “ No, sir !” said Adele, disdainfully, In heayen’s name, reflect!” Jack was pale as death. The attainment of his life-object hung in the balance. ‘J have reflected. Do your worst.” With dilating nostrils Jack turned to the waiting servant. “Say to Mr. Cornish that I wish to see him and his whole household, including Mr. Stan- / | much puz hope and Monsieur Bourdoine!” ‘or good or ill, the die was cast] CHAPTER XIV. THE DENUNCIATION. Wirs a dizzy sense of suffocation Adele sunk into a seat. There was an interval of dead silence. Then the door eee and Felix entered, looking very ed. servant,” he asked, “Your whole household, if you please,” “Why, what in the world—” “Do I understand m “that you wish to see— know the pride underlying his carelessness | where an sented. I leave it to you whether he will marry the sister of Egbert Stanhope when he kuows the truth. On the other hand, if you accept, no word will pass my lips, and atleast two will be happy, the one in her ignorance, the other iu the possession of what he most craves on earth, What is your decision?” The girl had listened patiently. Now she why herself to her full bight, and stood before | h real issue of honor or dishonor is pre- | “Mr. Boardman,” she replied, very distinctly, . “at our last interview you took me unawares, and I was weak enough to listen to your gross assault on my brother’s honor, Since then & ‘“*T have an.announcement to make in which all are vitally concerned.” : ; : hid Mr. Stanhope and Monsieur Bour- oine?” ~ ae last more as a friend of the family, rhaps. ‘Summon Mrs. Cornish and the two gentle- men,” said Felix to the servant. Sibyl entered while he was ere At e glance she noticed Adele’s agitation. ‘*What is the matter, dear?’ she whispered, going to her side. “Wait! wait!” said the girl, breathlessly, avoiding the arm Sibyl would have put abous her. Siby! looked surprised, and turned her eyes upon ‘Long Jack, He stood leaning against the mantle, tracing’ the pattern of the carpet with the end of his rat- | an. He was very pale, with compressed lips and a gloomy frown. Felix, seeing that there was something un- pleasant on the carpet, and that Adele was in some way concerned in it, walked straight over to her, sat down beside her, and took her and. y “‘ Well, little love,” he said, in a low tone, yet with the air of one who was ready and able to fight the whole world in her defense, ‘there is | noe occasion to look so scared, whatever lies back have had time to reflect and to see him in all | his grand manhood. It is to my lastin that I ever permitted a shadow of a him to enter ray mind. Sir, you may have the power to wound him, by referring to that which shame | oubt of | said of this mysterious invocation.” Again the girl, more nervously than before, ** Wait! wait!” And she not only withdrew her hand, but started to her feet. Velix flushed scarlet, and then with slow-com.
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ia was = showed how his soul mg yale he turned his eyes upon the gambler, Bourdoine ap’ in the doorway, saw at a glance the general discomfiture, paused with his most deprecating bow, and said: ‘* Mille pardons! Ket is no mistake? Did monsieur summon me?” ‘( Pray enter, M. Bourdoine,” said Felix. mchman bowed again —— once more around the circle, shrugged is shoulders a imperceptibly, and walked to a win- Ww. Mrs. Cornish now entered, and bridled the in- stant she felt the atmosphere of the place. Her step became a stately march, and icy tones she asked: ** What is it, Felix?” “Be seated, please, Doubtless we will all hear presently,” replied her son. Lastly came Egbert. There was a dreamy half-smile on his face at the moment be opened the door, He stopped in- stantly, and stood framed in the doorway, stricken with sudden pallor, Until now he had not been apprised of Long Jack’s return. He had ‘gph fous all about him, or amas him hundreds of milesaway. Now the gambler stood glaring at him with almost ferocious malignity, It was the day before the culmination: of his happiness, Was Fate about to dash the cup from his lips at the last moment? Every eye was fixed upon hisface. Hestood like a man brought to bay. With a suppressed cry, Adele glided across the room and slipped her hand through his arm, As plainly as words could have expressed it the action declared her determination to stand or fall with him. Egbert glanced down at her in mute ac- knowledgment, and then advanced steadily into the room, fp>oyl would have risen and gone to him; but Fe.x caught her wrist and drew her back into | | started from his chair anc her seat. He had a man’s instinctive shrinking from a “scene.” “‘ Be seated, Stanhope,” he said, essaying his wonted off-hand manner, ‘‘Mr. Boardman seems to have something to impart which de- mands the united wisdom of the age 5 “Mr. Boardman, pray proceed, e all at- tend you.” n tone Jack, with a sweep- ** My friends,” be ing bow, which included all the Cornishes, and a separate one to M, B ignoring of the Stanhopes all the more marked, “a very wrk duty devolved upon me, but I feel that the claims of hospitality and the ordinary due of humanity probibit me from silence, “Mr. Cornish, I understand that your sister fs on the eve of marriage.” ‘* Yes—well?” “What do you knew of the man she is about to marry? Sibyl started forward, and then sunk back hava Chait ote sGaslied iat Dotliatly Dele rs. 's eyes ea) breath she niedbnwahod “What, indeed?’ banger, Buh her arm ahous his nenk, be if to ver moved a muscle, Hghert zo “Eh? What do I know about him?” repeated | Felix, in bewilderment, - Exactly As se , what should I know about him? What do you know fgg him?’ ve ourdoine, which made his | | excitement, ejaculating: eyes, eee | MEL ti tized foul sland VY as s a our fou er. ‘You | have Codtakes z Adele, who had remained standing beside her | for which is, I think, clear to me. ELEGANT EGBERT. While she was approaching him, Felix re- plied to Long Jack. “What business is that of mine? Shall I prescribe habits of dress to all of my friends?” eayoan “ Before we + got you will concede that it habit of dress. “No doubt Mr. Stanhope can answer for him- self,” suggested Mrs, Cornish. “No!” objected Sibyl, who had now gained her lover’sside and put her hand on his shoul- der. ‘I consider if avery impertinent ques- tion, and being the person most vitally concern- ed, I ask Mr. Stanhope not to answerit. Felix, i trust that you do not forget that he is our guest, and as such is entitled to protection from insult under our roof.” : She was right royal in her indignant pro- 2: st. A transient flush came and went in Egbert’s ecl- Rot be seemed to shrink from po touch of her hand, and, as Adele had done, said: - Wait!” “By Heaven!” cried Felix, starting to his feet,” no one shall bave just cause to accuse me of disregard of the laws of hospitality! Mr, Boardman, I am ne trifler. If you have any charge to bring against my guest, speak at once and in unequivocal terms. And, sir, under- stand this—if you do not sustain your charge, I will have you thrown out of my house!” Long Jack smiled quietly. e was not a man to be disturbed by threats. Raising his long arm, and pointing with his finger, as if it were a dagger, he said: “Look at his face. Is it not written there? Mr. Cornish, your sister is about to marry a elon |” “You Liz!” Sweeping aside the clinging women, Egbert stood erect before accuser, ag pale as death and quivering in every muscle. —__- CHAPTER XV. LONG JACK’S DEFEAT, Lone Jack’s charge ard Egbert’s unexpected retort created a profound sensation among their startled auditors. M. Bourdoine leaped to his feet in the wildest ** Morbleu! Sang-dieu ! Sacr-r-re [” Adele wrung her hands and moaned piteous- ly. Only she knew how terribly Egbert was suffering. Felix was speechless with amazement, Mrs. Cornish started forward, crying: **Oh! my child! my poor child! She would have clasped Sibyl in her arms, but the girl shook her off, and, with all her queenly pride in erect carriage and flashing to Egbert’s side. said, ‘‘my husband that is to be na thankless task, the motive bert Stan- hope is not one to be injured by anything a man of your stamp can say. If you can take a hint you will desist from urging this further,” Amid all this excitement Long Jack stood moved. Bowing deeply, he replied: ‘* Madam, I must tect you from dishonor even against your will. You must concede that un- euliar about him—noth ng which might seem to | words are not true, he has the power to produve refutatio: h very ou know any- 4 ud Why is Egbert on either kn jirating softly, wit’ the ris- ing inflection: -s ; Anguish-stricken, Adele bent until her lips were at her brother’s ear, and whispered: ** My darling! my ling Egbert sat ell, sir. Iwill be pany pores nhope Mrs. Cornish, forward, with a hand r a@ manof marble. His face love ” e bler hurled the fullin Eg- nape Bone rnperandeonhahrs | antly. “He may bave nigra ik Aopmins honorable “1 think that an impartial ” pursued Long Jack, in his cold, even rath “Would con- sider the man himself, in bis present eg pe at least, rather a conjirmationof what I have % hy cannot Mr, Stanhope settle the matter Mrs. Cornish, with or, and the tense muscles removing his glove?’ asked 4 nae pa racked with by, . byl rose and hastened toward her * coldly. ) me Mother, that is unworthy of you!” exclaim- , I apprehend that | S a very serious busi- | ness of yours, and that this is a very peculiar | Pea eae, al ie Se So Ogee te tg ed her daughter, flushing tothe temples. “ Af- ter [have proclaimed my confidence in a man by giving my whole life into his keeping, shall Iso far forget my own self-respect as to ask him to clear h from the charge of crimef Mors al digni d loyal ers Was & Toy: ity—a gran , But Mrs. Cornish was one not easily i by lofty sentiments. “T think that it is due to you and to all of us that he place himself above reproach without being asked,” she replied, looking at Egbert sus- piciously. ‘Iam sure it isa very simple mat- ter Felix had thus far stood irresolute. Lon Jack’s boldness and Egbert’s embarrassmen bad naturally begun to shake his faith. Frowning impatiently, he now said: ‘‘T must say that I can see no objection to it. While delicacy might deter us from essing it, it would seem due to the gentleman h to refute a charge so boldly made.” M. Bourdoine looked his expectation. He would not run.the risk of offending his wor by openly siding against her betrothed, it he was Clearly of Felix’s opinion. Sibyl turned and threw her arms about Eg- pet My darling,” she whis red, “ that y darling,” she w ou see my faith is not shaken. End I wobla spare you pain if I could.” For that act and those words Adele worship- ed the trusting woman. Egbert drew the clinging arms from about his neck, Long he gazed into the face, every line of which bespoke love and confidence, pels % terrible struggle went forward in his reas Presently he spoke, ‘Sibyl, after what has transpired, can you live with me day after day, never seeing my hand, never receiving one word of explanation, and yet trust me?” “ Tmplicitly 1” ** But will not an ever-visible mystery prey upon your mind?” ‘“‘Tf my husband had a secret sorrow, I might wish to know it, so that I might console him,” said the girl truthfully; “but my mind could never bea prey to idle curiosity. .Why, has not Adele lived with you and loved you? She could not feel tow you as she does, if you were not all that is d and noble!” : At that a t light and a great tenderness came into Egbert Stanhope’s face. He turned toward his sister with a gratitude that was be- yond and above words, slips, She A murmuring cry escaped the leaped forward and nestled within his encircling arm ‘*T have much to thank God for in the love of two such women!” said Egbert. Then gazing earnestly in his sister’s face, he went on: ‘But my Adele knows no more of the mys- es of my life than do you,” look of surprise flashed across Sibyl’s face, Then she said, triumphantly: “And yet she has trust you! Why not I? Kagbert, et your life be your vindication to me ‘* By Heaven! I will!” cried Egbert, with sud- den resolve, He caught her to his heart, kissed her brow, and 7” her away. Advancing to Felix without so much as a glance at Long Ji he said; ‘*My friend, 1 will sat ou, and your chest awd ante ne no one has any yng “BS mu. rom you a prom t will never reveal what you shall see,” ud Neyer y Felix grasped his friend’s hand with a look of relief, “Stanhope,” he said, “‘you are coming out like a man, as I knew ron would. If I alone were concerned, yn ap por you pastes as generous as give you with Sit = heart.” r 4 For the first time Long Jack looked ill at ease, as the two gentlemen walked off to a window at the further end of the room, and stood with their backs toward the company, bs ye hee infernal tears is he about to gus t blockhead?” he muttered, below his Mrs. Cornish looked after the gentlemen sus piciously. The two girls were clasped in each other's arms, and were exchanging words of encourage- sa 74 ragga Tpbert drew his knife window from his pocket. opened 1t, inserted paged fn Mares 3 7 Rep ee Ee a . Se ee
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—— — a exposing the little and third fingers to ; pont in the Anger of his kid glove, and slit it aw ew, “There!” he said, fiercely, ‘would you have me me that to the woman who is to be my wife The skin had that purple discoloration often noticed in birthmarks. The hand quivered like an aspen. The man sped the ex fingers in his other hand, as if to hide them even from his own sight, and shivered from head to foot, Felix gazed in astonishment.’ Could so simple a thing as a birthmark cloud this man’s whole life? He gazed at the man himself, and noted the exquisite care evidently bestowed on his dress and person—what would have been dan- dyism but for its perfect good taste. Did this discoloration of the hand wound his esthetic sense so as to induce this morbid sensitiveness? Felix remembered that a club-foot was the curse of Byron’s life. But he could not help exclaiming: “Ts that all?” “ All? vepeated Egbcrt, as though his whole soul leaped up in arms. “ My God! is it not snflicient?” : Without reply Felix turned again to the com- P any. Exbert followed him with his hand thrust into the breast of his coat, — “ Mr. Boardman,” said Felix, contemptuously, “you are evidently off the track. The sooner you relieve us of your unwelcome compan Me the more satisfactory it will be to all present.’ Jack stood dumbfounded, **Oh! it is notbing!” cried Sibyl, and threw herself upon her lover’s breast. ‘‘ My darling, I knew—I knew—” But she broke down, sobbing pymbertoatty: “‘ Now let me speak!” cried Adele, anticipat- ing every one else. ‘I can supply the key to this infamous outrage! Two months ago and ain to-day this—gentleman urged me to be his wife, on penalty of exposing my brother and thus separating not only Sibyl and him, but you and me, Felix. I scorned him as a slander- er, knowing my brother incapable of crime, and this is the ca ing out of his threat.” Felix uttered an oath of rage, and rung the bell violently. “Call the hostler, and tell bim to bring his best whip!” he commanded the servant, whose prompt entrance would seem to indicate that she must have been in close vicinity to the key- hole, “Stop!” cried Long Jack, now finding his voice ‘Did heshow you his palm?” ‘‘Out upon you, you infamous cur!” cried Fe- lix, not heeding him. “If I had my strength, I would throw you out of the house with my own hand, As it is, if you stay here long enough, you shall feel the weight of a horse- whip—the kind of treatment such a hound de- serves!” . Long Jack turned pale with fury. “ My kind host,” he said, ‘‘yoa have placed me under obligations to you, by your wise course in this matter; and I always pay my debts, in my own way and time. Now I would not, if I could, prevent this marriage. Goon with it, sir, by all means! When an heir is born to the untarnished name of Stanhope—ha! ha! ha!—you shall hear from me again; and it shall be no flash in the pan then, I promise you! The next descendant of the Cornishes will have an illustrious lineage, on one side at least! Ha! bal ha! My dear sir, once more—adieu !” Long Jack bowed mockingly in the doorway. But M. Bourdoine rushed up to him frantic- ally. ‘sang-diew!” he cried, ‘you shall note es- cape visout rendering ze satisfaction! Monsieur, my ca Ana he shook the bit of pasteboard at Long Jack savagely. “What! fight with such a dog, M. Bour- doine?”’ cried Felix. “Pray, remember that gentlemen do not fight with the intimidators of en, ‘‘ Morbleu ! shall I stand on etiquette when ze scoundrel have insult bettas mee benefac- torsall? Voila! My card €: And he shook the card fairly under Long Jack’s nose. The gambler seized the wrist of the challeng- ing hand, and stooped until his face was within an inch of M. Bourdoine’s, while he glared into eyes, be ‘Bah he ejaculated, contemptuously, and hurling the Frenchman from him, panned out of the room, slamming the door. The little man was wild at thus being thrust aside, asif he were too insignificant to be worthy ELEGANT EGBERT. of notice. Ho would have rushed after Long Jack, but Felix restrained him. Meanwhile, one strange feature in this scene was noticeable—Egbert had not resented Jack’s assault upon him further than the one outburst in which he gave him the lie. Now he ignored the whole thing, and in an ordinary tone, as far as he could commandit, invited Sibyl to accom- pany him in a walk in the open air. Mrs. Cornish sat with compressed lips, and a look that showed that she at least was not satis- fied with the course of events. ‘ Felix,” she said, “‘ will you: give me afew minutes’ audience in the library? Our guests will excuse us if, uncer the circumstances, we leave them to each other’s entertainment.” CHAPTER XVI. A SUSPICIOUS WOMAN, “Wprrx,” said Mrs. Cornish, when she was closeted with her son, ‘‘I confess that I am not very well satisfied with Mr. Stanhope's rebuttal of the charge brought against him.” ‘““We can’t have every thing to our lilting, in this world, mother,” said the philosophical Fe- ix. “But why this mystery? Why could not he show his hand openly?” “That's his secret.” ¢ ‘‘No man should have secrets from his wife,” said the mother, oracularly. rule,” replied Felix. a little too sweeping. long and short of the matter is that it doesn’t matter a fig whether Sibyl is informed or not. I confcss I don’t see why Stanhope should make such a fuss aboutit. But then, 1 don’t insist on everybody being cut after my pattern.” Failing to make any thing out of her son, Mrs, Cornish called upon Long Jack in his place of business. Tho ex-gambler was surprised to see her, kut received her courteously. “Por my part, I think it ‘“Mr. Boardman,” she began, ‘I hope that | you will not hold me responsible for your treat- ment this morning . 1 have come to esk you to produce at once the evidence in Phar of your accusation which will arrest F'cli tion—” “I beg your pardon, Mrs, Cornish,” inter- | rupted Long Jack, ‘While I assure you of my esteem, yet I cannot break my resolve, Both your son and daughter have treated me with in 0 i Perhaps this time next year they will be in a different frame of mind,” “But, sir, will you not regard a mother’s anxiety for her Gaughter? Consider a girl’s im- pulsiveness.” ‘“Madam,” said Long Jack, “* my experience ey to show that nobody considers any thing ut their own interests, do not care a fig for our daughter’s marriage with Egbert Stan- ope, nor for its consequences; but I do care whether your son marries Miss Stanhope, and in time to prevent it I shall place in your hands all the evidence you require. ou care to save your son from giving to his children for a mo- | ther the sister of a forger, you will be in New Orleans on the first day of next December, and have Mr. Stanhope and his wife invited to spend the holidays here in = eigen vel That was Long Jack’s ultimatum. The wedding came off in due form, Sibyl was somewhat nervous. Egbert was | like a man in a dream. Adele made a model little bridemaid; and Fe- part, captivated all the feminine por- | able position with his feet higher than his head, tion of the ‘‘deay five hundred” under twenty | buried his nose in the last Tribu lix, on his years of age. Then the carriage rolled away, followed by a rfect shower of slippers, and, for good or ill, Sibyl Cornish had lost her identity in Mrs. Eg- bert Stanho consoled her for the loss of her brother, turn from their wedding tour, When Adele nestled in her brother’s arms, she was all sobs and tears and smiles and kisses | and sunny hair, after the manner of little blonde witches. And Egbert petted her in his gravely tender way, and told her how there d been a vacancy in bis heart that even Sibyl N could not fill, Then Adele declared that she was going to have him one day all to herself, and dragged him off in triumph. Felix took the mistress of Oakdale by the shoulders and looked her over critically, while she stniled in his face, defying criticism. “ Well, sis,” was the verdict, ‘‘ 1 see no reason ae bp that he is such a terrible Blue Beard, | And so the lon In the present case, the | 13 “Felix,” said the young wife, her eyes humid, and her voice tremulous with emotion, ‘‘I never dreamed of such happiness. My every wish is anticipated. He has no thought for anything except in its relation to my comfort and enjoy- ment. My only wish is to make myself worthy of such devotion.” For once even a mother-in-law’s solicitude could pick no flaw. But Mrs. Cornish looked askant at the gloved hand, and bided her time. summer passed, and the tizg which bound the little circle grew closer. The sweet, clinging disposition of Adele was just suited to easy-going Felix. He wanted some one to worship him, while he played the Grand Sultan, accepting it all as if it was his due; and in return he would never let her know an hour of sorrow. And Adele made a great baby of him, to his and her heart’s content. They did not know that in knitting their hearts so closely together they were fitting themselves to suffer all the more keenly in the near future, Meanwhile, Sibyl was clothed with the sanc- tity of impending motherhood. gbert. hung over her with a new tenderness, and marked the wondering, half-startled love that was growing in her eyes. Under this hal- lowed influence even Mrs. Cornish yielded somewhat, and seeing his unvarying gentleness, | began to do hin: something like justice. “J believe all mother-in-laws indorse that i hen, just. before the winter’s chill began to steal. through the air, came the denouement, and Sibyl wore ber crown of maternity with that proud elation which is so touching in young maotherhood. At such a time the heart of the mother-in-law might have foregone its purpose; but there came a letter, saying: “Tt will make no essential difference whether you keep our appointment or not. If you do, you will | be at the immediate source of information. If you do not, I shall make use of sworn statements. [ should think, however that you would leave no pre- caution untried to protect the direct line of Cornish- es from such contamination.” x’s atten- | | thing to troub | *Then all the pride of the mother rose. What- ever had befallen Sibyl, if there was any truth in this persistent accusation, Felix must be pro- tected from such an alliance. On the following day she announced that she was worn out and desired a trip South. She had everything arranged. Felix was to accom- pany her, leaving Adele to prepare her weddin rousseau in her own home, The mother an | son would extend their trip as far South as New Orleans, returning to Memphis by the mid- dle of December, in time to receive the Stan- hopes, After the holidays the whole party would Lene go North long enough to see Adele The parting between Felix and Adele was marked on her part by badinage in the presence of others, and ‘‘a good cry” when they were alone together. When they had exchanged vows of daily cor- respondence, and arranged to look at the moon at a certain hour each evening and think of and again to be a boy and not get himself into mischief when she was not by to take care of him—when the very last werds had been said, and he was really gone, she went to her oom for another ‘‘ good cry” and to begin the first | one of the promised series of letters. Being a man, Felix got himself in 8. comfort- each otber—when she had enjoined him again ne, and was negatively he 4 yas is to say, there was no- In spite of alleged presentiments. we approach | the crisis of our lives unwarned. The bolt falls pa y | from a cloudless sky! Adele stayed with the Cornishes, and Felix | ‘ . CHAPTER XVII. Then in the balmy May-time they all went | North, to meet the bride and groom on their re- THE FIRST OF DECEMBER, Ow the first day of December a man entered | the St. Charles Hotel, New Orleans, and ex- | amined the register until be came to the name 3 CorNISH, Mempais, TENN, ‘“‘ Mrs; A. J. CORNISH, “ - “ Ah!” he exclaimed, with a smile of satis- faction, ‘‘my lady is promptness personified, ow, ix, my dear fellow, let us see who ) wins.” | §Sauntering into the billiard-room, he saw Fe- | lix just beginning a game, ) “Good!” he muttered, “You're out of the | way a sufficient length of time for me to trans- | aet my business. Now, Cornish, I am at service!” He sent up his card by an attendant, and | without delay was ushered into Mrs. Cornish’s | private parlor.
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14 —_-——_- oe — Long Jack bowed low as the lady advanced to meet him, looking a little flushed. Before he had recovered from bis obeisance his attention was attracted by a smothered ejaculation, and myayoee: up he discovered M: Eourdoine, bristling to the tips of his mustaches, and locking gimlets at him. M. Bourdcine’s forlorn hope had brought him to New Orleans, and the publication of the Cor- nishes’ names among the hotel arrivals had attracted him tu the St. Charles, he putting up at a much less pretentious hotel. Mrs. Cornish had forgotten all about the brief ge-at-arms between Long Jack and the lit- e Frenchman. Hence this rencontre mal a 08. viet adame Corneesh,” said M. Bourdoine, with vast dignity, “I crave * peer permission to vis- draw. et vill afford me ze pleashair ines- timable to pay my respect ven you shall note be engaged.” ‘‘ But, Mr. Bourdoine,” cried the lady, ‘‘I rely upon your assistance in a matter with Mr. Boardman. I have been congratulating myself on your opportune arrival,” *“Madame,” said the Frenchman, placing his hand on his heart, ‘‘I beg you to believe zat I am wholly devoted to you, and zat I vould do all zat I can in honor to serve you, Bote I can- note consent to meet ze gentleman until he shall apologize.” Mrs. Cornish looked bewildered. Long Jack smothered a laugh. ‘Oh! Monsieur Bourdoine,” he said, in as se- rious a tone as he could command, “I am not so tenacious of ill feeling that I could see the lady inconvenienced. y rancor yields to my antry. Sir, I apologize for the offense given you this time last year{” Whether or not M. Bourdoihe was sufficiently master of English to detect the irony that un- derlay Long Jack’s words, at any rate, he re- plied, with a stiff bow: ** Monsieur. it is sufficient!” and took a seat. ‘Mrs. Cornish,” said Jack, assuming a busi- ness air, “I am here toredeem my pledge!” CHAPTER XVII. A BAMNING RECORD. Mrs. CornisH was pale and nervous, but she invited her pues to take a seat opposite her. Long Jack drew from his pocket two old newspapers, dating back nineteen years, and spread them out on the table before Mrs, Cor- nish, so as to bring marked passages under her eye. Mrs. Cornish adjusted her eyeglasses, and read: “A REMARKABLE CASE OF YOUTHFUL PERVERSITY. *$10,000 HORGHRY! “4 BOLD GAME BY A NOVICE IN CRIME. “Last Sven some time after heating hours, the attention of Cashier Rowan, of the Bank of New Orleans, was called to a check, drawn by Messrs. Branscom & Co., shippers, and ook. Sad og to bear the indorsement of Messrs, Edmonds & Craig, the wealthy cotton-brokers. Upon re-examination, after the hurry of business was over, thé teller thought he detected something peculiar about the latter signature. “A consultation of the bank officials was imme- diately held, and after collating the suspected sig- nature and several of undoubted genuineness then in the bank, the uneasiness was so much increased that the president, cashier and teller concluded to wait upon the firm and either confirm or dispel their fears. “Thougi the indorsement was (apparently) in | the handwriting of the senior partner, Mr. Craig’s | residence being nearer he was called upon first. Mir, Craig said that the check had been received that day, but he had understood that it was to be carried for five or six days as a matter of conve- nience to Messrs. Branscom & Co “Mr, Edmonds was found suffering from a severe | cold. He had been present at the negotiations in- volving the check, but had gone home before the rag Mg a sent to his office, so that he had never seen it, “The persons now in demand were Messrs. Ed- monds & Craig's chief clerk, Mr. Paul Harney, who was in sole charge dur Mr. Edmonds's absence and the gs sage om! boy, Charles J. Wells, who had the c ae among several others, at the receiv less importance than his sister’s wedding; and the oped of pleased surprise with which he received une employers was changed to a look of dismay when he learned the nature of their visit. He declared that he had no knowledge of the check being out of their safe; he was sure it was not among those he had that sent to the bank, and ere oe See” ven him no account of ten thousand dollars. ELEGANT EGBERT. |__ "The whole tty now went to the residence of | Mrs, Wells, relict of the late Dr. og sy Wells, long known professionally and socially the best circles of our city, “Young Wells had not been home since morn- tng! & The police were now called into requisition, and Messrs. monds & Craig began to gather new light on the character and habits of their employee. Thus far he seems to have been accepted on the known high standing of his a It now trans- pired that he moved with a circle of fast youn men, who were more a source of anxiety than @ honor to their res ive parents. “ Just before midnight young Wells was found in | a state of intoxication at Larry Mackey’s, where he | had been put to bed after a night of unusual carou- | sal. On is pecans was found between two and |. three hundred dollars, and it was ascertained that | he had been spending money freely all the even- ing. . R With some difficulty the young man—or, rather, | boy, for heis only seventeen years old—was suffi- | ciently sobered to converse intelligently, when he | declared that the check had been given to him by | the chief clerk, Mr. Harney, and that he had re- | turned the money, ten thousand dollars, to him. The money found on his person he accounted for as having been won from a companion—John Board- man by name. “The youth Boardman, of twenty years or there- abouts, was next hunted up, an roved to be a oung man about town, living on his parents, his ‘ather meio. a wholesale liquor dealer of the firm of Welsh & Boardman. This young hopeful admit- ted that Wells had won a rom him, but in amount less than seventeen dollars. He had been with Wells all the evening, while the latter was treating the boys, but supposed that it was on this pmatins LO Knew nothing of Wells having any greater amount, ‘Wells professes to have been under the influ- ence of wine, and unable to determine how much he won of Boardman. Was himself surprised at the amount found on him, but persistently denies hav- ing received any except that won from Boardman, and between ten and twelve dollars with which he began the evening. “The ugliest feature for: young Wells, discovered last night, was the fact that a package of one hun- dred dollars was still held by a oe band bearing the mark ‘100’ in pencil, which the teller identified as his own work, “At the preliminary examination, this morning, {t appeared that Wells is an expert penman, an was once warned by Mr. Craig of the danger of imitating signatures, even for amusement. “Wells was bound over for trial, and the most expert detectives have been employed to try to re- cover the money. “It is believed that older heads than the messen- ger boy’s are at the bottom of this bold piece of ras- cality, and he has been offered every inducement to ' turn State’s evidence, and reveal his accomplices, but only reiterates his first story, that the check was given to him by Mr. Harney, and the money re- turned to Mr. Harney by him. “The high character of Mr. Harney and the | weight of the evidence amply protect him from sus- oma His employers scout the idea of his_be- raying the trust reposed in him, and pay him the highest tribute for probity and thorough relia- bility. ° The meeting between young Wells and his mo- ther was painful in the extreme. He gave her the | most sacred pledges of his innocence, and she be- lieves him implicitly.” Tho second article ran: “THE BOY FORGER! “CHARLES J, WELLS 18 SENTENCED TO “7WO YEARS’ IMPRISONMENT AND “BRANDING IN THE PALM!” Larter px 8 lines were followed by an ac- count of the , which was a virtual recapitu- lation of the facts set forth in the preceding ar- ticle, nothing new having been developed. “Well,” said Mrs. Cornish, when she had read both articles, ‘‘ what has the wed wed of the boy Wells to do with the man Stanhope?” ‘A very pertinent question, madam,” replied Long Jack, suavely, ‘“ Will you oblige me by glancing at this third article? And he produced another paper, in which was announced “‘a marriage in igh life,” be- | tween Mrs, Elizabeth Wells, “‘ widow of our eve esteemed fellow-citizen, Dr. Compton ” and Col, Egbert Stanhope, of England. “‘ Well?” asked Mrs. Cornish, growing paler Mrs. Cornish was overcome with conviction. “T would have averted it, but Felix was so _ headstrong,” she said, with some show of moth- | erly feeling with wounded family ame 2 ay my daughter should be so de on Madam,” said Long Jack, “ it is not too late 108i Cornish to rectify error in part. “One moment!” ee ay i the lady, ner vously, ‘I must have Monsieur Bourdoine’s range on this before we broach the subject to elix, Long Jack bowed and walked to the window, while Cornish the papers to the Frenchman, who had waiting with ill-con- cealed impatience, M. Bourdoine read the articles with a running fire of ejaculat‘ons: “Ah, Dien!’ —* Morbleu!”—‘' Grand ciell”— * Par St. Denis)” When he had finished, he lea to his feet crumpled the paper in his hand and waved it above his head tragically, crying: “4 bas ce coquin maudit! (down with the accursed rascal!) Ah! grace de Dieu! vat mis- fortune have befallen my hapless pot Sibylle unhappy! who shall you revenge? Ah! Madame Corneesh! my benefactress, my friend! accept ze commiseration of vone heart afflect vis ze calamite incalculable zat have fallen upon your house!” What more he might have poured forth was checked by the opening cf the door. Felix Cornish stood on the threshold! CHAPTER XIX. A STUNNING BLOW. On entering the room Felix first discovered M. Bourdoine, and with a look of pleased sur- prise advanced to greet him. ‘* Ah! my old friend,” he cried, “this is in- deed an unexpected pleasure. What set of the tide of Fortune has brought us together again in this corner of the republic?” ‘Oh, Monsieur Felix!” cried the Frenchman, in his most dolorous strain. ‘* Helas! ze Provi- dence inscrutable shall mete out to each his por- tion of woe! Ze moan of distress shall mingle vis ze echo of ze laughter joyeux!” Felix was too familiar with M. Bourdoine’s rhapsodies to be greatly shocked; so repressing the inclination to smile at ‘\s Frenchman’s rue- ful face, he assumed a i..« of decorous sym- pathy, and replied: ‘‘M. Bourdoine, must I again condole with ou for failure to find Ma’am’selle Helene? For- lone is hard upon you, my friend.” “ Ah, ciel!” cried the Frenchman, appealing to Mrs. Cornish in dismay. ‘He is uncon- scious! He have no foreshadowing of ze dread calamite! Mater Dei! sustain him! Ab! mon —- ami! (my poor friend!) eet is note m umble misfortune zat make my heart bleed! No! no! eet is— Ah! Madame Corneesh, tell him—you!” “Why, what is the matter?” asked Felix, now noticing his mother's agitation, ‘“‘ Felix,” stammered the lady, ‘ vou have mot observed that—our friend—M. Boardman is present,” Felix turned round with a stare of surprise, which became a look of keen displeasure when oe discovered Long Jack standing at the win- ow. ‘* Well, sir,” he said, pale with anger, “to what do we owe the honor of your visit?” “Felix! Felix!” admonished Mrs. Cornish, ‘“hear him before youcondemn. He is a better friend to you than you think.” “Mr. Cornish,” said g Jack, now comin forward, ‘‘ there is wisdom in your mother’s ad- vice. I am a better friend to you and yours than you think—better than you would vasesocteiy were not your very injustice to me‘prom by motives of generosity’ which do credit to ” ‘*] beg of you, sir, to come to the point,” re- plied Felix, starcbily. “What is your busi- ess? Sir,” said Long Jack, keeping his temper, “one year ago you spurned my interference when I would have saved your sister from sor- row, your family from dishonor, and yourself from humiliation and vain regrets. To-day I have laid before your mother and your friend, here, indisputable proofs of the truth of my ac- cusation, If they are not sufficient for you, I am prepared to back them up by the records of the rt of Oyer and Terminer, and by the tes- timony of living witnesses.” 3 ‘* Felix, listen to him. It is all true,” inter- posed Mrs. Cornish, giving way to tears, In rather ee Long Jack con- tinued, before could speak: “Taccuse Egbert Stanhope of having been -
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| ae es Standing ae gr eae S ee i OE PI wie ce Poe ELEGANT’ EGBERT. 15 whatever means he diverted you from investi- gation, I know that he did not show you the en of his right hand; for I myself saw it nded as I have described,” By this time Felix was beyond the power of speech. There was a terrible conflict going on in bis mind. ‘* By Heaven! he dtd not show me his palm!” was the thought that shot through bis brain like @ poisoned dart, ‘‘ What if I have been deceiv- ed! Sibyl, my dear sister, have I brought this ‘indelible disgrace upon you?” ‘Here, sir, is a part of the proofs,” said Long Jack, extending the papers to Felix. o Lividence la plus Snag pa gp !” inter- posed M. Bourdoine, wit e@ ferocious aspect of an enraged grenadier. “‘Oblige me by satisfying yourself,” pursued Long Jack. Felix took the paper mechanically. Then be- fore his mind rose the phantom of a white, scored, appealing face—a face of exquisitely deli- cate lineaments, framed in gold blonde hair. 4t that a spasm contracted his heart. With an inarticulate ery of pain be hurled the papers ‘from him, “Take your proofsand yourself out of my presence!” he commanded, hoarsely.. ‘‘ This ac- cursed inquisition shall go no further.” ** Grace de ciel ! you cannote mean it!” vocif- erated M, Bourdoine, in dismay. “The man is infatuated!” cried Long Jack. But now Mrs. Cornish’s turn was come. She ose to her feet, with an artificial strength of purpose, born of a sense of outraged pride. le but resolute, she said: ‘Felix, I need not say that I am surprised by your, strange conduct in this matter. Once before bmitted, and to your rejection of the truth our family name owes the first stain that has fallen upon it, while my daughter’s whole Yite bas been blasted. Now, having myself seen ‘the proofs, Iam resolved to act! Do you think that I will permit my daughter to remain the dupe of that infamous scoundrel—that branded felon?’ Felix had sunk into a chair, and bowed his head upon the table. He now started up, ery- ing: “ Desist, mother. By unearthing the buried t you can but bring unutterable wretched- nessupon her, where now sheis happy in her ignorance,” ‘Hear him!” cried the lady, indignantly, ap- pealing to M. Bourdoine, Long Jack, and, doubtless, to the invisible spirit of outraged jus- tice. ‘‘Here is the new code of expediency! "You think then that it is better to live in biiss- ful infamy than to suffer in repelling this dead- ly insult? If my son is made of such sordid stuff, I have a higher opinion of my daughter’s pee! pin ; “Perhaps the bitter pill is swallowed for the sake of its sugar coating!” sneered Long Jack, his eyes glittering with snake-like venom, The lady uttered a cry, understanding him at ance. “Felix!” she exclaimed, seizing him by the shoulder, “‘ is it possible that. you are willing to sell your sister to this wretch, in order that you may ere ify your base-born passion for his ‘sis- ter? You are no son of mine—” But Felix leaped to his feet as if stung. “No!” he cried. ‘“‘I am not the first Cornish to lose sight of honor! You are right—it is better to wring her heart, if need be, than to leave her within the contaminating influence of a@ criminal —a common prison-bird—a man branded like aslave! You are right again—her pride would not count ita kindness to be left even in heppiness, linked to such a wretch. ‘But how can I atone? My God! will she ever forgive me?” He covered his white face with his hands and ed aloud. “Felix,” cried his mother, “ now I recognize myson! You cannot redeem the past, but you can avenge this monstrous wrong,” “Yes! and will, too!” eried the unhappy bro- ther, with clenched hands and blazing eyes. “Look, you, sirrab!” he pursued, hot : dy shaking his fist in Long Jack’s face, “if this ebarge is true, I will have Egbert Stanhope's blood! If it is not true—and I ripeniae you there shall be no missing link of doubt—curse you! J’ll shoot you like a dog! “‘ Now, where are your proofs?” CHAPTER XX. MR, CRAIG’S TESTIMONY, Lone Jack was nothing daunted by the belli- gerent attitude of Felix. Bowing quietly, he again presented the papers. “Well,” said Felis, when he had read the ar ticles relative to the forgery, “you undertake to prove that this boy Wélls and Egbert Star- hope are the same?” “Exactly.” And J laid before him the notice of the marriage. Felix frowned, but said: “Here isa missing link, Col, Stanhope may have had a son by a former marriage.” “With the peculiarity of hiding his hands!” | sneered Long Jack. ‘“‘ With the peculiarity of hiding his hands!” / repeated Felix, sternly, ‘“‘and from perfectly ) honorable cause,” ** Well, I am prepared to meet that,” said the | gambler—for Jack had returned to his former mode of life, “How?” “By the testimony of living witnesses. In the first place, you will recognize in me the John Boardman in the newspaper account.” *Yes—you seem to have preserved your identity, morally as well as physically!” sneer- ed Felix. Long Jack shrugged his shoulders. “To adapt the comfortable doctrine of Mrs. Vicar of Wakefield,” he laughed, ‘‘ we’re as the Lord made us!” _ “ Pray aes with your proof!” urged Felix, impatient Y. : “As John Boardman, then, I am personall and intimately acquainted with Coanies Wells, alias Egbert Stanhope!” Felix winced at the thrust peels Long | Jack’s words; and Mrs. Cornish cried; “On! that I should live to see a daughter of wine married under an assumed name! *xcuse me if I require corroboration “9 our testimony,” said Felix, in reply to Long ack, ‘* Quite proper sir, under the circumstances, And you shall have it.” ‘*Témust be unimpeachable.” “No less trustworthy than that of Messrs. Craig & Harney—the senior partner, Mr. Ed- monds, having died, and the chief clerk bavin been admitted to partnership with the survi- | vor.” *“ How can they identify Mr. Stanhope, he not | being here to be seen?” “A very pertinent question, sir, and quite easily answered. Mr. Craig was intimately ac- aainted with Mrs, Wells—in fact, but for Mr. Stanhope he might have had hopes of making her Mrs. Craig. And it was this friendship which secured young Welk his position.” Well?” ‘¢ He was also personally acquainted with Dr. Wells, and after him with Col. Stanhope. He knows the latter to have had the reputation, at least of being a bachelor, and consequently not likely to have a son whom he would recognize and associate with his daughter, whose le—” * All of which is very good so far as it goes,” interrupted Felix, impatiently. ‘‘ But, sir, your premises are rather shaky.” ‘““Waiving that, then, suppose it were to be established that the Egbert of our acquaintance bears a striking resemblance to the lamented Dr. Wells, while Adele—” “‘ Miss Stanhope, if you please!” “T beg your pardon! ile Miss Sta as shronaty resembles the gallant colonel, t brother and sister having some features in com- mon, would it not appear that the link was through the mother?” ‘How recently has Mr. Craig seen the bro- ther and sister?” ‘The former not for nineteen years—the lat- ter never.” “Then how can he tell whom they resemble?” * T am the fortunate possessor of adaguerreo- | type of the individuals : ‘You have a iikeness of Miss Stanhope? How did you become possessed of it? I demand it, sir, instantly!” “ All in good time. If you wish ‘t after it has answered its purpose, you shall have it.” “ But how did E pe. get it?” “T was shrew gency, not to mention a predilection for the original of the efiigy, and, let us say, confiscated it! Now, sir, I purpose to submit this daguerre- otype to the examination of the ancient lover; and you will have the benefit of his unbi judgment,” , ‘“When ean we see this gentleman?” ** Immediately.” “Very well, sir; I attend you. Lead the way.” Rus ape act ? asked son, may I not accompan as Mrs. Cornis fe However termined to see the enough to foresee this exi- | ey! “WM. Bourdoine, as have been a the whole = <i shall glad our company, if agreea ou. @) Merci! hacks) my friend. Pray command me. The gentlemen went out together, and fifteen —- later entered the office of the cotton- roker. ; ““Are Messrs. Craig & Harney inf” asked Long Jack of the messenger-boy in the outer of **Mr. Craig is in his private office,” was the reply. “Mr. Harney has not yet returned from the Exchange.” “ Conduct us to Mr. Craig.” The boy led the way through to an inner of- fice where sat a man of perhaps sixty years of e. He looked like one who had led a tranquil life, but in his eyes there was a shade of melan- choly or regret. “Mr. Craig,” said Long Jack, when they had been courteously received and seated, “allow me to introduce myself as John Boardman, and my friends—” ‘‘ ixcuse me,” interrupted Felix, haughtily. ** For myself not your friend!” | Mr. Craig started in mild surprise. Long Jack laughed lightly, to mask the real | annoyance he felt. f | ‘* A designation of no importance,” he said. - | “These gentlemen are Mr. Cornish, of Mem- phis, and M. Bourdoine—a cosmopolite, 1 take | it, Mr. Craig acknowledged the introduction, and ' waited for the development of the business of | his unexpected Saree ‘*Mr. Craig,” began Jack, “I must ask boy ; to go back twenty years to a messenger- | named Charles J. Wells. Did you employ suc a one?” Mr. Craig started and turned slightly pale. ** Yes,” he replied. | He was convicted of forgery as set forth im | these papers, published at that time?” Long Jack laid the papers before the broker. ** He wasso convicted,” admitted Mr. Craig, | compressing his lips, as if in pain. “And oranded in the palm with the letter ye | the rigor of the law being executed upon him because of his obstinate refusal to betray his ac: | complices or give any clew to the money?” | “Yes, sir.’ | In consequence of which not a penny wag | ever recovered?” ** None was recovered, except what was found on his person.” | “Now, sir, you were oy snr f acquainted | with the mother of the boy Wells | . Again a shadow of pain flitted across the face | of the old Dewey rye He seemed to struggle a / moment; then he said; : sg, Iask the purpose of these questions, “Tt is my wish to fix the identity of the boy, | now grown to manhood, and to prevent his im- | posing upon an honorable family whom he is | now seeking to deceive.” After a moment Mr. Craig said: **T knew his mother.” * And her first husband, Dr. Wells?” cquainted with him for years,” lonel Stan- “T was a ““She subsequently married .a hope?” Yes.” * Were you acquainted with him, so that you remember bis personal appearance?” “Do you know anything of the Stanhopes ‘ ou know an 4 t) | subsequent to this marriage? Was there any offspring? ‘*She had a daughter.” ** Named—” * Adele.” “Good!” cried Jack, radiantly. “We are getting on better than I expected. Now, sir, do ou know whather Colonel Stanhope a son lags? — previous’ to his union with . We { | He was a bachelor, sir.” | “The boy Wells was confined in prison two | years?” ** What became of him after that?” “T know nothing further of him.” _ “You do not know whether he lived in the house of his step-father?” “No. Colonel S$ left New Orleans | about the time the boy’s term in prison ex- “To go North?” “J do not know. I have lost all track of him | ed be Seunfly for tye years.” tetas ow, sir, can you us sista nah De: Welrane “He was tall and of commanding presence, ~) eer aera resent
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16 ELEGANT EGBERT. with dark hair and eyes, straig mouth, and a chin indicative of resolution.” ‘“*Was he a man calculated to influence wo- men strongly?” “T believe that he owed much of his profes- sional success to his magnetic power over the opposite sex.” ‘Thank you. Can you now describe Colonel Stanhope? “He was the antipodes of Dr. Wells. He was much smaller, with light hair and blue eyes. He lacked the dignity of the other man, but was so full of stirring, vigorous life that he too | yr impressed his will upon others,” ‘* Excuse me for trespassing on your patience 80 long. I am nearly done. Lastly, what sort of a woman was Wells, afterward Mrs. Stanhope?’ A change over Mr. Craig’s face. He cleared his throat, as if to relieve that con- striction caused by painful memories. He drew his silk handkerchief across his eyes and fore- | head, and then rubbed it in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was low, with a ca- dence of tender sadness. “She was a woman of exquisite gentleness, all of whose life was in her love,” he said. Felix thought of Adele, and could hardly re- press a groan. ‘In person,” pursued the old man, with a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were describ- ing the phantom his recollection gongured up before him—‘‘in person she was remarkable for delicacy, elegance, refinement. I don’t know that I make myself clear; but there are women who in dress and demeanor impress one as the impersonation of a poom., She was to human- ity what Parian marble is to art.” ut here the old gentleman suddenly checked | gery himself and actually blushed meng A trangers could have little sympathy with his heart-pic- tures “I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” he said. “ Of course you have only to do with her phy- sical appearance. She was rather small, with brown hair of a medium shade, and gray eyes.” “Sir, your descriptions have more than met my epee ions, said Long Jack. e then produced from his pocket a daguerre- otype case, of the style common igoeay! years i ago. Opening it, he screened half the likeness by holding a piece of P sme over it, leaving ctelexinel dip cture of Adele Stanhope, At sight of this Felix trembled with anger and pain, and could searenly. restrain the im- to snatch it from Long Jack’s band. “What do you think of this picture?” asked the gambler, extending it toward Mr. Craig. The old gentleman wi is spectacles and at itin silence, until hiseyes grew humid. “Ts it her daughter?” he asked, ina lew tone. ‘“‘ Yes. Does it resemble her?” “In expression, yes. There is all the gentle- mess and sensitiveness. Physically she is as much a reproduction of the father as the differ- ence of sex would permit, She has his features exquisitely refined.” ‘* Now, sir, what do you think of this?” And Long Jack drew the paper from before Egbert, who wus represented seated, while Adele leaned with her peculiar grace on his shoulder, “Tt is her ,»” said the old man, in a tone of sadness, ‘ Heis the image of his father at | that age. She would never be convinced of his t; and perhaps it was better so; it would ave killed her to believe him unworthy. It is given to few of us to be loved as she loved!” And the sigh that arose to his lips was only | partly repressed. Felix arose, looking stern and pale, “Mr, Craig,” he said, “‘ this is sufficient, We need not longer trespass upon your time. You | have done me a service which I cannot hope to requite—I can only thank you,” But here the office-boy stuck his head in at the door and said: “Mr. Harney, sir.” A ering smile came to Long Jack’s lips, but instantly disappeared. CHAPTER XXL MR. PAUL HARNEY. In the doorway stood a man of yerhape fifty years of age. There was astoop in his shoulde 80 that he never held his headerect. He look out from under his brows with restless eyes; and he had a trick, too, of rubbing his hands one over the other, as if he were washing them. The characteristic expression of his face was weakness, which was hightened by his sallow complexion. “ ” a ge ational Ms, Coil ae, man—Mr. Co ht nose, firm Mr. Harney had cast one glance round the | room, and bis bilious countenance had turned | adirty gray. He now acknowledgeu the intro- | duction with a silent bow. There was a strange smile, rather about his the than his lips, as he gazed at the old cotton- ‘oxer, 4 The dirty gray pallor returned to Mr. Har- “Sir, your coming is very opportune,” said | Dey’s cheeks, as he bowed assent. Long Jack, advancing and extenging his hand cordially. total stranger to you, though it is now nearly twenty years since I had the honor of meeting you. The dead Past never seems to bury its dead, Mr. Harney. At the most unexpected time and in the most extraordinary way things long forgotten are again dragged to the surface. “But before apprising you of our business, may I submit to your examination a daguerreo- type?” Mtr. Harney had yielded his hand to Long Jack, rather than taken that of the gambler. While the latter was speaking, the eyes of the former had wandered from and returned to fhe face of his interlocutor with that uneasiness be- trayed by animals when steadfastly gazed at. Having seated himself, with his elbows rest- “T can hardly consider myself a | ing on the arms of his chair, he took the da- | guerreotype and seemed to study it carefully. * ‘Do you recognize either of the persons?” asked Long Jack. Mr. Harney shook his head slowly. from side to side. , ‘* No,” he said, reflectively. ‘*I know no such faces.” “Go back twenty—thirty years.” A. pause, and then: *T can recall no such persons. It is a long way back, sir. And yet—l do not know—there seems something— No. I must have forgot- ten, if I ever knew such persons,” * There was & messenger boy guilty of for- “ Ah!” Long Jack stopped at the sudden interrup- tion, and waited for his hint to work its,cffect. Mr. Harney bent more closely over the pic- ture. After a moment, he moistened his lips with his tongue, and then said in a monotonous tone: *“ That was a sad case, sir. Is this the picture of Charlies Wells? I think I now see a resem- blance to his father, who did not live to be pained by his son’s fall.” : “That is all I require, sir. It is the picture of Charles J. Wells. It is but fair to you to say that your identification of him may go to frus- trate an attempt to insinuate himself into an un- suspecting family as av honest man,” i Jack spoke with quiet deliberateness, looking straight at Mr. Harvey. The latter fumbled amid some papers, cough- ed behind his hand, and thenresumed the wring- ing or washing motion. ’ ‘But the brand in his palm?’ he said, con- strainedly. “I should think it an insuperable le. “He cleverly hides it beneath a kid glove, and affects an elegance of attire whose aim isto divest of singularity, as much as may be, the unusual habit of being gloved on all occasions.” Here Felix arose, much disturbed. “Pray let us bring this to a close,” he said. ** Gentlemen, allow me to thank you once more. ‘* But stay! one question, if you please. Had pe pene Wells any other mark on his right an “No, no other mark,” replied both of the gen- emen. ‘“‘ A birthmark, covering the third and fourth | fingers?” Certainly not,” asserted Messrs. Craig & ° Harney. ‘‘ Ah! a birthmark!” muttered Long Jack, ele- vating his brows. ; « Then, by Heaven!” began Felix, but choking with emotion, he left off and started toward the door. The confined air of the room seemed as if it would stifle him. M. Bourdoine sprung to his side, opened the door and accompanied him to the street. ‘¢ Monsieur Corneesh, I am vis you heart and soul!” declared the melodramatic Frenchman, “Ah, Dieu! shall ve note revenge soche treachery? Quelle Diablerie! (what fiend’s- work!) my pupil ze victim—” j ‘Oh, stop! for God’s sake!” cried Felix, wrought to distraction. Long Jack had delayed. to take leave of Messrs. Craig & Harney. He held the hand of the latter while he said: ‘‘The same treachery which led the boy to seek to shift his crime to your shoulders, Mr. , has marked the course of the man, ut a just Providence alwaysintervenes to pre- vent wicked from g. Honest men would be at boy mercy of assing through the outer office, Long Jack mek: x: in a quiet chuckle. ‘* Well,” he said, when he rejoined M. Bour- doine and Felix on the street, ‘do you wish the **Most assuredly, yes!” said Felix, almost snatching it from his hand. “It has served your purpose well!” “T am satisfied with the result,” said Long Jack, complacently. “I have kept my word— have I not¢~and satisfied you t Charles J. Wells, alias Egbert Stan— **Sir! spare me any discussion of this matter? You say that you ere satisfied with your infa- mous work. Let it rest, then.” “TI believe that a justerdesignation might be selected for what I have done. However, I am not strenuous on that etow But this slight re- turn, at least, you will not denv me, for having given you an opportunity to transmit to the fu- ture line of rnishes unimpaired cause for pride in—” ‘‘Have a care!” cried Felix, stopping short with blazing eyes and quivering nostrils. ‘‘One word against the woman whose picture you have polluted by having it in your possession, and I will shoot you down in your tracks.” With his wonderful self-possession, Long Jack betrayed no sign of being startled by this out- burst; but he quietly cocked the pistol which he carried in his pantaloons ket, so that it sel- dom parted company with his hand. Bowing coolly, he said: “Far be it from me to say Sughs derogatory of a lady whom I esteem as highly as you | picture?’ ** Avoid all reference to her, sir. Commen- ray from your lips is as distasteful as detrac- jon.” Long Jack’s eyes glittered at this repeated snubbing, but he kept his temper. Hw had an object to attain. ‘** 1 return to my request,” he said, quietly. “What is it?’ snap Felix. “That I may be allowed to be present when ou call Charles J. Wells, alias Egbert Stan- ope, to account for the fraud he practiced upon: you @ year ago.” The double shot went straight home—the de- ception and the assumed name, elix ground his teeth with rage. “Oh! the infamous scoundrel!” he muttered. “ And he duped me—blind fool!”—«o easily with his shallow pretense of sensitiveness! By Hea- ven! I'll match his birthmark with a death- mark about which there will be no sham!” After waiting a few moments, while Felix held fierce self-communion, Long. Jack asked: ‘* May I consider ay bei oad granted?” “Yes, and more! Idestre your presence,” ‘“‘Ah! But I confess I do not see why you shotild particularly desire it.” “Common justice, for one thing, I insulted you, thinking that I had cause. It is meet that the apology be made in the presence of those who witnessed the affront.” Long Jack came near whistling with surprise, Here was Roman justice with a vengeance. It took him some time to digest the new ects: of affairs. Gradually he came to see it in the light of an additional humiliation to Egbert, perhaps, rather than amends to himself. Presently he asked: ‘Where do you wish my attendance?” * At Riverside.” “When?” “ The fifteenth of this month.” ** At what time of day?’ Felix reflected a moment. “The boat is due at noon. Allow an hour to reach Riverside. Another hour to the toilet after travel,” Aloud he said: ** At two in the afternoon.” “T will be punctual.” A pause of a moment, and Las Sas said: . presume I can be of no further use to you now?’ ‘*None whatever!’ replied Felix, with o et ays that imparted its meaning to the words. “Then, sir, until the fifteenth!” The gambler raised his hat with mock cours tesy. a sneering smile on his lips. oi Bourdoine, au revoir / And he departed. CHAPTER XXIL HONOR VB. LOVE. A low, laugh from the gambler’s
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War cee lips reached Felix Cornish’s ears. In his humi- liation and pain the lover rested his hand npon M. Bourdoine’s shoulder. Here, at least, was a true friend. “Ah! mon ami,” murmured the Frenchman, “heed note za jeer of ze rascal. He is bote ze instrument of ice. Parbleu ! shall ve quar- rel vis ze pot because of ze smut?—bote ve shall have no ragout visout ze pot!” Felix’s mind was too much occupied to profit by this bit of Bourdoinean philosophy. “* Monsieur,” be said, ‘may 1 ask you a fa- vor?” ** Certainement !” ‘*T cannot see my mother in this matter. I must aoe rep to go to her, and tell her what has transpired.” “Tam rejoiced at an opportunity to serve you. I vill relieve you of all embarrassment.” ‘Tell her that we start home by the next boat,” ** And, mon ami, shall note I accompany you? Sang-diew] 1 shall participate in ze revenge of ze injury execrable! Ah! ma chere Sibylle! zat have twine ze tendril of affection around my heart.” ‘*M. Bourdoine, will you come?” Touched by this mark of friendship, Felix ke earnestly and grasped the hand of the renchman, “Ah! vill I note?” cried M. Bourdoine. “ Grace de dieu! do T live bote for ze service of 4 pupil ogether they returned to the hotel, and while M. Bourdoine sought Mrs. Cornish, Felix went to his own room to wrestle with the on affliction that had iallen upon his sunny if e. From his pocket he drew the daguerreot which he ant yecetved from Long Jack. White he gazed at it he shuddered. ‘No! they must not remain side by side,” he said. ‘‘My love for her would be ever clouded by my hatred of him. She, at least, is pure, though he is vile.” With his knife he removed the glass and carefully scratched away every portion of Egbert’s face and figure, before replacing it in © case, “That is typical,” he muttered, as he con- templated the altered picture. ‘At her side there is a spot as black as ink. So shall I biot him out of existence!” He clenched his fist with anger; but suddenly he reflected: “ And then! What becomes of her love? Can she forgive the man who has slain her brother? Which does she love most?” He turned pale with sudden dread. * Adele! Adele!” he moaned, with bis hands over his white face, ‘“‘ must I crush your heart? Must I kill your love?” He rose and began to pace the room fu- big or Said the tempter: “You cannot redeem the past. Why spoil we own future? What is required of you? ou condone this one evil, and spare yourself bead sister, and Adele—who is innocent of ame—lives of misery.” But ware uttered one word in reply, in tones as bard as adamant; ‘* HONOR!” He poo of his long line of ancestors, “without fear and without reproach.” They seemed to point to him and say: “In your time one married a forger—inno- cently; we donot blame her—but one hid his infamy that he might indulge a selfish pas- sion! Out upon you for a sordid changeling!” And before his mind’s eye rose up the pale, accusing face of his proud ‘sister. “ Coward !” it seemed to say, “dare you leave me in ignorance of my disgrace?” Gazing at the picture, deprecatingly, he plead- “ My sister’s honor! CanI betray her? Any- thing but that!” And in his agon it seemed strange to him that she could look at him from the glass, with that sweet balf-smile, all unmoved. Then he bowed his face upon the lifeless effigy and wept. ‘All mght long be struggled with his grief, and when he came forth in the morning he was as pale as death, yet sternly resolute, “ Mother, are you ready to start?” “* Immediately. BY There! there! do not give way,” he ad- ELEGANT EGBERT. monished. “There is one who must look to you for an example of self-possession.” “Oh, the disgrace! the disgrace!” moaned the woman, somewhat selfishly. “Think of your daughter’s pain,” suggested ar Felix, will think of h ** Peli ou will not think of marrying her, after this? The young man set his teeth. **Mother, do not torture me!’ he said, “Do you not see what I am suffering?” The beads of sweat standing on his forehead, the utter woein his wan face, the terrible de- spair in his humid, bloodshot eyes, touched the woman that wasin her, Laying her’ hand on his arm, she said, simply: “Forgive me!” He bent and kissed her forehead. Two days later a sad party embarked on a northward bound boat. M. Bourdoine attend- ed to everything. Mrr.Cornish was hysterical and melancholy. Felix was transformed from a happy-go-lucky good fellow to a stern, brood- ing man. ng Jack, = a little aloof on the levee, saw them, and rubbed his hands with malicious lee. . ‘* Ah! my dear fellow!” he-muttered. ‘ You were goin to have me horsewhipped, were you? Well, ’'m happier than you are, Tl bet a pretty penny!” CHAPTER. XXII. A OOLD RECEPTION, As the down-river boat touched the levee a’ Memphis on the fifteenth of December, a party of travelers, consisting of Mr. anfl Mrs. Stan- hope, Adele, and a nurse with the baby in her arms, stood in eager expectancy te isembark. Descending the broad stairs to the dower deck, where the long gang-planks had been run out to Hs shore, they looked about for friends to meet them, , “Why, where is Felix?” asked Adele, “They must have exprcted us on this boat.” ‘There is the carriage, and here comes Cato,” said Sibyl; and added anxiously: ‘* He is alone. Surely nothing can be wrong? *Hyah! hyah! missy, I’s powerful glad to see ye!” said the servant, crossing the gang- plank and greeting his former misiress with a grin which stretched from ear to ear. ‘De ole place hain’t been right sence you been gone, nohow.” “Thank you, Cato,” said Sibyl, who never let kindness, from however humble source, gO unacknowledged. But where is my brother? Is there no one to receive us?” . oe to pursed up his lips and wrinkled his fore- ead, ** Dunno, sag 546 be said, in evident perplex- ity, ‘‘’Pears like it’s quare, too. But Felix he say: ““* Cato, hitch up de hosses an’ go to de levee. ecm Stanhope an’ Missy Sibyl am coming ome. “But he needn’t go fur to tell me dat! ’Fore de Lo’d! mammy’s been jes’ countin’ de hours tell you come. She don’t talk "bout nuffin’ else dis six weeks!” ‘*Yes, Well, you put the horses to the car- riage?” “Yes, missy, an’druv de keerage up to de front do’ for Massa Felix. But he sent word dat he ain’t goin’ long. So hyer I be alone by myself.” “Why, that is strange.” “*Pears like it was quare to dis chile,” assent- ed Cato, shaking his head. “ But what is the matter? Isn’t Felix well?” Cato removed his hat to scratch his head, with his eyes on the ground, “ Well,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, ‘‘he’s so’s to be about. But Massa Felix ain’t hisself, nohow.” “Ho isn’t ill?” : * No, he ain’t sick.” “ Well, then, what ails him?’ ‘* Well, he ain’t chipper sence he come back from down de ribber. ’Pears like nuffin’ don’t suit him,” . «Well, she's got one 0 her ole spells agin: t ell, she’s got one o’ herole : but I reckon it ain’t no worse’n ae ™ Sibyl looked at her husband and sister-in-law, They could but look back at her. ere was an expression of such marked anx- fety and chagrin in Adele’s face that Sibyl looked at her again, and then whispered in her ear: “You surely cannot have quarreled with him, “T? cried Adele, ‘*Oh, no!” “The quickest way to solve the problem is to ; _mantile-piece. M. | amulet against the mysterious impending evil. < 17 on to the house,” said e. -Araty ietly. Tyon women must not let your fears nae with you. Doubtless the explanation is simple enough.” He had not the faintest idea that it could be in any way connected with himself. They entered the carriage a rather depressed party, and spent an hour in fruitless specula- tion. As they drove up before the house the maim door was closed, and there was no one on the veranda to receive them. But as they ascended the steps the door opened, and there stood M. Bourdoine, bowing with the Frenchiest of French deference, But every other feeling gave way before his love for his pupil; and taking both her hands, he kissed first one and then the other, not im mere try, bat with genuine devotion. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. ‘** Velcome home, my angelique—” he began; but Sibyl interrupted him, looking beyond him: into the hall. “But where ara my mother and my brother?” she a mr pe eae i “All in time! all in good time!” repeate ed the Frenchman, in evident embarrassment. ‘Have patience, yet alittle. Ven you have made your toilet, Monsicur Felix and Madame Corneesh will see you in ze drawing-room.” ‘““When we have made our toilets+—in the drawing-room?” cried Sibyl, ‘‘Why, what do youmean? What is the matter?” Her eyes were wide with amazement an2 Bameless dread. "Sh l” sibilated the Frenchman, with al- most a mother’s solicitude. ‘‘Eet is my instruc- tion.” “* Do you mean to say that you are appuintad to receive us, and that my mother and brother zre in the house and do not come forward?’ “ Zey have engagement, ma cherie J” M. Bourdoine could scarcely restrain his tears, and he held her hand in both of his. ‘““What engagement can hold them at sach a time as this/ Oh! tell me the truth—my mo ther?’ “She is vell.” “Truly! truly! Oh, do not deceive me!” “T repeat she is vell.” “And Felix?’ Adele, too, bung breathless on the answer “Monsieur Felix is vell, too.” “Then what can be the matter? Where are they?” “TI cannote expkin. Ven you have made your toilet—” “Oh, this is cruel! I cannot wait. Where ie my mother? I must go to her at once.” , ** Ket is her vish zat you first make your toilet. At two o’clock she vill see you, aud al vill be explain in ze drawing-room.’ Then Sibyl stood stock still, Egbert drew her arm through his, “Let us go to our room at once,” he said. ‘We cannot learn the reason for this wutil the appointed time.” His wife looked up at him. His face was white and set. ; “What is it, Zgbert?” she asked. “Ido not know,” was hisreply. us delay no longer.” She yielded mechanically, Adele followed as if she were in a dream. ‘What can keep him from me?’she asked her heart. Her answer was a cold, dead void. M. Bourdoine stopped the nurse with the baby as she passed, “* Ah! ze angel!’ he murmured, taking it im his arms and kissing it, wanes were tears on its cheek when he handed it back, Sibyl had not noticed, but Egbert had, that . Bourdoine had studiously avoided even so much asa , ye unas of greeting to the Stanhopes, brother and sister. For the next hour M. Bourdoine was, in out- ward appearance at least, the most wretched man in the world, At two o’clock a servant was sent to announce to the guests that they were awaited in the drawing-room, They went down together, Sibyl carrying her baby in her arms. Some instinct led her to look upon it as an ** Come, let At the door of the drawing-room both ladie caught their breath, and drew to either side of pe ey yom crane, carelessly against th ack was st the Bourdoine with difficulty kept his seat, with his eyeson the floor. Felis
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48 ELEGANT EGBERT. wtood, with chair, the la ‘sis arm. gloomy frown, beside his mother’s being in tears and clinging to —— CHAPTER XXIV, THE GLOVE TORN AWAY. “ MorTHer!|—Felix!—what is the meaning of / | this strange reception? And why is that man > here?” The young wife hugged her child to her bosom, and shrunk close to her husband’s side. stretched arms, crying: “ My child! my poor child!” She clasped her uniovian: daughter in her rms, and sought to draw her away from her husband, as if there were contamination in proximity to him. Then, dropping her tear- wet face on that of the baby, she sobbed “Poor little angel! What—” “Mother! mother!” cried the young wife, “ what is it all about?’ eyes from the floor. His voice was evidently held in restraint. Adele stood like a drooping lily. She was struggling to keep the tears out of her eyes long enough to see if he was really avoiding her. ‘*Pelix!” she said, in a voice scarcely above @ whisper. The young man’s lips twitched; bis nostrils dilated; of color faded out of his face; he grasped the back of his chair beside which he had been standing for support; he did not raise his eyes, | however. “T beg that you will be seated,” he said, ina hard, set voice, speaking to no one in particular, * and then we will see whether this reception is | mot justified.” The party advanced into the room, but no one sat down. “One year ago,” began. Felix, “Mr. Board- his breast rose and fell; every vestige | Mrs. Cornish arose and advanced with out- . man made a charge in this room, Will you | please to repeat it, sir?” “ Welix!” interposed Sibyl. But her brother held up his hand. “Pray do not interrupt us. Once I weakly yielded to sentiment. Now I am after b hemi, and I am determined to have them, Mr. Board- man, we attend you.” | * he is and as Sm fled, leaving him if possible paler than betore. “Charles J. Wells?’ repeated Sibyl, wonder- ingly. Yes!” cried Felix, quivering with passion, ** He has no right even to the name he bears! That is one of his many frauds.” ‘*You are mistaken,” said Egbert, steadily. pe have a perfect right to the name I gave your r, “Why did you flush to the roots of your hair at the mention of the name Charles J, Wells ?” “I might do that, and still have a right to the name of Egbert Stanhope.” ‘Tt isnot the name you received from your father!” “ Are we not drifting from the main point? I think Mr. Boardman is not yet done.” “Very well, sir. But you shall not so easily evade the one thing which is vital. ‘*Mr. Boardman, pre y proceed.” “In proof of which,” pursued Long Jack, in | the tones of a stern judge, ‘‘he bears in. the : : ip _ | palm of his right hand the letter F, branded by “Pray be seated,” said Felix, not raising his | the executor of the law!” There was a dead silence, which was broken by a plaintive wail from Mrs, Cornish: “Oh, my child! my innocent, wronged child!” Sibyl stood white and still, drawing a deep inhalation. ‘* What!” she cried, when she could find voice, ‘*Do you not understand?” said Felix, flercely, randed like a slave!” “Infamous!” cried the proud wife, crimsva- ing to the temples. Adele only panted in.agony and terror, Egbert’s eyes bad sought bis wife’s face, Hoe saw that the ignominy of being branded bad Fons her pride as nothing else could have one. In that moment of unutterable anguish his heart stopped beating, dark spcts floated before his eyes, and there was the smell of blood in his nostrils. Felix’s hard voice called him back from’ the horrible, deadly faintness that was overpower- ing him. ‘Now, sir, I call you to account! You, a branded felon, have married my sister under an alias! Come, sir, drop the mask! A year ago you deluded'me into the belief that. your | remarkable custom of always going gloved was ““ Bgbert, let us leave this place, instantly,” | cried Sibyl, turni.g to her husband. brother—my own mother—have forgotten what is due to their own flesh and blood. Come! we have made a mistake—this is no home of mine.” ** Sibyl! sage bl my wronged, insulted, out- raged child, s throwing her arms about her. ‘‘ Wait until you have heard the infamous treachery, the fraud, ‘the disgrace! Ob, my child! my child!” ‘‘Mother, you are beside yourself! ashamed to think that you could so far forget your pride as to listen to the foul slanders of a common gambler!” ; Long Jack’s eyes flashed, but a quiet smile curled his li “Come, Egbert,” pursued his wife; “ and al- ways remember that I have given not a mo- ment’s countenance to this insult.” “ Are you a coward, as well as a villain?” de- manded Felix, now glaring into Egbert’s eyes. “Will you take advantage of a woman’s in- fatuation to run away from this charge?” ‘‘ Mother, let me go. I have heard enough— more than enough,” said Sibyl, in a choking voice, struggling to free herself. But her husband’s hand fel! >on her shoulder. ‘* Be calm,” he said to her, az.2 29 perfect was his control over her that she vialded at once, ‘but she trembled as if she could scarcely stand. | Adele saw her weakness, and though she could ecarcely support her own weight, she whispered: * Let me have the baby,” and took bim from his mother’s arms, Egbert faced his accusers. He was pale as | a specter, yet he held his head erect, not like that of a criminal, and his eyes burned steadily. “No, Mr. Cornish,” he said, ‘‘I am neither a coward nor a villain!” “Very good, sir. Then we but await the charge. . Boardman.” And he bowed to the man addressed. Long Jack fixed his eyes upon Egbert with cool insolence. ‘*T accuse CHARLES J. Weis of forgery!” Having thrown a venomous emphasis into the name mee Jack paused, to let words have their full effect. A wave of crimson swept to Egbert’s brow, p!” cried her mother, again | T am | ‘*My own | | due to a birth-mark. ‘Your efirontery will not save youasecond time. I now demand that you remove your glove in the presence of all rg pay and expose the palm ¢@ your right nd, “‘ And, sir, I refuse!” You refuse?” **T refuse.” Egbert folded his arms and looked at his ac cusers defiantly. Long Jack smiled and stroked his mustache, ** Morblew! you refuse?’ echoed M. Bour- doine, now rising to his feet, pale with excite- ment, - Egbert paid no heed to him. ‘Oh! oh! the disgrace will kill me!’ sighed Mrs. Cornish. “Then, sir, I shall proceed on the hypothesis or you dare not remove your glove,” said elix. “It is your privilege to proceed on any hy- pothesis you choose,” said Egbert, quietly. ‘“‘ Parbleu ! Monsieur, ve shall rend ze glove from your hand! Allons donc! your intamy shall be brought to ze light of day! Sang-dieu / shall ze traitor—” “Stop!” cried Sibyl, now finding her voice, All this time she had stood in dizzy amazement, “Stop! Egbert, remove your glove and con- found this prince of slanderers.” ** And do you require proof?” he asked, with a great reproach in his eyes. ‘“‘What! that my busband is not a felon? No! ou know me better. See! I will turn my ck. But this bas gone so far that you must clear yourself from all suspicion.” Egbert turned to Adele, who bad stood wide- eyed, and quivering with dread. ‘What says my sister?” he asked. A surge of tender emotion sent a transient color into the girl’s cheeks, and made her eyes humid. “T Jove you as you are, my brother,” she said. “What is the opinion of the world tome? I know that you are all that is noble. Only—if you could— For the baby’s sake, Egbert! His own mother could not have made the ap- peal more oe Egbert than the loyal heart with a look. gag turned to see the effect of her words on "He young mother drew herself up proudly. —_——— “My husband, the father of my boy, can bo and must be ahove seproanh 26 said, speak- ing at her brother and Long Jack defiantly. ‘or one moment there was a terrible struggle in i eg Stanhope’s breast. Then he spoke. **Do not turn your back,” he said to his wife, “Of all present, you have the best right to see. “Sir, 1 am ready!” He extended his gloved hand to Felix. Flushing painfully, now that the crisis was at hand, and g as suddenly again, Felix step ped forwar very one stood breathless. A ferocious look of eager expectancy came in- to Long Jack’s eves, and he bent forward to get a first Stage of the palm, With a horrible, creeping sickness coming over him, Egbert turned way his head and cov- ered his face with his left hand, Felix. seized the glove in the opening below the button, and with a quick wrench, tere ont the palm, stripping down the fingers, so that the glove hung in tatters, and the hand was all ex- posed, except the thumb! CHAPTER XXV. BRANDED.IN THE PALM. Every one started forward to gaze upon the palm thus rudely divested of its covering. “ Sacr-r-re ]” ejaculated M. Bourdoine., A round oath issued from Felix’s lips. “Oh, Egbert!” cried Adele, “Oh! the disgrace! the disgrace!” moaned Mrs. Cornish, Quivering from head to foot, Egbert could not wholly repress a groan, ‘ Only Long Jack and Sibyl remained mute. The gambler sunk back to his graceful attitude against the mantle-piece. His faco, blanched by the anxiety of the critical moment, now re- sumed its wonted complexion, a little flushed, if anything. His eyes were merciless in their cold exultation, Egbert and Sibyl, Felix and Adele —all had scorned him, Now he saw their hearts wrung with anguish. ‘here was but one bitter drop in his cup. He could not but reflect. “All the revenge in the world will not win me one glance, one touch of love from her!” As for Sibyl, she stood like a statue of agon- ized amazement, For perhaps thirty seconds her eyes renxained riveted on the livid scar, in the form of a letter F,.. Then she half-turned away, groped blindly with her hands, and witha murmuring, inartic- ulate sound issuing from her lips, fell prone on the floor. Felix, Long Jack and M, Bourdoine sprung forward to catch her, but too late. Mrs. Cornish east herself down beside the body of her unconscious daughter, erying: “Oh! my poor, murdered child! Sno is dead! she is dead!” Wild with exaitement, Adele thrust the baby into M. Bourdoine’s arms, that genileman re- ceiving it as gingerly as if it were some frail device of g Then she turned to assist her swooned sister-in-law—the woman whom Eg- bert loved, But Felix brushed almost rudely before her, lifted his sister and placed her on the so: Cut to the heart, Adele shrunk back. From her brother she heard a low-murmured: “ God |” He had sunk into a chair and covered his face with his hands, From following Felix with unutterable re- proach Adele’s eyes turned to Egbert. In an instant she had glided to his side and wound her arms about him. ‘‘Dear brother! Iam left to you. I love you just the same,” she whispered in his ear, He raised his face ghastly with anguish, and clutched her hands as a drowning man might seize upon a bit of timber, ** You do not despise me, like all the rest?” he cried, almost fiercely. “Not! nol my brother, I love you, as our mother did!” With a great, tremulous ery he pressed her hands to his face, kissing them and raining tears upon. them. “Come!” he said, rising suddenly and draw- ing her toward the door, ‘Jet us gol” “*Go?” she echoed. ‘‘ Where? You cannot leave her—your wile!” ‘“* She has no further need of me! Have I net cursed her sufficiently?” “Yes, you wretch!” cried Mrs. Cornish, ven- omously. “Leave this house and the country, if you have a spark of manhood in you!” fice Madam, you need have no fears; I wiil our on. wr Scuntil have had the pleaenre of mectina
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ELEGANT EGBERT. 19 Where can my friends find you?’ de | Mr. Stanhope,” she said. you. amanded Felix. “* At the Metropolitan.” “ Thank you. e will not detain you long.” “And If” cried M, Bourdoine. ‘You vill mote deny me ze Peivolege of vindicating ze hon- or of my pupil, after Monsieur Corneesh, if ze perverse fate shall favor ze side of perfidy?” “No, The more the merrier,” replied Eg- bert, and exchanged cards with the delighted Frenchman, Adele had not noticed the significance of this. She had been crying: “* But, Egbert, the baby!” He paid no heed, but drew her almost forcibly ‘from the room. “Tho carriage will await you,” were Felix’s parting words, as he jerked the bell-rope. “*T shall be forced to accept this last courtesy,” said Egbert, as he bowed at the door, At the door of her room Adele clung to her brother convulsively. ; Ae Egbert! you are not going to give them up {J Ses I any choice?” he asked, with a bitter ugh, ‘But the baby is yours; and she is your wife =—shecannot desert you.” * The law will readily grant her a divorce.” “* But her love for you?” *¢-You alone have stood the test.” “But surely she does love you. Every hour of the past year bas attested that. Give her time, Egbert. She was overcome,” ‘She turned away! Had she not said that her husband must be above reproach? ‘Come! let us waste no more time!” he said, knitting his brows with pain. And he almost pushed her inside her room door. Left alone, for in the general absorption the gending of a servant to attend her had been overlooked, Adele began to don her outer gar- ments like one inadream. She could scarcely realize that Felix had not exchanged a word with her—had scarcely glanced at her. It all scemed like some terrible nightmare, Meanwhile, Egbert pas on to the suit of rooms assigned to him and his wife. Turn where he might, some reminder of her and of his child was presented to his eye. Lying on the dressing-table were a dainty lace handkerchiof and a tiny worsted shoe which the mother’s loving fingers had knit. The wretched husband and father gathered them up togother, and gazed at them with a hard, a Bs Be despair, “My lost darlings!” he murmured, with a choking sensation in his throat. _ He pressed the mementoes to his lips, and then laced them in an inner breast-pocket of his vest, Fast over his heart. When he knocked at Adelo’s door he found her waiting for him, a veritable little ghost of wretcbedness. “T have brought only misery upon all that I love,” he said, gathering her in his arms, “No, my brother. You have made all my life happy,” she said, clinging to him. “To crown it with a life of d ir!” ‘No! no! do not blame yourself, dear.” He bent and kissed her. And without further words they passed down the deserted halls, detecting here and there a servant who peeped curiously from some half- opened door, or around some angle. In neglect and dishonor they passed from the house, entered the carriage, and were driven away. ‘Acriving at the hotel, Egbert parted with his sister at her room deor. “T shall be busy this afternoon and evening,” he said. ‘‘ Bein ess to return home to- morrow at noon.” ‘‘Qne moment! one moment!” she pleaded, and clung to him sobbing. ‘My poor darling! I could not help you to bear y our sorrow, I were to stay with you,” he said, gently. “Jt is not that. But— Oh, Egbert! cannot something be done?’ ‘“‘ Nothing!” he said, with a spasm of pain, and put her gory, away. Then the girl cast herself upon her bed and ve free vent to her sore heart, Through the ong hours she grieved, going over and over her lover’s every look and word. When at last she fell into an exhausted sleep, it was disturbed by the most hideous dreams, At the first faint gleam of morning she sum- moned an attendant. She could not endure to remain ar or alone, a ee throbbed with fever, and she was haunted by fancies she “ould not subdue. “Get me into a dressing-gown and summon **T am afraid Iam going to be sick.” She could scarcely stand erect, and clung to the servant for support. ‘*‘ Massa Stanhope?” repeated the girl. ‘‘De gemman in number forty-nine?” “Yes, He is my brother,” The servant looked confused and frightened. ‘*T reckon he’s gone out,” she said, hesitut- ing. f Gone out? Soearly? Where, I wonder?’ “ Puton de dressin’-gown, missy. Dere, now set down.” ‘¢But where can my brother have gone, at this time in the morning? Did he leave no word —a note?” ‘“‘ No, missy.” ‘* That’s strange.” The girl fidgeted uneasily. ** What is the matter?” asked Adele, noticing her agitation, “T dunno as I ought to tell ye, missy,” said the girl, reluctantly. ‘Yell me what?” demanded Adele, becoming fearful. ‘‘Speak at once. Has anything hap- pened to my brother?” ‘“ Well, dar was some. gemmen to see him las’ night. And dis mornfa’, not half an hour ago, he went out in a keerage wid Col. Jackson an’ anoder gemman, ** Yos—well?” “Dey had a box along. An’I heered Pomp say— Pomp’s & cousin o’ mine.” ‘ Well, goon. What did he say?” **He reckoned dat dar was somefin’ in de wind. Gemmen don’t go away dat way tur nuffin’.” ** What do you mean?’ “Well, ye see, Pomp Stanhope wasn’t goin powerful queer.” With a scream Adele. leaped to her feet. a oy me to dress instantly,” she commanded, ** But, first, order a carriage, and summon the proprietor of the hotel.” eT hope, missy, I hain’t done nuffin’ wrong in tellin’ ye.” ‘Don’t waste time in idle talk, Go at once, and do as I bid you!” Twenty minutes later a carriage containing Adele and the proprietor of the hotel was dash- ing madly through the streets of Memphis. “To the dueling-ground!” had been the dri- ver’s direction. ‘ End one hundred dollars, if you are in time!” he allowed ef Massa to fight a duel, it was CHAPTER XXVL THE CHALLENGE. Srpyt STanwore had sustained a terrible shock. The man whom she had esteemed a demigod suddenly stood revealed a felon—as Felix had said, ‘‘ branded like a slave!” He whom her fond fancy had invested with attri- butes far above the common run of men had been deceiving her from the very first. He taken advantage of her penerons trust in him to betray her thus flagrantly. For hours she was roused froma deathlike swoon, only to give way to an agony of despair, until unconsciousness again came to her relief. A doctor had been summoned, and it was near midnight before she succumbed to the opiates they gave her and sunk into a heavy, unnatural sleep, broken by mutterings and moans, eanwhile, having given his stricken sister into the keeping of his mother and her woman attendants, Felix had again sought Long Jack and M. Bourdoine in the drawing-room. Addressing the gambler, he said; **The unexpected turn of events has prevent- ed me from carrying out my original gl oye of offering an apology to you before all the wit- unwarranted treatment of youa ut before M. Bourdoine I do now nesses of m year ago. apologize.” He bowed with a humility that was belied by his scornful eyes and the evidences of passion with difficulty repressed. “Tt is altogether needless,” said Jack in turn. ‘All things considered, I feel have nothing to complain of.” ‘*No doubt you look upon your work with satisfaction. ell, sir, you certainly have ac- complished your object. As for me, I now owe ou nothing. There is nothing left, then, but or you to take your unwelcome person from my house, never to darken its doors again.” mg Jack shrugged his shoulders, smiJed sar- Castically, bowed and said: ** Allow me to bid a good-by I” ing he was gone Felix turned to the French- n. “*M. Bourdoine, I promised Mr. Wells, or Stanhope, or whatever his name may be, that I “that : } ' would fiot keep him waiting. If you will accom- pany me, we will § into the city, secure our seconds, and have the preliminaries over before dinner-time.” ‘* M. Corneesh, I attend your pleasure,” The carriage, having returned, was entered by the gentlemen and driven back to the city. Reaching the business part of the city, they had not driven far before they met a couple of young gentlemen strolling leisurely arm in arm. “The very men!” exclaimed Felix, and then called to vif coachman: “* Stop the carriage.” The horses were reined in, and, opening the carriage door, Felix called: ** Canfield! Hovey! Good-afternoon!” ** Ah! Cornish, how do you do?” ** Are you busy?” Not at all.” ** Get in here, if you please.” P bana gentlemen complied, and Felix presented em: “Gentlemen, my friend, M. Ga Bour- doine. Monsieur, Mr, Charles Canfield—Capt. evil yg ] haking han hile the gentlemen were s ds, Felix called to his coachman: “To the Merchants’ Hotel.” “‘ And what turn of the wheel of Fortune has brought us the pleasure of your company to- day, Cornish?” asked Mr. Canfield, familiarly. ; . é little affair of pistols for two,” said Felix, quietly. **No!” exclaimed Capt. Hovey, with a bright- ening of the face, as if the prospect was an unexpected treat. ‘* Well, old fellow,” said Canfield, ‘* you might have gone further and found less cordial back- ers than Ned and I.” ss I thought that I might count on your sup- ‘To the last round, and against the world!” cried Canfield, enthusiastically. ‘“* But who is the next lucky man?” asked Capt. Hovey. ‘*4 gentleman doubtless known to yon as Egbert Stanhope.” : either noticed any peculiarity in the phrase- ology Felix chose to employ, not knowing that there was any Cig as to Egbert’s right to the name by which he was known; but Capt. Hovey cried: “What! Elegant Egbert?” While Canfield opened his eyes in astonish- ment, exclaiming: “The deuce! Why I thought he married—” Me stopped short, changed color, and stam- mered: ‘““Ah—I beg your pardon! Ned and I have been away for two years, you know.” A scarlet flush mounted to Felix’s brow. Gravely he said: “That is the reason I selected you, gentle- men. In this matter I wish to meet no ques- tions and as few strange looks as possible.” “One word, to set us right as to our duty,” said Capt. Hovey. “There is no room for apo- logy?” WNone would be received, and none will be offered. ‘You have but to arrange for the meet- ing, and see that it is properly conducted.” “Tf ze tlemeu vould note t’ink eet too onerous a duty to serve me in ze like capacity, if I have ze opportunity to fight after my gude friend, M. Scones zeir great kindness and condescension vould be ever treasured in grate- ful remembrance. Ze gentleman have honored me vis ze privelege to meet him, if he shall sur- vive ze first encounter, and as stranger I have no ‘friend to whom I might apply for soche ser- vice. “It will afford us pleasure, sir, to serve you,” said Canfield. Hovey bowed his acquiescence. Both gentlemen looked a little curious at this double meeting. How could this dapper little Frenchman be concerned in the quarrel between the brothers-in-law?—and what was the deadly feud that was to remain a mystery? But quarrels could arise almost any way, and involve almost any one. Honor was a very touchy thing. And every man had a right to shut off gossip by declining to take the world into his confidence in these little matters. “When would it suit you to have the affair come off?” asked Hovey. “ As soon as possible, To-morrow morning at et At the Eas eubees I t”’ asked t ous, I suppose Canfield. , “ Yes.” “ And we_an find Mr. Stanhopef’ “ At the Metropolitan.” Having now reached the Merchants’ Hotel,
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‘ ‘ ~ 4 ond ee 20 felix ordered a private parlor, wine and writ- ing materials, challenges were written and intrusted to the seconds, ‘“‘ My carriage is at your service. await you here,” were Felix’s parting words: and the gentlemen withdrew on their errand, They were courteously received by Egbert. We will Mr.” Canfield introduced his colleague, who — knew Egbert only by reputation, and present- ing the challenges, said: ‘Weare commissioned to wait upon you with these documents. Doubtless you can refer us to friends who will act for you. Egbert glanced over the challenges, as a mat- ter of form, and replied: “IT take pleasure in referring you to Col. Jackson and Dr. Wingate. Ithink you are al- ready acquainted with them.” | venged itself on his iron will and pride. | was the comment of Captain Hovey, when the “Yes: and I could not wish to meet pleasant- | er gentlemen.” “They are awaiting you in room twenty- three.” . The gentlemen then bowed themselves out, sent their cards to room twenty-three, and in two minutes were seated round a table, taking wine with Messrs Jackson and Wingate. “Well, gentlemen,” said the colonel, crossing his legs on the corner of the table, and himself comfortably for a cigar, ‘‘I suppose there is very little to be settled in the way cf preliminaries?” “Tn this degenerate age there is no such thing | as a choice of weapons,” observed Capt. Hovey. “JT don’t see what could be prettier than a pistol,” said Dr. Wingate. colonel has the neatest thing in that line saw.” ‘Can you reach them there on the mantle- jece, Mr, Canfield?’ asked Colonel Jackson, too AZy to change his position. “ Ah! thank you. What do you think of them, gentlemen?” He opened. the rosewood case and displayed a beautiful set of dueling pistols, lying in beds of satin, like jewelry. Ai y Jove! they are beauties, and no mis- take!” cried Captain Hovey, viewing them with he ore of a connoisseur. ever settling | “By the way, the | | steady my band.” Felix too paced his room a prey to anguish that knew no respite. **T love her so!” he moaned. ‘ And the bul- let that kills her brother will pierce her heart! Oh, Adele! I am putting all the eternities be- tween us!” Before others he had been as immovable as adamant. Now that he was alone his heart re- | “By Jove! Cornish, you look like a ghost!” were about to set out in the morning. ‘“ This will never do, man. We’ll have to brace you up with wine.” ‘*] need no artificial prop to my nerves,” said Felix, bitterly. ‘‘I have that within which will They entered the carriage and drove rapidly out of the town into the country, where Nature | was just waking from her repose. There was a balmy freshness in the air, which | was vocal with silvan minstrelsy, Every blade | of grass had its dew-gem. In the east the pur- ple vault of heaven was just beginning to glow | with the first streaks of dawn. . From the beaten road-track the vehicle rolled | upon the velvet carpet of greensward, and came | to a halt in an open glade, from which long stretches of the broad Mississippi were visible to the north-west and south-east. ‘ °. First on the growad!” exclaimed Mr. Can- eld. But the words were scarcely out of bis mouth | when the sound of a rapidly-approaching car- | sate Hest ah ie il edi " ope we have not kept you waiting, - Sletten? wes Colonel J; Acksots salutation. mr “We were not sixty seconds ahead of you.” “Ts this the spot?” ** It is the best in this vicinity. You see that en they had admired them all round, their | the ground is perfectly level, and standing possessor rubbed them off with chamois | north-west and south-east you have the sky for happy leather, stroking them affectionately, and put | them back in their places. “ And are we to settle our little affair with such beauties?’ asked Mr. Canfield. “T shal) be glad to have them christened by gevtlemen both of whom I esteem so highly, replied the colonel. ‘What can you do for us in the way of time?’ “ We take it for granted that you want the er over with,” “Yes, The sooner the better.” “ How will to-morrow morning suit?” “Toa T.” “You can be on the ground when the sun kisses the hill-tops?” “* Trust us to be snysihee ‘ There’s no choice of place,” “Up the river, of course.” “And are you responsible for such surgical attendance as we may heed, doctor?” “Tf agreeable to you,” ** Perfectly.” “ Then I tr every there is nothing further at present,” observed Captain Hovey. “No more business,” eaid Canfield; “ but, colonel, this is a rather odd affair, is it not?” “Tm hardly in a position to judge,” said Jackson, with a slight smile. ‘‘ What! does nobody know anything about ?? “T don’t. And I know of no one who does.” *<Tt’s not a public quarrel, then?” “T presume not.” “Well, every one to his taste. T 0 hd they have their reasons, Let us drink to u hap- py issue of the affair.” The glasses were filled and emptied, and Messrs. Canfield and Hovey took their leave, The next morning before daybreak two car- | position. riages were rolling rapidly along a road follow- ing the course of the river, to a rendezvous much resorted to by gentlemen of Memphis ~ho sought satisfaction at twelve paces. CHAPTER XXVIL A STRANGE DUEL. Bors Egbert and Felix had spent a sleepless night. rhe former seemed to have settled down into astony despair, It was as if he had given up the struggle, and was now wholly apathetic as to the future. “Wife and child both gone!” he muttered, again and again. “To herto whom I should be if, | ea Bade ic Ue o ‘ f Sh Say a , ? F Bas Sa At | | | toit. Ned, apprise Mr. Cornish, and see what | a back ground for both parties.” “That is true. There is little choice of posi- tion; but for form’s sake we will toss up.” The principals were standing apart in soli- tude, M. Bourdoine being a sort of odd third, He seemed in excellent spirits, and had gather- | ed and pinned to the left lapel of his coat a | poms flower which the warm sun had brought | out in a sheltered nook looking southward. The seconds were busy loading the weapons and arranging the case of surgical instruments, There was nothing in their easy manner to in- | dicate the serious business in which they were | engaged. | By the way, gentlemen,” said Colonel Jack- son, ‘my principal desires a word in private with yours before the affair begins,” “ Thot’s a littie unusual, but I see no objection he says.” Felix was willing to receive any communica- tion; and, being notified, Egbert slowly ad- vanced to within two or three paces of where he stood. “T desire to say,” he said, in a low tone, “that I spent a part of last night in writing a letter. hen I am dead I wish you to place no obstacles in the way of your sister receiving it, She will show it to you, or read to you such portions as she thinks fit. Have I your pro- mise?” “It is not at all certain which, if either, of us will leave this place,” said Felix. ‘If you do not, T promise you that my reseutment shall not reach beyond the ve,” “Thank you. That is sufficient.” Egbert withdrew again; and in due time the ve was paced off, and the duelists placed in one stood with thepistol arm hanging at the e. ““You will have warning; I will then count: One ! — Two !—Fire !” said Col, Jackson. The seconds then withdrew, Col. Jackson standing midway between the contestants, and far enough out of the line of fire to form almost an perce triangle. ‘Gentlemen, are you ready?” he asked. There was an interval in which Felix thought of Adele’s agonized face, and Egbert’ recalled the look of horror in his wife’s eyes as she gazed upon his branded palm. Then the monotonous voice again broke the Stillness: “* One /—Two!—FIRE!” Yi Hanks te a ll SORE A PO Erna \ ale te. | scious beside her at me,” he said, turning paler, ** While you have every reason to wish to kill me, does not every consideration deter me from shooting at you?’ asked Egbert, sadly, rather than angrily. “‘Go on! I have no desire to escape your vengeance.” **Do you take me for a murderer?” “No. My life is forfeit to you. You but exact your right.” *T do not understand your subtle distinc- tions,” said Felix, with increasing hent; ‘ un- less this be a device to escape the amenability of a gentleman without incurring the odium of & coward !” Egbert smiled sardonically. **Do you think méso much in love with life?” he asked. “A moment’s refiection will show you that it can have few charms for me.” *T do not know,” replied Felix. ‘ There are men who cling to life, no matter how infamous, But, sir, if you refuse to fight with me, I will cowhide you in the streets of Memphis!” A purple flush mounted to Egbert’s temples. **Col, Jackson,” he said, ‘‘ may I trouble you to give the si mal again? Tam ready.” All this time the seconds bad stood in speech- less astonishment, They now recovered them- selves, ‘*One moment,” interposed Dr, Wingate. “I object to my “pers ing immediately upom the excitement of this unusual proceeding.” ‘Have no concern for me, gentlemen,” said tow x “TI prefer that there be no further de- ay. “Ts it not an even thing?” whispered Mr, Can- field, pulling Dr. Wingate’s sleeve. ‘lm of opinion it’s quite as exciting to be threatened with a cowhiding as to threaten,” Wingate yielded; and seeing no further oppo- sition, Col. 5 ackson again called; ‘*Gentlemen, are you ready?” A slight pause, and then for a second time: * One !—Twol—FI RE!” The arms of both gentlemen went up—there was a double discharge, blended with a piercin scream—Egbert dropped his weapon and press his hand to his breast, staggered a step or two, and fell upon his face. Felix lowered his weapon and remained stand- ing untouched. From a branch over bis head a dead leaf came fluttering down, having been cut from its stem by Egbert’s bullet, ‘““By Heaven! he never fired at him at all!” cried Col. Jackson. But his comrades did not hear him. A third carriage dashed into the open space, A woman, whose first shriek had blended with the pistol-shots, leaped out, screaming: ‘““ Bertie! Oh, Bertie!” She staggered i far enough to fall uncon- My God!” cried Felix, droppi pon, ‘My cried Felix, dropping his wea Covering his face with his. ands, he turned and staggered into the arms of Capt. Hovey, who had appreached to relieve him of his pistol, CHAPTER XXVIUOL “WHO WOULD BELIEVE ME?” ‘* Anz! Ma’am’selle Adele!” cried M. Bourn doine, “‘ vat shall bring her at ze time inop- portune? Messieurs, make vay to ze carriage.” He bent over her, and would have lifted ber from the «round, but a hand nerved like iron grasped him by the shoulder and drew him back. After the first deadly faintness and horror, Felix had broken away from Captain Hovey. No one but he must touch Adele. He had turn- ed from her and tried to tear her from his heart, but he still had rights before the hands of strangers, Lifting her limp form in his arms, he bore her to the carriage, now empty, Mr. Scoville, the proprietor of the Metro litan, having joined the gentlemen gathered about Egbert. “Goto yonder carriage and get a flask of brandy, which you will find near the case of surgical instruments,” he said to the driver. While the man was gone, Felix entered the carriage and placed his burden in # reclining ture on the back seat, still supporting her Bead on his arm. : “Oh, my poor darling! will you ever forgive me?” he murmured, gazing into her wan face. He kissed the pale lips again and again. It might be his last opportunity. ‘And havo I killed your brother?” he sighed, “ Ah! what fiend could have me to fight with him? Why was not my arm paraly»
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#4 ed before it directed the accursed weapon? Oh but it was my sister, Adele! He had wronged her beyond words! Think of her life blasted.” “* Here is the liquor, sir.” Felix started. @ had forgotten everything gave the girl he held in his arms. Receiving the flask from the man, he poured a few drops between the lips of the unconscious girl; then bathed her temples with it, and chatf- ed her hands. The girl moved uneasily, moaned, opened her eyes, gazed about wonderingly, recognized the face bending over her, s up, and shrunk ebuddering oer. * Adele! m ling!” he pleaded, trying to take her han “Nol nol no! no!” cried the girl, wildly, sbrinking back with horror. ‘Do not dare t touch me ever again! “Your hands are stained ‘with his blood! Murderer! Do you hear?— murderer ! With a groan Felix sunk back on the forward seat, hiding his face with his hands from her ac- cusing eyes. With a cry she leaped by him out of the car- riage, and ran to where Egbert lay under the surgeon’s ha Recognizing only M. Bourdoine, she clutched his arm and cowered close to his side, whisper- ing, in a hoarse voice, while she gazed between the bodies of the other gentlemen at the mo- tionless form stretched on the ground: ‘Oh! ishe dead? Has he killed him? Oh! I gaw him fall—I saw him fall!” “No, madam, he is not dead,” replied the eon, looking up. ‘‘M. Bourdoine, if you are a friend of the lady, will you take her to her carriage?” “Oh “> not there! He is there! Let me stay with my brother.” “You must be very quiet, then, and not dis- turb him when he recovers.” “T will be quiet.” “ Jackson, can you improvise a litter with the tongues of the carriages? There is a house not far from here to which we can carry him. It would be dangerous to attempt to move him to the city, now; but withproper care this wound need not prove fatal, though it is certainly cri- tical. Tho ball has passed above the heart. I shall probe for it as soon as we get him to bed.” The latter part of the doctor’s speech was ad- dressed to the other gentlemen. Colonel Jack- son had immediately gone off to make the litter, as soon as he learned what was required of him, The of two of the carriages were re- moved laid side by side. The whiffle-trees were then bound across them about seven feet apart, and over this structure was stretched §, hoee-Bineat, making a very comfortable rs It was not the first time Colonel Jackson had had the supervision of a like device, The wounded man was carefully placed upon the litter, and four men bore him to a small cottage farm-house, perhaps a quarter of a mile up the river. The farmer’s wife gave up two of her best rooms,and Adele entered upon her duties as nurse, which were destined to hold her for seve- ral weeks, The , SOR, Felix wt home sad shut himself u brary. resolv: arrange his eden so that he could go abroad for two or three years. In a week’s timeevery- thing could be axrongnd. The only drawback was Sibyl. She seemed threatened with a severe attack of illness. yet she knew nothing about the duel. Beterts bud Hol posed to dope ney 's . Heha wo days mos under the influence of opiates. On the third his brain cleared and he called Adele to him. “My sister, what is the doctor’s verdict on my case?” ‘He says that with proper nursing you will get well, And I will nurse you, Bertie! Ob, wy care shall not be remitted a moment!” f bert shook his head. “The doctor is mistaken,” he said, ‘Aman with pro’ hope and the desire to live might ay Ag not L “se ‘oO not speak Bertie, You do de- sire to live—for my sake,” “O ie!” ‘*] bad all that man could crave, I have lost all! To me, now, life would be a protracted hell. ELEGANT EGBERT. a1 Before, I had nothing to look back u the contrast would drive me to suicide!” Mv & brother, you are ill now. When you are e w “‘ Would the return to health bring back her love and respect?” “ Bertie, she is your .wife. Can the year of happiness pass for nothing? She must forgive you, dear.” spasm of pain shot athwart his face. “It is of this I wish to speak to you now, Have you forgiven me? Can you love a bro- ther branded for forgery?” She buried her face in the bedclothes to stifle the cry of pain that rose to her lips, “T have nothing to forgive,” she said, when she could command her voice. ‘‘ Nothing in the world could change my love for you. Ber- ys 7% Tever forget? You did uot shoot—at— im A faint smile came to Egbert’s lips, “Tt was aslight return for all the ary I have brought you. Besides, couldI shoot er brother?” “Will not that pine for you, dear?’ “ Adele, if Sibyl were to forgive a felon, could ahe ever bo oe im?” ** But a life of right living?” ‘* Could never blot out the recollection that her husband was branded by the law!” Adele was silenced. “« Adele,” said the sick man, presently, “in my portfolio you will find a large envelope ad- at i ‘To my wife.’ Get it and bring it ere.’ The girl complied. “T wrote this on the might of the fifteenth,” he went on, “‘and just before our meeting Felix promised that he would not oppose its delivery after my death. I want you to read it now, and when I am dead take it to her,” With trembling fingers Adele drew forth the inclosures. They consisted of a letter in Eg- bert’s poate iy) Maas a document showing that his name had been changed from Charles J. Wells to Egbert Stanhope by act of the legis- lature of Maine. Having gathered the import of this last docu- ment, Adele kissed her brother with grateful tears in hereyes. Here was one point, at least, cleared up. Then she set to work to read the letter eager- ly. But she had read scarcely a page when she cried: ‘*Oh, Bertie! you are innocent! I knew it! I knewit! Oh, I should never have entertained a moment of doubt, if you had not seemed to confess it yourself! And even then I could not bring m to see how it could be possible. Ob, niy darling!” And casting herself on her kneés at the bed- side, she fell to sobbing and kissing his hand. “But why did you not tell us?’ she asked. “All this suffering might have been pre vented,” He shook his head. ‘* Who would have believed me in the face of the brand of the law. No, there is no use, When I am dead perhaps she will to make herself believe my innocence; and it may be po oe eee “* But our mother ear; and father believed you; and I balieve ou!” vies “Tt would have been hard, ind if my own mother had refused to believe me. As for your father, I think his love for our mother must have induced him to make large concessions, even at variance with his judgment. I can never ba sufficientl teful to him for his kindness. My own father could not have done more, ‘* But I, Bertie! There is nothing to indu me to believe you but my knowledge of your uprightness of character. And I believe you imp citly,” . by you = m uta sates Adele,’ And on’t you see? you have taken my bare word, without having weighed the evidence” “ But she is your wife! Is she not as near to ou as I? And has she not known you intimate- y for over a year?” gain he shook his head. “Every one has not your trusting nature,” he said. “‘‘ Even when you believed me guilty, you did not turn from me,” “No, no, I never really believed you guilty Bertie. I always knew that somehow it couldn't be, in spite of everything.” ‘That is the difference of nature, love. You have no pride—only your gentle, clinging At this moment a gee d entered, sia “What! talkin e 8a stepping c forward to feel his patient’s pulse, ‘ This will Now } are never do. You have worked yourself into a - fever. “It matters little, doctor. It was business that must be attended to before I had lost the power,” : : “ Business be—neglected!” said the doctor, checking himself in time. “ I'm afraid I shall * MAT to get you a more discreet nurse.” “ 0. eyes sparkling like diamonds. ** Doctor, how long will he sleep?” she asked, later, when the physician was about to take his depar ic Three or four hours—perhaps five.” Ten minutes later Adele was in a driving like the wind toward Riverside! CHAPTER XXIX. PRIDE AND LOVE. Wirn palpitating heart Adele found herself once more in the carriageway leading up to the mansion house of Riverside. When she alighted and ascended the steps of the veranda, her limbs trembled under her go that she could scarcely support herself. be maid who answered the bell hardly re- pressed 4 scream. “*Fore de Lo’d! Missy Adele!” ‘Is Mrs. Stanhope in her room?” asked Adele, hurriedly, ** Yes, missy.” ‘Say nothing to any one about my being here. I can find my way alone,” She slipped a piece of money into the girl's hand, and ran up the staircase and along the corridor until she reached Siby!’s door, “Come!” said a faint voice, in answer to her ock. She opened the door, glided in, and closed i¢ behind her. A creature pitifully wan and woebegone re- clined in an inyalid-chair, looking the wreck of our blooming Sibyl. Her eyes were red with | constant weeping, and ber face was drawn with pain. On the bed, within reach of her hand, lay her infant, peacefully sleeping. At sight of Adele the stricken wife started - with a faint ery, but immediately sunk back, al- most fainting. Adele glided up to her, cast herself on her knees on an ottoman at her feet, and clasped the quivering, panting form in her arms. “Oh! my poor darling!” she cooed. And the other could only put her weak arms about the neck of his sister, and clasp her close, Prcmeptiy ae hispered she w : “How he?” pe rn Bie Rit My she trembled like an aspen while waiting for the answer, Adele drew her head back, so that she could look into the face of her sister-in-law. tears sprung to her eyes, and her bosom with a tremulous halt-scb, half-sigh. eve ? Can-you forgive ” The color dee in Sibyl’s face, her eyes drove the'tears her nostrils “He is your husband.” “He is a felon!”—with a shudder. “Tho father of your child.” “He is branded with infamy! May God for- give him for leaving such a heritage to my child —I cannot!” Prinscn a “omy Rac net hand 4 TES deepiee n the ace Wra: C) child. For days mA weeks he 2} months she had wrought, jealous that any hand but hers should fashion those delicate fabrics; and with every stitch was interwoven a dream for the future. Alas! how all had been blasted! And now she zed at him as if somehow she had wronged m by giving him birth. ‘Adele iow | at her in wonder and Her gentle nature could not conceive how pride ee See love. She could forgive Felix an | ut then there arose before her imagination the picture of her brother erin and ting with the bullet of his aba A odged in his breast, And she shuddered, At any rate, she could forgive him any injury to herself. “ But 1 love him! Oh, I do love him!” cried Sibyl, turning again, ‘ And you have come to tel] me something—I know youhave. Did he— did he send you—to—” "ll not offend again,” said Adele, her - mone 4
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mas.se0 the letters for my tears. 22 “ No!” said Adele, shortly. “He has no idea that I am here.” She yn tear the hardness that could stand out Egbe All the hope died out of the wife’s eyes. With a. sob she sunk back and covered her face with her hands, , bf eg aa ia pe a ite — him et,” she said, wi e petulance of keen pain, z How has he borne itr “He is dying for the loss of his wife and child!” said Adele, abruptly. She was not loth to make this proud wife suf- fer some. = Sibyl started and withdrew her hands from her face. But she recovered herself, and said: “Men do not die of heartache.” ‘* Have they not told you?” asked Adele, “Of what?” “ Of the duel.” * A duel!” “ Certainly.” ° “ When?” “Day before yesterday.” * And with whom’”” Sibyl sat erect now, and was clinging to | Adele and hanging upon her words with piteous rror, “ With Felix.” “Oh, Heaven!” The distracted wife cast aside the shawls in which she was wrapped, and rose to her feet. “And he is wounded!—dying! Take me to him at once! Oh, Egbert! my husband! my darling husband! that I should bave turned from you! Oh, if he should die before I can get to him and tell him how I do love him, and ask | forgery! ELEGANT EGBERT. CHAPTER XXX. A LIFE-WRONG. Anp here is what Adele read for the second | Ch “My LOVED THOUGH INJURED WIFE: ‘* Let me begin by asking your forgiveness for having brought you within the baleful shadow | of my life; and when I am dead, and you pass | in review the love I gave you during our one short year of happiness, if you believe what is written here, I know you not withhold your 2 A go “For the follies of my youth I have but one excuse—I was denied a father’s care; and though I loved my mother tenderly, I rebelled against being ‘ tied to her apron-string,’ so that her counsels had not the weight with me that their wisdom deserved. “Looking upon pleasure as the end of living, my companions were selected from among what is known as ‘fast’ young men. At seventeen years of age I drank liquor and smoked tobacco with the freedom of a man, and even gambled onasmall scale. That I should contract debts was but a part of the life I was leading; but I always meant to pay them. ‘‘ With this record I fell under the charge of My life pave the motive, and a pack- age of the money I had received from the bank was found on my person, ‘* Tt was hopeless to try to convince the world that I was not guilty; but, Sibyl, my wife! will | you believe me when I declare, by our sad love his forgiveness! Shall we be in time? Help me, Adele! was lying over the back of a chair, Now Adele’s face oo with happiness. A | rippling murmur of delight and love issued from | her lips. With a light step she followed her sis- | ter-in-law and clasped her in her arms. ; ‘Wait, dear,” she said. ‘“‘ There is no h 7.) ‘You cannot see him for two or three hours. He | is sleeping. Ihave much to show you and say < you before you go. Sit down again, my love. Tenderly she conducted her back, and Sibyl sunk. almost exhausted in the chair. “Take this wine,” urged Adele, holding the glass to her lips. Sibyl drank, and said: “Oh, that my brother should seek his life!” “Hush, dearf don’t think of that,” said Adele, her face blanching with pain at the recollection. Then .she told Sibyl all about the duel, and about Egbert’s eondition—how he was dying because he had no hope, and no wish to live. And the young wife listened with tears and murmurings of self-reproach, ‘And now, dear,” concluded Adele, “ when he expected to go out to death he wrote an ac- count of his life for you. It was not to be iven to you until he was dead; and even now e does not know that you will see it. ButT haye come.to you on my own responsibility. “Sibyl, can you believe that he might be tried, convicted and branded as a felon and yet be innocent?” ' “Jnnocent!” repeated the wife. “Yes... Think of the ble wrong, if a man with a high sense of honor should have his | a charge | life blasted at the very outset by such She tottered across the room to where a dress | as forgery—if he should be branded in the palm | for a crime of which he was. no more guilty than you or Ii ..And then suppose that his own wife should side with. the cruel, unjust world, and 7 him off!” nse x : ‘ears were streaming from the speaker’s eyes, and her voice was broken, by sobs. ** Adele, is he innocent?—does he say so?” ask- ed Sibyl, clinging to. her in new distress and ““Yes, Sibyl. All his life has been a great wrong. Oh, dear, you must believe him! It is the same as his dying testament; because it is the last he expected to say to you in life. Here itis. Read it, dear, ata: mercifully!” Sibyl took the package, and turned away from Adele, so as to bring the envelope between the pillow and her face. With her lips resting nst it she struggled with the hope and fear and remorseful love that overwhelmed her. “Oh, my darling!” she murmured, “can you ever forgive me, if I have. wronged you so oT ening after a time, she handed the pack urning a e e cka back to Adele, ? eee “ Read it to me, my sister,” ae said. **T could and by the memory of my dead mother, that I was innocent? I did not indorse the check, and I did not Lar sigtrigs & receive one penny of the money got on it. Sibyl, you will read these words when I am dead. by my hope of heaven and final justification before you, they are true! The check was given tome by Paul Harney, al- ready indorsed; I collected the money on it, and gave it to him—every cent! How the package of money afterward found in my pocket came there, [do not know, It must have been put there while I was intoxicated by some person in league with Paul Harney, for the express pur- pose of fixing the forgery upon me. “ Sibyl, do not think me a drunkard. I was not. at was the only time in my life that I ever lost self-mastery; and I belieye that then I was drugged. “In the excitement of the time I could only reiterate my innocence; but since then I have had orenty, years for reflection; and I now be- lieve that I was betrayed by one whom I then considered a friend—John Boardman! I was with him all the evening. He had the best op- prbopeA to put the money in my pocket, or etect any one else in the act of doing so. ‘« But all this is now to no purpose, The past is dead and buried. “Tn my prison my mother visited me, in com- pany with the man she afterward married, Col. gzbert Stanhope, Adele’s father. Almost crazed with a sense of utter helplessness under monstrous injustice, I threw myself upon my knees before them, and assured them of my in- | nocence again and again by every sacred pledge | I could think of. “‘ My mother belicved me, Had she doubted me then, I believe I would have committed sui- cide, if I had had to starve myself to death by refusin _ wy or * As for Col. ieee gg th he doubted my in- nocence, he dissembled his feelings, His love . for my mother, which was extraordinary, may have led him to do that. Certainly he would have lost her as his wife had he acted otherwise than as he did. “From whatever motive, he espoused my cause; anda father could not have done more for me than he did. But all proved of no avail. J was tried and condemmed, and had sentence executed upon me—two years’ imprisonment | and branding in the palm! “Under her trouble my mother was com- . picvely present For my sake she would have | eferred her marriage, as if I had died. But I | knew that she needed the care that only he could give her, and added my solicitations to his, so that her scruples were overcome; and I believe | that the preservation of her life was due to the | tenderness with which he watched over her. “While I was in prison my mother visited | me for an hour every day. saved me from ) “When my term was ired Col. meethepe removed tothe North with his-wife and child Adele, then a year old, and ‘myself. By act of the Legislature of the Btate of Maine, he gave me his name. I shall never forget my mother’s titude!” ‘* My mother’s ver | tenderness to me was a constant reminder of the cloud that had fallen | for this w | strong in her | that he has suffered, | life to me!” upon my life; and I was seized with a morbid dread of every one who knew of the indelibie brand in my . I longed to be alone among strangers. Seeing that I was sinkin into a brooding monomania, she finally yield to my incessant entreaties, and gave her consent to my going abroad. “For six years I wandered in a vast desert of humanity, never a a familiar face. I dared not make friends, lest they should learn the story of that brand of ignominy that burned like a quenchless firein my palm. As for love, how could I drag the woman I loved down to— Ob, God! Sibyl, my wronged wife! to the fate I bave given you! “* After six years the man to whose generosity I owed'so much died; and I was called. home te console my widowed mother. She placed my sister Adele in my arms, and followed the mam who had become necessary to her existence, “*T cannot tell you what a boon to my achin heart was the gentle, loving child of seven. loved her and still love her second only to you. I dedicated my life to her, nor cared for the love of any other woman until I met you. “Then, my wife, came the keenest agony and the greatest joy of my wretched life. You know the circumstances that brought us to- gether. Had I been alone, I might bave torn myself away; but I saw that my sister was at- tracted by your brother, and he by her. This, together with the overpowering love I con- ceived for you at first sight, led me to tempo- rize, and temporizing I became lost. “My strange behavior when Felix proposed for my sister’s hand was not, as you interpreted it at the time, chiefly due to pain at losing her, though I confess my heart turned sick with a sense of loss. But in my absorbing passion for ou I had forgotten all about her possible love or Felix. It burst upon me a complete sur- prise, and with it came the thought that, after their marriage, the secret of my life might be discovered, and Felix in his pride might turn against me and perhaps treat her coldly, when he would break her heart. ‘*¥or the first time I saw that my life might prove @ curse to her. Then, too, how could I be related to you, and meet you, as would be ur- avoidable, without telling my love? The two women whom I loved could reap only misery from association with me! “Sibyl, when you came to me that night— when I saw in your face that you loved me, I became intoxicated with delight, and cast every scruple behind me, I swore then to possess you at any and every hazard. My secret might never be discovered, and if it was, your love might triumph over everything else, and we ee be happy in each other, in spite of the world, “Up to that time I was not sure whether or not John Boardman recognized me, though it was a constant dread. When he denounced me I was paralyzed, But you asked me to let my life be my vindication, and then I deceived your brother. “This statement cannot alter the world’s ver- dict, but I write it in the hope that you wil} receive it into your heart, and that the belief that I do not merit your contempt may make your sorrow less hard to bear. ** Oh, my injured wife! now that I am dead— ll come to you as a voice trom the grave—can you believe me#—can you forgive me?. Think of the’year that you have lain next to my heart! If I were infamous, would no word or lcok have betrayed me?—could ‘I have deceived you so completely ?—” But here the reader was interrupted. “No! nol” cried Sibyl, rising to ber feet, now eat love. “I have heard enough. Let us go'to him at once. Oh! if a life of w- tiring devotion can coe him in part for all pray God to spare his CHAPTER XXXII. “YoU ARE NO LONGER A CORNISH!” A GRAND light was in the young wife’s face she rose to her feet, It was auswered by a look of gladness and love in Adele’s speaking countenance, “ Are pape strong euough, dear?’ she asked, seeking to support her. “Strong!” echoed Sibyl, “I shall never know weakness egain until I have fallen at his feet and craved his forgiveness for that other weakness of faith in the eternal constancy of soul. Why could I not see that such a nature as his was incapable of such a crime? Oh, Adele! what a moment it must have been when I a last drop of bitterness to his cup of wrong a!
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~ tob “There! there! dear, you will make it all up im. “He wanted to die to relieve me of his pre- gence!” sobbed Sibyl. ‘But when he sees you and knows that you trust him and love him still, he will be eager to live, Sibyl; the scorn of, all the world will weigh nothing with him, if only he, believe in him,” was the gentle assurance of Adele, « Bless you, my sweet comforter!” murmured Sibyl, kissing her sister. ‘But he shall not have the scorn of the world. There must be some way of establishing his innocence, and our love must find it.” ‘ “Tam with you! Oh!ifit could be brought about!” ‘‘Jt can and shall!” So they talked, while Sibyl was arraying her- self to go to her husband. When she was ready she rung the bell for her maid. ‘“Where is my mother?’ she asked, “Tn her room.” +‘ And Mr. Cornish and M. Bourdoine?”’ “ Smokin’ in de library.” ; “Dell tay mother»that I wish to see her at onée inthe library. Then get yourself and the baby ready to go-out.” “Yes, missus.” } “What are you going to do?” asked Adele, when the girl was gone. She had turned pale at the prospect of meet- ing Felix. “TJ shall tell them of my husband’s inno- cence, and that from this moment 1 cast my lot with him.” a Os ay ‘* But they will not believe in him,” “That can make no difference with my duty, or ir? i Dear, you have more strength than I.” “J only hope that it is not found too late,” said Siby!, struggling with a sob, Thé maid reappeared, ‘“‘ Has my mother gone to the library?” asked Sibyl. ‘Yes, missus.” Come, Adele, let us go down.” “Oh! must I go?” The girl turned pale, and hung back trem- bling. “ Fon will not wm me your su rt?” asked: Biby smiling faintly—‘‘ both physical and ul, dear, Without more ado Adele put her arms about her sister-in-law, and toge they descended to the library. dio Mbeany acid poe On enterin e libra seeing only her stn cand M Bourdoine, Mrs. Cornish had sed: “Tg not Sibyl here?’ “Sibyl!” repeated Felix. “What could she be doing here?” “ But she sent for me.” “‘T have seen nothing of her. I supposed that ghe vras unable to leave her room.” “So did I. ‘I Mend to see.” But as she opened the door Sibyl and. Adele approached along the hall. n blank amazement Mrs, Cornish fell back and let them enter the room, Then she assumed her most frigid hauteur. ‘Felix, what is the meaning of this?’ she asked, ‘‘ How did that person gain admittance to the house?” : Both Felix and M. Bourdoine started to their feet. Adete dared not raise her eyes from the floor, | Now she required support instead of rea- dering it, Felix stared, flushed scarlet, and then turned deadly pale, “Tt might be well to ask Sibyl; and also what is the meaning of her being dressed to out,” he suggested, struggling to control his c ba: rT am come to answer your questions, and more,” said Sibyl, standing erect and speaking in firm tones. : Instinctively she put her arm about Adele, knowing’ that she was being crushed by her lover’s coldness. “Felix Cornish,” she went on, “ how dared 11 attempt the life of my husband?” « Your husband!” sneered F bitterly. “Yes, my husband! Sir, you have made a ve mistake, for which i will not accord my forgiveness until you have shown sincere signs tance. ed me do you upbraid me for vindicating honor?” ve" My honor cannot be vindicated by mur- Ger!” - §ibyll do not talk nonsense,” interposed wy acing whst anv puns. Cornish. “ Your brother ee ORS ao ee ae B te ELEGANT EGBERT. gentleman would have done under the circum - stances; and if the affair had ended fatally to the base wretch whose imposture provoked it, he would have got no more than his deserts.” ‘ Mother,” said the girl, sadly, ‘‘I am pained to see you sovindictive. But T have come to say that instead of holding resentment against Egbert Stanhope, we have all reason to ask his pardon for having wronged tim.” ““Wronged him!” cried Felix. ; “Wronged him!” echoed Mrs. Cornish, dis- es me f . “ Parbleu! quest-ce que cela? (what now?)” muttered M. Bourdoine, “Yes,” replied ot "as only an innocent man can be wronged hy a false verdict and the desertion of all his friends.” ‘*Tnnocent!” again repeated Felix. “You had better say insolent!” cried Mrs. Cornish, implacably. ‘ Has: he sent this—this lady to delude you again with more lies?” ‘Mother, forbear!” said Sibyl, sternly. “Your disdain cannot affect Adele Stanhope. She has never done anything to forfeit the name ‘of lady in the fullest and highest sense of the d,” ‘ wor “For instance, by smuggling herself into a | house—” began Felix, bitterly; bué he stopped dead short. A pair of heavenly blue eyes, swimming in tears and filled with wondering.reproach, were raised to his face for a single instant, and drop- ped tothe floor again. Then the crystal tears trickled one by one down her wan cheeks, Felix took a single step forward and extended his,arms. . “ Adele, forgive me!” he cried, Again her eyes went to his faca, but witha frightened look, and she shrunk away from him, with a quickly-suppressed cry of appre- hension. His arms dropped to his side, and he stood rooted to the spot. “Felix, you are beside yourself!” cried his other. ‘¢ And an infernal fool to boot!” muttered the young man. “My busband thought that all the world was equally hard, and did not intend that the evi- dence of his innocence of the crime of which he was falsely convicted should reach me while he lived,” said Sibyl, now answering the mother’s uestion. “Evidently!” interru Mrs. Cornish, with a sneer, and a disdainful glance at Adele, “Tt is true, madam; as Felix can testify, if he will,” said Sibyl, with a hauteur not by her mother’s, ‘‘The man who was perba mortally wounded by your son, and yeé for- bore to fire at him, bas some slight claim upon you for courtesy, at least.” “He has his unfortunate p ition to fraud to thank for that state of facts,” said Felix. ‘*As he went so far as to’ fire in my di- rection, how could I know that he was not rq at me?’ : The fact tensed that he was willing to give on your bloodthirsty satisfaction without aring you ng malice. Bu ™m we are losing time. Here is legal proof of his right to the name he bear = also what was intended to be his dying testament to his innocence of crime,” And she laid the papers on the table before aeelie einneed t them. anced a " What more is Yece bss his bare assertion of his i e?” a elix. “Nothing. But is not that sufficient?” “ Hardly |” surpassed ps | 23 “T am zving to that wronged man atd ont raged hus and on my Enees beg him te take me back to the place I have forfeited?” “Sibyl, stop!” said Felix. “ You are not heya to chap aes rams gue in the world wo you a divo m a marriage procufed By such fraud.” “A divorce!” she cried, drawing herself up with blazing eyes and quivering nostrils. “ Fe- lix Cornish, you must have strangely misunder- stood me!” “ And do you persist in returning to him?” ** Return to him!—return to the father of m | child!” She choked with emotion. Tears. sprung te | hereyes. Her face was irradiated with a love that transfigured it, ‘* Shall you go to him?” urged Felix. “ Yes!” she cried, “as I would seck Heaven!” “Then you are no longer a Cornish!” cried Felix, white with fury. ‘‘We have no forgers among us, nor wives of forgers!” *T atleast have ason!” said Mrs. Cornish, “ Until now I thought I had a daughter!” ‘¢ Mother!” cried Sibyl,.with terror in -her eyes. ‘Can you turn from me?’ She went. toward her parent with extended arms, but the proud. woman avoided her by go- iug to the other side of the table. **Do not touch me!” she cried, who are leaving us,” ‘ Without a word Felix turned his back upon er. For a moment Sibyl gazed upon her relatives in hurt amazement. : ‘Be it sol” she said, finally,.in a choking voice. ‘Come, my sister, let us 50 “Stop! stop!” cried Adele, etaining her, “Oh! they cannot cast you off like this!” “Tt is you ‘* Have not you heard?” replied the discarded daughter. ** Come! we have wasted too much time. “Felixt oh, Felix!” cried Adele, breaking through all reserve. : He never moved. His broad back was piti- ess. “There! have you had aang ea said Sibyl, almost fiercely; and catehing the weaker wo- man by the arm she fairly dragged her toward the door. But there came an interruption from an una expected source. CHAPTER XXXIt. REUNITED! “Yorn momment!” cried. the Frenchman, stepping forward. “ From ze time my little pu- pil say to me-—-‘ Je vous aime (I love you), papa faplsine tet have for her ze love paicrual. Allons done! if she go to ze man yich is vone rogue, so moche more she need ze friendship desinteresse (disinterested.) If Madame Stan- hope vill accept ze fealty hunble—” ae shrugging his shoulders and turning the palms of bis hands toward her, he awaited her decision. Sibyl turned, greatly touched. “M. Bourdoine,” she said, ‘‘ may F still couns on your friendship?” Madame,” said. the Frenchman, tragically, “tree day ago I am ze deadly foe of ve man zat I tink have offer ze affront pnpardonable to my beloved pupil. Tick! tick! tick!—t’ree day” —holding up three, fingers; ‘‘ my pupil say © he is innocent]. Allons/, M. Bourdoine is her friend; he say, too, ‘ he is innocent!’” With.grateful tears Sibyl clasped. the hand of her honest friend. “ Will you come with us?” she asked. “ Certainement |” “Does the expectation of death give it nose | And epening the door, he stood bowing tor lemnity?”’ - “ frequently testify to lies on their death- bed to clear their character.” “But his character as we know it?” urged Sibyl. Weighs nothing in evidence against the commission of a particular crime twenty years | ago, A man is not necessarily bad in every ' | ' thing who yields to strong temptation in one | thing. I have seen the evidence that he did commit this forgery; and he has absolutely nothing to oppose to it but bis bare denial.” “That is ample for me!” declared the wife, proudly. What do you purpose to do?’ asked Felix. “To return to my wronged husband, to whom the Indies to-pass A moment Sibyl hesitated on the threshold. Neither of the remaining tenants of the room showed any signs of relenting. Blinded by tears, the unhappy woman went ont, and the door closed between her and her kindred. When they were really gone, Mrs. Cornish went into violent hysterics. Felix summowed attendance, and then passed into the drawing- room, where, unobserved, he could look throu the curtains on the driveway. He saw his sister led to the carriage and as | sisted to enter. , Then Adele followed, trembling I can never sufficiently atone for my base de- | sertion at the very moment when he needed me most!” She was right royal in her self-denunciation. Adele worshiped her. ‘* What! go back to that branded felon?’ cried Mrs. Cornis perceptibly. The n with her little charg: and M. Boavdities took the front seat, = As the carriage rolled away, two white fa one near the glass and one further back, pee _ through, as if to take a last look at Riverside | : | mansion. Felix sunk into’# ebair and. covered bis face with his hands. ' Pride had held her sway, bu®- now love exacted terrible reprieak.
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As 2 eth Be ed the house where her hus- | 3 yl was seized by violent agitation, me take the baby first. that —— prostrated her. Clinging to Adele, — w ? “ Oh, if we should be too late!” “But we shall not be, dear,” was the gentle assurance. ‘Now you mustcalm Cureale Of course he cannot bear excitement, ‘a Dou be calm. for a moment, “T will Be to him first,” said Adele, ‘‘and pre- ™m, 7? 1 " But do not keep me waiting long. I cannot it, **No. Iwill not. Oh! dear, you will him new life. He will now surely get well. *God grant that he may!” They reached the house and were received by the farmer’s wife, who was much flurried at the influx of so much grand company. “Has my patient awakened?” asked Adele. ** He’s slep’ jest like a lamb, mum,” was the reply. While the trembling wife was conducted to an apartment where she could remove her wraps, Adele entered the sick-chamber. As if the rustle of her garments disturbed him, the invalid moved uneasily and then open- ed his eyes. ‘ Instantly she was at his side, reading his face eagerly. “Oh! dear, - ed sleep has done you so much good!” she sai She could not repress the great joy that filled her soul, It irradiated her face; it sparkled in — eyes; it thrilled through the cadences of her voice, “Have I slept long?’ asked the sick man. “* For over t hours, you darling!” “What is it, Ade? Why are you so flushed? Why do you speak so impulsively? And you have your wraps on—where have you been “ Oh! such a string of questions!” she cried. She could not keep her hands off him, but king his face between her two palms, bent down and kissed him, ‘First, lam flushed and speak impulsively because I am happy—there!” A thought of Felix flashed yr hon her mind, but she swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, fought back the tears that threatened to come, and smiled determinedly. vr Next, I have been outand— Now, will you be real good and hurry up and get well, if I tell you some news A look of despondency came into his face, and he was about to when she stopred him. speak “Tut! tut! not with such a face as that, From this time forth we are not going to have a sour look from you. We're going to leave the dumps and the megrims for who have no better tion.” Her w so unlike his sympathetic little sister, arrested his attention, as she intended they should. He looked puzzled. What was the meaning of this strange mood? “T have j Pee = you something—oh, so nice! something that you will like ever so much!” A quick flush came to his cheeks, and faded n, as bee a hope had sprung up and van- as y as realized. “ What is it, dear?” he asked. ‘Something warm!—and soft!—and pretty! —and that you love very much! It’s not bigger than that!’’—holding her hands about two feet a ‘and ee ten ds!” ng Bdelet” he , half , and catching ds. ‘Hush! she admonished, mews J him back tly. ‘You must not get excited. If you 5 Tl not tell you another word. As it is, I know I’m flying directly in the face of the doc- tor’s orders. “ Ade, don’t trifle with me!” “My darling, do you think I could be hap ‘ou had cause to be wretched?’ asked the girl, laying her cheek his with a sudden of tenderness. ‘‘Waitonemoment!” And she slipped out of the room, eieba te to lie with his hands over his eyes, striving to repress the wild bea of his heart. ‘Well! may I go to 7? was Sibyl’s eager salutation, as Adele entered the room where she was waiting. And trembling in every limb the young wife yee Bed if to set out at once. Adele caught in her arms and hugged her with all her might. “Oh, you love!” she cried. “It’s all right. You ought to have seen his face brighten at the first hin * And he will rally?” * He'll live to be a hundred!” “There! Let me go. God bless you, my dster ! if / ELEGANT EGBER‘T. *Not yet. Have patience a little while. Let She took the child from his nurse, “ The little angel is looking his best and his | now,” replied Egbert. brightest!” she said, kissing him pang ““Oh! donot keep me waiting!” pleaded Sibyl, with clasped hands. ‘‘Repress every trace of emotion,” directed Adele. ‘“ We're all going to be happy now, by a violent effort she held herself still you must look it.” ‘*T will!” promised Sibyl, pledging herself to an impossibility without a particle of hesitancy. bert lay with his eyes on the door when Adele entered. He caught his breath and turn- ed deathly pale, when he saw what she held in ve | her arms. 5 Adele glided forward and put the child on the “There! that is my Christmas present!” she said, The little one reached out its chubby hand, clutched its fingers in Egbert’s mus e, and crowed. The man kissed the hand, gathered the child to his heart and lay perfectly still, with closed eyes. Botween the lids oozed tears of gladness and gratitude. His cup of happiness was brin- ming over! Adele stood waiting, with cl: hands. Though she smiled, tears streamed from her eyes like rain, For perhapsa minute there was a dead silence save for the crowing suund occasionally uttered by the child. Then Egbert opened bis eyes. Reaching for his sister’s hand he drew it to his lips. ‘God bless you, my love!” he aspirated. “T can never pay you for this moment.” He paused a moment to command his voice, and then said: ‘Let her come now!” wae went out. Sibyl was waiting in the Mutely the girl pushed her into the room, and closed the door. The husband and wife were reunited! CHAPTER XXXIIL A NOBLE MISSION, THe young wife had returned. A moment she stood motionless at the door, as if awaiting for assurance of her reception. A faint voice came to her from the call- ing: % Sibyl, my wife!” Like a shadow she sped across the interven- . space and dropped on her knees at the bed- e, Her arms were about him, His arms held her in a feeble embrace. Their lips met. Their child lay between them, within their encircling arms. All their world was at this focal point. **My darling, I am forgiven?” he asked, faintly. “No!” she replied. ‘ Yours is not the need, But I!—I dare not ask you!” He smiled e s ae are quits, then. Let us put the past be- us. “Not altogether. See!” She drew hig hand round and kissed the gloved palm. He w “No!” she said. ‘* You must not feel hurt, Rather rejoice; for now there is nothing in all the world between us. We are soul to soul, or, better, soul within soul! This is a closer tie than we could otherwise have had. I love you now the more tenderly because you have need ot re tion for pod Sg pre ered.” y generous D e murmured, a ou know, my husband,” she said, “T ed hi one hand better than before I loved And she rested her cheek on it, as she nestled her head close to his on the pillow. Egbert was struck with the caress, ‘““My darling!’ he murmured, with tears iietngnd to his eyes, “you have touched me mother died rds tell. more than wo can ike that!” with her cheek resting on my A smile of ineffable happiness overspread the wife’s face. “Oh! Iam so glad that I_ unconsciously im- itated her tenderest caress! Now you will know that I love you as she did.” So they renewed their pledges of love, given a year ago and interrupted by the unvailing ©: the branded palm. But presently there was a gentle knock at the door, and Adele entered. “? have been very indulgent,” she said, smil- ing, ‘and you must .be very good in return. | hi f | to you and | of life~hope!” said : | My patient has had all the excitement he eam bear, until he has had another nap.” ‘Why, there’s not the matter with me ever in a few days.” about dying?’ asked Adele, love, I have now the panacea her brother. “ We owe everything'to you, dear. How can we thank you?’ said the now happy wife. “Take time to think about it,” said unselfish Adele, with a smile. ‘‘ Meanwhile—” And she drew the curtains and darkened the room, Then, holding his wife’s hand anaes in his, Egbert Stanhope sunk into a dream ess, peace- ful slumber, rom which he awoke “a new man. ‘* My dear sir,” was the doctor’s verdict, when he saw his clear eye and animated look, ‘we have found the medicine you most needed, From this time Ihave only to look on and see you get well without my aid.” On the succeeding day M, Bourdoine was ad- mitted to the sick-chamber. “ Zero can no longer be antagonism between us—at least on my side,” ho said, “‘ From ze de- termination of my pupil Icannotedemur. Her se is my enemy—her friend my friend. Note?” ps took the proffered hand cordially. *“*T could not withhold my friendship from ono who had proved so true to my wife, even if I felt personal hostility toward him, which I have never felt toward you,” he replied, and the temporary breach was repaired. Under the gentle ministrations of his fair nurses Egbert’s recuperation was rapid, Soon he was able to be removed to more commodious quarters in the city; but when he began to talk of returning to his Northern home, a family confab was called at once. “Egbert,” said his wife, “ Adele and I have been in consultation, and have conceived a scheme which may strike your man’s mind as “No more slyly. 6 I shall be as well as c~ impracticable, but, dear, nothing was ever ac- - com! without trying, and we want you to permit us to try.” “To try what?” asked Egbert, ‘* My husband,” said the wife, taking hishand - and gazing tenderly into his face, ‘‘ to our love for you the opinion of the world can make no difference; but, dear, for your sake we want to establish your innocence so that all will be com- pelled to pn men it.” ae shrunk and frowned with pain. “f right must be vindicated, Bertie!” urged Adele, co to his other side, and putting an arm around He shook his head sadl “ After twenty years?” be asked, “All that love and money could do was done when the events were fresh. What can R aoe accomplish now, when e thing is forgotten?” “But accident may favor us,” urged Sibyl; * or the perpetrators of thecrime, now being off their , May give us the clew. Stranger things have happened, And, my husband, for the sake of our child let us make one effort! If we fail we have nothing to lose; and if we Oh, Egbert!” And she sunk weeping on his breast, “Tf we win |” The words rung in Adele’s ears. If they won stm 5 would between her and elix She had not a particle of that selfish vindio- tiveness which people call pride. As for any injury or slight to herself, she would have for- it all and leaped into Felix’s arms at the t ray ach contrition on his part. But before her recollection rose a picture of a smoking weapon in Felix’s hand her broth- er fi to the ground to welter in his own blood; and it was as if a hand of ice were laid on her heart. That stood between them; and the vindication of Egbert could not wash the stainof blood from Felix’s hand! Overcome by a deadly faintness, she mur- mured some unintelligible excuse, and hastened from the room, ‘‘ Egbert,” said his wife, when they were alone, “have you noticed bow thin and wan Adele is getting?” ' vm fas confined herself too closely in “Yes. She nursing me.” “ Tt is not that, As long as your injuries were critical, her anxiety for you took her thoughts from her own sorrow. But now she is pining for Felix.” Egbert’s face saddened. ‘That is the one cloud on my bap " he said, ‘ But she has not utte a word of come Ae 3 TEP ey caper ray kt Lh 3 ty Ne “hipaa 4 Tre Wt, " ¥ BT ens
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a? , and she always seems cheerful, so that I oped she was becoming reconciled, if indeed his treatanent of her had not killed ber love,” “Egbert, she has the bravest and most un- selfish heart that ever was, She would die. be- fore soe would damp our happiness with her ‘sorrow. And nothing that Felix could do to her would lessen her love for him. For the rest, she ‘weeps when she has retired, so that she will not have to meet us before morning, and in her sleep she moans piteously.” “What can be done” asked Egbert. “Do you not see? If the cause of Felix’s hos- tility to you is removed, there will be nothing to keep them apart. She will be only too glad to forgive him everything. And Felix loves her—you who have not seen his inner nature cannot know how well.” **Tt is so hopeless a task,” “But you will let us try?” «J will put no impediment in your way.” “Ob, thank you! We shall succeed. We must succeed! And if we bring Felixand Adele together, it will be some return for the happi- ness we owe to her.” So these two women set out on their mission, the one hoping in part to pay a debt of grati- tude, knowing nothing of the other barrier which would be yet unsurmounted, and the other accepting in silence her hard fate and de. voting herself unselfishly to those she loved, Would their labors be rewarded? CHAPTER XXXIV. JAMES VESEY, DETECTIVE. Tee foregoing caption appeared on the door- yst of a certain hallway, on a business street in Kew Orleans, and again on a door in the second story of the building. : It was read with mingled feelings of hope and misgiving by three persons, who, having read it, entered the room. Within they found a very small boy seated on a very high stoo], who motioned them to seats with a wave of his hand, and told them that Mr. Vesey was busy at present, but would give them audience shortly. In an inner room stood a man of perhaps thirty, before a contrivance in the. wall by which he could look into the outer office, with- out himself being seen. He seemed very much struck by the beauty of the two ladies who had called upon him. One jercing glance at the gentleman escorting hem satisfied him in that direction, and he re- turned to the more congenial occupation of con- trasting the rival types of feminine loveliness— a pure blonde and a glowing brunette. — After an interval of perhaps ten minutes he seated himself at a desk and struck a bell. The small boy Fee down off the stool opened the door of communication, and waited for the ladies and their escort to enter. Mr. Vesey was easy folding a sheet of legal- cap paper. -As he s pred it into a pigeon-hole in his desk, he rose and received his visitors with marked eourtesy. While Sibyl Stanhope told her story Mr. Vesey listened mutely, taking notes. “That, sir,” said the lady in conclusion, * is the narrative. I have suppressed the names, since if you do not undertake the case, it will do you no good to know them. Now, assumin that the man is innocent, is there any chance o establishing the fact before the law?” M. Bourdoine nodded his head repeatedly in approval of Sibyl’s statement of the case, while his face glowed with admiration of his pupil, Adele gazed at the detective, as if he were the oracle of Egbert’s fate. Before giving his decision the detective eom- pressed lips reflectively, and went over his ‘notes, “There has been an interval of nineteen ears!” he said, indicating by dragging the syl- ables that nineteen years was a long time, ‘Yes,’ said Sibyl, and both ber heart and Adele’s went down to zero. “The clerk, whom we assume to be the real forger, or at least the prime mover in the mat- ter, if his hand did not really exccute the false signature, is alive and a partner in the business, the senior partner having died.” “ Yes,” “The young man whom we assume to have been a possible accomplice—Ah! is he stil] liv- ing?” *Yes.” “ His occupation?” “ He is a professional gambler.” “Ah! In the city!” » “I do not know where he is,” “ Last seen?” “In Memphis.” —« ELEGANT: EGBERT. * How long since?” “Three months.” “*He might be found somewhere on the river, I reckon.” “T think that he pursues his calling on the boats between St. Louis and New Orleans.” : ae messenger boy is still living” Siby!’s heart rose in her throat, as she thought how near he bad been to death. ‘Ts he accessible?” “Tf necessary.” ** You suspect no one else of complicity in the affair, or of knowledge of it in any way?’ +. No The detective tapped his desk with his pen- holder, and thought. liis visitors hung in breathless suspense. Presentiy he looked up and fixed his eyes on Biby!’s face, ““Madam,” he said, “you must not be too sanguine of success.” ‘Weare not,” said SibyL “Nineteen years ago is a very long time.” *T crant it,” * And much of the evidence that might have existed then may now be hopelessly destroyed.” ‘* We have considered that.” : “Tf you were seeking to recover money,” pur- | sued the detective, ‘I should call it the poorest ef poor investments. But reputation is another Quine. People sre not always disposed to limit is value by a fixed sum. However, I feel it my duty to say to you that unless you can af- ford to throw away hundreds, and perhaps thousands of dollars, without advancing one step toward the attainment of your object, you had better not embark in this undertaking.’ “Money is no object to us. We shal! not count the cost. All we desire is the knowledge that everything has boen done that can be done to accomplish the end.” ‘* After spending ten thousand dollars anda year of time, I warn you, you may stand just where you do to-day.” ‘‘Oh! is itso hopeless as that?” sighed Adele, “That is the dark side of the picture,” said Sibyl, firmly. “Yes,” admitted the detective, “ Now what is there on the affirmative?” *T overlooked one question. Is the clerk, now a member of the firm, rich?’ *T do not know.” “At any rate, the business must have been 8 ba he to involve a check of that amount.” “ Cs. “Well, assuming that the clerk had an ac- complice or accomplices, they may not have been so successful in a money point of view as he, Upon assurance of immunity frem the law, thay might be induced, in consideration of a few bundreds or thousands of dollars, accord- ing to their estimate of their own reputation, to turn State’s evidence in an arraignment of the clerk f6r conspiracy.” “Tf such a person can be found, you may romise hima Lasess thousand dollars!” said ibyl, flushing with excitement, a detective smiled and elevated his brows slightly. f There is one drawback to this course,” hoe said. ‘It would look as if we were bribing a scoundrel to perjure himself. As the man at- tacked isof high reputation, there would have to be strong corroborative evidence to support the oath of our witness, which we may safely assume does not exist.” Sibyl turned pale. dashed to the ground. “This gambler’s oath, for instance, unsup- ported, would count for nothing against that of a respectable business man.” “Tn any event, money would not induce bim to testify in favor of the man he wronged,” said Sibyl, unconsciously assuming that ack was peoiy guilty. “The chances are, then, one step more re-. moved.” ‘* Ts there no other course?” “ec One. ” “* And that is?” “This year: clerk might be watched, I% is among the soestnees that, in his prosperity, he may have been paying ‘ hush-money ’ to some one. If this can be established, together with plausible evidence of the conspiracy, we may make something outofit.” . “Mr, Vesey,” said Sibyl, “begin the surveil- lance you suggest to-day!” The question of remuneration was then dis- patched, and when Mr. James Vesey bowed his trons out of a door other than that by which per had entered (an innocent business trick by which the detective was enabled “busy ” when called upon) he was radiant Her brief “hopes were wr tebe alg | | | 2 affability, and the first step had been taken te- ward establishing Egbert Stanhope’s innocence of crime. CHAPTER XXXV. M.. BOURDOINE TAKES THE DETECTIVE FEVER. DETECTIVE VESEY at once entered upon the task of *‘ piping” Pau] Harney, He found that | he lived in grand style and supported an extra- vagant family. He had no difficulty in gaining an opportn- nity to study the man himself. He noted the furtive restlessness of the eye, the haggard lool of one whose rest was broken, snd a predisposi- tion to neryous trepidation which might mark one who was 4 prey to corroding care. Having struck up an acquaintance with the broker’s clerk, Vesey learned that Mr. Harney bad been ailing of late. carly in December—in fact, beginn:=g on the first or second of the month—a spell of indisposition had confined him to his house for a week or ten days, and he had not seemed right well since. Wext James Vesey had aspyin the very cits del, in the person of a household servant. From this source he learned that the cotton- broker not unfrequently occupied his library until far into the night, when an ear at the key- hole might hear him pacing incessantly up an@ down, muttering to himself and moaning as if in great distress. Lastly, the detective had Paul Harney under personal surveillance, from the time he left his pelatial home in the morning until be had re- turned to i‘ for the night. , For six weeks he discovered absolutely nothe ng. The suspense told upon Sibyl in an unwonted | pallor of the cheek and, when she was not dis- | Sembling lightness of spirits in Egbert’s pres- | ence, in an air of waiting, ever waiting. Putting her own trouble aside, Adele de- voted herself to the task of cheering the sorely- tried wife. M. Bourdoine was extravagant in his im- patience, called the detective and bis assistants dullards, end finally worked himself up to such ® pitch, between his anxiety for bis pupil and hig own impatience of delay, that he set bimself to watch Paul Harney. “Sibyl,” said her husband, when one day she returned to him with an unusual depression of spirits, ‘‘ give up this vain pursuit.” ~ Why, we have but begun, dear,” she re- plied, smiling with an effort. ‘‘ But you are being worn out by anxiety.” “My busband,” replied the loyal wife, “ when ort pig suffered twenty years, can notI watch one “ But the longer you cling to hope, the more bitter will be the inevitable disappointment. “We are not prepared to concede that disap- pointment is inevitable, you know.” “My darling, I cannot have your health u- dermined. Letus go away from here, where your anxiety will not be so constantly on the strain. The detectives can work just as well without our immediate presence.” ; “Not yet, Egbert.. t me have my own way yet a little longer, my. over-solicitous friend!” urged Sibyl, with an assumption of lightness that was pathetid, is was so veined with sadness. The next day she had her reward. M. Bourdoine rushed into her presence as wild with excitement as if he had just discovered & gold mine. ** Ah! grace a ciel! (heaven be praised!)” he cried, catching ber bands and kissing them, ‘* ze eye of love shall discern in ze darkness—ze | importunity of leve shall prevail against ze ces- tiny implacable! My pupil, I salute your handf Monsieur,” turning to Egbert, “ Tembrace you vis ze congratulation heartfelt!” Sibyl and Adele instantly took the infectiow of excitement. pen nauere could not prevent the coler from receding from his face. “Oh, what is it, dear friend?” asked Adele, ‘Tam just from ge prince of detective, M. Vesey !” “Yes! yes! And what has he discovered?” ‘* Ze voman |” M.*Bourdoine laughed at their puzzled looks. “Bh Vien! is note ze voman at ze bottom of all mischief?” he cried. “Yes; but what of this woman?” asked Ade willing to concede the argument in general, i ef e could get at the facts in particular, _M. Bourdoine assumed his most melodramatte a “he went the
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26 oy tof yesterday, on a vacation of two weeks.’ ‘“Good! Ze arch-conspirator is alone. in his private office—alone vis ze conscience trouble- some. He paceto and fro. He frown. He pull wis mustache. ‘*Visout, ze detective vatch vis oe ~ eye.” “ Well, a woman came to the office?” ‘* Ze voman!” cried M. Bourdoine, with an air great pryetery, and then carried on a dia- e with himself to this effect: ‘Is she on foot?’ *‘At ze door--yes. But behold! around ze corner she have just step from a carriage! ‘She is note meanly note in ze carriage. “Eh bien! she is ze fashion-plate embodi- ment! ** Beautiful? “ Parbleu! how shall vone know? Ze vail envious hide her face like ze mask, Allons! nous avons un mystere! (Come, here is a mys- tery !) “And the woman entered the office?” asked Adele, fretting at M. Bourdoine’s dramatic nar- rative. ‘* Enter, and is closeted, five—ten—fifteen— twenty minute vis ze arch-conspirator!” of Jo M. Bourdoine paused to let this announcement | have its full effect. ‘* Well?’ urged Adele ‘* Ze detective get ze carriage and station eet at ze little distance. Zen he lie in vait. ‘Ze Vomman comes fort’! “ Voila! her step is a stride, her carriage is erect, like vone who is elate. She pass near ze detective. She pant, like vone who have triumph. She is flushed. Her eyes sparkle ¢’rough her vail. ‘¢ She enter her carriage. Ze detective enter his. “ « Keep zat onstine in sight,’ is his order. “«¢Monsieur, eet shall be done,’ replies ze driver. : “As gey go, ge detective change his dis- guise. “Za carriage stop. Madame have enter ze bank! Eh bien! has she vone deposit to make?” : Again M. Bourdoine paused. “Go on! go on!” urged Adele, “Zo detective enter ze bank. Vile madame deposit five hundred dollar—attend!—five hun- dred dollar |—he get change for five dollar and ss out. ““Vonce more he follow her to her place of abode!” “ All this may be consistent with the lady’s 4nnocence of blackmail, which seems to be your inference,” observed Egbert. “ Hold vone moment! Ze detective goes back, Behold, M. Harney appear livid vis ze pallor of ve ghost. His knees tremble, He have ze as- pect of terror, He enter ze carriage vich ze messenger boy have summoned, and drive home two hours before his usual time! “ Allons, mon ami! quest ce que c'est que cela? (Come, my friend, what is the signifi- eance of all this?) “ My dear,” said Egbert, taking his trembling wife in his arms, ‘ do not build too much hope upon this, It is most likely delusive.” She made no reply. She only rested in his arms, with her face hidden in his breast. For a week detective Vesey “ piped ” Paul Harney’s lady visitor. The information gained may be condensed in the following SUMMARY: 1. Name—Mdme, Angelice. 2. Nativity—French. 8, Style of’ living—Good to elegant. 4. Means of support—None visible. M. Bourdoine’s detective fever left him no gest, though it must be confessed that his methods lacked system. If he had accomplished results commensurate with the zeal and ener; displayed, he vould have left nothing for the professional detective. On the evening of the day one week subse- quent to the strange lady’s visit to Paul Har- ney, the Frenchman was erasing fescue the streets when a woman dressed dark gray wate f cloak came down a cross street and prssed quickly before him, A puff of wind lew aside her vail, and he caught a glimpse of her face in the ane of the street “yo “Ah! a Dieu!’ cried the chman, and caught her by the wrist. he woman uttered a scream of affright and Jed to get away; but he would doubtless bave her, a& new actor on the scene—a -shouldered ow. who ELEGANT EGBERT. | with a single blow of his fist knocked M. Bour- essed? ze beggar ride } doine hopelessly out of time. Taking advantage of her release, the woman sped away in the darkness. But before she did so her eyes rested a moment in terror on the he, of the man who had interfered in her be- alf, He, too, saw her face before she could d her vail. A moment he stood as if undecided, and then, with an oath, he left M. Bourdoine to gather his scattered wits, and started in pursuit of the woman. His momentary hesitation gave her an ad- vantage, and he was just in time to see her enter a carriage and be driven rapidly away. His chagrin was marked by a man who had been dogging the woman’s footsteps on the other side of the street, “Oho!” muttered the last-mentioned indi- vidual. “Here is another party in the field, Let us make his acquaintance.” Detective Vesey, for it was no other, trans- ferred his attentions to the man who betrayed so much emotion on being eladed by the wo- man. The latter retraced his steps until he reached the discomfited Frenchman. ‘Ah! M. Longue Jacque!” cried M. Bour- doine, impulsively, and then—not because he recognized his assailant, since in fact he had not seen him, but remembering that he was now again hostile to the gambler—he bowed stiffly and passed on: Long Jack looked after him, greatly puzzled. ‘* What has he to do with her?” he muttered, and after a moment’s thought brought his hands together with a sharp concussion, by way of accompaniment to a round oath. Meanwhile the detective had scored a point. ‘Ah! my dear Long Jack! we seem to be coming to you at last. Come! come! three links form a chain.” CHAPTER XXXVI. PAUL HARNEY’S LADY VISITOR. Gorne back ono week, we may enter Paul Harney’s private office at the side of his strange lady visitor, though the detective was denied this advantage. As she entered, the cotton-broker started from his chair with a smothered ejaculation, turned ghastly pale, and sunk back again, his hand shaking so that the eye-glasses, held between finger and thumb, rattled a tattoo on his desk. The ladys at him with the insolent ef- fronter of a petty tyrant, “Well, monsieur, have you forgotten ze courtesy due a lady?’ she asked, with a slight French accent. “Be seated—pray, be seated!” said, or rather gasped, the broker, waving her to a chair. “ Merci! (thanks) you are very kind.” The lady seated herself, spreading out-her silk skirt like a fan. She smiled at the broker, as if for approval. Not heeding, if indeed he understood her thoughts, he said, hoarsely: * have you come here?” “ Ciel ! why should I come?” The lady shrugged her shoulders and spread her jeweled fingers. The broker frowned angrily. “‘Only for more blood, you accursed vam- pire!” he muttered, The lady laughed lightly. “You bleed golden blood, my fairy goblin!” “Do you not consider the danger?” “To whom?” ** To me.” “ Parbleu! what is that to me?” Again the lady shrugged her plump shoulders | and sliowed her pretty teeth. . “Tt is everything to you!” growled Paul Har ney, with none of his wonted meelness. ‘Ah! monsieur, I have no loye for you, I assure you!” “T have no need to be told that.” ‘You are my banker—that is all, Ha! hal hd “But if you ruin me, what will become of our cach account?’ “ Ah! zat is impossible! Is not monsicur rich beyond ce Rar What ze little I demand! A atelle!” ‘Indeed it is nota trifle! But this is not the int. If you bring suspicion upon me, and that eads to investigation, do you not see that your supplies will be cut off?” ‘They will suspect that monsieur is an old gallant. What more?” asked the woman, with a laugh. «that is not the worst. There are those who may go further back that.” Thal wea years! Believe me, it is long for gotten. “Tt is not forgotten. The whole matter may be dragged to light again at any day.” “ Not unless I drag it to light,” Paul Harney winced, “The boy is not dead, and John Boardman’s coming upon me again was not for nothing,” ‘‘ Bah! zey have nota particle of proof. Sup- pose zey should league against. you and Jack swear to his share in ze transaction. You dis- " of zem as blackmailers, Wisout what 1 0. — And she snapped her fingers contemptuously. “Tn any event, there is no use in running un- necessary risk, Why not get the money—if you will have it—as heretofore?” *“Zere is no mistake about my determination to have it! I come to you here because I want sgt 7AN ZO driblets you have been doling out me, “You are crowding me too hard. I cannot afford any considerable amount. Business has gone against us, andif I draw any money out now, when we want all we can get hoid of, I shall be asked i ** Mon Dieu! What more oa oe A chaplet of pearls for your daughter—a diamond brace- let zat has caught ze fancy of your wife!” ‘*But a woman’s fancy for jewelry will not be an acceptable excuse for crippling my busi- ess. ‘““M. Harney, I know nossing of business technicalities. But I have come for money; and 4 must have it.” ‘How much do you want now?” **'Ten thousand dollars.” “Ten thousand devils!” cried Paul Harney, leaping from his seat. **'You misunderstand me, monsieur,” said the ,ady, coolly. “ Ten thousand dollars—not devils, surely,” 2 How am I to get ten thousand dollars?” “ Zat is your affair.” a 3ut you are beside yourself, It is impos- S1LDIe. “*Oh, no. Monsieur would not goto prison for a paltry sum.” ‘¢ But I will go to prison before I will be rob- bed like this,” *‘Robbed! Ha! ha! ha! It is amusing to hear monsieur talk about robbery.” ““] can’t raise the money—that’s flat!” * Ah, surely, Monsieur Harney, zo wealthy cottton-broker, has esttaes. He can find some Shylock who will give him ten thousand dollars on. such seeurity.” ‘* They are mortgaged for all they will stand already. l cannot raise the money, I teil ou. “Tisten!” said the woman, rising from her chair. “I have come to make a settlement with you. Paul Harney, am Ize only person who has proof of your crime?” ‘‘T believe that you are.” se ! you possessed it you would be a free man A purple flush mounted to the broker’s sal- low brow. “Yes,” he said, Ving acer: 4 her closely, and ap- parently holding his breath. ‘““Would you give ten thousand dollars to stand where you could put ze world at defiance, and get what you have ::ot had for years—one nigh of sleep perfectly free from fear?” ‘he man began to pant and wring his hands mechanically. ff ihm you give me the proofs?’ he asked, slowly. ‘* Yes,” she replied. “I want to leave New Orleans, and ze United States, for zat matter— no matter why. I can’t get any more out. of ou, and I have fixed upon ze original sum— n thousand dollars—to sell out my hold on ou.” h,” “The price is ver hi “Not a word, or I will double it.” “ When do you want the money?f’ “This day week.” “You can have it to-morrow.” “See! Zat shows I am letting you off cheep, How eagerly you jump at my oifer.” ““1f it must be done, itis as easy to be done to-morrow as later.” “And you are eager to get ze proofs? Is it not so?” “Would I give you ten thousand dollars for them if I were not?” “Truly! But I donot want ze money until zis day week. Some one might rob me, you know. I shall be ready to leave ze city by zat e. “Shall I bring the money to the house on River Place?’
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— “Yes. . Ten one-thousand-dollar bills—do you understand?” was ane, week from to-night, then, at nine “Do not fail me, or the morning papers will contain sensational head-lines, with your name at the top!” “Tt is unnece to threaten me,” “Tt can do no banker, adieu !” Madame Angelice swept a mocking courtesy and took her leave. Paul Harney sunk back into his chair in a physical and moral collapse, m. Monsieur, my good CHAPTER XXXVI. THE HOUSE ON RIVER PLACE, Pavut Harney had sustained a terrible trial. For nineteen years a portentous cloud had hung upon the horizon of his life, embitterin every enjoyment that increasing wealth brough tobim. Within a few months it bad suddenly loomed black to the zenith, threatening to in- lf everything. Now. he had the promise of Es quick and complete dissipation. It was this reaction of feeling that made it necessary for him to send for a carriage and go home two hours before his usual time, For the week following he was a prey to the wildest alternations of hope and fear. Business in that state of mind was out of the elon He stayed at home on the plea of By means of erent Sos on his estate he raised the money without difficulty. On the night agreed upon he assumed a dis- guise, and with ten one-thousand-doillar bills his pocket sought the appointed rendezvous. River Place was in a quarter of New Orleans remarkable for the elegance of its mansions and for the dubious character of some of their tenants. The particular house to which Mr. Paul Har- ney bent his steps was a place of assignation for intriguants of all sorts. Money closed the eyes and ears of its proprietors. The door was opened by a tall, muscular ne- , who showed Mr. Harney to the room he esignated, where he was soon joined by Ma- dame Angelice, deeply vailed, and with tke out- lines of her figure concealed by a gray water- proof cloak, ‘* Weill,” she said, ** you are prompt, which is a sign of your eagerness.” ‘Have you got the proofs?” * Ah! hear ze man! He will not give me time to become composed, after my walk.” ‘Give them to me at once, and bere is your money.” ‘Pray, monsieur, do not approach too near to me.” Paul Harney had advanced, holding the money in one hand, and with the other extended to receive the proofs of his crime. The lady coolly pointed a pistol at him, and thus checked his approach. ‘*What is the matter?’ he asked, somewhat startled. - “€Qne cannot be too cautious,” said the lady, with a shrug andalaugh. ‘Ten thousand dol- lars is a tempting sum of cote “Tt is indeed. But do you think I am likely to murder you for it?” “No. But if you once held the proofs you might slip the money into the wrong pocket— your own—and snap your fingers in my face.” “That would be a merited termination to your plots.” ** But one which I am not likely to permit.” “Nor I to attempt. Come! here is your money. Give me the proofs and let me go.” “Pray, lay the money on the center-table, there.” Paul Harney complied. ‘* Now retire, if you please, to the chair which you see at the other end of the room.” “You are extremely cautious.” “You have more strength than I. I must balance your muscle by my wit.” ‘““What assurance have I that you will not decamp with the money, forgetting to leave me the proofs?’ asked Mr. Harney, more because @ was annoyed and wanted to pay her some of her own coin, than because he thought there was any likelihood of such a course on her “You must risk so much,” was the laughing mse, ‘It is a concession of Bp ota . Harney retired to the end of the room furthest from the door. Madame Angelice advanced to the marble- top center-table, laid her weapon ready at her band, counted the money and ed the ELEGANT EGBERT. “Zey have a goodly look!” .she observed, smiling with gratification. She pnt the money somewhere beneath her waterproof cloak; then drew forth an envelope and laid it on the table. “There, monsieur, are ze evidences against you. Adieu! I may never have ge pleasure of seeing youagain. Adieu /” There was a strange smile on her face as she began to walk backward toward the door of the room, holding the cocked pistol in her hand. Paul Harney sprung forward to the table, “Stop until I have examined the contents of the envelope!” he cried, “Tt isnot necessary. Adieu!” said the wo- man, still receding. ‘* But you shall stay! You may be deluding me. ‘* How can monsieur detain me? Ha! ha! ha!” Mr. Paul Harney could find no ready answer to her question. She was armed. He wes not. How could he have anticipated anything like this? “ Adieul Adieu!” Her mocking little nod and laugh were pro- voking, but he had no redress, The door closed between them, and he was alone. “By Heaven! if this is a fraud!” he muttered, tearing open the envelope with fingers that trembled so that they were almost useless, To hold the inclosed paper still enough so that he could examine it, he had to sp it out on the marble table. It was a single sheet of note-paper. On one side was a brief note, written and signed by Paul Harney, and bearing date nine- teen years earlier. On the other side were several imitations of the signature of the firm of Edmonds & Craig. From one of them the pen had continued with- out lifting from the paper and traced the signa- ture Paul Harzey. The pen had afterward been drawn several times across this last signature, as if the writer had noticed the linking of the forgery with his name, ary felt an impulse to obliterate the lat- ter, though of course expecting to destroy the whole paper in a few minutes, The sheet could be folded so as to bring this signature into juxtaposition with that appended to the note on the other side of the paper, and they were as exact counterparts as the same hand could trace, Paul Harney shuddered as he looked at this proof of his crime. ‘*Nineteen years!” he muttered. ‘That pa- r has cost me at least fatty thousand dollars! fy God! how they have bled me! But is it the original? Why did she laugh so? She is a treacherous devil. ‘* At this distance of time I cannot tell whe- ther that is my own writing or not. The paper does not look old enough. Ah! I must compare it with some that I have among my old letters, But I cannot do it until morning. il rest never ** Another sleepless night! come?” And weighted with uncertainty, he left the house. CHAPTER XXXVIIL A NEW COMPLICATION, M. Bovurporne was wild with excitement, He ran through the streets, now this way, now that, intercepting wat woman who had any thing the appearance of the one who had slipped m his grasp. In gage twenty minutes he became satis- fied that she had effectually eluded him, Then he went to the hotel where his friends were stopping. “Ah! grace a Dieu!” he cried, catching Sibyl’s hands, kissing them and letting his tears fall upon them, “ze grande reward of ze long ear of vaiting and vatching is come to me at t! Ma pupille, I claim your Svagr ee iaone —you first of all ze vorid, because of your heart sympathetique vich have always been open to ze sorrow of my life.” “What is it, my friend?” asked Sibyl, who fisst gathered from his rapid words that his ex- citement was not incident to the matter which lay nearest her heart, “My friends—all!” cried M. Bourdoine, ex- tending his hands, as if about to offer up a pub- lic prayer—‘ I have seen her !” “ Whom?” asked Adele and Sibyl, in chorus, * Whom!” repeated M. Bourdoine. ‘For whom alone have I eyes, ears—senses all? “ Impossible!” “ After all these years!” Even Egbert looked incredulous. a7 — Every one had looked upon M. Bourdoine’s search as chimerical. **Dese eyes have been blessed for vone im- stant. It vas like ze flash of lightning. Ping! —pang! My soul is flooded vis ze beauty, ze ravishment!—my soul is ingulfed in ze blackness of despair! Ping!—pang! She is before mei— she is gone!” f **But where did you see her?” “Under ze gas-light.” *Oh! a chance resemblance, M. Bourdoine.” “ Parbleu! does ze vorid hold two Helene? No! no! Ze Sat ane mold was broken after her creation! Ze light of her eye robbed_ze vorid of half its light, and ve callit night! Helene, ze ofinie of my soul, is here—in New Orleans! elene! Helene! enfin je tai trouve! (at last I have found you!)” And sitting down and bowing his head on the table, M. Bourdoine burst into tears. His emotion was as transient as it was ex- treme. Ho soon recovered sufficiently to tell them how he had seen Helene, and how she had esca him, zn the midst of his story Detective Vesey en- tered. “Ah! M, Vesey,” cried the Frenchman, run- ning up to him, ‘I desire ze recommendation to ze detective competent. I have found Helene! But, par St. Denis! she have escape me on ze instant!” The detective had already been put in pos- session of the outlines of M. Bourdoine’s story; so the foregoing address was intelligible to him, But another idea was suggested, “What! have you seen her?” he asked, eagerly. “For vone instant, ven she escape iu ze man- ner most extraordinary. I see her—I am knocked down by ze hand unseen—she is gone!” “To-night?”’ “Half an hour ago.” ** In the street?” ‘Yes, Under ze gas-light.” “M. Bourdoine, Ithink I can help you—and you me.” “Ah! I vould note deprive my friends of your service.” “T can help you without prejudice to them,” “Tf you are sure of zat, I have great confi- dence in your ability.” “And now,” pursued the detective, turning to his earlier patrons, “I have made some fur- ther discoveries.” “Oh! tell us!” cried Adele, eagerly, “Tong Jack is in the city!” “Long Jack!” “T have seen him!” “ And I, too!” cried M. Bourdoine, “TT met him note vone minute after Helene escape me, I had forgotten him,” “But I thought that ke were nof acquainted with him,” said Sibyl, to the detective. ““T heard him addressed by name; and the man answered your description.” ““ Oh id “That is not all.” ‘* What more have you discovered, pra ee peye eee, Se that Lo’ acquainted with Madame Angelice, “indeed! Why?’ wee ey ap to recognize each other; there seemed to be hostility between them.” “They cannot be confederates, then.” “They may have been. en like honest people, not infrequently fall ou ” aa if they have been leagued,” began ibyl. ** And if the woman {fs now in some way con- nected with Mr. Harney,” added Adele, “‘T see you catch my idea,” said the detective, igri erg her in turn. “The woman may be the link between Long Jack and Paul Har- ney.” ‘Oh! if it should Adele, clasping her han **Bus bere is a new complication,” pursued Detective Vesey. “I saw M. Bourdoine knocked down,” Indeed?” ‘* Ah! monsieur, can you have vitnessed ze outrage? But for zat Helene vould not have elude me,” ‘You have Long Jack’s interference to thank for that,” Jack Erorp true!” aspirated ** How sof?” * His fist did the business for you.” **Tmpossible! He came up rward.” **He pursued the lady, and then returned.” “Grand ciel! 1 will have his blood for it! “Oh! but what are you saying?” cried Adele, suddenly. ‘Is this (2) lice and the woman whom M. Bourdoine— Oh! they are both French! They cannot be—” “a they are,” declared the detective, smilk
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28 # (me and the same!” cried Adele, breathlessly. “ Bxactly,” “Vat is ae you say, monsieur?” here cried | MV. Bourdoine, excited! | | y: The lady whom you call Helene is none other | than the.Madame Angelice in some way asso- ciated with Paul Harney.” “ Morbleu! Sang-disu! Sacra-re!” ELEGANT EGBERT. “Tt would be difficult to insult you, I’m of opinion,” he cried, contemptuously. “You are not welcome here, Why do you come?” * Because it suite my ineniys You have had every cent of money you will | get from me.” M. Bourdoine went stamping about the room | | onl uy attraction, then?” in anything but an amieble frame of mind, ‘*Enough, monsieur!” he cried, presently. ‘You know vere she is to be found. I villsee her at vonce, and set at rest all doubt.” js Ly That i is what I desire of ycu. Let us lose no me,’ Re But ou will let us know the result of your visit?’ asked Sibyl. ‘* We will return to-night.” “The suspense will be terrible until we hear from rou.” e will use all ible expedition.” M. Bourdoine walked rapidly to the house, where Madame Angelice occupied a fiat on the second fioor. As they entered the lower door to the stair- way a man brushed by them hurried] Bourdoine turned to resent. the uncere- monicus pee: but the offender had disappear- ed in the darkness, The Frenchman atd the detective had no sooner. entered the house than they became aware of some unusual excitement, Doors were opened suddenly, and there was the sound of hurrying feet and voices raised in consternation, The Stanhopes waited long after midnight in their hotel; but neither M. Bourdoine nor detec- tive Vesey made their appearance, Let us see what detained them, CHAPTER XXXIX, A PRECIOUS PAIR. P Lon@ JACK was more fortunate than M. Bour- oine, Deferring the search for Madame: Angelice until the morrow, he went to his hotel, where the detective, feeling that he could now put his ~ r on him, when he wanted him, left him to M. Bourdoine and use his apparent ac- quatntaice with Madame Angelice as a means of himself forming her acquaintance. But Long Jack became restless, and lighting a cigar, went out to walk himself into a calmer state of mind. He had not been fifteen minutes on the street | when a carriage drew up to the curbstone, and a lady in a dark gray waterproof cloak alighted — entered a doorway not ten paces ahead of w By Heaven! that must be she!” he muttered. With a few strides he gained the doorway. He was just in time to see the woman disap- pear at the head of the stairs. Then a door te casting a bright light across the dim] inated upper corridor, which was pandally obscured by an entering figure, and then cut off by the closing of the door, Ascending the stairs noiselessly, and approach- ing the door whence the light seemed to have proceeded, Long Jack listened and bent until is eye was at the keyhole. The key prevented him from seeing anything. He could faintly hear some one moving in the room, and that was ail. Presently a bird began to trill, and then the listener heard a woman’s voice chirruping to it and talking in cooing tones. But there was a sound of footsteps in the lower hall, Some one had_ entered and was as- cending the stairs. Long Jack would be detect- ed if he stood longer before the lady’s door. He knocked on the door—a gentle - ock, such as a woman’s hand might have caused The chirruping sounds within the room ceased, The woman approached and opened the door. There was asmile on her face, as if she ex- oie some one whom she welcomed gladly. It ned to a look of dismay, when she saw a man in the doorway, Before she could make an effort to prevent it, Long Jack entered and closed the door after him: “Not a sound!” he said. ‘‘ You haye no rea- eon to apprise your neighbors that you havea gentleman caller at th hour of the night,” somewhat bitterly, He bad removed his hat before she opened the door, so that, the light falling full on his face, she recognized him at once, She did not seem to fear him, though there was evident dislike strongly marked in’ the ex- pression of her face. “Tf you have come here only to insult me. sir, you need not prolong your stay. Ze way pat fs as convenient as ze way in,” she said, flushing with anger. Jack laughed. My. have come to recognize that as your | 6 woman flushed with wounded vanity. “Ze time is not long gone when you were | glad to spend your money for my adornment,” she said; ‘‘ zere must have been some other at- traction then.” “Well, no,” drawled Jack, affecting to scan | her critically, “it doesn’t date beyond the mem- | | | ory of man; but I looked at you then through - ver’s eyes, "which are calculated to tone down pry defects, Besides, half a score of years or ave made inroads on your beauty.” “Enough! I care nothing for your criticism.” ‘*Let us change the subject, then. You ap- pear to be on the eve of taking your flight.” Long Jack glanced around on eayahet trunks stra ped as if for traveling, Veli, am I accountable to you for my move- ments?” demanded Madame An; gelice. “Not the least in the world.” — “That subject is disposed of, then. Come! we shall soon exhaust our topics of conversa- | tion, and I shall be relieved of your presence, What would you?” - “* Those trunks are packed, are they not?” es, ‘¢ Where are you going?” ““Who knows? Around ze world, perhaps,” “Ah! shall you leave the countr ye “Tf it please me,” **When do you return to New Orleans?” ** Never.’ Long J ack looked at the woman sharply. “T have seen Mr. Paul Harney,” he said, speaking slowly, and keeping bis eye on the w o- man’s face. A smile broke over it, and her eyes flashed, “ How long since?” she asked. ‘Within the hour,” It was her turn to look at him, trying to read his face. ‘Where did you meet him?’ she asked. In the street.” * And you recognized him?’ she questioned quickly. She was thinking of Mr. Harney’s dis- | eas Evidently he had removed it ‘before k saw him. ‘* He was glad to see you, doubtless,” she add- “eS way of a feeler, e told me to go to the devil.” Ha! hal ha! “ Yes, ” “Well, perhaps he has occasion to think me a devil, though I do not think he anticipated such an interpre tation of his words.” ‘*He is not. the only one who has reason to think you a devil.” ** Perhaps not.” “Ts it not strange that Paul Harney should tell me to go to the devil?” ** Pourquot? (whereforef)” with a tantalizing shrug, “There was a time when be feared me.” “ All things must have an end.” ‘*Listen. You know that I was never hard on Paul srk § , “No. Ithink you reserved all your oppres- sion for me.” W ithout heeding this thrust Long Jack went on “ { never went to him for money unless I was in actual need. In the main I ‘could always make all I wanted to spend,” “Robbing other men!” “For your benefit, confound you!” The woman smiled tantalizingly. “Well, for the last eight or nine years I have had no need of his mor: ey, and have not been near him until last December.” “ Ah! you saw him in December?” “Not to bleed him. You were doing that, more effectually than I had ever done.” The woman shrugged her shoulders, “T saw him on different business,” flay Lon Jack, ‘There was no word about a Ae e told me that you had no financial cussion.” \ ** You knew it, then?’ , “Oh, be keeps me informed of those affairs bi affect gd eae ip. Why not?” ong Jack re er saucy smile with a glare of batred. fa J : “* Well,” he said, speaking constrainedly, ** to. mr Tam in an De ot money,” . io meetin, g him, you demanded some?” And you came to me!” | ess sss ft -—ssrnesresnnernhere “With ead old modesty, n> doubt.” I told him I must have a thousand. dclars.” . Hat ha! Then it was that he told you to go to the devil?’ “* He laughed in my face, as you do now.” There was a dangerous look ‘in Long Jack’s eyes. He was holding himself in restraint, The woman did not heed it. “ For the same reason, unquestionably,” she “For what reason?” asked Long Jack. ‘Tt is this—neither of us have any cause to fear you.” The gambler grated his teeth. ‘Do not be too sure of that!” he said, mena- eingly. ‘“Ob! you are a shorn Samson! Did Monsieur Harney seem to fear you?” “No. When I threatened bim with the proofs, he told me to my teeth that I bad not had a serap ot evidence against him for nineteen years,” ‘* You could not deny it—that is to say, with truth.” ‘““ How did he know it?’ demanded Long Jack. ** From my lips, How else?” “Curse you! I could strangle you for that!” * But will not, my dear Jacque!” “ Another thing—he said that you had had them all this time, You told me you had burn- ed the paper, to shield me. Curse youl you were very solicitous for my welfare,” “Tn a moment of rashness, or drunkenness, E feared you might proecuce ze paper, and down yourself in dragging Paul Har fi fe head under water. In zat way I should have lost my Jacgt tie!” ut you said that you destroyed the paper, ecdnes the police were about to ransack your things in search for the property of one of your ballet- -girls,” “True; but there may have been some fiction in that!” “Did you or did you not burn the papar?” “Oh! I am notso heedless as to burn anything 80 valuable.” “ And you had it hidden all the while” iced Did foe not give it me for safe-keeping# a! ha Fora pint Jack choked with fury. * And this night you sold that proof to Paul Harney for ten thousand dollars! Long Jack spoke in a hoarse, rasping voice, He was fairly livid. For the first time the woman began to show apprehension, She turned pale beneath her cos- metics, Before apewering she areas her hand be- tween the folds of her dress skirt. “By Heaven! I must have some of that money!” and with a swift motion he clutched the bosom of her dress. **You have not had time to secrete it,” he cricd, exultantly. The woman screamed, drew a stiletto and struck at him. Long Jack guarded with his arm, receiving a flesh-wound, but shielding his breast. Madame Angelice shrunk back at the sanre time that Long Jack jerked her toward him with such force that the bosom of her dress was torn out and left in his grasp. But, before she could escape he clutched her wrist, tore the stiletto from her hand and with a furious oath sunk it to the hilt in her side. The woman saw the deadly blow comin screamed again; but after she was_ struc only gasped and fell to the floor with a thud. tung to fury by the deception the ett had practiced apes him, by the tantalizin manner in which she confessed it, and tase by the blow she bad struck at his life, Long Jack was for the moment utterly beside himself, When the woman fell and he realized what he had done, he gazed at her in stony horror. Only a moment however. Then with a wild laugh, he stooped, thrust his hand into her bo som and drew forth a small roll of bills. He saw the denomination of the outside one-- one thousand dollars. “By Heaven! I’ve got the whole haul!” he exclaimed, and with another wild laugh thrast it into his pocket. Extinguishing the gas as he passed it, by put- ting his finger on the mouth of the tube, he opened the door, passed out, and without stop» ping to shut it atter him sped down the siairs three at a time, brushing rudely against M, Bourdoine at the street entrance, Query:—If Paul Harney had the proof of his rascality and Long Jack had the money, what was left for Detective Vesey and M. Bourdoinel and she
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_ CHAPTER XL. HELENE! As M. Bourdoine and Detective Vesey mount- ed the stairs leading to Madame Angelice’s apartments the upper hall became the scene of great disturbance. : The other tenants of’ the house had rushed from their rooms, and the various halls were more brilliantly illuminated from the open doors, Frightened women were looking over banis- ters, or huddled together in groups of two or three, asking each other what was the matter. Several mon were hurrying along the corridors or down the stairs. : “Tt was in Madame Angelice’s room. See! her door is open, and no light burning,” the de- tective heard one of the women say. Familiar with all phases of crime, the detec- tive immediately associated the man who had rushed by in the lower hall with Paul Har ney’s great agitation after meeting Madame Angelice. He straightway conceived an assas- ination, procured, i not executed by Paul Har- ney, to rid bimself of one who had some hold upon bim. Stepping into the dark room, he saw an ob- ject dimly outlined on the floor, from which Prooseded a moaning sound. Evidently the woman was not yet dead. To strike a match and relight the gas was the work of an instant. Then the bloody work was revealed, With exclamations of horror the people crowded the doorway. But before them all M. Bourdoine leaped to the side of the prostrate woman with a great cry, and cast himself upon is knees. ** Helene! Helene!” he cried, in excess of an- ish, lifting her limp band, and pressing it al- rnately to his heart and lips. With an effort the woman lifted her neavy eyelids and gazed at him. “Do you not know me? I am your Gaspard!” he said, addressing her in French. “ Gaspard! Gaspard!” The woman gasped forth the name, and at- tempted to raise herself on her elbow. “All zese year—twenty long age!—I have follow you, now here, now zero, never catching even vone glimpse of you zat I hunger so for, And now do I find you at last, dying? Ob, Helene!” ‘‘ Gaspard! rd!” again aspirated the wo- man, but this time with tenderness, extending her arms, and beginning to weep. — With acry of mingled joy and pain M. Bour- Joine clasped her to his breast, and sobbed over her in the wildest abandon. “Let us get her on the bed, my friend,” sug- gested Detective Vesey, laying his hand kindly on the Frenchman’s shoulder. ‘* Ah! monsieur, ze spectacle pitiable! Be- hold! Life shali give her to my arms, only zat Death may snatch her away!” sighed M. Bour- doine, looking up with bloodshot eyes swimming tears. ‘‘Let-me assist you to Kft her,” said the de- tective, quietly. And suiting the action to the word, he raised her and placed her on the bed. “Now, madame, one word. Who has done this?” * Monsieur Jacque Boardman.” “Grand ciel! His blood!—I vill have his blood !—drope by drope!—his heart’s blood!” “Tt is true, then, that he put the money in the pocket of the boy, Charles J. Wells, who xvas convicted of the forgery?” asked the detec- tive, putting the question in a form to surprise her into a truthful answer, if on deliberate thought she would be disposed to conceal the th. = “Yes,” answered the woman, without hesita- on, = = the instigation of Paul Harney?” ““Who was the real forger? Who indorsed the check?” “M, Harney himself.” “Have you known this all along?” * For nineteen years.” “And you have-betrayed him to no one?” “ No. n “Ho has paid fo well, no doubt?” “ He dared not refuse me,” As she spoke the woman put her hand to her boson), which was partially exposed by the tear- ing of her dress. he detective noticed the movement. “He paid you money to-night?” he asked, ioctl f replying, th felt in bh us of re ng, the woman felt er bosom with a look hp Re on her face. “‘Is the money gone?” asked the detective. ELEGANT EGBERT. “He has robbed me—he -has robbed me!” cried the woman, wildly, *‘ten thousand dollars!” “Pen thousand dollars!” repeated the detec- tive, in amazement. ‘For the proofs!” said the woman, in expla- nation, ‘For the proofs? What proofs?” “The paper with the signatures.” “My God! Did you hold evidence against Paul Harney?” woman. “Send these people away,” she said, suddenly, waving her hand toward the gaping crowd that had now entered the room. The detective turned, and with an authorita- tive manner that would brook no deniai hustled them out of the room and shut the door. As he returned to the bedside, the woman said, look- ing at him distrustfully: ‘He too!” ** Bote he is my friend,” said M. Bourdoine, in English. ‘Never mind. I wilk go,” said the detec- bab hd divining that sho had some revelation to make, Going to the door, he opened and closed it, as if he had passed out. Whero he stood he was beyond the range of vision of the woman. ‘ Well, Helene?” said M. Bourdoine. ‘Gaspard, you love me, do you not?” she ask- ed in French, which, however, was perfectly in- telligible to detective hig S “Ab! Helene, would I follow you twenty year if I did note?” ** And you have forgiven me?” “ Helene, I only know that every pulsation of my heart is for you.” ‘And I have loved you, Gaspard, I was in- sane to leave you. But the ballet intoxicated me. The manager promised me that my name should fill the whole world. And I meant to come kack to you, Gaspard, when I was famous.” “Tet us forget it all, We are once more united. What do you wish to say to me now?” “You are not rich, Gaspard?” No, Iam not rich,” “Well, I shall give you all, then.” “How? Have you money?” “Tisten. M. Harney gave me ten thousand dollars for the proof of bis crime, and Long Jack hes robbed me.” ‘‘Zat leave you not’ing.” ‘‘ But I deceived the cotton-broker.” * Abl you did note give him ze proof?’ “No; it was a clever imitation, Am I foolish, to sell the goose that lays me the golden egg?” * And you still have ze proof?” “The paper with the false signature? Cer- teinly!” ‘*Mank God! Helene, you shall right ze great wrong zat have am 3} ze life of my friend —ze husband of my pupil.” “ How?” eried the woman, in rise, “Produce zis evidence! Peul arney shall languish in chains, my friend shall stand forth a vindicated man!” ., ‘Ahi are you foolish? What becomes of my banker then?” “ Your banker?” “While I hold this paper in terror ever M. Harney, he must pay me what I demand out of his wealth.” Seeing the turn the conversation was takin detective Vesey had begun to make signs to M. Bourdoine, to intimate that he should not oppose the woman. Not understanding the pantomime, M. Bour- gee regarded the detective with a questioning 10, ook. Helene detected the look and raised on her elbow tosee whom M. Bourdoine was looking at, With a cry she suddenly fell back, * Ah! she is dying!" cried M. Bourdoine, ter- rified by her ghastly pallor and the crimson foam that rose to her lips. At this juncture there was a knock on the door from without. “The doctor and a policeman are coming,” called a voice. While all had been standing in the room the alarm had not spread beyond the house; but when the detective had thrust them into the hall, they ran for a surgeon and an officer of the law, as a means of gaining readmission, The door opened, and the two men entered with the crowd at their heels. CHAPTER. XLI. PAUL HARNEY’S ‘“‘JIG 18. UP.” DerectivE VESEY was personaily known to both the doctor and policeman. A word in ex- gon ac 8 ST AR EREET en lanation of his connection with the case, and - e was again in authority, and the room once | more cleared. “What is her condition?’ be asked the doc- — | tor, after his examination. ; ; | She cannot live long If yu have a depo- tter sition to take, you had ose no time,” ‘Will you make her realize her condition} And I will go for a magistrate at one,” Detective Vesey hurried away, and soon re- turned with a portly man very much out of breath, A great change had come over Helene. Be- tween the doctor and M. Bourdoine she had been made to understand that the things of this world were slipping from her grasp. She had expressed her willingness to make the deposition required of her, and begged for the attendance of a priest, who had been sent for. The magistrate spread out his paper, and adjusted his glasses; and after the usual ques- tions as to her belief that she could not recover, and the administration of the oath, he n to take down her words pertinent first to the vio- lence to which her approaching death was at- tributable, and afterward, in a separate deposi- tion, what she knew about the forgery. The latter contained nothing of which the reader is not already informed, save that, on eoming to .America, the young ballet-dancer had formed with Long Jack an association which lacked the sanction of the church, and had thus become the repository of his secrets, Detective Vesey then took out a warrant for the arrest of Mr. Paul Harney, charged with i with one John Boardman. While the magistrate was making out this document, the detective took Helene’s key: oonk one of her trunks by her direction, an soon had in his possession the paper to obtain aa Paul Harney had given ten thousand dol- ars. “Tf he has any doubts as to the genuineness of the other paper,” he said, “‘ he may keep it until er compare the penmanship with his writing nineteen years ago; and if we arrest him to-night, we may find it on him—which will be another proof of his guilt.” In the highest spirits the detective took the policeman and set out to make the arrest. Meanwhile the priest had come, and Helene was left with him, the doctor, and the heart- broken M. Bourdoine. Detective Vesey and the policeman approach- ed Paul Harney’s residence, which was in the suburbs of the city, and found all darksave a light in the library. “‘ His conscience keeps him from sleep, sir,” said the policeman. “So it seems. See, the windows of the libra- ry om on the veranda, and one of them is ajar toadmitthe air. If we enter that way, instead of going to the door, we may surprise him with the poner undestroyed,if he has not yet burnt it,” - The first warning Paul Harney had of his midnight visitors was the sound of heavy steps on the veranda—only two of them, however, and then detective Vesey stepped through the window into the room, and the policeman was just at his back. Paul Harney leaped to his feet and stood ghastly pale, Snatching a piece of paper from his table, he put it in the gas-flame, _‘* Not so fast, if you please!” cried the detec- tive; and with a bound he gained the broker’s side, clutched his wrist with one hand and closed the other down over the burping paper, ~ as = extinguish the flame that was consum- ng i aul Harney struggled Sepeney. and the per was torn and crumpled; but it could easily » straightened out and the pieces matched. In a twinkling the broker was overpowered and bandcuffed, “What is the meaning of this outrage?” he demanded. ““When I show you this paper,” said the de- tective, producing the one he had got from Helene’s trunk, ‘you will see that dame Angelice bas played you a very clever trick, palming off upon you a forgery of your for- gay. As for your accomplice, Long Jack, or ohn Boardman, if you please, we shall soon have him apprehended on a still graver charge— murder! Whether you have had a hand in that too may appear in the trial. “Paul Harney, your nineteen-year-old jig up! Iam in the iuterests of the boy Charies rz ells, now Egbert Stanhope.”
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gaid, he realized that his jig was up. CHAPTER XLII, A SKELETON HAND. THE mae! 5 ply came out with flaming head- Hnes, and ew Orleans was on the qui vive to get the particulars. . Craig was telegraphed for, and came home as fast as steam and iron could bring him, Even before he went home to his vamily, he sought the hotel where Egbert was stopp.ng. ‘Why, bless you, sir, the parlor’s full!” cried the hotel clerk, in reply to his request to see Egbert. “I reckon all New Orleans knows him, or his father, or wants to make his ac- quaintance, He’sdone more hand-shaking since the thing came out than if he was President of the United States.” Mr, Craig waited to hear no more, but as- cended to the parlor where Egbert was receiy- ing the congratulations of his hosts of friends, Ever ered him, now came to make reparation to his son for the bitter wrong he had suffered somany ears. P: Mr. Craig’s entrance created a sensation. teat ia drew back to make way for him to pass to Egbert. Tears streamed down the old man’s cheeks as he passed through the throng. Egbert advanced | to meet him with outstretched hand and a smile of welcome. The old man took the proffered hand, then bowed his gray head on the young man’s shoul- der and sobbed. He could not speak. ‘My friends, I know you will excuse us,” said Egbert, and with his arm about the old man drew him into an inner parlor. In that interview the old man told of the love he had borne Egbert’s mother, of the pain it had caused him to see her son come under the ban of the law, and of the — now felt in his vin- dication from crime. hen they came forth the tie between them was almost as close as that of father and son. The court being in session, the trial of Paul Harney came off without delay before the ve judge who had sentenced the boy, Charles J. ells. The conviction of the broker for con- in was acomplete vindication of his vic- , to which the judge added the promulgation of a declaration from the bench, exoneratin Egbert from all blame, and in a feeling apologized for an error for which the fallibility ef human laws and human wisdom was respon- sible. The sentence having long since n served out, this was all that could be done by way of reparation. = Helene died and was buried, For a week M. Bourdoine behaved like a crazy man. Then he yielded to the consolations ex- tended to him by his friends—that is to say, | Sibyl and Adele—and became very much his ) old cheerful self. ‘* Shall I be sad when so great joy have come to my pupil?” said he, and Tissed her hand for the thousandth time. Long Jack was still at large. Mrs, Cornish really loved her daughter, and the battle between that love and her such an effect on her health that Felix’s pro- ysed European tour was prevented. Instead, they sought the genial influences of the South, traveling from point to point by easy stages. Knowing nothing of the movements of Sibyl and her husband, chance brought the Cornishes to New Orleans within a day or two of the red- letter day in Egbert’s life. Felix’s humiliation was unbounded. He stood | before Egbert with bowed head, not looking into his face nor offering to take his hand. “T can not put my feelings into words,” he said, “I never bad a very happy gift that way. But I want you to know that I have such a sense of having wronged pou that any attempt at reparation or reconciliation seems like an added insult. I feel like dirt under your feet. If you should put some indignity upon me I would not resent it, I believe ishould feel better if you would kick me once or twice. ut my en- — at your disposal, Do with meas you 8. ont smiled, “Well, if it is left so entirely to me, I eleet to een you asa brother,” he said, extending his and, “By Jove! Idon’t deserve it, er swear I don’t!” exclaimed Felix, taking the hand rather sheepishly. “I think every one will indorse my disposal of the matter—not least of all, Adele. ride had | one who had known Dr. Wells and hon- | ELEGANT. EGBERT. Paul Harney was mute. As the detective had | Felix looked at Adele, and his face was a ady, The girl now advanced with extended hand, She was as pale as death, but held her emotions in restraint with a strength that was marvelous. | Felix took her hand and then they stood mute, neither able to utter a single word. This was a very different reception from that which he bad received at the hands of his sis- | ter, who had cast herself into his arms and nearly smothered him with tears and kisses— she who had always been so stately, But in his humility Felix felt that he deserved this and more. But he was overcome by a sense that Adele was lost to him forever, and letting her cold hand slip from his grasp he turned and left the room, Like a spirit the girl glided from the spart- ment by another door, and away to her room to cast herself on the floor in an agony of grief such as never had come to her, even in those —, days when her love-dream had been shat- tered. Egbert, Sibyl and Mrs, Cornish looked upon the strange behavior of the lovers in dismay, ‘Now they must not begin to act foolish,” said Mrs. Cornish, with some impatience, “There is no objection to their marriage now, if they like each other. Where is Adele’s room? —I suppose she has gone to it. I will soon ar- ir her difficulty for her.” rs. Cornish had apologized to Egbert with a great deal of composure, defending her con- duct as justified by the unfortunate circum- | stances then existing. Egbert had taken her condescension with a good grace, but now he did not want her to meddle with Adele. “Perhaps if would be better to let them alone,” he said, gravely. .“‘No doubt they will arrive at a mutual understanding the first. time they are alone together.” But as Adele took pains to avoid a tete-a-tete interview, and Felix was too deep in the Valley of Humility to presume to seek one, they were never alone together until the night of the grand reception given at Mr. Craig’s house, and at- tended by all New Orleans. Late in the evening Felix happened to pass Mr. Craig’s library with Adele on his arm, and saw that the room was empty. Many of the guests had gone away, and most of those who remained were gathered in the spacious parlors for a last dance, Almost forcibly Felix drew his companion into the room and shut the door. CHAPTER XLII. THE LAST CLOUD DISSIPATED. “ Ane.E,” said Felix, facing ber abruptly, “I can’t stand this. I’m eating my heart out. I know thatin my infernal pride I trampled on + love and insulted you worse than I did tanhope, if possible. But it ain’t like you to bear malice, and—and—I don’t know what to say to you, but I'd rather be hanged for a thief than have you stand out against me like this. “ Adele, you know my heart is wrapped up in you, Won‘ you let bygones be bygones, and come back 10 me?” His voice broke and there were tears in his eyes as he extended his arms to her. The girl stood before him in dry-eyed agony, vainly essaying to: the painful constriction of the throat, could only shake her head sadly. “Have you ceased to love me?” cried Felix, in dismay. She shook her head again. ‘*‘ No—it’s not that,” she managed to articulate, “Oh! if you still love me, you must forgive me, Come, my darling!” He advan with outstretched arms, but she shrunk*back, quivering from head to foot. “ Adele!” he cried, in a hurt tone. She looked up at him, and by a mighty effort commanded her voice, though it was so hoarse as to be unrecognizable, “T saw-you shoot at him! I saw him fall!” At that instant Felix saw what was between them. That terrible scene in the carriage on the dueling ground, when she had called him a murderer, rose before him. All eternity could not bridge that awful gulf. Covering his face with his hands, Felix Cor- nish staggered back with a groan, as the door opened and Egbert entered with his wife on his arin. “ Ah! I beg your pardon,” he said, and would have retired. But Adele called: ‘*No! Egbert! Egbert!” He turned, but before another word could be spoken there was an unexpected interruption. ak. She coughed to relieve | But she, | “Ah! Mr. Stanhope! Just the man Pm Yook- ing for! I want you first, since all this fuss, which has resulted in my being hunted like a beast, originated with you.” Long Jack stood within the room. The opem window showed how he had gained ingress, As he spoke his arm went up, and a pistol- barrel gleamed in the gaslight. The next in- stant the room rung with a sharp report. Felix saw the threatening danger. He —— before Egbert, throwing out his arms with a gesture that made his purpose of shielding him apparent to all. efore the room had ceased to echo with the report, Felix Cornish lay motionless on the floor. ibyl screamed and fainted, while Adele stood like one suddenly turned to stone. ‘¢ Ah! well, it’s just as well. Tl make you number two,” sai 1 Long Jack, aiming at Egbert, and firing a second time. But Egbert bad leaped to the library table, and was in the act of throwing a glass paper- weight at his murderous assailant. ‘The rapid movement of bis body made Long Jack’s aim uncertain, and though the ball spoiled his dress coat, it did not.so much as abrade the skin; but the missile he hurled at the murderer struck him fairly in the face, and knocked him almost senseless. Then, with a bound, Egbert was upon him, and after a brief struggle Jack was disarmed and helpless, The guests who came flying into the room found Adele with Felix’s head pillowed in her lap. She looked up at them in a mute, helplessness, physician being of the party made an im- mediate examination of Felix’s breast. ‘‘Priends,” he said, looking up, ‘‘the man is. only stunned. The ball has ranged along a rib, Something hard must have turned. it from ite course. Ah! here it is. Why, it’s a shattered daguerreotype. Of— Ah! Miss» Stanhope, E beg your pardon.” e handed the wreck to Adele. Mechanicall she took it from him, saw the effigy of hateslh. and then everything got dark. ‘Where is Felix?” They were her first words on recovering con- a in the room whither they had borne er. When they told Felix that she had called for him, you ought to have seen his face! ¥y Egbert’s contrivance every one left the room before Felix entered it. . He fell on his knees beside the bed. It brought his face close to hers. He had seen the invitation in ber eyes. ‘‘When you asked me to take you back, FE shook my head. Now, will you be more gener ous and—take me?” ‘Oh, my darling!” M. Bourdoine, his long search done, has found a restful home with his loved pupil; and never had children such a jolly old man to trot them on his foot as does hers, Egbert still wears gloves in company, but in the privacy of his little family circle he removes them; an po has pressed her dewy lips to his scarred palm so often that all the burning sensation of that letter F has been drawn out, (THE HAPPY END.) P. §.—Felix’s boy has just come to town, and he calls him Egbert. (A HAPPIER END.) P. P. 8.—Egbert has his revenge, He calls his Felix! (THE HAPPINST END OF ALL!)
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~ otal be ba iit at ee 4 > BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. ; By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 904 Buffalo Bill's Lone Hand. 989 Buffalo Bill’s Marked Bullet. 984 Buffalo Bill’s Life Raffle. 279 Buffalo Bill’s Relentless Trail. 964 Buffa'o Bill’s Invincibles. |peo Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade. Boffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes, (950 Buffalo Bill at Bay. ‘943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game. $36 Buffalo Bill’s Black Parad, $27 Buffalo Bill’s Bluff; or, Dusky Dick the Sport. . 921 Buffalo Bill’s Quandary; or, Velvet Bill’s Vow. 5 Buffalo Billand the Surgeon-Scout. Buffalo Bill’s League; or, Red Butterfly, Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail. Buffalo Bill’s: Rough Riders. 895 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Ally. 890 Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake. 882 The Three Bills: Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill and Band- box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth, 874 Buffalo #ill’s Buckskiv Braves. (869 Buffalo Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up, '863 Buffalo Bill’s Death Charm. 1857 Buffalo Bill's Royal Flush. 851 Buffalo Bill's Double Dilemma, 845 Buffalo Bili’s Redskin Ruse, 830 Buffalo Bill’s Bovs in Blue. 826 Buffalo Bill’s Sharp-Shooters. 822 Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower. 816 Buffalo Bills Red Trail. 812 Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell, 794 Buffalo Bill's Winning Hand 787 Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot. 781 Buffalo Bill's Brand. 777 Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower, 769 Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake. 765 Biffato Bill's Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam, 761 Buffalo Bill’s Mascot. 757 Buffalo Bill’s Double. 750 Buffalo Bills Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. 743 Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand, 739 Buffalo Bill's Blind; or, The Masked Driver, {5 Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men. 731 Buffalo Bill’s Beagles: or, Silk Lasso Sam, 727 Buffalo Bill’s Bodv Guard. 722 Buffalo Biil on the War-path. 4716 Buffalo Bili’s Scout Shadowers., (710 Buffalo Bill Baffled: or. The Deserter Desperado, {697 Buffalo Lill’s Buckskin Brotherhood, ‘691 uffalo Bill’s Blind Trail; or, Mustang ort ‘667 Buffalo Bill's Swoop; or, The King of the Mines, 658 The Cowbov Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas, (653 Lasso King’s League; or, Buck Taylorin Texas. \649 Buffaio Bill's Chidg of Cowboys; or, Buck Taylor 644 Buffalo Bill’s Bonanza; or, Siiver Circle Knights, {862 Buffalo Bill’s Grip; or, Vath Bound to Custer, 329 Buffalo Bill’s Pledge: or, The League of Three; 189 \Wild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. 175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress, 168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot, By Buffalo Bill. (973 The Dread Shot Four. 969 Texas Jack, the Lasso King §39 The Ranch King Dead-Shot. 820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt. , 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist. 800 Wild Bilt, the Dead-Center Stot. 1689 Buffalo Bill's Gold King. 1599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the Plains, ‘414 Red Renard, the Indian Detective. 4401 One-Armed Parad; or, Borderland Retribution. 897 The Wizard Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail, 884 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. 19 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler. 243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart, | 83 Gold Bullet Svort; or, Knights of the Overland, 52 Death-Traiier, the Chief of Scouts, By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntline, ete. (73 Buffalo Bill’s Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue, (682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. §29 Buffalo Bill’s Daring Role; or, Daredeath Dick. 517 Buffalo Bi'l’s First Trail; or, The Express Rider. 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts, liz Buffalo Bill s Strange Pard; or, Dashing Dandy. / 2 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King. ; BY HAROLD PAYWNE. 1g83 The Man from Mexico in New York. 872 The King-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burr’s Ten Strike, 861 The Tenderloin Big Four $53 The Quaker City Crook, 844 Tracked to Chicago. $36 The Policy Broker's Blind. &29 The Frisco Sharper’s Cool Hand. 824 The Tramp Sbadower’s Backer. 813 The Sham Spotter’s Shrewd Scheme. 806 The Grand Street Gold-Dust Sbarpers, ,798 Detective Burr’s Luna'ic Witness £92 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap. Thad Burr’s Death Drop, 742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs. 734 Detective Burr’s Foil; or, A Woman’s Strategy. 728 Detective Burr, the Headquarters Special. 718 Detective Burr’s Spirit Chase. Detective Burr’s Seven Clues. 2 698 Thad Burr, the Invincible; or, The ‘'L.”’ Clue, 690 The Matchless Detective. 680 XX, the Fatal Clew; or, Burr’s Master Case. RY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTERY,. #95 The Czar’s Spy." 986 Iron Wrist. the Swordmaster. Champion Sam; or, The Monarchsof the Show, A El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen. BY J. W. OSBON, { bf Shadrach, the Sport Detective. k | Gilbert Goldspur, the Dandy Sport. '- Shasta Sam, the Sparktier. j Cool Creede, the Dead-Shot. ' %9 The Sport from St. Louis. Royal Richard, the Thoroughbred, BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES. | ) 929 Gentleman George, the Showman Sport. 912 Genteel Joe’s Lone Hand. 903 The ‘Train Detective. 896 Kent Keen, the Crook-Crusher. } 888 Nightshade in New York. ! 879 Falcon nn ig the Flash Detective. 871 The Crook Cashier, | 859 Clew-Hawk Keene’s Right Bower. | 847 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detective. 840 Major Bullion, Boss of the Tigers. 831 Shadowing the London Detective. / 817 Plush Velvet, the Prince of Spotters, | 803 The Bogus Broker’s Right Bower. 788 The Night-Hawk Detective, 779 Silk Ribbon’s Crush-out. 766 Detective Zach, the Broadway Spotter. 751 The Dark Lantern Detective, | 736 The Never-Fail Detective. ; 724 Captain Hercules, the Strong Arm Detective, Dan Damon, the Gilt-Edge Detective, Silver Steve, the Branded Sport. 694 Gideon Grip, the Secret Shadower. | Velvet Van, the Mystery Shadower, 678 The Dude Desperado | 71 Jason Clew, the Silk-Handed Ferret. 664 Monk Morel, the Man-Hunter. Sol Sphinx, the Ferret Detective, 642 Red Pard and Yellow, 608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx, 592 Captain Sid, the Shasta Ferret, 579 old Cormorant, the Bowery Shadow. 569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery. 55¥ Danton, the Shadow Sharp. 550 Silk Hand, the Mohave Ferret, 848 The Magnate Detective. 582 Jack Javert, the Independent Detective, 528 Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective 512 Captain Velvet’s Big Stake. | 505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter, 49% Richard Redfire, the Two Worlds’ Detective. } 487 Sinshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block, 480 Hawkspear, the Man with a Secret. 468 Coldgrip in Deadwood, 460 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective 453 Captain Coldgrip’s Long Trail, 447 Volcano, the Fvisco Spy. 441 The California Sharp. 434 Lucifer Lynx, the W onder Detective, 421 Father Ferret, the Frisco Shadow. | 413 Captain Coldgrip in New York, 407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or, Injun Nick, 400 Captain Coldgrip: or. The New York Spotter. 392 The Lost Bonanza; or, The Boot of Silent Hound. | 382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Cool Clan. 874 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities, 365 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow. 352 The Desperate Dozen. j 347 Denver Duke, the Man with “ Sand.” 840 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective, 335 Flash Dan, the Nabob, or, Blades of Bowie Bar. 821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. 294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy, $41 The Shadow Sport from Frisco, BY WILLIAM H, MANNING, 948 The Red-Gloved Detective, 931 Frisco Frank at Glory Gulch. 920 The Montana Miner in New York. 908 The Doomsday-Den Detective. 899 The Double-Quick Detective. 898 Yellow Gid, of Dark Divide. 885 The Expert Detective’s Shake-up, 875 Trapping the Race-Track Judge, 864 The Police Special’s Dilemma. 849 The Genteel Sharper’s Combine 841 Graydon’s Double Deal. _ 833 The Sport Detective’s ah 823 The Athlete Sport About Town. 808 TheCrook-Detective’s Pull, 790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective, 782 Royal Rock, the Round-up Detective, 774 Steve Starr, the Dock Detective. 764 The New York Sharp's Shadower. 738 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker. 714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump, 703 Spokane Saul, the Samaritan Suspect 692 Dead-Shot Paul, the Deep-Range Explorer. 655 Strawberry Sam, the Man with the Birthmark. 646 Dark John, the Grim Guard, 638 Murdock, the Dread Detective. 623 Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective. 611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas, 596 Rustler Rube; the Round-Up Detective, 585 Dan Dixon’s Double. 570 Steady Hand. the Napcleon of Detectives 568 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotspur of Honeysuckie. 551 Garry Kean the Man with Backbone, 539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective. 531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur, 521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot, 513 Texas Tartar, the Man With Nine Lives, 506 Uncle Honest, the heacemaker of Hornets’ Nest, 498 Central Pacific Paul, the Mail Train Spy. 492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter. 486 Kansas Kitten, the Northwest Detective. 479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack. 470 The Duke of Dakota. 463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator, 455 Yank Yellowbird, the Tall Hustier of the Hills, 449 Bluff Burke, King of the Rockies. 442 Wild West Walt, the Mountain Veteran, 437 Deep Duke; or, The Man of Two Lives, 427 The Rivals of Montana Mill. 415 Hot Heart, the Detective Spy. 405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of Buck Basin. 297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hotspur. 279 The Gold Dragoon, or, California Bl ound. BY NED BUNTLINE, : 657 Long Tom, the Privateer. 633 The Sea Spy, 621 The Red Privateer; or, The Midshipman Rover. 584 Fire Feather, the Buccaneer King. 517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail. 861 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot. 122 Saul Sabberday, the Idiot Spy. 111 The Smuggler Captain; or, The Skipper’s Crime. i The Seminole Prophet, 18 The Sea Bandit; or, The Queen of the Isle. | 16 The White Wizard. ; 991 Sess ~ BREADLE'’s*] )IME*[IBRARY: Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers. | ALBERT W. AIKEN'S NOVELS. Dick Talbot Series, Dick Talbot at the Mines: or, Kentuck, the Sport, 988 Rocky Mountain Rob ; #76 Overland Kit; or, The Idyl of White Pine. 741 Dick ‘albot’s Close Cali, 737 Dick Talbot in Apache Lend. 733 Dick Talbot. the Ranch King. 729 Dick Taibot’s Clean-Out, : 725 Dick Talbot in No Man’s Camp, | 854 Dick Talbot; or, The Brana of Crimson Grosr 86 Dick Talbot; or, The Death-Sbot of Shasta, Aiken’s Fresh of Frisco Series. | 8% Fresh, the Race-Track Sport. 660 The Fresh in Montaua: or, Blake's Full Hand. 652 The Fresh’s Rustie at Painted City. 7 The Fresh at Santa Fe; or, The Stranger Sharm 556 Fresh, the Sport: or, The Big Racket at Slide Out, 587 Fresh Against the Field; or, Blake, the Lion. 497 The Fresh in Texas; or. The Escobedo Millions, The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande. 9? The Fresh in Big Walnut.Camp; or, Bronze Jack. Aiken‘s Joe Phenix Series. 965 Joe Phenix’s Mascot. 959 Joe Phenix’s Donble Deal. 954 Joe Phenix in Chicago. $49 The Doctor from Texas; or, Joe Phenix’s Clue $44 Joe Phenix’s Rigs.i Bower. 865 The Female Barber Detective; or, Joe Phenix in Silver City. , 799 Joe Phenix’s Great Blue Diamond Case; or, The/ New York Sport at Long Branch. 793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy; or, The Man of Three. 760 Joe Phenix’s Lone Hand. 749 Joe Phenix’s Big Bulge, 745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case. 708 Joe Phenix’s Siren; or, The Woman Hawkshaw, 700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or, Crushing the Crooks 681 Joe Phenix’s Specials; or, The Actress Detective 637 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp. 632 Joe Phenix’s Master Search, 628 Joe Phenix’s Combine; or,the Dandy Conspirator 620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six. ; 601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow; or,the Detective’s Monitor 419 Joe Phenix,, the King of Detectives. 161 Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt. , 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League. 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. Ailken’s Miscellaneous Novels, 980 The All-Around Athlete. 940 Captain Jack, the Sealper 935 The Hawks and Wolves of New York 923 Old Sunflower. the Hayseed Detective, 901 The Hotel Swell-Sharp; or, The Siren Shadoy, 892 The Countryman Detective. _ 876 Gold Button Sport; or, The Miner Sharps, ; 842 Teton Tom. the Half-Blood. 835 The King-Pin Detective. 814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports. 7 King Dandy, the Silver Sport. 758 Gideon’s Grip at Babylon Par. 2 717 Captain Pat McGowen, the Greencoat Detective, 674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective. 670 The Lightw eight Detective. : 665 The Frisco Detective; or, The Golden Gute Find.. 618 Keen Billy, the Sport, 607 Old Benzine, the “ Hard Case" Detective, 694 Fire Face, the Silver King’s Foe. 586 The Silver Sh arp Detective. 577 Tom, of Calif ornia; or, Detective’s Shadow Act., 570 The Actress Detective; or, The Invisible Hand 562 Lone Hand, the Shadow. 520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo, 490 The one Hand in Texas, 475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective, 465 The Actor Detective. 440 The High Horee of the Pacific. 4% The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants. 408 Doc Grip, the Vendetta of Death. 881 The Gypsy Gentleman: or. Nick Fox, Detective 876 Black Beards: o1. The Rio Grande High Horse 870 The Dusky Detective: or, Pursued to the Ena. 863 Crowningshield, the Detective 320 The Genteel Spotter; or The N, Y. Night Hawk, 252 The Wali Street Flood; or, The Telegraph Girk 203 The Double Detective: or,The Midnight Mystery. 196 La Marmoset, the Letective Queen, 101 The Man from New York. 91 The Winning Oar: or. The verte! Daughter. 84 Hunted Down: or, The League of Three. 81 The Human Tiger: or, A Heart of Fire. 75 Gentleman George; or, Parlor. Prison and Street, 72 The Phantom Hand; or, The 5th Avenue Heiress, 56 The Indian Mazeppa; or, Madman of the Plains. 49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen. 42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of N.Y. 81 The New York Sharp; or, The Flash of —— 27 The Spotter Detective: or, Girls of New York. NEW ISSUES. 1000 Buffalo Bill’s Grim Guard. By Col. Ingraham,| 1°91 The Brand-Burnersof Cimarron. By John W. Osbon. 1002 Silver City Sam. By Jos. E. Badger. 1003 Gold Harte or, Dick Talbot in Utah, By Albert W. Aiken. 1004 Buffalo Kill’s Death Deal. By Col. Ingraham. 1005 Foot-Hills Frank, By Jos. E. Badger. 1006 The Sea Cadet. By Col. P, Ingrahar JUST ISSUED. 996 Injun Dick, the Shasta Dead Shot, By Aiken, 997 one Hal, the Sport from os. E. 999 The Velvet Hand; or, The Iron Grip of Injup Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. A new issue every Wednesday. THE DIME LIBRARY is for’sale by al Newsdealers. tom cents ve" cxpy, or sant by mall om receipt of price. “+ Si: FR RS, TR F Wem reg, Bot are . Hard Luck. By i r. | 998 Toritain Seawett Privateer. By Ned Buntiine.
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‘NUFFALG fones |?" | Eira } | i/ 1) } Buffalo Bill's Relentless Trail. By Colonel|820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt; or, The Miner|653 The Lasso King’s League; or, The Tigers of \ t Prentiss Ingraham. Marauder's Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill. Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 073 The Dread Shot F > | 816 Buffaso pints Red Trail; or, The Road-Rider| 649 Buck-Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bill's Plains. By Col. Ww rt Pings =n aS Renegade’s Run Down. By Col. P. Ingraham, Chief of Scouts. By Col, P. Ingraham. .|812 Bufialo Bill's Death-Knell; or, The Red Hand) 644 Buffalo Bill’s Bonanza; or,/The Knights of — ee Pte Borne pas dy “hy Coe ke tee) Riders of the Rockies, By Col. P. Ingraham. | the Silver Circle. By Col. P. Ingraham. ham, O07 Wili Bil, the Wild West Duelist; cr, The Girl} 639 The Gold King; or, Montebello, the Magnifi- 980. Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade; or, Sun- Mascot of Moonlight Mine. by Butfialo Bill. cent. By Buffalo Bill. flower Sam of Shasta. By Col. P. Ingraham. /|807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist; or, The Girl| 629 Buffalo Bill’s Daring Role; or, Daredeath 956 Buffalo Bill's Volunteer Vigilantes; or, The| Grande Ralph, the Cowboy Chief. By Buf- Dick, King of the Cowboys. By Leon Lewis, Mysterious Man in Blue. By Col. P. Ingra- falo Bill. : 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the ham. 794 Buffalo Bits WYianlog tase; or, ta a Plains. By Buffalo Bill. Woman of the Colorado Canyon. y Col. P. ’s Fi ile 7ill»Cody, the spss hen a By Cob ops haat: nspeentager 7p me Sor = Bi Te Hieelatons ‘ i -seonaty ante Rider, By Nea ‘Bunting’ 3 Buffalo Bill’s Bloc ; alo Bill's Dead Shot; or, The Skeleton scout! 414 Red Renard, the Indian Detective; or, The ve Sammate of the venlaaie pr Cee “pe tanrae|,_. of the Colorado, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Gold Buzzards of Colorado. By Buffalo Bill, ham. J 781 Buffalo Bill's Brand; or, The Brimstone) 49; une One-Armed Pard; or, Red Retribution in Buffalo Bill's ‘Black Pard; The Gold Brotherhood. By Col., Prentiss ingrabam. Borderland. By Buffalo Bill. Boomers of the Big Horn. By Col P. Ingta-| 777 Buffalo Bill's Spy-Shadower; or, The Masked The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver’s ham. Pera Men at Grand Canyon. By Col. P. ig hanes Trall. By Buffalo Bil Buffalo Bill’s Bluff; or, Dusky Dick, the| 7 ue BIEe pees ee PELs he Rescue.| 994 white Beaver, the Exile of. the Platte; or, +37)" Je Falv *10| Buffalo Bill's Sweepstake; or, The Wipe-out Buffalo -Bill's Quandary; or, Velvet .Bil's at Last Chance. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Vow. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. de : eaisie’ RIDE _ Buffalo Bul and the Surgeon Scout: or, Go- ae Sr enrhen’ ceneandie: cy ere wan-go, the Redskin Rider. By Col.-P, In- Oy cpp : graham. Buffalo Bill’s Mascot; or, The Death Valley Victim No. 13. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Sport... By Col. P. Ingraham: en eee Man’s Red Trail. By Buffalo Buffalo Bill's Grip; or, Oath-bound to Custer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Pledge; or, The League of Three. By Col, P. Ingraham, Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West,. By Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler;, or, The Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill. The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier’s Sweet- heart. By Buffalo Bill, Government Scout Duffalo Bil'sa Le : OF, fly. Col, Prentiss Ingrenead, Oe Set ae Buffalo Bill’s Double; or, The a De- tective. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buff " : Tach the ‘Man ot Meng Mabkee’ a ton P. 750 Buffalo Bill's Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. Ingraham, : By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Dill's ‘ a , Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand; or, Texas Jack’s Shan-Shontace ee "tag ates ne Bravos. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. and Guide. ‘'s Ss : ' Buffalo Bill's Blind; or, The Masked Driver Wild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate aeeaie 0 Sea. wtontian Uerahiee, eee of Death’s Canyon, By Col, Prentiss Ingra- Dozen. By Cel. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s: Life-Stake: The Pleaged ham. Wild Bill's Trump Card; or, The Indian Three. By Col Pp. mm aldo Secor pees Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men; or, The Heiress. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. . y eee s t. Robin Hood Rivals. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger At BR da Bills; Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill and ham. Don’s Double. By, Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Col. P. Vieetelions +. Breve ONT pegs Buffalo Bill’s Beagies; or, Silk Lasso Sam. 8 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts; or, The Doomed By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Dozen. By Dr, Frank Powell. Buffalo Bill's panere Braves; Bill’ Queen’s Last Game. By Col: P. 5 es ie Buffalo Bill's Body Guard; or, The Still] Hunt} 117 Buffalo Bill's Strange Pard; or, Dashing . ’ > - Dandy, .the Hotspur of the Hills. By Major Buffalo Bill's Road “hghine Round-Up; or, The| of the Hills. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Db. Bure. y Mysterious Masked Man in Black, By Col. | 722 Buffalo Bill on the War Path; or, Silk Lasso : P. Ingraham. Sam, the Will-o'-the-Wisp. By ‘Col. P, In-| 9 Buffalo. splot cal sce: Buffalo Bill’s Death-Charm; or, The Man graham. Burr. With the Scar, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Scout Shadowers; or, Emer-| 83 Gold Bullet Sport; or, The Knights of the Buffalo Bill's Royal Flush; or, The Poffy Ri- ald Ed of Devil’s Acre. By Col, P. Ingraham. Overland. By Buffalo Bill. der’s’ Death-Run, By Col. Prentiss Ingra- Ruffalo Bill Baffled; or, The Deserter Des-| 52 Death Trailer, the Chief of Scouts; er, Life ham. perado’s Defiance. By Col. P. Ingraham. and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Buffalo Buffalo Bill's Double Dilemma; or, The Great} Buffalo Bill's’ Buckskin. Brotherhood; or, —_ Scout's Big Three. By Col. P. Ingraham, Opening Up a Lost Trail. By Col, P. In- NEW ISSUES TO COME. Buffalo Bill's Redskin Ruse; or, Texas Jack’s graham. 981 The Gold f = 8 Death Shot. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Blind Trail; or, The Daughter on 2 a - ae gig TR ag BN area aay 9 The Ranch King Dead-Shot; or, Texas Jack’s of the Regiment. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, * ests ¥ VOs. ser, =! Proxy. By Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill's Secret Service Trail. By Major 982 See eat Pg Ma Bes pay se la BF rig tae ee eye tit _ Dangerfield Burr. Morris. ; Band's Blot-out. y Co gran te > cs “ . Buffalo Bill's’ Swoop; or, the King of the} 983 Kid Glove Kris, the Sport. By J. C. Cow- Buffalo Bill's Sharp-Shooters; or, The Surgeon Mines. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. drick. Ready August “Ss, d Col. Pp. Ingraham. Scout to the Rescue. By Co 658 The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas.| 984 Buffalo Bill's Life Raffle; or, The Doomed ; bello th £ Bue king: Myo Gol Prenties foal eta : By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Three. By Col. P. Ingraham. Ready Sept. 1. 7 e te Pt a ale et a ~~ ae — HE DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail, pre-paid, on re- ceipt of price. 000000000 @00000000 C0C000C04B000 0000000080 0200000000 00eLACRCOBBREO