Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 196) (1883 08 14)

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nd Best_ ssn Sa The Cream oft Amorican and ¥ gens The Cheapest reign Novels for Five Cents! ait Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Satu Class Mail Rates. Copyright, 1888, by Bravia AND beacaresic Angast 14, 1883, “PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM Sr, N. ¥, PRICE, 5 CENTS i; THE | EWESS; « ot, THE, MISER, MILLION ATRE, BY D R. NOEL DUNBAR, AUTHOR OF ‘RUTH'S RIVAL,” ‘‘THE BROKEN LINK,” ETO., ETC., ETO. TA a = | . UDO CT ~ ; ‘ RAN SH , A Hr Na RAN i. “yy AM KNOWN.AS JULE, THE JEWESS.” wee ewe ee ee oe eee ee

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\ ‘ ) Jule, the Jewess; OR, THE MISER MILLIONAIRE, A Story of Iil-Omened Lives. BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR, AUTHOR OF “RUTH'S RIVAL,” ‘ THE BROKEN LINK,” ETC., ETC. A PROLOGUE IN TWO SCENES, SCENE FIRST. THE INSULT. “Our of the way, Jew!” The words of the speaker were stern, the tone was insolent, and the manner haughty in the extreme, as he stood, gazing with burning eyes into the face of the one he addressed, a young man of gentlemanly bearing-and dress, darkly- bronzed, handsome features, and the unmis- takable stamp of the Israelite resting upon them. The two stood upon a narrow foot-bridge that spanned a deep and swiftly-running stream, and to pass, without both falling into. the dark waters beneath, would be a difficult feat to ac- complish. - The one who gaye the hau: hty command was the larger of the two, and confident cf his ath- letic powers he was the tyrant of the University of which the Jew, as well as himself, were stu- dents, and few dared bar his way. The son of a millionaire, proud of his lineage, and knowing little restraint, he had looked with contempt upon his comrades whom Fortune had favored less, and never before had deigned to notice the Jewish youth who now faced him upon the narrow bridge. Upon either shore were several students watching the result of the meeting, for the stream ran through the grounds of the Uni- versity, and the hours of leisure had come after the day of study. “Mr. Lynde, I was first on the bridge, sir, and called to you,” said the Jew, calmly. ** And did you expect me to heed your call, Adolph Hugo?” was the sneering response. “Yes, as a gentleman,” the Jew remarked, with firmness. ‘*Well, sir, whether you was first on the bridge or not, a must now retrace your steps,” came the haughty demand. **T do not fear you, Harold Lynde, and I will not yield, unless your brute strength forces me to do so,” and there was not the shadow of fear in the face of Adolph Hugo, although he must have known the power and agility of his in- ter. “Then, by the Lucifer of Hades, into the stream you go.” With the words came an unexpected and stun- ning blow, and the Jew fell heavily into the dark waters that closed over his form, shutting pe from sight, for he made no effort to save him- ft, A cry of horror broke from the students upon either bank, and one sprung to his feet, from the velvety Srass upon which he was reclining, book in hand, and plunged into the stream, and, ‘with bold stroke swam to the spot where Adolph Hugo had gone down. And, with white, but scornful, stern face Harold Lynde stood upon the bridge his arms folded across his broad breast, and bis eyes laring down into the waters rushing so swiftly neath him, Eagerly upon the shores the students stood, watching the brave young man who had gone to the rescue, and in breathless silence they waar as they saw him dive beneath the sur- ace, It seemed ages to these watchers era he arose and then, from a score of throats broke a glad cry, as he reappeared, bearing in his arms the form of Adolph Hugo. A superb swimmer, though borne down by the heavy weight, he soon reached the shore, and laid the unconscious Jew upon the grass, erg yh means to resuscitate him. A dark bruise on the dag and a cuton the brow, told that the telling blow of the young aristocrat had stunned him, and that his life would have ended there, but for the noble act of the student who had s0 bravely gone to his aid; but at last ashiver went through theframe the heart heaved violently, and the eyes opened wearily. ae ; ‘cap Peemneaalier Harold Lynde struck me, an “And Merton Wilbursaved you,” interrupted one of the students who stood near. ‘ f JULE.. THE ,JEWESS. T did but cogiceee prompted,” remarked Merton Wilbur, a slenderly-formed, fine-look- ae ban of twenty. dolph Hugo uttered no reply, but a smile expressive of a world of thanks crossed his face, | and he held forth his hand and grasped that of the one to whom he owed his life; “Hat hala pretty scene truly; you are not dead then, Jew, as I half-feared, but if youcross my path again as you did, there will be no doubt about it,” and the dark, angry face of Harold Lynde peered upon the scene, while Spole Hugo said, withstrange calmness: ‘*No, Harold Lynde, Iam not dead; but to Merton Wilbur I owo my life.” ‘* A precious pair, pon honor; a Jew and a eha ri ty student united in bonds of lasting friend- ** Harold Lynde, no gentleman would ridicule the poverty of the unfortunate,” and Merton Wilbur faced the University tyrant, as the young aristocrat was called, with fearless mien and flashing eyes, “What! do you, too, wish to feel the weight of my hand?” and the tyrant turned quickly upon the one he had termed a charity student, who answered, quietly: **T do not fear you, sir.” “So the Jew said, and I left my mark on him.” ‘*T warn: you not to attempt to mark me,” was the cool response, to the surprise, almost consternation of the assembled students, who knew well the great strength and ungovernable temper of Harold Lynde. The words of the charity student at once proved like a match to a magazine, for, with a ory of rage, Harold Lynde sprung upon Merton Wilbur, but instantly measured his length upon the ground, for a stunning blow had met him fullin tho face. Maddened, he arose, and again rushed upon the calm, smiling youth, who had so skillfully sent him to earth, and his attack was a second time parried, and once more he went down. But again he arose, and a third time felt the weight of Merton Wilbur’s hand, and with an effort staggered to his feet. “When you tire of the sport, Lynde, say so, and I will cease punishing you,” said Merton Wilbur, in a tone that made hima hero in the eyes of the lookers-on, “‘T will have your life for this,” shouted the maddened tyrant, and he drew a knife from his breast, and, wiping his bleeding face, again sprung to the attack, while a ery of horror broke from the lips of the assembled students, and Adolph rt be started forward, asif to in- terpose himself between Lynde and the charity student. “ Stand back, all!” The ringing words eut the air in a tone that checked the forward advanée of the students. and the one who uttered then was upon d Lynde with the spring of a tiger. nstantly the knife was wrenched from the hand that‘held it and cast aside, and then hot and fast the blows rained upon the handsome face and haughty head of Harold Lynde, until, bleeding and senseless, he sunk be the grass, while, turning to the Jew, with the same cool manner he had shown throughout, Merton Wil- | bur said, kindly: “Come, Hugo, you are yet weak, so I will give you my arm to your room, and Lynde’s satellites will look after him, And from that day the paths of those three, the Jew, his insulter and his defender, went dif- ferent ways through life, for Merton Wilbur, the poor charity student, was expelled, Adolph Hugo left the University of his own free will and Harold Lynde remained to brave out his shame and defeat, But not one of the trio, so strangely brought together forgot the day or the deed, SCENE SECOND. THE WRECK. Ir was a stormy night on the New England coast, and @ sm wind and wave, on her voyage from port to Poe an accident to her machinery having de- og her greatly. uddenly, as though to prove that troubles never comesingly, there was heard a loud crash and once more the machinery was wrecked, and the steamer received a wave on board that swept its deck resistlessly. _ Atonce all was confusion, for all knew that they were at the mercy of the storm, and the wild waters and fierce winds made the craft tremble and creak in every timber, while know- ing ones shook their heads ominously, for they knew that they were rapidly drifting upon a steamer was struggling with . lee shore, and if they did not soon strTke upo® | the rocks, the steamer must go to pieces. : In the midst of the excitement in the ladies cabin, one person seemed to bayvea cool bh and keep his nerves in perfect command, for he went from one to the other of the frightened women and children, fastening aroun them life-preservers and bidding them not give UP hope. ‘At length he stopped in front of a young id who had sunk down in an easy-chair, and hel in her hand a small sachel of valuables she had hastily taken from her trunks. The eyes of the two met, and the young mal, for he looked scarcely more than tren seemed to feel some strange thrill in his he ashe gazed down into the youthful, beautiful face, and heard her low words: Lg Oh, sir! you are so kind to us all, for I havé watched you; but, is there no hope?? “Oh yes, for the steamer seeras quite stanch et, oa if we strike we can take to the boats: eep up courage and hope for the best,” he said; with an assuring smile, as he fastened a life preserver around her slender, graceful form; and, with another look into her glorious eye) and a sigh, turned away to cheer others near. After him her eyes also followed, and ther? was sométhing in his manly, noble, though beardless face that seemed to fascinate her, ai! et a something she read there that brought o her lips too a sigh. And still on the steamer drifted with wav? and wind, rolling, pitching, creaking so lou! that it sounded like shrieks of despair, and noW and then struggling so hard that it seemed a5 though she would never rise from benea‘h thé weight of waters hurled upon her. All that men could do, her crew did, aided by a few passengers; the anchors were let go, bu the cables parted, and nearer and nearer th? dark coast, upon which the sea beat with terrk fic roar, the vessel drifted, and soon the en' must come, for either the waters would bre’ her in pieces, or she must strike. The boats were gotten ready and man and then in awe and breathless silence awaited the end. It soon came; first a sudden shock that thre all down, then a mightier one, and a fearful crash, and the end had come. The boats were useless, for they were. tor? away by the washing, surging waters, with only a few strong men clinging to them, and # mass of humanity were struggling for life in thé relentless sea. Just as the shock came, the maiden befor? spoken of felt a strong arm encircle her w and heard in a calm voice: ‘Come, I will save you, if there isa chanc? for life.” She yielded herself to him, and out upon th? lee Ue vit he led her, where a small raft, madé of doors and blinds, securely lashed togethet had been hastily constructed and made ready # Jaunch, But upon it were two burly seamen, getting ready to launch it, and thereby save them selves, ‘* Hold! men, I made that raft and it will hold but two; would to Heaven it would sav? more,” cried the young man, *“We cares nob who made it; ther two it saves will be us; cut her loose, Jack,” answered one. “Fold! leave that raft, and take chances with the others, but this lays be saved if in my power to do so,” said the youns man, sternly, while the maiden Be to hints an bee wondering how it would oping. ¥ os © will not give it up,” said the other sea man, “Oh, sir, let me meet my fate, and you 2? | with them, for it will hold three,” she eried. hap barely two; leave that raft or ie The last order rung out threateningly and # pistol was thrust forward in the hand of th? speaker. The two seamen saw their danger, and lik? maddened beasts, driven from what they b& lieved might made their own, they sprung for ward to grapple with the daring man who fronted them. is Then came, mingling with the howling te and washing waters, two sharp reports, a the seamen fell heavily to the deck, and vicious. wave washed them into the sea, ‘0 “Come, the steamer is rapidly going to pieces,” cried the man who had taken life 7 save life, and he placed the maiden on the secured her there by passing a rope aroun waist, and the next instant, the fastenings tha held it to the guard being severed, they we aA

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‘ ee nd hee oe Gir ee ae float on the wild waters, which were dotted With human forms and the débris of the wreck,. and from which arose shrieks for help, and cries to God for mercy, appalling to the ears that heard them. 7 Well made, though constructed amid such aenger, and in haste, the little raft swept on until it was pitched upon the beach; but the an was prepared for this, and having freed m the tTaaiden from the rope that held her, seized: er in his arms, and, after a hard struggle, Teached a, lace of safety, where they were met by brave shermen of the coast, who were do- ng all in their power to save life. p to a humble fisher-cot: he led her, and leaving her in charge of a kind-hearted woman, Went back to aid in the rescue, and, with others, toiled through the long hours of the night, until he death-list, which at first seemed to swell so Tge, was greatly decreased. The next day the two, the brave young man 8nd the maiden, stood together at a small way Station, awaiting the train that was to bear em homeward. “You telegraphed your father, you say, that You would be on immediately?” he asked. “Yes, I thought it best, and_telegrapned While you returned for my sachel,” f “A telegram for Miss Isabel Lynde; is she here?” called out the station agent. “Yes, that is my name,” and the maiden took the dispatch and read it quickly, while she said Oud in a joyous tone: MY. father will meet me at the Junction, But she gazed into a face that was livid, and asked anxiously: “Are you ill, sir?” “No; a momentary faintness, Miss Lynde; but may lTaskif you are the daughter of Mr. ndrew Lynde, the millionaire?” he said in ne that was suppressed, . “Yes, siz.” *« And the sister of Harold Lynde?” “Yes; he is at the University, and Iam just Teturning home from boarding-school; do you ow my brother, sir?” “Yes, Miss Lynde; but here comes the train, &nd I must leave you.” ‘Leave me! why, I thought that you were Sing on to New York with me?” she asked, in Sappointed surprise. * No, I shall remain here yet awhile.” “But I haye been so remiss, for I know not ®ven your name, and I owe to you my life; and Sh! you have been so brave, so. noble, and so ind to me, and we must be the best of Tiends.” Ste grasped his hand, and the tears came in er beautiful eyes; but his answer sent a c her heart: “No, you and I can never be friends, Miss Lynde, or you are a Christian, Iam a Jew.” She strove to reply, but the train bad Stopped, the wrecked passengers and crew of he steamer were hurrying aboard, and. press- ing her hand, he turned away, muttering: “She, a Christian, I, a Jew.” CHAPTER I. THE MILLIONAIRE. Stow y the Swiss.clock on the mantle tolled the hour of twelve at night, and out of their Sentinel-boxes came the two toy buglers, and ew their clear ringing notes, startling the Snly occupant of the room, who sprung to his feet with an impatient exclamation, though days and nights for several years he had heard © fanciful timepiece strike the hour. t was a sumptuous room that he sat. in, Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, and though le \falled it his “den,” it wasa gilded one, for vel- 'Vet chairs lured to repose, innumerable books filled the carved shelves, a soft carpet, of some Tare pattern, silenced the tread of the feet, and ®il around was evidence of a fat purse to supply ® luxurious and refined taste. And from basement to attic in the million- 8ire’s grand mansion there could be seen the Same air of luxury and elegance, while his Srounds were an Eden of beauty, and his les filled with blooded animals and elegant Uipages. So circumstanced it was no wonder that men Tuvied Andrew Lynde his vast fortune; that Sabel, his beautiful daughter of eighteen, was the belle of her set, and sought by scores of ad- Mirers, and Harold Lynde, just graduated from College, and “finished” by a European tour, : pindsome, superb in manner and dress, and the «2 to vast wealth, was considered the best bees ” of the town, by designing maters, and _ “eught after by the fast bloods of society. et, had ‘‘the world” seen Andrew © millionaire, as he sat that night in ’ ot aa at "i oe ROT A, yore ¢ og And 28, HE, JEWESS, his easy-chair, apparently asleep, but only too wide anak and gazed into his white, haggard face, it would not have envied him. : At the stroke of twelve he sprung to his feet, and mechanically glancing at his gold watch, he muttered: “Tt is the time Harold said he would be back again with old Quilp— Ha! there is the sound of his wheels now,” and going to the window he drew aside the silken curtains and glanced without, while he continued: ‘Yes, if is the boy, and Ezra Quilp is with him; but they come in a hack, and -not. in Harold’s buggy.” Going to the front door he opened it, and in walked a person whom the reader will remem- ber as a University student, that was a, partici- pant ina scene that was certainly not an en- viable one. “Ah! Quilp, Iam glad to see you; come in, and excuse my sending for you, but it is im-, portant; give us a glass of wine, Harold,” and the millionaire motioned the visitor to a seat. “Mr. Quilp can help himself; I do not wear livery yet, father,” was the haughty response of the young man, who had improved in ap- pearance, if notin manners, since his meeting with Adolph Hugo, the Jew, two years before at the University. “Oh, certainly; Iam accustomed to wait on myself,” said Ezra Quilp, a small, wiry man, dressed in deep black, and wearing a white cravat that gave him a clerical look. His face was wiehenf marked, but the ruling sion of greed was the strongest stamp upon it, and a reader of human nature who diagnosed his features would have pronounced him a miser, and a man who made Gold his God, and held no other aim in life but to hoard it up. | Soul he had none; at least it did not shine out from his face, which is the mirror of the soul; heart he certainly knew of only as a function to keep life’s pendulum swinging, and ep toa debtor he had never been known to show. With no family ties he lived alone in an old brick house in the edge of the city, and which was said to be haunted until he moved there. ‘Well, Quilp, as Harold will not help us, step up to the sideboard and help yourself; there is sherry, and this is port, and if you need liquors they’aro in those decanters.” uilp always drank a good glass of wine, at the expense of any one else, and helped himself generously, while the millionaire settled him- self back in his chair, and Harold Lynde, with a stern face, yet scornful smile, leaned against the mantle with his arms folded across. his breast. It was a strange trio, and strange thoughts were flitting in the brain of each. CHAPTER II, THE SACRIFIOZ, “Now, Mr. Lynde, may I ask if you sent for me to. pay me the money due on your notes I hold?” asked Ezra Quilp, as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table from the million- a ire. “On the contrary, Quilp, I need more money from you,” said Andrew Lynde, bluntly. “On what security?’ was the quiet question. “Look here, Quilp, I have been fighting off misfortune for three ats and to-day, when Harold, the wild spendthrift that he is—” “Spare comments on Harold Lynde, please,” broke in the youth. ~ “Well, when he came to me for fifteen thou- sand dollars, to pay gambling debts, I frankly told him that I had lost heavily some time ago, but had saved my credit before the world, b getting from you secretly, on my notes, secured, by certain properties mentioned in them, the money I needed to carry me along, ‘‘ Now those notes, as you know are due, and I wish to renew them for six months, and geta larger advance.” : ‘On what security?” * Why, man, you hold my notes for a million and a half dollars, and the property securing them is worth treble that, and I could have got- ten from the bank nearly the value of it.” “Why did you not?” “T did not wish it known that I needed money, and you pledged yourself never to speak of it.” ‘¢ Nor have I.” “‘Well, renew the notes and giye me more money.” “T have given you just fourteen hundred thousand dollars; you owe me that sum and the interest on it; what did you do with all that money, Mr. Lynde?” ) ‘Lost the greater part of it in those accursed railroad speculations, and Harold can account Ee eS ee ee 3 for one-tenth of it inthe past two years, while you know I am not economical.” ‘You are all very extravagant, and—” _ “Hold on, Ezra Quilp; if you value that little body of. yours, you will make no comments upon my father er his family,” and stepping quickly forward, Harold Lynde dropped his hand upon the miser’s shoulder with a force that made him cry out: ‘‘Oh, pardon me, sir, but I meant no wrong.” “Guard your tongue then in future,” and Harold returned to his place by the mantle, while his father said: ; ‘‘Don’t be hasty, my son; Mr. Quilp spends so little money himself that he cannot under- stand how we can live as we do; now, Quilp, ° renew those notes forme” “You can pay the interest due?” **No, for I have not ten thousand dollars in bank,” ‘Then I cannot renew them.” **You must.” “e No. > Would you ruin me?” “é Yes.” “Hal you aro then plotting to destroy me?” eel “You frankly confess it?” said.the astounded millionaire, while Harold again stepped ior- ward witb menacing gesture, ‘*‘Do you remember, Andrew Lynde, when we were boys together?’ “ Yes ” ‘I was poor, you rich, and you won from me the woman f loved.” “‘T'did not; she preferred me to you, or, if I remember, you became) engaged to her, and then mysteriously left home,” said the million- aire, nervously. ‘Yes, I left home; but your money bought hirelings to kidnap me one day, and carry me on board of a vessel bound to China, “It was more than a year before I returned, iynde. ‘“‘But I smiled sweetly, to hide my heart’s bitterness; I made no. sign that one of your hirelings had told me of your treachery, and in secret nursed my hatred and my revenge, and I haveit now, for your notes go to protest ta-mor- row, In a quiet, sinister way Ezra Quilp, the miser, had spoken, and both the millionaire and his son had glared upon him, the one in horror, the other in dumb amazement at the story he told. The-millionaire knew that the miser told the truth; the son suspected that he did so, and both felt that he held them in his power, and, gazing upon the face of the mean: before them, they knew to hope for merey was useless, A proud, overbearing man had Andrew Lynde ever been, and his son was strangely like him. Money had been his power, and without it he knew that he must grovel in the dust. >a Speculation had trebled the fortune he had inherited, and speculation, which he indulged in with the same fascination that Harcld Lynde played cards, had led him to bis ruin, Death almost would be preferable to ruin and poverty, and yet the latter seemed to be the only alternative, for the millionaire, in giy- ing his notes for ready money, feeling confident of redeeming them, and that no other eye than Hzra Quilp’s would ever see them, had so worded them, that if protested, they would give the miser full claim to all of his property. ‘‘Well, Andrew, what have you to’ say?” asked tho _ate Quilp, as the miltionaire, livid, silent and trembling sat before him, avoiding the angry eyes of his son, who regarded him as the destroyer of his future inheritance and happiness, ** Before God! Quilp, I know not whattosay,” groaned the millionaire. “If I push you to the wall you are ruined,” + suggested the miser, ‘*Alas! too true.” © “But you will have mercy; you will not go to extremes; see, my father is a gray-haired man,” and the tone of Harold Lynde, for the first time in his life, was peiten ‘**Much you have cared for your father’s gray hairs, Harold Lynde,” was the sharp retort. “Oh, yes, hit hard, for you bave the power — now.” ‘‘ As your father and yourself have ever done when you had the power; but, come, the night wanes, what are you going to do about it, Lynde, senior and junior?’ “‘T have half a mind to end the matter by—” “What?” asked Quilp, as Harold made a step — forward. “‘ By taking your life, and casting your body out 2 the prowling dogs,” was the savage re- joinder. , fi 34 » and I found Grace Talbot your wife, Andrew ~ | (ae Oe eee

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tinued the miser; “I am ric A But Ezra Quilp showed no sign of fear, but smilingly replied; “As you please, Harold Lynde; your fortune would go, all the same.” “Ha! you have let the notes go out of your hands?’ cried the millionaire, in alarm. “No, I have them safe; but, in case of my death, there is one who will know what to do.’ “Great God! Iam utterly undone, and ruin has come upon me,” groaned the millionaire, * burying his face in his hands, while his son te face and moody brow, paced to and fro. With an exultant smile, Ezra Quilp gazed upon them, enjoying their misery for awhile; then he said, calmly: “There is a way out of your trouble, An- drew,” “In God’s name, tell me what it ts,” cried the millionaire, while his son stopped in his walk and Soggy eagerly at tho miser. “You, Andrew Lynde, ridiculed me as a boy, beat me, wronged me cruelly, and stole my in- tended bride from me. “Grace is in her | het and I say no word against her, but you, I will make feel that I am now 5 master—” “Villain, how dare—” “Hold on, Harold Lynde, I was not fool enough to come into the lion’s den unarmed.” The young man stepped back with a muttered oath, for there was that in the miser’s face-that told him he would use a weapon if need be. “T was poor then, Andrew, you rich,” con- h now, and you poor. ‘Your son has pointed me out as a miser, when hewasa mere boy, andsince he has grown to manhood, he drove over me in the street, and never stopped to see what harm was done, . For months I lay up with a broken leg, and . in all that time I nursed my revenge, and now Ihave it, for, Andrew Lynde, Ezra Quilp will ruin you, and drive you into the streets, unless you do as he requests,” **In God’s name tell me what that is?” ef simply ask to make your daughter, Isabel, =F wife,” he millionaire sprung to his feet with a cry of rage, and Harold Lynde again threateningly advanced cae the miser, but halted suddenly as Ezra Quilp leveled a pistol at his heart. Thus the three, for one instant, formed a striking tableau, which then was broken by the miser saying: _ “Well, you know my terms; give me your daughter, and you receive back your notes, for I give that large sum for her; refuse, and into the streets you all go.” _ _ “Never, so help me God! my tongue would blister did I ask the sacrifice of her,” cried the millionaire. ‘Then pay those notes to-morrow, or you are beg, ars all of you! Good-evening, gentlemen.” ‘ Hold on, please, Mr. Quilp.” All started, and turned to behold Isabel Lynde standing before them, her opera-cloak around her shoulders, and in full evening dress, for her escort had left her at the door but a short while before. Transcendently beautiful she looked, though her face was ashen pale, and her lips quivered; yet her voice was firm, as she said: ‘Father, I meant not to listen, but I over- heard, asI passed the door, that which forced me to doso, and I know all, “Mr. Quilp, you honor me, sir, by appraisin me so highly, and in return I can but say that set 1 your terms and will be your wife.” “Tsabel!” cried Harold Lynde. ** My child!” groaned the millionaire, “No remonstrance, father; I know that you, and my brother Harold, love gold as much as does this man whom men call Quilp the Miser, -“He has you in his power, your fortune in his grasp, and I sell myself to him for the notes he holds,” “You are a nice young lady, Miss Isabel, and T thank you. “The notes I return to you to-morrow at two o’clock, when I shall call with a clergyman to secretly unite us, “Then I take my leave, and in three months shall return to claim my bride, and the world need not know of our former marriage, and scandal thereby be avoided ” ‘You are kind, sir,” said Isabel, witha sneer, but she added quickly; **T shall be ready.’ _. “Why not wait the three months, if it must be?” eagerly cried the millionaire. “No, the notes are due to-morrow, and they g0 into Miss Lynde’s hands with the end of the ceremony; remember, at two to-morrow I will be here; good-night,’ : Ud a ‘ eee ee Ezra Quilp turned away and left the room, and a moment after the hack in waiting at the door was heard to roll rapidly away. Then Isabel Lynde tottered to a seat, and sink- ing into it cried: “Father, mine is the sacrifice yours and Harold’s the gain, for gold is not my god as it is yours; but the die is cast, and so let it be.” CHAPTER III. THE ASSASSIN, So anxious had Harold Lynde been, not to be seen in company with Ezra Quilp, that he had sent his own vehicle home, and seeking the home of the miser had taken him to Lynde Manor in a public hack. n this the miser had returned to a point near his home, and there dismissing it, for the first time in many years paying the fare with- out trying to get it reduced, and grumbling about it, had walked with rapid step through the weed-overgrown grounds surrounding the old brick mansion where he lived. All was darkness in and around it, not evena friendly light glimmering in the window to welcome him home, for he was saving of oil; but ne let himself in with a key he carried, crossed she large hall, that gave back a hollow echo even to his cat-like tread, and ascended to the floor above. " A second key let him into his rooms on the left of the SS i hall, and a lamp was soon fighted, revealing the miser’s quarters, eager in furniture they certainly were, for a table with papers upon it, a chair and an iron safe were all the articles visible, while through the door, dividing the front and back rooms, were an iron cot, a table, and a few cooking utensils upon the hearth. Placing the ae Fs the table,’Ezra ese unlocked his safe, took out a roll of papers, an seated himself in his uncomfortable chair, and began to glance them over, while he mut- tered: “Tt seems a large sum to pay for her; but I love her as I hate them, for she was kind to me when a little girl; and I will get all back, for the old man speculates recklessly now, and the young one gambles nightly, and they will come tome for money, and again be beggars, and I have Isabel and all, while I predict that Andrew will kill himself, when his riches have fled, and Harold will commit some crime that will make him fly the country, or go to prison. “Fal hal ha! Ezra Quilp, you have played your cavds well, and now hold a hand full of revengeful trumps. ‘“‘Hal ha! who suspects the old beggarly miser to be worth millions, dad the millionaire of being a beggar?” And thus the : oer ih 2 May a man mused on aloud to himse f, little dreaming that there was one on his track, than whom a bloodhound was more merciful. Up the vine-clad balcony that one had climbed, and along the roof he had crept silently as a cat would have done, Then through the windows of the back room he had peered, and the door between being open he had seen the miser seated at his table, With the skill of an expert cracksman, and as noiselessly, he had slowly raised the window and then stepped within, and crept nearer and nearer his victim, for the wind moaned with- out, and rustling branches and vines me Ween the balcony, drowned any suspicious sound that might have reached the ear of Ezra Quilp, even had he not been deaf to everything while gloat- ng et his triumph, earer and nearer crept the assassin, until he crossed the threshold of the open door, and then his hand was raised above his head for the fatal stroke, and in it gleamed a naked blade, But suddenly, instead of dealing the fatal blow he uttered a startled cry and turned, as the knife dropped to the floor, for a hand had grasped his arm from behind. "he. Springing to his feet, Ezra Quilp turned, a rie hastily drawn from his breast, and seeing ig midnight visitor, cried: ** Harold Lynde ! you an assassin ?” But Harold Lynde made no reply, for his eyes were fixed upon a form that stood in the open door between the two rooms, and, unheed- ing the remark of the miser, he cried: ‘In Satan’s name! who are you?” The answer came in a rich, musical voice, yet decided: ‘*T am one who has saved you from becoming an assassin, for I followed you here.” And upon the speaker the. miser’s eyes also turned, and he, too, cried: : ‘You, a woman, saved my life?” “ Yes,” : ** Again I ask, who are you?’ almost gasped Harold Lynde, seemingly more impressed at her presence, than that he hed been thwarted in his fell purpose, In the same rich tones came the answer: “Tam known as Jule, the Jewess.” CHAPTER IV. JULE, THE JHWESS. For full a moment after the maiden had told ‘ the miser and Harold Lynde who she was, the two men stood gazing upon her. Beautiful she certainly was; though scarcely more than seventeen her form was rounded into perfect womanhood, and the seal of her race had been but lightly stamped upon her ex- quisite features, so slightly, in fact, that few would have believed that the blood of the children of Israel coursed through her veins. Her eyesseemed to possess the power of fas- cination, for they held both the miser and the young aristocrat as though under a spell, and, as she stood with her superb form drawn proud- ly up, her right hand, which had grasped Har- old Lynde’s upraised arm, still extended, her snowy-white dress clinging around her, and her hair, unbound and hanging in jetty masses to her ankles, she was indeed a superb creature, one to love and one to fear, Hee the intended assassin cowered before her gaze, for he felt that she seemed to réad his thoughts. At last the miser, who, whatever might be his greed for gold and revenge-warped nature, certainly possessed nerve, broke the silence. “You say that you are known as Jule, the Jewess?” “cc Yes.” Ah! it had escaped my memory; you are one of the Jewish family to whom I let part of my house to-day?” *Yes,” ‘*Tt was the most fortunate act of my life to rent those rooms, for thereby I saved my life and the aristocratic and elegant Mr. Harold Lynde was saved from the gallows, for murder will out; but I thank you, my beautiful child, for the life you saved, and remember that Ezra Quilp, miser and usurer, is your friend.” ‘*) care for no friendships, sir; all I lovein this world are within a few steps of me across the hall, and little dreaming that I have pre- vented a tragedy beneath this roof. ‘But I was wakeful and sat by the open win- dow of my room, and saw you come in; then I saw a form skulking behind you, and next I saw it upon the roof of the balcony, within a few feet of me. “T had heard that you kept gold here, and I suspected the one who dogged your steps to be a robber, not a murderer; but impulse made me open my blind and step out on the roof and fol- low him, and then I saw that his hand was raised to kill, and I grasped it, but I expected not to find in an intended assassin Mr, Harold Lynde.” The young girl had told her story frankly, in her full, musical voice, but in her tone, and upon her lip, as she spoke the name of Harold Lynde, was an expression of scorn at the act he had intended to perpetrate, and seeing it, he said, quickly: “ What! you know me, then?” “ Yes. ” “By Heaven! I knew that we had met be- fore, but when or where I cannot now recall.” ‘Tt matters not when or where, sir; we part now, and forever,” she said, haughtily, and turning to the miser she continued: “*Do you wish me to further serve you by go- ing for an officer to deliver your intended mur- derer and robber over to?” Harold Lynde, crushed by the discovery of his act, stood like one dazed at her words, and, as the miser still held h’s pistol ready for use, and at heart he had a cowardly fear of death, he turned a piteous, pleading glance upon him to await his ag OG Ina calm, thoughtful way it came: ‘No, thank you, I will not trouble you, and more, I will beg that you let this affair remain a secret between us, for I will relieve Mr. Lynde of one charge you make against him— that of robbery, though I may be wrong in do- ing 80, Fro kill me he came here, and, for fear of accidents, I will tell you why, young lady.” “Nol! no! no! I beg of you, Quilp”—began Harold Lynde, but the miser broke in sternly with: ‘Silence! You haveno right to ask mercy of me,” and again turning to Jule, the Jewess, as she had called herseli, he continued: ‘‘Thold the property of Andrew Lynde, the ~ millionaire, in my hands: but to-morrow I re~ — Al 2

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ais Nw ee) ' g a | + but go, for | j JULE, THE JEWESS. tease him of his indebtedness to me by secretly Pa his daughter Isabel. ‘*Now, young lady, I beg that you will keep this secret too, unless harm befall me before two o’clock to-morrow, and then you will know why Ezra A So met with his death, and that this man, Har fa Lynde, whom I now set free, was my assassin.” q arnestly the young man turned his gaze upon the beautiful Jewess; but she said coldly: ‘‘ Not being interested in Mr. Lynde and his affairs, the secret may remain a secret if so you wish it; good-night.” Without another word she turned and swept into the back room, and gazing after her, they beheld her gather her sweeping skirts around her, step through the low window out upon the roof of the balcony and disappear. : Then the eyes of the two men met, and, with his sinister smile, the miser said: ‘‘Mr, Lynde, itis nearly dawn, and I seldom keep late hours.” ‘“Show me out of your accursed old rookery, and I will gladly leave it,” was,the savage re- ly. ont Doubtiless; but Iam no liveried servant to show you out, sir; you found your way in, leave as you came, like a thief in the night,” “Bzra Quilp, you shall one day rue this night.” % Those who are threatened, my dear Harold, aro long-lived; but go, and tell your father how your murderous little plot to kill me, and; as I now believe, to get hold of the notes, and there- by save your riches and your sister from be- coming my wife, was thwarted by a young girl, who calls herself Jule, the Jewess.” ‘Oh, if I but dared,” hissed the young man, ¢linching his fist. “But you don’t for I am a dead shot, my only extravagance being the waste of powder in pis- tol practice; and besides, there is a man within eall, for one belongs to ihe Jewish family across the hallway, and, if the Jewess possesses such courage as you to-night saw, the Jew might prove more than a match for you if my aim failed.” ‘Curse you, Ezra Quilp! but Iswear to you that one day we will standon an even footing, and then you will sue in vain to me for merey.” ‘You donot act with Christian spirit, Harold, forI spare you, whea I could send you to prison’ y wish to be alone.” “Tet me leave by the door.” “T will not; go as you came, and before the daylight comes to show passers-by the elegant Mr. Harold Lynde, clambering down from the balcony of Miser Quilp’s rookery.” ‘‘One word: do you think that that Jewess will betray me?” sé No ! ” ‘ oe do you believe in her word not to do #0 ‘“‘ Instinct teaches me to place trust in her; if She does, I can swear that it is not true, that you came to my room by invitation, on a busi- ness matter, and that will settle it, for I care not to have my intended brother-in-law sent to prison; now go!” With a muttered oath, and words, the pur- ort of which: the miser did not catch, Harold ynde turned and crossed the room to the open window, : Stepping out upon tha roof, he beheld a white form not ten feet distant at another window, and knew that the eye of Jule the Jewess was upon him, “You and I shall meet again, fair Jule,” be sald, aloud, and swinging himself over the roof he dropped to the ground, and crossing the Weed-grown yard sprung upon his saddle-horse in waiting, and dashed away like the wind, his brain and heart on fire with the emotions that Overwhelmed him at the thwarting and discov- ery of his heinous plot to kill the miser and save the honor and riches of his family. CHAPTER V. THE MISER’'S TENANTS. “THe Jewish family,” as Ezra Quilp had Called them, had moved into their new quar- ters, fortunately, as it proved for their land- lord, the very morning previous to the eventful pe: described in the foregoing chapters. young man had called the day before and asked if he would rent the upper half of his house, which, with the wing on that side, con- Sisted of four rooms, and, as a fair price was offered, the miser had readily consented, for, ever before had he found any one willing to ve in the place, the dread of its being ** haunt- ” having deterred many a tenant from going ere, Quietly the Jew had had the rooms cleaned, d as quietly moved in, and the miser being \ absent, and engrossed with the day being the eve of the maturity of Andrew Lynde’s notes, and his revenge, he had even forgotten the ex- istence of others than himself in the old man- sion, that night. Into that other part of the ‘‘ haunted house,” as the superstitious dwellers in the neighbor- hood called it, I would have my reader accom- pany me at an early hour the morning following arold Lynde’s attack upon the miser, and the saving of his life by Jule, the Jewess. Although but new-comers, the five rooms, consisting of three bed-chambers, a dining- room and kitchen combined, and a parlor or sitting-room, were already comfortable in ap- pearance, and the scent of a savory breakfast pervaded the apartment. In the kitchen at a stove, an elderly woman, to judge from her face, although her hair was yet jet black and her eyes as bright as dia- monds, was cooking breakfast, while the heroine of the night before, Jule, the Jewess, was set- ting a table for three persons, and, in her canary-colored morning wrapper looked as fresh as a rose. In the adjoining room, seated at the window, and idly gazing over the housetops of the city in the distance, for the mansion stood alone on the river’s bank, sat a man whose exact age it would be hard to tell, as a full beard, falling upon his breast, concealed the greater part of his face. “ A handsome man he certainly was, and with a certain noble dignity resting upon his brow that gave him a look that was stern, and caused him to appear some ten years older than he really was: Compactly built, and well formed, dressed in the hight of fashion, and yet with ‘simple ele- gance, so to express it, he presented the ap- pearance ofa gentleman of refinement, which did not belie him, as Jule, the Jewess, entered and he arose and greeted her pleasantly. A Jew he certainly was, and one to command respect and win confidence. “Well, fair Jule, how did you rest in your new quarters last night?’ he asked, pleasantly, speaking in the Hebrew tongue. ‘Not well, I fear, for I was disturbed,” she answered, in her frank way. ‘‘Surely the ghosts they told us dwelt here did not disturb you,” he said, witha smile. ‘Oh no; but I prevented a ghost from being made; but now I cannot say more, as mamma will be in. After breakfast I will speak with you, if you will ask me to join you ina walk to the river bank.” Impressed by her manner, for he saw that she had something to-communicate, he returned: “‘ Assuredly, and with pleasure, for we have a fine view of the river from yonder point,” and he again bent his gaze out of the window, as the elderly woman, also a Jewess, called to the maiden to set the breakfast upon the table, It was a pleasant little repast, and Ezra Quilp’s tenants seemed to enjoy it in their new home, for the old woman remarked: * Victor, I like this place,” *“T am glad of it, Mother Naomi, though I wish you would let me place you in the elegant home you deserve, and have servants to wait upon you.” ‘“No, Victor; I care not for the splendor of the past; I gave up wealth to marry a poor man, and when he died he left me and my child in poverty, and I care not to receive better at our hands, though I know your willing heart; ut when I am gone, then you and Jule can enjoy your riches.” At the reference to herself the maiden col- ored, but the man never changed countenance, as he responded, calmly: ‘* As you please. If you prefer this humble life to one more fitting you and Jule so be it; on our Sabbath I will run up to see you, but the rest of the week my duties will keep me in the city. Come, Jule, let me show you a pretty iver scene, for ere long I must away.” The maiden glanced toward her mother for sanction which was given, and the man and the maiden descended the creaking stairs and left the mansion together, wending their way through the weed-overgrown grounds toward the river bank. ‘Victor, do you know the Lyndes?” The two had halted beneath a tree upon. the bank of the river, and almost abruptly the maiden had asked the question, for the man started. 5 “‘Yes, I know who they are,” he replied, quietly. ‘* Well, I have a secret to tell you, and I doso for your good, only do not act in the matter un- less it will be for your benefit, and if not, prom- ise me you will not betray what I tell you,” said Jule, earnestly. ‘* Any request you ask of me, Jule, gladly will I grant,” “Tis said, you know, that our race act only from motives of gain, Victor, but that alone does not gett me to tell you the secret I in- tend to, though I know you can greatly enrich ott thereby, should the Lyndes go to the wall. ‘Ah! it is of them you would speak, then?” he asked, with interest. “Yes; I know that Mr. Lynde, though a mil- lionaire on paper, is really bankrupt, for he has mortgaged his property i toto.” ““What! can this be true, Jule?’ asked her Es or in surprise. ‘It is true, Victor, and to-day is the last day of grace to pay his indebtedness.” he man started, for the news seemed to in- terest him strangely; but he said with a calm- ness that was evidently forced: **T am listening, Jule.” “‘His property is valued, I know, at between three and four millions, and yet the one who has a claim upon it all holds it on but a million and.a half paid out, and I thought that you could perhaps buy that indebtedness from the holder, and then, if the Lyndes could not pay in ayes reasonable time, you would make the ront. “Why, Jule, what a business woman you are! But, is this your only motive:in seekin to get me to aid the Lyndes?” and he look her squarely in the face. mat look caused her to flush, but she answered. ys “Tt is not!” ‘You have another motive, then? Will tell it me?” ‘Certainly!’ she answered, in a low voice. “T am listening,” and he bent his dark, searching eyes, in which dwelt a world of fas- eination, full upon her, f “*T went to Madam Cardoza’s boarding-school in Boston, you may remember?” “J do,” “There I met Isabel Lynde, the daughter of the millionaire,” ‘* Ah! and she snubbed you for being one of a Rs a hceage race, and insulted you,” he said, bit- rly. ‘‘ She did not,” warmly responded the maiden. **Oh!” he ejaculated, but it meant much. ‘*On the contrary, she sought me out because others shunned me, and nobly acted as my stanch friend.” ‘She was a brave girl.” ‘* Indeed she was, Victor, and a true friend to me through all, and she is as beautiful as she is noble,” ) ** And wherein is pose motive in wishing, me to possess her wealth?” ; “Tf her father, by speculation, and her bro- | ther by his fast life, swamp their fortune, then, | ae possessing it, can keep Isabel from ever owing want.” “True, I cowld do so; but is this your only motive, Jule?” ~ ; “cc No,” : . ou oe another?” es,” she answered, withablush, “Can I know it???” ‘*Yes, You remember when my father died wo were in great pounsepe ‘¢Yes, I remember it,” he said, gules ‘Well, Victor, | had now and then met a young man in my walks, who sought my ac- quaintance, but I repulsed his advances.” 3 “When father la ill, innumerable little deli- bi kindnesses you cacies were sent him, and many kin shown anonymously, that I afterward learned came from ea entleman I speak of, and whom I now know to have been Harold Lynde.” “‘ Jule, that man is a villain, and © sought to insnare you as a hunter would a bird,” said Victor Moloch, with sudden fierceness of man- ner that surprised the maiden, for she answered uickly: ¢ - oe casio’ believe him so vile as that, Vie- tor.” iv sy ‘“‘He is so vile, Jule; but, for that trap-set- ting for an innocent girl, which. you called kindness, you would have me care for him, too, when his fortune has been squandered?’ and again the bitterness of tone and manner turned to the man. ‘“‘} would not see him want, Victor.” “There we differ, for I would see Harold Lynde want, Jule—ay, grovel in the dust of beggary, and never stretch forth hand to give him a crumb to stop the gaawing of hunger, or - a drop of water to quench bis thirst.” ‘ He suddenly checked his violent manner. for \ 6%,

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ad ¥ es he saw that it had startled the maiden creatiy, and quickly continued in a changed tcne: ** Jule, if I:eould serve you in this matter I would act, but it will take a large’sum to get command ofthe anes owe you speak of as being due to-day, and {fear I could not get it in so:short a time.” ‘Why, L thought-you were worth millions?” “ And soiam; but to raise a million and a half in money in so short a time, needs the | wealth of a Croesus,” he said, with a smile. ‘*“You would double your advance should the Lyndes fail to pay?” she asked. ** Yes, in all probability I'should.” ‘** And gain a large interest if they did pay?” ** Assuredly.” “’Then why not * Sa take the mortgages?” *“<T cannot, for I would have to make large sacrifices to get the money required.” ‘*T am so sorry.” “T pledge you Miss Lynde shall not suffer, for you can aid her,” he said, seeing that she seemed deeply distressed. “¢ But she will suffer, Victor.” 4c How ? ‘*T have another motive.” “ Ah! a woman always keeps her hottest shot for a reserve fire,” he said, with a smile, and yet with considerable interest. ‘‘The man who holds the mortgages will give them up, upon conditions.” acc Ah!? ‘¢ Yes: if Isabel Lynde will sacrifice herself to become his wife!” Victor Moloch turned suddenly pale, and said in a hoarse whisper: ‘¢ And she refuses?” “To save her father and brother, for I know she cares not for herself, she offers herself for . the sacrifice!” _ ’ Her face now turned crimson, and still she re ‘* And the man turns over the mortgages to her father?’ ‘*So I understand it.” “ A case of barter and sale,” he said, with a sneer. ‘Yes, nothing more.” | “Then why should there be any trouble or | anxiety on your part, Jule?” he asked, almost impatiently. ' “You remember the man of whom you rented our rooms?” ‘* Yes, the miser secs he is called.” “ He is the man that holds the claim upon the Lyndes,” she said, impressivel struck a severe blow, Victor back, crying fiercely: * Jule, this must not, shall not be,” ‘ CHAPTER VI. THE JEWESS PLAYS ANOTHER ROLE. Tue sudden excited manner of Victor Mo- and, as though oloch staggered _ loch, at ber words, seemed to almost frighten Jule, the Jewess, and she stood, pale and trem- bling, gazing at him for an explanation, for what she had said to so move him, she was at a loss to discover. At last the man, with a violent effort of self- control, subdued his emotion, and said as calmly as he could: ** And that is the man that holds Lynde the millionaire in his power?” “Yes, Victor; just to think of beautiful and noble Isabel Lynde, sacrificing herself to that man. “Tt is fearful to think of, Jule; he is treble her age, and his god is so thoroughly gold, men say, that he is dead to any other thought and feeling than accumulating it; but it is strange he is willing to pay so large a price even for Isabel Lynde.” “Well she is willing, as I know.” “‘ And how do you know, Jule?” ‘The maiden.colored, and rémaining silent the man asked with sudden suspicion: Jule, have you seen Harold Lynde lately?” mained silent, while, his suspicions aroused the more by her confusion he said sternly; “* Answer me!” Vas,” ** When?” Last night.” ‘* Where?” *¢ At Quilp’s house.” *‘Tell me more.” “He came there to visit the miser, and 1) overheard what was said,” she replied, annoyed | at having to prevaricate. Victor Moloch still looked her in the eyes; | - but “Ay met his gaze unflinchingly and she con- tinued: “You remember I told you that I was dis- ” turbed last night?” “sé Yes, » ‘| & Well, my window is but a few fect from the JULE. THE JEWESS. . | window in the miser’s roo‘n, and sleepless; T sat | up late looking out upon’ the starlit river, and | then it was that Harold Lynde visited Ezra Quilp, and I overheard all that passed.” **The God of Abraham forgive me, Jule; but fora moment, one single little moment, T held | doubt of you.” She drew herself proudly up, her eyes flam- | ing, and answered haughtily: | | “You forget, Victor Moloch, that I am Jule | Naomi, a Jewess.” ““T did forget, Jule, and I crave forgiveness; but tell me, do those mortgages mature to-day?” ‘Yes, and to-day Quilp is to secretly marry Isabel Lynde, as security for the mortgages until their engagement can be made known an a public ceremony follow; so I understand it,” ‘By the God of Israel! but I will take his worthless life ere such sacrilege shall be done,” came the fietce words of the man, now deadly pale. ‘*No, Victor; his death would but bring ruin upon the Lyndes, and an ignominious death to yous gold inust be the weapon used, not steel or ead. “True, Jule, I was momentarily crazed by the thought; now I am calm and will act.” “You will buy up the mortgages then?” she said in joyous tones. ‘‘ Alas! I fear he may refuse to sell, for I overheard enough to know that he acts from re- venge against the Lyndes.” « “But he must sell them,” was the impatient rejoinder. ** His greed of gold must make him do so.” ‘It shall, if I have to double the amount,” was the vehement reply. ‘‘But you then risk losing, Victor, if the La bi should not bring that much.” “T care not; Isabel Lynde must be saved; now Jule, a thought flashes upon me,” ‘“‘ Well, Victor?” ‘¢You are good at disguises, as I have reason to know from your pranks upon many of your friends.” “ Yes. »” “Do you object to playing banker’s clerk for a while?” Bes” ‘Not if I can serve you and Isabel Lynde.” “Well, youcan; go to the house, while I start at once down-town, and ask your mother to let you go shopping to get some things for me.” ‘¢ Must I deceive her, Victor?” * Not exactly, for you can purchase some ar- ticles for me; and then come at once to the Cit Hotel and I will meet you there with a ban messenger’s disguise, and you can return and see old Quilp in it.” “cc Well?” ' ‘* Make an offer to buy for cash all claims h “holds against Mr. Lynde.” ** Tf he refuses to sell, Victor?” : Go up in peor offer until he accepts.” “To what Jimit?” ‘Double the amount, if necessary.” ‘7 will do as you wish, Victor,” ‘And I will, while you are interviewing Quilp, raise the money in gold checks, at any sacrifice, and have it ready to pay him.” Surprised at the sudden earnestness of Victor Moloch, Jule, the Jewess, hastened homeward, while he went to hire a hack to drive him at once into the heart of the city. Successful in his search for a vehicle, he sprung into it, drove to the shop of one of his own race, a dealer in second-hand clothing, made the requisite purchases, and an hour after while he was hastening about the town, getting | securities turned into cash, Jule, in her disguise, which, with wig and false mustache, was most coanplete, was approaching the miser’s home. Her mother sat at the window sewing, and lanced at the supposed messenger, little dream- ing who it was the clothes concealed, and seeing him coming, Ezra Quilp opened the door for him, and said, hastily: ““Oh! you have come to redeem that note of Hasbrouck & Bailey’s?” “No, Mr. Quitp, I have come to see you upor an important matter, sir, involving consider- able,” was the reply, in a changed voice. “Then come into my office,” replied Ezr. Quilp, his office being the room in which ne twelve hours before he had so nearly lost his life. ‘Now, sir, your business?” and although it was his wedding-da Ezra Quilp was keen on the scent to make a few dollars if possible. “You hold claims upon the Lynde estate, I believe?” ‘¢Who the devil said so, sir?” cried the miser. ‘ fi completely thrown off his guard by the sudden — ness of the question. i “Tam not at liberty to divulge names, Mr. Quilp, only to offer to pay you eash for all claims you have against Mr, Andrew Lyndé and his estate.” ‘¢ Ah! suppose then I tell you that it is a hun- dred thousand dollars?’ and the miser spoke with a sneer. “*T will take it up, sir.” 4 “You will, will you; and if it is half a mil — lion, young man?” “Twill take the claims up, sir.” ‘¢Tho devil you will!” Yes, sir.” Ezra Quilp was nonplused; how the secret got ouf he did not know, nor could he think, unless Andrew Lynde had suddenly found some friend willing to advance the money to save el. If such was the case the messenger would know the amount certainly, and this he made an. effort to find out, and asked: “Are you ready to pay a million dollars, sir?” “Tam, Mr, Quilp,” was the confident reply. “Ah! Whatamount are you ready to pay, sir?” tried the miser again. ‘“‘The amount of the claims you hold with all interests due.” ‘‘ Even a million and a half, young man?” *Fiven that sum, Mr, Quilp.” **- You have the money?” “Tt shall be in your hands within the hour,” ‘« Suppose I say two millions, sir?” “Tt is the same, sir.” ‘Well, the claims I hold against Andrew Lynde and his estate, young man, amount with interest to about a million and a half, but I swear to you that two million dollars in gold will not take them up,” and a wicked look rested on the miser’s face, “T have heard that you pinched hard when you got a chance, Miser Quilp,”” was the blunt remark, for the supposed messenger was dis- gusted at the meanness of the man. “Yes, Ido pinch hard on a cent, ora dollar, | or @ million; the eagle frequently shrieks be-, neath my gripe,” was the sinister remark, f “Yes, and human kind, too, I’ll wager; but V’li give you two millions for the claims,” yOu will not.” “That means you refuse the large sum for what amounts to far less?” SY CR! ‘IT will add a hundred thousand more,” * And I refuse.” ‘¢Call it a quarter of a million, sir.” “ bins this anxiety to get this claim, young man?’ “The roperty of Mr. Lynde is worth more then [ offer.” “That I well know; but why are you, or the nes You represent, so desirous of getting the claims?” “ Sell them to me at two million and a quar ter and I will tell you.” “T will not.” ‘Call it a quarter more?” “No, young man.” “Phen name your price,” impatiently said the messenger. ‘tT have no price,” was the cool reply. “P11 double the amount of the claims,” “Tt is no use.” “You mean you will not sell?” “cc Yes. ”» “You expect Mr. Lynde to pay you more?” **-Yes,” and a gleam so devilish came into the miser’s eyes, that the messenger said quickly, remembering what Victor Moloch had re- marked: “ Buy them, Jule, at any price:” ~ ‘“Name your price, miser Quilp.” i *‘T decline to sell, sir; go back and tell those, you represent that Ezra Ouilp is satisfied with the claim as itis, and that he prefers to keep the paper to selling it at any sum. “*Good-day, young man.’ Disappointed beyond expression, and bitterlY hating the miser in her heart, for she now say that his hatred was greater than his greed 0 gain, Jule, the Jewess, departed from the old mansion, and rapidly sought the spot where sb? had left the hack that had driven her there. — “Drive your best, driver, and you shall hav® double fare,” she said, as sho leaned back upo? the seat, so disappointed that great tears we up in her eyes. Encouraged by the promised reward, the coachman rattled along, to the dismay of pedet trians, until he was brought toa sudden halty and a stern voico said: a for reckless and rapi “T hold your man driving, sur.” - cate It was a bluc-coated guardian of the c'tY a

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Peace that looked in at the window, and his fice Was hot with anger, for the driver had attempt: to dash by, “Officer,” promptly said Jule, “you will not detain mo, I beg, when I say itis a case of life and death.” ut @ policeman would have detained. the Vehicle, and the driver, too, had he not seen a Ouble X on the crisp bank-note thrust into his Palm; but, seeing this, his heart was moved With compassion, and he said in sympathetic tones that became well an American citizen: “Oh, sur, it’s a case 0’ life an’ dith, is it? Then Barney O'Toole is not ther man ter stop ez from going ter’ see yer poor mither die. rive on, Johnay, and don’t be afther sparing er cracker,” . ‘ Johnny,” as he called the Jehu, waited for NO second command, but, with a muttered oath —for his knowledge of human nature discov- ered to his mind’s eye the true inwardness of ® release—laid the whip on, and dashed off at still greater speed than before, and soon halted at the hotel where Jule was to meet Vic- r Moloch. : peveerly he advanced to the carriage, and aT . *‘T have three million; is it more?” “He refuses to sell at any sum,” “God of Israel! did you tempt him well?” “Yes, Victor, but I do not believe ten mil- lion would tempt him, and poor Isabel is lost, or it is now eleven o’clock,” answered Jule, the Gwess, sadly. y “eh edanet y Victor Moloch looked at his Watch, and replied: “You said the secret marriage was to be at "0 o'clock, I believe?” “*Three hours in which to save her from that Man, and, by the God of Abraham and the blood of our race, I will do it.” “What would you do, Victor?’ asked the Maiden, alarmed by his livid face and stern Manner, “Nothing rash, Jule; what I do, I shall do With my eyes open, and with perfect calmness, ut I will save her from Quilp the miser.” “You would not kill him, Victor?” she asked, a hoarse whisper. “Oh no! I shail not touch him,” he responded, th a strange smile; then he added, quietly: “Now you go up to your room in the hotel, Change your Eicthee: and go out the ladies’ en- trance, leaving this suit in the sachel for me to 00k after. “Then get a cab and drive on the avenue and make some purchases for me, and return ome, “When will I see you, Victor?” “T will try and see you to-morrow, perhaps to-night, Jule.” “Very well; do nothing rash, Victor, for ina moment one often does that which ages of re- 8ret cannot repair, and the tears of angels will Hot blot out.” iy “Why, Jule, how serious you are; I will do jothing rash, I pledge you; good-by,” and those Wo parted, “Yes, I will save her, I will save her from Ezra Quilp the miser,” came sternly from the Ips of Victor Moloch as he walked along, his &ce bent downward, and his whole bearing at of aman who had resolved upon the exe- ®ution of some daring, perhaps desperate deed. CHAPTER VIL AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR AT LYNDE MANOR. THE same elegant clock, which had startled Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, from his moody Tevéries at midnight, just twelve hours before, 8gain chimed forth its clear strokes as the hands Pointed to twelve, and out of their sentry- OXes came the mimic buglers to blow their Sugle blast. he millionaire was in the room, and upon his face rested a look of joy and pain commingled, such an antithesis is possible. He felt joy to know that he was safe; selfish °yY to feel that he would not go before the World branded as a bankrupt; but he held for WS beautiful daughter a most devoted attach- Ment, and he was pained to feel that hers was be the'sacrifice for his gain, and the gain of her fast brother. Oh! if it were any one else, any one else!” he muttered. ‘Then would I feel at least content; but to fant © her to that man, Ezra Quilp, and to fel that he acts only with a feeling of revenge, hard indeed to bear. . Jsabel, with her beautiful face and accom- plshments, could marry the highest in the land; | then she seems tO care for no one, and it vor r | Ss JULE, THE JEWESS. | 0 SEES esate ecm a meen See ee eee eee SS eS TS EB a EY RR EE SE ST RE ew ee nee oot ee ne may therefore be easier for her to make fhe sac- rifi ce, ; “She understands too, that if she does not marry Quilp I am ruined, and of loves luxury and ease as well as I do, and pre- fers to bind herself to that wretch, rather than give up riches.” And thus be excused his act, his own selfish- ness in a measure by throwing the deed partly pot Isabel, though in his inmost heart he felt that she was the one who acted unselfishly. ‘A gentleman to see you, sir,” said a servant, entering, and breaking in upon his meditations. ‘Ah! is it Mr. Quilp? he asked, anxiously. *T do not know Mr. Quilp, sir.” “True, true; whatis his name?” ‘““He gave none, sir; only said he wished to see you upon a matter of great importance, and he seemed hurried, sir.” : ‘¢ Show him in, Richard,” said the millionaire, and the servant disappeared, to return in a mo- ment and usher intc the room a man of dis- tinguished appearance, but—a Jew. ‘“Mr, Lynde, I believe I have the honor of ad- dressing?” he said, with the courteous ease of the perfect gentleman, My name is Lynde, sir, and you are—” “Mr. Victor Moloch, sir, and I have called on you upon a matter of importance,” “T am glad to meet you, sir; be seated, plese. said the millionaire, politely, for he-- ad heard the name of Victor Moloch before, and knew him to be a man reputed to possess great wealth, though a late comer to the city. ‘* Now, sir, how can I serve you?” asked the millionaire, as Victor Moloch sunk into a seat, and looked upon Andrew Lynde with an anxi- ous expression upon his fine face, ““T have come to serve you, sir, for J need no aid,” was the abrupt reply of the visitor. Andrew Lynde’s haughty manner, under or- dinary circumstances, would have broken out violently at this proffer of,services; but the last few hours had greatly humbled him, and he said in response: ‘May I ask, sir, how yow can serve me?” “IT believe that at two o’clock to-day there is to bea most interesting ceremony performed in your house?” Andrew Lynde started, and his face grew a shade sha while he said: ‘‘T know not how any ceremonies in my house, sir, interest you.’ ‘‘Deeply, as Miss Lynde is to sacrifice herself to one who is even older than her own father, nei a gold-greedy miser every way unworthy of er ‘Ha! where did you learn this?” “Tt matters not, six, I kuow the fact.” “Fas that accursed miser already broken faith and spread the rumor over the city ?” **No, he has not betrayed you, sir; but I know the circumstance, the sale that is to take place, for you intend to sell Miss Lynde to Ezra Quilo for a million and a half dollars.” ““\"ou are insolent, sir, to dare say I would sell my daughter,” said the millionaire, with anger. ‘Call it sacrifice, then, Mr. Lynde, if you prefer the term,” was the cool reply. “Well, sir, if my daughter desires to marry Mr. Quilp, with whom I am interested in busi- ness, how are you concerned?” ‘Deeply, for I would save her from such a sacrifice,” ** You! do you know my child?” “*T have seen her, sir, and that is sufficient to interest one in her,” was the evasive reply, ‘*¥ would feel obliged if you would state clearly, sir, why you have come here?” 6 f Zo save Miss Lynde from being sacrificed to u le ‘* Hal and you can save her?” eagerly asked the millionaire. “Yes, from Quilp.” “ Ah! here comes my son; are you alone?” and Mv. Lynde turned to Harold, who just then entered the room, his face pale, his eyes sunken, and his brow cloudy. ‘“ You are alone, then? I feared that accursed miser had already come— Ah!” The last ejaculation was at beholding the long-bearded, handsome Jew seated in the chair the other side of the table, “This is Mr. Victor Moloch, my son,” said the millionaire, by way of introduction. Harold Lynde bowed haughtily, but there was something in the dark, piercing eyes turned upon him that made him feel uneasy, in spite of his sang froid manner that’ he at once as- sumed, and he said impatiently almost: “Have we not met somewhere before, Mr. Moloch, for your face has a familiar look?” ‘‘We Jews are all alike, you know, Mr. t course she’ - re IE Pane cas Paarl mee ee ks ema iar eat war oy NlST etd 2k Laie ee ee ee I a te ee a PR ge tee gee PL Le De mil Lk ea ky 7 Harold Lynde, as you may have observed if you have studied the Jewish physiognomy cee was the calm response. “T have never given the subject thought, as I have had no dealings with your race, Mr. Moloch, and knew not that my father was forced to do so, until I found you here,” was the insolent response, — “Well, Mr. Lynde, if your father is willing for you to know it, you may as well under- stand that I am here to aid him out of the Slough of Despond which his foolish speculations and your reckless gambling have led him into,” Both the millionaire and his son were dum- founded by this cool assertion of their faults from an utter stranger; but the father knew that the visitor was already in possession of his compact with Ezra Quilp, and Peat checked the angry retort that was arising to the lips of Harold Lynde, ‘Hold, my son; Mr. Moloch is right, for it has been the fault of both you and me that I am now on the verge of ruin, or rather wholly am I to blame for allowing you to squander money as you have.” “Ah! you consider then this Jew the proper person to tell’ you of your faults?’ sneered Harold, his violent passion held in check by the entreating look of his father. “I consider this gentleman right, Harold, and, as ho has come to serve me, and to save your sister from that villain, Quilp, 1 now beg that he make known fully his intentions, as we have but little time.” ‘*Ffa! the Jew knows all?” cried Harold. “*T do, sir,” was the smiling reply. _. Pe “Who told you, sir?’ was the insolent ques- on, \ ‘*That I decline to make known; but I will say that if you wish the disgraceful bargain you were to enter into—” “ec Sir ? “ “T repeat, Mr. Harold Lynde, the gs he bargain yourself and father were to enter into, to save yourselves at the sacrifice of Miss Lynde, to remain a secret, you had better bar- ter with me, and thus relieve yourself of the miser; otherwise, good-afternoon, gentlemen,” and Victor Moloch turned as though to depart; but quickly both Harold and his father de- tained him, while the former cried: ‘‘ Wait, and we will hear P jee terms, Jew.” Victor Moloch bowed, and resuming his seat gazed with a smiling face upon the two men whom he knew he held wholly at his mercy. CHAPTER VIII. THE HIGHEST BIDDER. “Mr. Harotp Lynpx, let_me say to you now, sir, that in calling me Jew to insult me you hit wide of the mar , for I am a Jew, and 1 am as proud of the title as you are of that of Christian, and have far better right to it than you to that you bear so illy before the world.” Harold Lynde fretted under this little piece of advice, with which Victor Moloch reopened the conversation, but another pleading look ps his father kept him silent, and the latter said: ‘Now, Mr. Moloch, we will talk business, if you please,” “That is what I came for, sir; you é t Ezra Quilp at two o’clock, as I understan it, Poe y, by secret ceremony, your daughter?’ ‘1 do “He holds notes of yours, so secured as to | serve as mortgages upon all your property?” ‘“‘In the devil’s name how learned you this?” cried Harold Lynde, with pale face. “Tf IT err, sir, please set me right; these not.s, Mr. nde, with interest, amount to a million and a ” “They do.” “Your estate is far more valuable?” “ Yes.” “* At what figure do you set it?” ‘Five million, sir.” : “ Ah! then we will say it is really worth three millions, and yet the Jew gets it to-day, if you break your bargain with him, for half that sum?” x “ee Yes. ” ‘“‘He is not the man you would desire for a son-in-law ?” ess ' ‘“Great God! have you seen him?” ‘*T have; there is nothing against acter.” “ He is a miser, sir.” “ And you a speculator, Mr. Lynde,” was the calm assertion. oe ‘‘He is an old man.” reve “ And so are you, Mr. Lynde.” _ / ‘We will not argue, sir, but dive in medias res.” said the millionaire, impatiently. ——

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8 ‘s Very well; Mr. Quip, when bound by mar- daughter, s to give to you your riage to your notes?” seYes.” * Suppose I offer to take up those notes for 1 Both father and son started with delightful anticipation, and the former said, eagerly: “Tf you would only do so, I will pay ycu, on notes I give you at six months, fifteen per cent. interest.” **T ask no interest, sir.” ** Indeed! you are then mest generous.” “Wait ere you praise my generosity; with your notes in your hand again you are free to mortgage what property you desire, 'to get any | money you may need?” The millionaire’s face flushed, and after an instant of hesitation he asked: ‘* Will you lend me money on a secret mort- gage, sir?” “Why secret?” **T have my reasons, Mr. Moloch,” **No, I can lend you no money on a secret mortgage.” “Then I may as well tell you that I can only secure, you by my note, with specified proper- ties named therein.” “Why not by regular mortgage?” “The truth is, Mr. Moloch, I am so bound by my-partnership in business that I forfeit to my artner, as he does to me, every dollar I own, f either gives a mcrtgage. “T have drawn from the firm. all the ready ‘cash I dared, and then gave my notes to Quilp.” “ And they are worthless?” ‘How mean you, sir?” indignantly asked the millionaire. “Your prior contract with your partner first holds good, for your personal property is all forfeited to him, so that you can save Miss Lynde from this miser.” f “No, no, uo! I would then be liable, as you know, | and my partner would take every- thing. 4 is it not better to even be poor than to have Miss Lynde so sacrificed?” asked the Jew, scorn- fully. “She consents, sir,” said Harold, “Yes, to save your father and yourself, Mr. Harold Lynde; but then, Mr, Lynde, you pre- fer to take these notes up?” ‘“By all means, sir.” “And are willing to pay?” ‘“'You just said you asked no interest, sir,” faltered the millionaire, ' “True, but ITmake a claim upon you for what I do,” smiled Victor Moloch. ‘* Name it.” ‘‘ First, does Quilp advance you any money over the amount claimed by the notes? ‘* Fe does not,” *‘But you need money ?” **Indeed, I do need ready cash.” ~ “And your son cannot lend you any?” “Bah! he is now begging for a few thousands to pay gambling debts of honor, as he calls them.” ‘To what amount?” and the Jew turned to ‘Harold, who hesitatingly answered, with an - avoidance of his father’s eye: “Twenty-five thousand.” The handsome brows of the Jew were arched in surprise, but he said Napa ‘You are a heavy player, Mr. Harold Lynde, ‘and, I may add, a heavy loser, too. Now, Mr. , Lynde, senior, how much ready cash do you wish?” “Vpon what terms, sir?” “First name the sum,” “Well, I have some debts I wish paid, and _ some little speculations I wish to enter upon, sero a handsome present to my daughter Isa- pet _ “And I must give Isabel a wedding present, too,” quickly said Harold. , “You forget, my son, that Isabel is not to - marry, if we arrange with Mr. Moloch,” sug- » gested the millionaire, blandly. “‘ True, father, and it seemed to have escaped + Bel mind, too, for your words caused me to ak, “Well, Mr. Lynde, I will pay into your hands, say, the amount of the notes, fifty thou- gand dollars for Mr. Harold Lynde, and how much did you say you wished?” : “A quarter,” said the millionaire, indiffer- ently. ‘A quarter of what, sir? ‘* A quarter of a million,” “To be squandered in speculation,” said “Ag yours will be in gambling,” retorted his _ father. JULE, THE JEWESS. ** A quarter of a million to you, fifty thousand more to Mr. Harold Lynde— _ “Call it a hundred thousand to me, for I wish to get my yacht fitted out for a cruise.” WS oi any change of countenance, the Jew id: ** Your father is the one to say, sir.” “Very well, let the boy have the sum, but it shall be the last he gets from me for two ears,” **This will bring itso near two million, gen- tlemen, suppose I say that sum ior you to re- deem the notes with, and have a balance for yourselves?” : The eyes of the millionaire and his son glit- tered with delight; but almost simultaneously their faces clouded, for through their brains flashed one thought: “What is the reward for all this munifi- cence?” “Very well, make it two million, and I will draw up the notes to you for that sum,” said the millionaire. ““T ask no notes, sir.” ‘* What! do you advance this sum to ma without security?” asked the surprised mer- chant. ‘“No, I ask security.” ‘* Name it.” “The same that you were to give to Quilp, the miser,” CHAPTER IX. THE DECISION. At the calm, unimpassioned face of Victor Moloch both the millionaire and his son gazed with almost consternation in their own, when they heard his daring proposition. “Great God! do you mean this?’ cried the millionaire, first gaining speech, as he saw that the face of his son was growing black with anger. “Why not?” was the’cool reply. “ But you are a Jew,” cried Andrew Lynde. “And you a Christian,” sneered Victor Meloch, with an emphasis upon the word Chris- jan. ‘The difference is great,” age: admit it, my Christian friend, but I waive at. **'You do what?” burst from the lips of Harold Lynde. ‘“ Waive your being a Christian.” “By the Lord above! but I’ve a mind to break every bone in your Israelite body,” and the young man made a threatening step toward the Jew, whose calm words che ked him, as he said in distinct tones: he the devil, whom you have better right to call upon, I advise you not to make the at- pecs 1 arold Lynde, ‘* My son, this quarreling is silly, and not to the point; surely you cannot be in earnest, sir,” said the elder Lynde, turning to the Jew. “Surely I am, sir.” ‘*But Jews and Christians never wed,” “Oh yes, it has been done.” “*T cannot consent to it, sir.” “‘ Yet you are willing to sacrifice her upon Quilp, the miser.” ‘‘He is a Christian at least.” “He is built in the form of his Creator, or at least after the mold of mankind,” sneered the ew. ‘* But my child would never consent.” vote Ask her; if she refuse I have nothing more say. “Harold, call your sister.” “No, Vl not lend hand to such a sacrifice. It was bad enough with old Quilp,” he said, bitterly. ** But you forget the generous terms of Mr. Moloch.’ Harold seemed to have forgotten them for an instant, for he said quickly: ‘Tf the sacrifice must be made, the amount is not enough,” . “You forget, Mr, Harold Lynde, that your sister is the object of barter in this case; I have made my offer, and it rests with her to say whether she shall be sold for that sum. Will ou call her, or shall I retire and leave the field 0 Quilp?” ‘*He will pay more,” . ‘Not when he holds your father in his power me acts from a feeling of revenge against im. “True, Harold, Mr. Moloch speaks truly,” put in the father. “May I ask what motive prompts you?” sneered Harold Lynde. ‘*One motive, sir, I will tell you; Ilove Miss Lunde,” from the miser, and he cared pt to see his si : = You love my sister?” was the contemptudl reply. E ey do, sir,” came the manly and frank mse. eran! Lwould not be the one to break w love-match,” retorted Harold, with a bi laugh, as he moved toward the door. : ‘*Nor to break off a moneyed transacti sneered the Jew, and the young man closed door behind him with a bang, to drown the casm he had begun to fear. Entering his sister’s room, Harold Lyn) found her pacing the room with nervous trea%| and her face, he noticed, was very pale, and he lips firm set. She looked up nervously at bP) entrance, and said quickly: | “ Has he come, Harold?” re “ Not old Quilp, but another; we have mae: better terms for you, Bel, so come to the alta! of sacrifice,” he said, bitterly. ‘“What mean you, Harold?” she asked, coming white as a corpse. { ‘*Oh, don’t get frightened; it is but a case? six of one and half a dozen of the other, wl% more generosity and nose, and less age agains ! the miser.” FD ‘‘Harold, [ask you again what you mea: she said, peremptorily. ‘Come and see, Bel, for there is a higher bit der for your hand in the library, and I gu 4 we'll have to knock you down to him,”, all with a bitter laugh he turned away, while sl? slowly followed him. a As she swept into the library, looking grand beautiful in her black silk, and wearing? color or ornament, not even a ring, Victor ‘ loch and her father arose, and the former be! low before her, as the millionaire said; “Isabel, my daughter, this is Mr. Victor M loch, a Jewish gentleman,” The maiden cast a. searching glance into th? | handsome face and at the distingué appearaD® of the man and bowed, while her lips gave ® sigh of relief. ¥ “I thought you had met my sister befor’ said Harold, who had followed ‘her closely in” the room, “T believe that Miss Lynde fails to rememb! ever meeting with me before,” was the ev reply. of Victcr Moloch. | *‘] think we have never met before, sir,” 5!" answered, with a quick glance at the visitor. _. | ' “Oh, it’s a case of affinity on your part, th? love you spoke of, Moloch,” sneered Hato | while the Jew, unnoticing the words, really pitying the trembling old father, yer seemed unable to find words to break to ‘4 daughter what he had to say, turned to b maiden, and said in his clear, pleasant tones: d “‘Miss Lynde, learning that your father 2? brother were to sacrifice you, f hpeot I beliet with your consent, to save them from the pit 9 ruin, into which the reckless speculations of th? one and the dissipation and gambling of t other had led them, I came | made a higheF offer for your hand than Quilp would giv’ hcping, in time, to win the heart that wel with the hand,” : “Am I to understand that you offer, Mt Moloc:, if I caught the name aright—” ‘Yes, Isabel, Mr. Victor Moloch, the wealthY Jewish banker, of whom you have heard,” terposed Mr, Lynde, eagerly, t “‘Mr, Moloch, I am_to understand, then, tha ou make the same offer for my hand th.+ Mt za Quilp does?” and Isabel Lynde spoke in # low, but distinct tone, ““F offer yur father, Miss. Lynde, the sum 1? redeem his notes and about half a milion do lars over in ready money.” “Yes, sis, the Jew is the highest bidder,” sug” gested Harold, : fi ee “I believe it is the highest bidder that ge the goods?” asked: Isabel, calmly. ; “Yes, Miss Lynde.” ¥ t _ “Then, Mr. Moloch, if it is my consent a is wanted in this little busine s transaction, ;, freely give it, to save my father from ruid, was the frank reply. ” ‘You are to marry the Jew, you know, Bel, said Harold, . a a 6 apes so I escape an alliar’’’ “vith Bar aL ‘win i Gog, but ho is a Christian; this person ® Jew,” said Harold, hoping that the maide? would decide in favor of Ezra Quilp, for t know he could force what money he needed ou of his father, by maxing him again borro ter wedded to an Israelite. ‘ ‘‘T have decided, Harold; whe «does Mr. Mo; loch ask for the consummation ,. my pledge? she said, coldly. time within the me : {ay “*Miss Lynde can set her. next month,’ was tho reply, °

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** And the guarantee that you ask, sir?” “Your word only, Miss Lynde.” ~ “You are generous, sir, and I freely give it; _ ne month from to-day I will be ready to be _ Your bride,” and the tone was firm and the ~ %Yes raised unflinchingly to his face. . “This being settled, Mr. Lynde, allow me to , P2y into your hands the money; here, sir, are sold drafts for the amount specified, two mil- 10n dollars; please receipt for them,” and Vic- tor Moloch laid the checks upon the table, while the millionaire, with eager, trembling fingers, Wrote a receipt in full. __ “Now, Miss Lynde, I leave you until to-day One month, when I shall call to make you my Wife, bringing with me a rabbi of my syna- gue, while your father can ask to be present © clergyman of your church, so that the cere- Mony may be performed by both rites; as it is Rear the time for the arrival of Mr. Ezra Quilp will say adieu.” ' He bowed low, turned and left the room. A moment after the vehicle that brought him there rolled away, just as a second carriage drew up before the marble stairs, and out of it Sprung Ezra Quilp with the agility of a youn Man, and an expression of fiendish triump Upon his face, CHAPTER X. A PLOT THAT WAS THWARTED. Wuen Ezra Quilp entered the residence of the millionaire, he was not alone, for he wasac- Companied by a clergyman, whom he had en- peed to perform the ceremony, asking him to sep the affair a secret for the present, and pressing his request with a bank-note of denomi- Ration sufficiently large to insure silence on the Part of the minister. The two were ushered into the library, by the Servant in attendance, and there they were met y Mr. Lynde, who was seated at his desk, writ- ing, and his son, who lolled in an easy-chair. ‘Ah! Mr. Ezra Quilp, I believe; sit down, sir,” said the millionaire, without rising. ‘Yes, sir, and I am on time ycu see; just half-past one, sir; and this is my friend, the everend Silas Sloan, whose chapel is in the Outskirts of our city, sir; Mr. Sloan, Mr. Lynde, and his son, Mr. Harold Lynde.” The millionaire bowed to the minister, with- out seein the introduction with an impertinent stare. “You have the notes with you, Mr. Quilp?” Said the elder Lynde, abruptly. **T have, sir.” oy I ask your clerical friend to retire to the parlor while we transact our little business _ gether?” 2a oe looked surprised, but said quickly: “As Mr. Sloan’s ser ee as the officiating clergyman, Mr 6. “Tam glad to know that Mr. Sloan has a wee in the vineyard of the Lord,” sneered Haro d, from his luxurious easy-chair; but, un- heeding his remark, his father asked: ‘Have you those notes?” “T have, sir.” “Be good enough to let mesee them.” Ezra Quilp took out his pocket-book, and eare- fully j-id a dozen different notes upon the table before the millionaire, who took a pencil and Paper and began to carefully add up the &Mounts, computing the interest on each, and Adding it to the total, the miser eagerly watch- him the while. tting his right hand rest on the notes, he piddenty: drew from his pocket an envelope and ’nded it to the miser, saying calmly: Mr, Quilp, will you see if these are correct?” th ile Hzra Quilp eagerly opened the envelope h © millionaire calmly took up the notes and €ld them in his hand firmly. * rene “re certified gold checks, Mr, Lynde.” (Wel ; .f? asked the miser, i ise, ‘ 1 » i? asked the miser, in surprise, “For what amount do they call, Mr. Quilp?” astily the miser ran his eyes over the ®mounts, and said: ., Yor one million and a half dollars.” orrect, and I owe you just fourteen hund- and ninet .. «ven thousand dollars and sixty- ven cents,” iOS. sir, . faltered the miser. th Then be‘ good enough to hand me the two ae ends nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars, eg tnty-three cents,” : | iy ne his proffered hand, and Harold met: | even more than I do.” . ‘That is the amount due me, I bélieve, Mr. Ezra Quilp, as you old one million and a hali in your hands; bere are the figures,” and the ionaire shoved the paper toward him. “ Curse your figures, Andrew Lynde; that is not our agreement,” shricked the miser, turn- ing as white as his parched skin ciuld become. ‘Tt seems to me, sir,” was the cool reply, ‘‘that when a man holds my notes for a certain amount, and I pay him that sum on the day they become due, that that cancels the matter.” * Not with me, Andrew Lynde, end I demand my notes back again,” almost shricked Lzra uilp. zs aS me, they are my notes, sir.” ‘But they were given to me, sir.” “To a certain time, yes; but I have paid you their face in money.” ‘*T refusé to take your accursed money.” ‘You must.” ‘But you must give me gold.” ion hier it there.” ‘‘ Checks; they may be worthless.” ‘‘They are certified by the banks upon which they are drawn.” “They may be forgeries, and forged certifi- cations, Andrew Lynde.” The milliouaire turned pale, and Harold Lynde started, at this new ee put on the af- fair, and the miser noticed both the changing of color of the one and the start of the other, and followed up his vantage with: “Yes, and I believe they are forgeries, sir, so give me back my notes.” “Mr. Quilp, my business honor is too well known, sir, for me to be suspected of passing forged paper,” sternly said the millionaire, “But you may not know them as such,” cried Quilp, endeavoring to discover from whence the merchant had gotten them, for they read simply, ‘Pay to bearer,” etc. ““You have the right to send me to prison, sir, if the checks are forged.” * And I'll do it, by Heaven!” “IT don’t doubt it, Ezra Quilp, if you have the power; but you have not, for the checks were given to me from reliable parties.” ‘* Ah! been round using your name among a dozen men to borrow enough to pay me, when you are not worth a dollar, and that brings it under the head of getting money under false pretenses,” sneered the miser. ‘tT was not worth a dollar, while you held these notes, Quilp; but they are in my pos- session, sir, and shall remain so,” said the mil- lionaire, with great composure. “But you owe the money borrowed to re- deem them.” “Oh no, for that was made in a speculation, Ezra Quilp; afar better investment than you would have been; I hope you understand my allusion, miser Quilp.” “T understand, sir, that you took those notes from me without my will, and I shall—” “Hold on, Ezra Quilp! I gave you more than their value, and [now ask for the change due me,” was the stern reply. “And Mt hw refuse to keep our agreement re- garding Miss Lynde?” ‘*My dear sir, there is no agreement between us; you held my notes, and you have the money for them. Good-afternoon, Mr, pe ** Andrew Mega you are thwarting the wrong man in the purpose he had formed, and Iswear to you that you shall rue it,” hissed the now livid miser. ‘What wrong have I done you, sir, that you make this threat?” “Why, you have broken your compact with me, “T have redeemed my notes, sir, and that re- lieved me from your hateful clutch.” “By Heaven! this very day, Andrew Lynde, I pols have sold your notes for double their value, “What!” and the millionaire grew a shade paler. “Tt is true.” You joke, man.” *T do not.’ **You could have sold these notes fcr double their value?’ asked the surprised merchant. ‘*-Yes, for three million dollars cash.” “ Great God! what does this mean?” and the millionaire looked anxiously toward his son, ‘Tt means that your credit is above par one hundred per cent., father,” was the quiet reply of the young hopeful. _ “JT cannot understand it,” said his father, “Perhaps I can explain,” sneered the miser, his hope of triumph returning at the perplexity of Mr, Lynde, - & Well, sir;”? - " P ; ‘“‘It may be some enemy who loves revenge ¢ - Solera, «J have no‘other foo than yourself, that I am ap ledged word,” and Isabel: Lynde swept into the room, her eyes flashing, and her , ‘ a ‘ , a a % cs * fi » vi hog i - 1 *e

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2 ar OL 4 : pe ‘“What mean you?” and she glanced first to | *. -her father and then back at the miser. is “*Oh! a little matter of long ago, of which it - ‘isnot necessary to speak now, when you know ‘is not that worse than passing bad checks?” The shot struck home and Isabel winced un- * derit; but recovering herself she said: Mo, “AS you. are not a friend to my father, my Wrother or myself, I beg, Mr. Quilp, that you | | | leave this house.” ae “But, Bel, Mr. Quilp has just told us that the * notes he held ',. dollars for one on their face for,” and Harold -,» Game forward. _ ~ wefused,” was the scornful retort. (5 ** But I did refuse, Miss Isabel.” a *'Then, sir, allow me to say, that instead of being the sharp business man you are called you are a fool.’ he “You shall change that opinion of Ezra _ .. Quilp, my beauty, before long.” pedis **I do not fear your threats, sir, and I am surprised that my father and brother permit syour presence beneath this roof.” "..“ But, Bel, you agreed yesterday to enter into a compact with Mr. Quilp, to save my fa- ther, and now I must beg that you keep it, when he can make that sum in cash, which the miser is willing to give,” said Harold, selfishly. ae “Brother!” and she turned her gaze upon + — him ina look that made him drop his eyes; and | seeing its effect Ezra Quilp said, eagerly: , “Yes, if you keep your compact I will pay into your father’s hands a million and a half in money.” ‘ee “* Not for the riches of the world, sir miser; I _ -. tell you lam free from my compact with you, * and never again will you hold claim on me.” “Ah! my beauty, you do not know Ezra Quilp, if you believe his words are idle, when _» he tells you he will yet lower that haughty head.” ‘a **Go, sir!” and she pointed toward the door, we Mag which the minister was already mov- ya 0, Isabel SS bras but you are not yet _ free of Ezra Quilp,” he said, his face black with » passion. “One moment, Quilp; there is a little balance _ due, you know,” and Harold Lynde stepped . forward. ars “Let Mr, Quilp hand that to the parson, as soon as he has found the checks are good,” spoke up the millionaire, with a meaning look > ae nln is pe my - Ps Bigs! - zi at his son, while he muttered, sotto voce : a “*Tt’ll keep the parson’s tongue still.” a . ,. “Yes, yes; Parson Sloan, Mr. Quilp will - hand you the balance due, asa donation from "my father; it is just two thousand, nine hun- are ed and ninety-nine dollars, and thirty-three '.__ cents, with which to clothe and feed the needy members of your flock.” The eyes of the minister glistened with de- light, and he replied: _ © “Y thank you, my generous friends, and may God bless you and your household forever.” mite Beng od cutse you forever is my prayer,” _ hissed forth the miser. Ke “One minute, Mr. Quilp,” cried Isabel. _. Sullenly he turned toward her. ce » Can you tell me who it was that made you ak), tha enerous offer for the notes?” eo. aay! Os Sein A eg do not suspect?” persisted the mai- 7 a ete eon. ~*~ .. “T did suspect it was your father, through friends,” _ “A bank messenger made the offer for ae ~ Others?” x) 7 Zz Yes.” |. “Describe him, please.” _“A youth of seventeen perhaps; a Jew, I think, though I did not notice him closely.” Bevis 3 “Ahi a ew,” and a peculiar light came into _ the eyes of the maiden as she turned away, while Quilp said in fierce tones: > NS eile ber, Andrew Lynde, I neither for- ots! Lee nor forget the past, and this day’s work - put makes me still ater your debtor, and I _ swearto you the debt of revenge shall be paid - “to the uttermost.” _ _ The next moment he had gone, and behind '. ‘him he left an uncomfortable feeling in the ___ breasts of the millionaire, his son and daughter, geet fur mel felt that the miser was a man to keep ; wi 5 CHAPTER XII, _ HH MISER’S FIRST STROKE FOR REVENGE, SRG: GH the threatof the miser left an un- _ pleasant and really uncomfortable feeling; at $ already that he sold you to me to save himself; of my father he was offered two | FNC Pe eRe tee SRE PUT EYE Ries Es Se ye ta ; wes acs oF + <5 - Se : * rn quick response of the miser, stung by her man- | a first, in the minds of the millionaire’s family, it soon wore off with the father and daughter, who had not the same cause for Great that Harold had, as the reader will remember his | criminal attempt of the night before, and more especially at him had Ezra Quilp looked ere he departed from the room. ut, remembering the half-million in cash in the possession of his father, and of which he was to have his share, Harold Lynde threw off | his moody humor when the three assembled around the .dinner-table at six o’clock that day, and, after a glass of wine or two, became quite | jovial. As for the millionaire, though relieved in | mind from his business troubles, he yet had an Hh | aching of the heart when he remembered whom Wie ‘He belies his name of Miser Quilp to have | he owed it to, and the sacrifice his noble daugh- ter had made, and his manner toward her was more respectful than ever. With quiet mien; in strange contrast with her usual brilliant conversation and bright face, Isabel Lynde sat at the table, giving her orders to the servants, and her manner and pale face alone showing that she had that day passed through a severe ordeal. Common consent had dropped the events of the day out of the conversation, and the dinner was progressing quietly, when a servant entered and said: ‘¢ An express messenger js at the door, miss, with a package which he will deliver only into your hands.” Isabel was about to rise and go to the door, When her father said: “* Bid him come in here, Richards.” Resuming her seat Isabel waited in surprise, for she was expecting no package, and the next moment a confidential agent of the express mira ted entered, bearing a small package in his hand. ‘*T am authorized to deliver to Miss Lynde, only, this package, for itis marked most valu- able,” he said, S porarn “T am Miss Lynde,” said Isabel. “Then please receipt here,” and he handed her a book and pen. In her bold, graceful hand she signed her name, and the expressman departing she care- lessly, though of course with a woman’s curi- osity, opened the neatly folded and sealed bun- dle, and discovered a morocco case beneath. Opening this with a spring-latch, she gave an exclamation of surprise. And no wonder, for before her eyes was a necklace of diamonds and rubies, a pendant of an anchor, and a pair of bracelets of the same superb pattern, and the gems in all of vast size and beauty. * Worth a hundred thousand if they are a dollar,” cried Harold. “Far more elegant and costly than anything I ever gave you, Bel,” said her father. ‘“* Who can have sent these beautiful gems?” was the meditative remark of the maiden. ** Perhaps that card will tell, sis,” and Harold pointed to a small card half-hiddenin the velvet case, Taking it up she read aloud: ‘* Will Miss Lynde honor me by accepting the ac- companying as a souvenir of IoToR Mowoc#.”’ Isabel’s face flushed, and then turned deadly pale for an instant; but, recovering herself, she said: ‘Oh, papa! what am I to do?” “ Accept them, by all means; he’s a prince, if he is a Jew,” breke in Harold. ‘‘Under the circumstances, I hope you will accept them, Bel,” said the millionaire. ‘*} will do so; he certainly is generous, and—” “You were lucky to escape old Quilp, the niser, sis, and if this Moloch keeps up as he has begun, ru get a pew in his synagogue.” ‘Do not be irreverent, Harold; what is it, Richer eek this to the butler, who again en- red. ‘A letter of importance, sir, and the messen- ger waits.” ‘Ah! PU see what it means,” and the million- aire broke the seal, and his son and daughter noticed his face change color as he read the contents. ; Motioning to the servants to retire, Andrew Lynde said, with vehemence: “Well, for the sublimity of brass, this letter is perfection; listen; “Tre PARSONAGE, Saturday. “My Very Dear Mr. Lynpe: ‘Pardon me for writing you, instead of calling, as Iam quite occupied just nowin preparing my to- morrow’s sermon for the’blessed lambs of my flock,’ and have not the time to spare for a chat with you. « “My objectin writing is, to say that it is my inten- tion to for my parish, out of my private means, an elegant church, and not ha sufficient funds of my ary I beg of you, your : ? SNA Sata: Merah Wee bh t hs ; aay Tiglat mage hee ore ie A ae St ae Eg iil a fart PA PON a Chee TR: ire RYN ae Se He; » ise Sa Ld le ts noble son and lovely be JOR, + Pa? daughter a private donation—there need be no réa- son for ovr affairs.to be made public, I know you" “T would request merely ten thousand dollars, and q feel confident, will oblige me. ‘With deep gs yee Iam, my dear Mr. Lynde, é ours obediently, “*Smmas Sioay.” ‘* He is an accursed blackmailer!” broke from Harold’s lips, indignantly. “He knows his power, father, and already be- gins to make you feel that he is your master,” quietly said Isabel. ‘**T shall put this in the hands of the police, as a blackmailing letter to extort money,” re- marked the millionaire. “And the reasons will all then come out; no, no, better pay him his ten thousand, and then see if we cannot stop the matter there,” sug- gested Harold, and, as if having decided that it was the best course, the merchant called out: ** Richards!” “Yes, sir.” ‘Bring me my check-book, pen and ink,” The articles were brought, and Isabel said, quietly: “Make it payable to bearer, sir.” ‘* Ah, yes; a good suggestion,” and the million- aire wrote his check, and then inclosed it in an envelope, addressed simply to ““Sinas SLoan, Esq.” “That will show him that I consider him un- worthy the clerical title he bears,” he said, as Richards departed with the letter to hand to the messenger. _* Weill, we need another interruption to our dinner, to bring us luck, according to the old ones gf said Harold, resuming his interrupted meal, ‘*Troubles never come singly, Harold,” was ttre sold @ Ip should in “True; 0 uilp shou ut an a Yr- ance now— Well, Richards?” ay ‘*A man who says Mr. Ezra Quilp sent him to see you personally, replied the servant. - **The—— No, no, it beg pardon, sis; but truly is it said, i pe of the devil and his imps a pear,’” and with a pale face Harold tanae went to the door, and the instant after loud and angry voices were heard, then a shot, and a heavy fall, and into the es She rung the oung aristocrat, a Bio in his aa Pe his ace livid, as he cried; ‘Father, [ have killed him,” ‘* Killed whom? for the love of God! speak!” cried the miilionaire, unable to rise from his chair, while with staring eyes and white face Isabel arose and started toward her brother. ‘“*T have killed an officer of the law, sent by Quilp to arrest me,” was the strangely calm re- ply. if Great God! oh, this is terrible, and greater than I can bear,” and the old man’s head sunk _ upon the table. “Harold, you must not stay here, for, if you have done this, all father’s influence and wealth por save you from the gallows; fiy!” cried sabel. ‘*Where shall I go?’ he asked, in a dazed manner. “ Anywhere, so you leave here; come, I have a few hundreds in money, and father has more in the house, and can send you a check, when we know where you are; come!” ‘* Yes, my son, fly while you can,” cried the millionaire, tottering to his feet. ‘ Out of the room Isabel led him, past the dead form lying in the hallway, and into the library, and there he remained with his father, who followed them, while the brave maiden went to her room, “Here, Harold, it is all I have,” and she gave him a roll of bills. “And here is more; now, my son, for the love of God, fly— Ha p All started, for a loud and impatient ring came at the door. But controlling herself, Isabel glanced out of the window, and in the gathering twilight saw a female form on the piazza. ‘Tt is a woman,” she said. The next moment the door opened, and the. three heard in clear tones: “‘T must see Mr. Harold Lynde at once,” Richards, a most faithful old family servants 7 uf had just dragged the body of the officer out sight, and answered calmly: he FB to ade he is in; who shall I say wishes — see him FY P oi y,a porends 29: Bo tell him Jule, the ewess,” was the ent response. Air “Bid her come ta he Richards,” called ben! Harold, and the next t, Jule. the Jewess ar is me \ x ou . 4 under existing circumstances, that you — . *

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CHAPTER XIII. ' AN UNFORTUNATE DISGUISE. Tr was evident that Jule, the Jewess, when 4 She entered the library, had expected to find ' \28e young aristocrat alone, for she drew back _ insome confusion, at the sight of the million- alre but said firmly: | i came to see you, Mr. Lynde, upon a mat- _ ter of importance.” The millionaire gazed upon the beautiful face &nd form of the young girl, and saw that she Wore a troubled look, and misunderstanding | her oe there, he said sternly: . What, Harold, are we to learn of another heinous crime to be laid at your door?” . 2ule quickly understood the words of the mil- lionaire, and drawing herself proudly up, she Said with flashing eyes, while her face crim- SOned; “Whatever crimes, Mr. Lynde, your son may lave been guilty of, be good enough not to con- Sider me an accomplice.’ “Then why, may I ask, have you come to his ' 20me in this unceremonious manner?” “To warn him of danger: to tell him that ne whom he knows to be a bitter foe, intends #0 arrest him to-night.” “Ha! you are too late; but still your words Prove that you hold deep interest in my son.” “Father, this maiden is hardly known to me; ow her only as Jule, the Jewess; last night attempted to break the contract we had formed with old Quilp, and she prevented me rom. doing what to-night I have just done— ken life,’ “God of Abraham! I am then too late,” cried the Jewess. “Yes, Quilp sent an officer to arrest me, and ~I killed him,” said Harold Lynde, with forced Calmness. “Then fly, or the law will have its justice,” , he cried. *‘ Justice?” said the young man, indignantly. “Yes, justice; if you have willfully taken human life you deserve punishment; but still I Would not see you die an ignominious death and I bid you fly; here, to aid your escape, I Trought you this disguise,” and she handed him & bundle she had brought with her. “Tt is an officer’s cloak, naval cap, and false iskers; put them on, for you have little time,” she said, peremptorily, and unheeding ® presence of the father of the young man, She quickly and skillfully placed the beard upon his face, and threw the cloak around his shoul- while he placed the naval cap upon his “There, no one would know you now; go, ®nd may this act of mine repay your kindness My parents in the past, whether it was Prompted by good or evil motives; farewell.” she spoke she turned*to go, but Harold Sprung forward and seized her hand, while he Said, fervently: ‘Farewell, sweet Jewess; but remember, Youshall never be forgotten by Harold Lynde.’ t ®made no reply, but passed quickly from he Toom, and out of the house, and, after a sad ng with his father and sister, who again joturned to the room, the young man followed €r, his brain in a whirl, his heart on fire. _ As he descended the marble steps a carriage drove y , and from it alighted two men. th ne of these he saw was an officer in uniform; © other he recognized as Ezra Quilp. ith slow step, for he saw that he was not Teeognized, he walked away from the mansion; ‘tt once out of sight, he darted along at a rapid tm in the direction of the stables, and a few inutes after was mounted upon his own xing le 8® 8nd flying like the wind along the roa ding up the river. n The residence of Andrew Lynde was situated mi far from the bank of East River, for the llionaire was one of New York’s merchant ces, and at a point which, at the time I “ys te, was dotted with handsome country-seats, aon which now, from the por of the metro- sn is covered with blocks of brick residences, re th Only one or two of the old-time mansions taining, and those rapidly going to ruin, a their once elegant grounds turned over to ‘ae children, goats and chickens. -H,.P, What is now the Eastern Boulevard _ Barca Lynde dashed, until he came in sight of “dente home of Ezra Quilp, and here he sud- Bags drew rein, while he gazed at a light in a. W, which his expérience the night before ls m was the room of Jule, the Jewess. eae » ™y pretty Jewess, if kek ee Let "as a ee ROE Dee SS pik 4s of PF ae >A ar re “JULE. you had not a6 & ty eet Bikes. * 4 = aes wa is $7 a ae ‘ 7, any pe? at j stayed my hand last night, IT would not now be a fugitive from justice. ‘*T did not kill the miser, but I have taken the life of the man he sent to arrest me, so you kept not my hand from becoming blood-stained, and, if lam taken, you may yet see old Quilp rejoice in my death on the gallows. ‘But, from my heart I thank you for your kindness this night,” Thus saying he once more rode rapidly on, and soon after drew his panting horse up at the Astoria ferry. ‘‘Open your gate quickly, my man, for I wish to catch that boat, and keep the change for a glass of grog,” he said, hastily, to the gate- keeper, who caught the dollar thrown to him with one hand, while he took firm hold of the bridle rein with the other, at the same time call- ing out to some one in the ferry-house: “‘Cap’n, I guesses this is yer man.” Then out of the ferry-house stepped a man in uniform, followed by two others, and the former said slowly: “* Are you Lieutenant Dorcas, sir?’ ‘7 am not,” was the impatient reply. *¢-You are a naval officer I see.” ‘That is evident,” was the evasive response. “Well, sir, I am sorry to detain you, but Lieutenant Dorcas of the navy shot a man, ina dispute over cards, this afternoon, and I was sent here to guard the ferry against his es- cape. arold Lynde’s heart grew cold, to feel that an accident was going to keep him in durance vile until his own deed and flight would become known; but he said with all the calmness he could command: ‘**My man, I am not the officer you speak of, and I warn you not to detain me, as I am in haste to cross over into Long Island.” ‘*I may be wrong, sir, but I hopes not for my own sake; yet I have to hold you, as such are my orders; you must dismount and wait until I telegraph to the station and report.” It was a desperate moment for Harold Lynde, and he acted with desperate recklessness, for sine the spurs into his horse he caused the animal to bound forward, striking the officer and ferryman on each side of him with such force as to knock them down, and then away darted the splendid animal. But one of the other officers quickly drew a pistol and fired, and, with almost a human shriek, the noble horse went down, throwing his rider over his head. Half-stunned as he was, Harold Lynde en- deavored to rise and- draw his pistol; but strong arms seized him and the next instant he was heavily ironed, while his cap, cloak and false beard having come off in the struggle, one of the officers remarked, with triumph: “*In disguise as I live! yes, boys, we has our game, but he were a terror.” “Yes, his horse nearly broke my shoulder; but come, sir, you must go to jail with us,” and Harold Lynde, his heart almost crushed with oe and despair, was marched off to the city prison. CHAPTER XIV. THE OATH OF A JEWESS. THE persevering, tireless, sleepless and fer- ret-like reporters had gleaned the full tidings of startling news for the readers of the papers they represented, and ere twelve o’clock ‘at night, following the reckless deed of Harold Lynde, the whole affair was in type. After a restless night, Jule, the Jewess, arose with a contented heart, for she felt that she had done her duty toward the man, who some time before .had bestowed kindness upon her dying father in his need, and she could not believe that the handsome young aristocrat had acted wholly from an evil motive, for she was too pure in heart herself to believe one who bore the semblance of a gentleman could be so vile as to plot her ruin through gaining her gratitude. ‘* Well, be his motive what it may, I have re- paid the debt by saving him from the gallows,” she murmured, as she stepped out on the upper front et to look after her plants, which she kept there, “IT did not mean to eavesdrop,” she con- tinued, ‘‘ but I saw old Quilp come in with the officer, and knew he meant harm, s0 listened, and I am plad I did, for I was just in time to save Mr. Lynde, and the disguise I fortunately thought of and purchased, alone protected him - from recognition, as I caught sight of the miser in the ge that drove into the gate as I passed out. “Oh, why did he take life, for otherwise the charge would not have been half so severe? but now, if he is taken, nothing can save him, enemet? * and— - fo ote \ “a wee J > ind ¢ \) @&—s ee FO a ede JOR ate ee Oe pier ne rae oe ’ od ae sins | A grees ae THE JEWESS. base Litieas Vas ies aloha g eA Rhee oT ald > Cae a een ee ~ ae eS , As Bid at REN. Pe oe Spi ag 50'S 0 TS tg) ae ae bere ie i ida s.- *Good-morning, Miss Moloch; you look as bright and beautiful astheday.” . ; The voice breaking in upon her musings ae sounded harsh and sinister to her, and she said, po coldly, as she turned and beheld Ezra Quilp at ee 4 his window gazing at her; ri “ My name is not Moloch, Mr. ne ; “Ah! you are not then Miss Moloch?” Pe “No, sir.” a “Perhaps then it is Mrs. Moloch? he sug- gested, with an attempt at a smile, but which on his face was a grin. ; ‘*No, Iam not Mrs, Moloch.” » rae ‘‘ Ah! I thought you must be the wife, orthe ~~ sister, of the gentleman who rented my rooms,” ‘No, Lam neither, Mr. Quilp.” . Bae ‘‘The lady, I hope, is your mother,” he said, ’ ~~ © with an emphasis on the third and fourth =| words. 5 no “She is, sir.” eee. ‘‘Then I trust all is well, for I would not like ~~" — an or g that looked off-color to be—” te “Sir! ‘Teas He paused quickly as he caught the dark, | flashing eyes, and stammered forth; ' ‘““My dear child, do not misunderstand me, for I assure you I meant nothing; who could have an evil thought where you areconcerned?? > ‘*Only one, sir, who had no honor, and whose at heart had become so warped by eyil deeds, -would suspect an innocent girl of wrong-do- face ing,” she said, in her rich voice, and witha — © tone of contempt in it. mas “True, true, my dear Miss—Miss—” “T am called Jule, the Jewess, Mr, Quilp,” she said, coldly. “True, Miss Jule; but have news this morning?’ he asked, the subject. ‘No, sir, I have not seen the fag seh ‘‘T have, for I have one left for me every ~~ morning; it’s the Herald and I get it for three cents, when you know the price is four; but then I take the outside one of the bundle, which is always soiled or a little torn, but it does me just as well, and I save a cent; there’s great news in it this morning,” The miserly disposition of the man di —t her; but, most anxious to see the report of Har-- old Lynde’s deed the night before, she conquered - her aversion, and said: ; . ‘*T would like to see it, sir, if you please.” ‘Certainly, my dear miss, certainly; but re- ‘ turn it, please; no, no, you can keep it, for you — did mea good turn last night, andI will give § <¢ ou read the ad to change you the Herald, though I always keep them,as | you know papers advertise for back numbers . £3 sometimes, and offer a dollar or two for them.” = Be handed her the paper, era to some ¥ large headlines, and her eyes fell upon thefol- fee lowing: is “THE RED DEED OF AN ARISTOCRATI = “ His FLIGHT AND CAPTURE IN Dis@uisH! iv 4 “ From a Palatial Mansion to Prison! — | “wy ‘‘A DISGUISE THAT PLayep Hit Farsn!” Ri She read no more, but clutching the paperin her hands, without a word to the miser, turned == and entered her own rooms, through the full- * — length window, and then, like a marble statue, she stood for an instant, while from her lips came the words: 2 ‘By the God of Abraham! if the ‘d } Tn tie gave him caused his capture, then will I save — him; yes, J swear it by the hope of Israel!” fx CHAPTER XV. ; THE ‘‘STARTLING SENSATION” AS READ BY JULE, THE JEWESS. yf WHEN Jule, the Jewess, after recei the ‘tee Herald from the miser, and reading the head- ings of the startling sensation LS remes by the. dLyndefrom hk given him to entrap him, so I must free him, if in the power of man or woman. <n life,” and then aloud, and as ; Doh the iy OF age, ae ’ - fs aX

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=o y ¥ ay " +" at mas Ae

a, ee ‘ ». /Mr. Quilp would have had them _ | ‘some way misplaced the key of , 4, Unable to do so, and at once he determined to have _ » “the young aristocrat arrested upon a charge of as- paid, £ once on her mind and heart were bent in taking in each word she slowly read as follows: “Tt is seldom that our city is so startled by two such events in high lifeas we give below, and those ofa gossiping turn of mind will find food for talk that will amount to more than a nine days’ wonder. “* Nearly all of New York knows the handsome and dashing young millionaire, Harold Lynde, by sight, for his coach-and-four has often whirled along our avenues, crowded with distinguished guests, his ele- gant form has been the cynosure of all eyes, as he galloped through the Park, his flirtations at the opera and theater have created general comment, } fast horses have won purses, his yacht has taken prizes, and his dissipation and extravagances hhave been the town gossip for a year or more. “But now an end has come, for, from his palatial home, the mansion of his father on the East river, he has gone to the Tombs, charged with a deliberate rourder of an officer, and even worse than that prior | to his ping. Detective Dade, and which was the veause of that officer’s death. “It seems, from the reports gleaned by our re- porters, that one Ezra Quilp, better known as old miser Quilp, dwells in a one-time elegant brick man- sion in the upper part of the city, and the grounds of which, consisting of half a dozen acres, run to the water’s edge, “This property, bought for a mere song, from its dissolute i heir, the miser owns, and expects to realize large ly from, when the city’s advance en- croaches upon it; and here he dwells alone, or did dwell alone, until seyeral days ago, when a small Jewish family rented part of his domicile, and, if the stories are correct, it was fortunate for him that they went there. “Being interviewed last night by our reporter, Mr; Ezra Pp was rather non-committal, but admitted tivat he had advanced large sums of money to Mr. Harold Lynde, on his simple note, and that the day before maturity the young man attempted to get \ them renewed, but failing in doing so, that night entered his house, by means of the roof of the back piazza, and ape 2 to get possession of the paper against him by taking the holder’s life. * This effort, however, failed by the sudden coming and interference of one who seized the young man with his knife in hand, and prevented the deliberate assassination. “From what was said by Mr. Quilp, the reporter surmised that the one who saved his life was some one of the Jewish family; but whoever it may be, he will eae as witness in the case, ‘Mr. Lynde, not paying the notes the next day, rotested, but in is safe, and was _ ®ault with intent to assassinate, and had the papers made out accordingly, and, after a long conference ' with Detective Dade at his home, dispatched him to _ make the arrest, he, Quilp, and another officer ‘awaiting him ina carriage a few squares from the ynde mansion, “The long stay of the detective caused Mr. Quilp to grow anxious, and driving to the mansion they discovered the millionaire merchant and his daugh- ter pacing the room in great distress, and the dead body of the officer lying in the hallway. “All that could be ascertained regarding the tra- gedy was that Mr. Harold Lynde had been called into the hallway, from the dining-room, and that a _ shot and fall soon after followed, and the young ' man returned to his father and sister and said he had killed a man, and in disguise he soon after left the mansion, and even met uilp and the associate ‘of Espa Dade atthe door, but passed by them un- tog f- ee Nr. Andrew Lynde, his daughter, and the ser- Hoa = wants refuse to speak upon the matter before the but it is strange, if Harold Lynde acted in : self-defense, or for what reason he killed the detec- pen that oe at eer — await trial, and not oe ring s cion of guilt by flight. , Pega Row comes the strangest part of the affair, for - dtseems that Harold Lynde used as his disguise a | - maval officer’s cloak and cap, and a false beard, and ' yesterday afternoon Lieutenant Dudley Dorcas of tis navy dropped into a fashionable gambling- saloon on Broadway to risk a few dollars at faro. *Thé dealer, s0 itis said, had been drinking, and , twice called out the wrong card, whether by acci- dent or design remains to be seen, and the naval " - ~ officer boldly charged him with trying to swindle m, 7 “ At this the dealer, Fancy Nick Fellows, and who ” will be remembered as a dangerous man, thrust his “hand ot his pocket and attempted to rise, while he none is reported: Those are your last words, sir.’ “Instantly, acting in self-defense, the lieutenant . _@rew a pistol and fired, and Nick Fellows fell in his + “In the confusion that followed, Lieutenant Dor- cas, unperceived, left the peobling ioe and went at board his vessel down in the lower bay, while the police spread the city over in pursuit of _ him, it being believed that the gambler was dead. “ Shortl afterward, however, it was found that the ball glanced on the skull of Mr. Fellows, making a slight wound, but stunning him, and soon after ‘dark a letter was received by the chief of police ‘ ‘from Lieutenant Dorcas, telling him that he had gurrendered to his captain on board ship and await- A 4! NE by ° j ras 1 / a surrender, daringly attempted to ride them own, “The sergeant and ferryman went down before the bound of the spirited mare ridden by Mr. Lynde, but, ere he could escape, a well-aimed shot from officer Bent brought the animal down, and the fugi- tive was captured, ironed, and taken to the Tombs, where he now lies awaiting his preliminary trial, which will be held to-day, and which must of course resulé in his committal to be tried by a higher court, when we fear Mr. Lynde will find it hard to escape, as his flight has already condemned him, even in the eyes of many of his intimates.”’ Such was the report of the scenes of the day and night before, which Jule, the Jewess, read so carefully through. Then, as she closed the paper, she said, slowly: “‘It was a mistake to urge him to fly, and made the mistake, ‘* Had he remained, for none saw the act, he could have told his own story of the murder, as I fear it was, alas! and there would have been no one to contradict it. “Now his flight will prove him guilty, and 1 know that the miser will do allin his power to bring him to the gallows. ‘lhe Tombs is a strong prison, but as stron doors and walls have been opened before, an can be, ay, shall be again,” and Jule, the Jew- ess, banished all care from her beautiful face, and arose to meet her mother, whom she heard coming up-stairs, » CHAPTER XVI. A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING. Two preliminary examinations of great in- terest to the public, it seemed, were held in New York on the same day and before the same justice, The first called was Fellows vs, Dorcas, In this case Lieutenant Dudley Dorcas, of the United States navy, a handsome young man, who was present in full uniform, was accused of firing upon one Nick Fellows, a gambler, with intent to kill, and wounding him in the bead. The young officer was accompanied by his lawyer, but the gambler, although fully able to appear, failed to do so, or to be even repre- sented by an attorney, and the lieutenant was dismissed, and the suspicion became a fact that Fancy Nick Fellows knew that he had given the sailor cause to believe that he intended to kill him, and consequently made no charge against him. Then Harold Lynde, accompanied by his fa- ther and two distinguished lawyers, appeared before the bar, and half an hour after the young millionaire returned to his cell in the Tombs committed for trial on two charges; first, o secretly and with murderous intent enterin the house of Ezra Quilp between midnight fees dawn, and making an attempt upon the life of said Quilp. Second, of having killed Detective Dade, who was sent to arrest him at his home, and then sought to escape by flight, in which he had boldly resisted arrest, No bail was allowed to be taken in either case, and the elegant Howard Lynde went back to his cell feeling that the world, its joys and its beauties were forever shut out from him, for, if the riches of his father, and the efforts of his attorneys, failed to make the judge accept bail for him, his trial would go hard indeed with Lim he knew; and so also knew the gray-~ haired millionaire, who returned to his elegant home with a bleeding heart. “My child, poor Harold is doomed, alas, doomed!” groaned the millionaire, as he sunk down ina chair in Isabel’s room, upon his re- turn from the trial. ; ‘Father, be brave, be strong, for certainly this horrible charge cannot be proven against him, and, as no one saw him kill the officer, his own story must be taken of it,” said the maiden, hopefully. ‘“‘No, no, he will be sentenced to the gal- lows.” ‘‘Why should he? The charge of this miser is ridiculous, for Harold owed him not a dol- lar,” returned Isabel, who little dreamed that there was any truth.in the charge that her brother had become a midnight assassin. The millionaire made no reply, but groaned bitterly, for though Harold had said nothing to him of his attack on the miser, knowing the na- ture of his son, and from certain words the oung man had said to Jule, the Jewess, and bok that passed between him and the miser which he now remembered, he feared that he had really made the attempt to get possession of the notes by taking ule s life, “It was wrong for us to allow Harold to fly, for he may have had cause to kill NS Geert ~~ Ri. Bi us &" te’ Sb ee Bee oo 7-6 K's sere «2 ek ry) © [9S Sty » Uae ee |) git dnt ) eee a Sd & EES Ge NR EAE OT RE, OI ee PRN aR ge a EI RE OF fe, ee RE We) ee SE, RTE ? a 2 Aad mae THE JEWESS. the of- ficer; J mean acting in self-defense,” sugges el Isabel » The millionaire looked up quickly, glanceé cautiously around the room, and said, in 4 hoarse whisper: E) “Would to God, my child, it were true; bul you know Harold’s nature as I do. “4 “He was armed, which I did not know, ané which in itself, taking Quilp’s charge into com sideration, was a suspicious circumstance, andy, when the officer arrested him he shot him. ‘Knowing how guilty he was, Harold once determined upon escape, for, had it b rca tale he would have remained to brave it out. is ‘*It seems that you reason truly, father, bus Harold must not die for it; every bit of evidene® in his behalf must be ferreted out, and every particle against him must be suppressed all it our power; who are the lawyers you haye em gaged, sir?” “ Judge Graham—” “4 ‘* Ah! none better, sir: any one else?” “Yes, he has a young associate, whom bé speaks of most highly.” ‘Young associates must not be trusted in this ease, father, for the present District Attorney — is a fearful adversary to pit a fledgling lawy@ — against,” said Isabel, firmly, ‘*“The judge has perfect confidence in hit) and what young Wilbur said at the trial to-day — was sharp and to the point.” ‘Wilbur is his name?” | “Yes, Martin Wilbur; he is the son of a poor Episcopal minister in Virginia.” “Where have I heard that name before, fa ther?” asked Isabel, meditatively. Fs **T know not, Bel, unless in the law reports., “Which I never read, sir; no, I have heard the name, and it seems to me, as I dimly recall” it from the past, under no pleasant circumstat’ ces; but I will not borrow trouble, for if Jud Graham is satisfied with Mr. Wilbur, I sho d be certainly; yet, father, the life of your so@ and my brother is at stake, and be hisfaults an@ his follies in the past what they may, ho is i prison, charged with a double crime, and ev effort, every sacrifice shall be made to sav? him,” said the brave girl, earnestly. : ‘*And it shall be, my child; he shall escap? an ignominious death if I sacrifice my last dol lar; yes, dearly as I love gold, it shall flow like water to the last drop to save my boy.” “God bless you, my dear, good papa; let 08 hope, and if the skill and eloquence of lawyer fail, we will try something else.” ** What else?” and the millionaire looked uP acy into the beautiful face bending ove im “Oh, gold weighs down iron, sir, and if both — are put in the balance, the latter will go ony and the prisoner pass from under the bars,” sh@ — said, significantly. r | “ef understand you; yes, if Judge Graha and Wilbur fail us, then I shall pit gold agains’ stone and iron,” and, with this new hope in hi8 heart, the millionaire’s face grew brighter. CHAPTER XVIL ALLIES IN THE SAME CAUSE, * JULE, I see Victor coming up the walk.” The cry came in the voice of Mother Na — omi, and startled Jule, the Jewess, from a deep reverie, as she sat in her room, her eyes bent 02 the sun going down beyond the Hoboket Heights, but her thoughts busy plotting and ~ planning, for not yet had she been able to de vise oe a plan of action in her determination to save Harold Lynde, and she longed for nigh! — to come, that, in the quiet and darkness of het! — own room, she could decide what course to pul — sue. A blush swept over her marble-like face, as het _ mother told her who was approaching, and went into the sitting-room just'as Victor MolocD ~ entered, his handsome face more serious tha? was usual with him. an “You are back sooner than you expecteds j Victor; but Iam so glad you have come,” s# the maiden, taking his hand. ‘b “Yes, Jule, I have come to have a talk wit? — you; where is your mother?” he said, quietly, Preparing dinner, and consequently in cook ing sbiire, ‘yon will not see her atti she had primped u ” i Tage glad to have a tacnubiih with you, Juler but first et me thank you for your service ren" dered me yesterday,” and he threw himself guidly into a seat. 1 “In the messenger garb, you mean?’ she sas? Even, go bated part, admirably.” es; you ac ‘our rably.” _ “And inade such a handsome, ahem! Mas Rig

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JULE, THE JEWESS. 7s" . y ae cA 43 that when I looked at myself in the glass at the l ital, I fell desperately in love with myself; how t for conceit, Victor?’ and she laughed eerly, but it was assumed laughter. I do not blame you, Jule, for as a woman “Tone can see you and not love you, as your a the mirror of a noble soul and a pure He spoke fervently, and it was the first time ne had seen him so moved, and, wishing to mange the subject, she said, quickly: hank you, kindly, Victor, for the ver petty photograph you give of my virtues; but, lt Me, what was the secret of your movement “sarding the Lynde notes?” apecy were paid,” he answered, abruptly. th Paid! then Miss Lynde was sacrificed to at miser Quilp?’ she said, sorrowfully. ‘No, Mr. Lynde paid the money, when Quilp falled, took up his notes, and thereby caused the Ser to attempt another way to avenge him- Self, and bitterly he has done so; here is the pa- ef with the account, and I wish to read it to You,” and he drew the Herald trom his pocket, r “First, let me ask you, Victor, and do not be- ‘8¥e me inquisitive, but how did Mr. Lynde pabage to get his notes from the miser, when © refused to take from me double their value?” t ‘He could not refuse, when money, calling r their face and interest, was tendered by the awer of the notes.” L Ah! and did you advance this money to Mr. ynde?” Ldid,” he said, and his face colored slightly. «20 what plea could you do so?” uit® gave me security,” he said, hesitatingly. Then I have to thank you for doing this for rine as I know, at my request you acted, and I } Ope woo will get a good interest for your out- wy i ictor; but Iam so glad dear Isabel Lynde Mul not have to know sorrow.” ; And her brother, Harold Lymde?” quickly “ed Victor Moloch. : “I would guard him from harm too, Victor, %P though you think he acted with evil purpose Ward me, I cannot believe it, and am glad *tepay Lim for what he did do.” ‘Lam happy to hear you say this, Jule, for ey call upon you to aid me; now let me read h paper to you, and, if you have not already “ard of the misfortune and sorrow that have &llen upon the Lyndes, prepare to feel for them Ost deeply.” I know all, Victor, for Mr. Quilp gave me a “per this morning.” fy... + 0% do not_know though, that bail was re- ised, for both charges against him, and that th, Sin the Tombs, and the public judgment is &t he will hang for his crimes.” ule turned a shade paler, and Victor Moloch a on to tell her ot the result of the prelim- aa trial, and ended by saying: te he Christians have it that Providence di- . °ted that he should assume the disguise of an Be Cer of the navy, for whom the police were wiaching, and thus be caught; but you and I, ith the religion of our fathers, know that it 88 accident,” , She lcoked up quickly from beneath her long- ‘nged lids. flag id he suspect her?’ was the thought that bed through her mind. then came another: B ad she been found out in any way?” 4t his face showed no sign of distrusting her, id, after a moment, Victor Moloch continued: in ule, what may be, in your heart, your feel- 88 for this young profligate—” l¢tor Moloch, you forget that Harold ade isa Christian, and I a Jewess,” she said, for ghtily, and her words caused him to wince, hit wee Teader knows how well the random shot the center in Victor Moloch’s case. i \¢28ing his pained look, she continued quickly : thae sive me, Victor, but it was hard to feel Cal ou would believe for an instant that 1 mild forget the creed of my people and turn ay, back upon the God of Israel, to love one of (AC who had persecuted us for Jong centuries. an ane no, there is a wall between the Christian ren the Israelite never so high, and only a “sade to our creed can scale it.” ' fin” Naan drooped his head, and his lips were ‘ Lif Set, for again did her words sink like « «2, nto his inmost heart. 6 poe are right, Jule,” he said, at last, “frou tr Standpoint of our race; but then love is « B8e leveler of castes and creeds,” ve would elevate my thoughts, not lower gon to & level beneath 04 and cause me to for- 4 eny people and the God of Abraham,” was i cone Ompt response, and the brows of the man Roe, pe though with pajn, while he said | low tone, ix which ‘his voice sounded ¥ soft and musical: . ey ft The | 4: ~ es Ue ol fs \ i | traget ‘Jule, let us not discuss this subject more, for 1 but spoke of your feeling, perhaps, a secret regard for Harold Lynde, that might prompt 8 : you to act for his behalf.” a ae you wish to serve him then?” she said, iar I ae not wish to see him die on the gallows,” was the somewhat evasive reply. ‘‘Do you think he will be hanged?” she asked, with deep interest. **T know it.” **Can his lawyers not save him?” “No, for the case seems too clear against him regarding his killing of the officer, and his fool- ish atteynpt to escape brands him with having done it purposely.’ ‘And this charge against him of having at- pee to assassinate the miser?” quietly asked ule, ‘** Jule, what of that charge?” She started, for the question came so direct, and his eyes were fastened intently upon her. ‘¢ How do you mean, Victor?” ‘The paper says the miser was saved by some one coming in?” ‘‘-Yes, I read it.” ‘¢Tt presumes it to have been one of a Jewish family, who had just moved into this house,” ” and he still eyed her closely, ‘*So I noticed,” was the calm reply. ‘*T did not awaken that night.” ‘No? in a way of inquiry. **No, and your mother certainly did not, or she would have spoken of it,” “Yes?” in the same tone, ‘You were awake, Jule?” “cc Yes. »” ** And told me you overheard what passed between the miser and his visitor, Harold Lynde.” “JT told you truly; I heard what passed, and T heard the meditations aloud of Ezra Quilp.” ‘* And the miser says his life was saved by one who centered suddenly, and yet you told me of hearing no strange voice.” ‘*Nor did I, Victor; if the miser has made some false statements, why may he not make others?” ' ‘‘In what respect?” “He said that Harold Lynde owed him money, and gave the notes, and you and I know it was his father.” ‘Ah! IT had not thought of that; I see now that Ezra Quilp will do anything to hayg Har- old Lynde; but I wish to have you aid me in plotting against the carrying out of his pur- ose “You wish me to help you, Victor?” she asked, with surprise, “Yes.” ‘*How can I?” *Do you object?” 66 ? *¢ And you will do so?” “How can I?” ‘“‘You aided me splendidly in the note business, and can again,” ; ‘‘ Tell me how and I will.” “That is the question. I do not know how, and I have come to you to aid me in devising some plan, for your woman’s wit will be of the greatest service,” | ; ‘Victor, tell me why you have so suddenly developed this deep interest in the Lyndes,” and she looked him squarely in the face, Again his face flushed, but he answered, evasively: ; “ Jule, did you not ask me to aid them yester- day?” ‘Yes, and you do this wholly for me, Victor? It is indeed most kind of you.” He saw that she believed him, and, his noble nature revolting against implying a falsehood to her, he answered, frankly: ‘Jule, I would do anything I could to serve you, or to give you pleasure, for, as you know, you are very dear to me; but 1 will honestly an- swer you that 1 have another motive for my actions in this matter.” Her beautifully arched brows were raised, and her eyes, not her lips, asked the question: “What is that motive, Victor?” He understood her look, and answered: ¢ bs " i ‘ it . . eu Puke vehee 52 7 Pd ** Now we must work together to save Harold Lynde.” ‘* Victor, all that I can do, I will gladly do: command me,” she said, earnestly. ‘‘Listen: Harold Lynde is in the Tombs, and you know its security from the escape of a pris oner; and yet, Jule, he must escape from there, for that is the only way to help him, “The guards are true, or believed so, the walls are thick, the iron bars are strong, and eyes will be constantly watching him; but for all that we must get him out, and your little brain can do it, while I plan his: flight after he gets out.” P “Give me to-night to think of it,” she said, with no desire to make known to Victor Moloch that she had intended spending the night in that very way. “Very wdill, and I will think of it too, and to- morrow we will compare notes, for lam deter- mined that the brother of—I mean the son of Mr. Andrew Lynde shall not die,” and Victor Moloch glanced quickly into the face of the Jewess, to see if she had noticed his slip of the tongue. But she appeared not to have done so, and re- peated his last words: ‘*And I am determined that Harold Lynde sball not die.” CHAPTER. XVIII. A LEGAL INQUISITION. In one of the strongest and most dismal cells of the New, York prison, so appropriately named ‘‘The Tombs,” sat a man upon whom. even the eyes of his fellow-unfortunates were turned with a certain curiosity amounting to awe, for why such aman had committed crime to bring him to that wretched place was more’ than hardened criminals could understand. * A hungry man stealing bread they could ap- preciate, for they too had felt the gnawings of starvation; a man cornered in some burglary ° et taking life to save his freedom, they could: un- derstand, as they could also the act of the sneak- thief to keep body and soul together; but aman born in luxury, reared in extravagance, and with everything heart could desire at his beck and call, to become the midnight assassin; to strike to death the officer of the law sent to ar- rest him, and not make his money buy him off at the trial], they could not comprehend. And such was their curiosity regarding Har-_ old Lynde, who had invaded their prison re- treat. The comforts, in the way of a carpet on his cell, an easy-chair, soft bedding, books and ci- gars, with which his father’s wealth had sup- plied him, seemed to the other less fortunate criminals like bedecking a corpse with dia- monds and fine silks; for if the heart was cursed with bitter memories, if the hand was reddened with innocent blood, if the shadow of the gal- lows already fell across his open grave, what hollow mockery were luxuries to the white- faced, haggard, stern-lipped man who silenitl paced his narrow cell from morn till night, with the same leonine tread, the same nervous, vie and untiring gait of the caged brute, hus pacing to and fro between his stone walls, the third day of his stay in the Tombs, ~ Harold Lynde was startled by the words from the keeper on duty: , ‘* A gentleman to see you, sir.” / “Who is he, and what does he want with me?” was the fretful query. “Your lawyer I believe he is.” *‘ All right; show him into my dismal den,. though why he comes to bother me I know not, . as the public have already tried and convicted. me,” he said, bitterly. The keeper beckoned to some one, and a tall, slender person, very elegant in appearance, very courteous in manner, and with a dark, intellec- tual and exceedingly handsome face, adyanced’ and was admitted. “T have permission to see Mr. Lynde wholly . het 2 alone, officer,” he said, with a pleasant manner, to the keeper. “T know it, sir; such orders was sent, and — lawyers is always permitted to see clients; how long, sir?” “Half an hour, officer, please.” “Very well, sir; but I must lock you in.” “J do not mind it,” was the smiling re- sponse, and the key turned and the keeper, dis- ' x iat x . IG ’ Ya 1 oF. ne i

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»" 4 : “ “Wilbur,” and the prisoner’s face changed color. “Tam Merton Wilbur, sir, the charity stu- dent of the University—but how a practitioner of law in this city,” was the smiling response, “And you are to defend me in this case?’ “Yes, why not?” “We were not friends in those days.” “Tt was your fault, not mine: I went to the University a poor charity student, for my fa- ther was not able to give me the advantages I desired, and we had an unpleasant misunder- ' standing.” oay a“ es, about a Jew; one Adolph Hugo.” Yes, sir; but that is passed; I punished you, and I was punished by expulsion; but I ‘got my diploma from another college, and I say now let the past bury its dead, an let us talk of the present, for I have determined that you are at heart too good a fellow to hang, and in- . tend to save you.” oy 4 ry 4 _ 4. “First tell’me has my father hope of saving There was something in the frank, hopeful manner of the young lawyer that won Harold Lynde over at once, and gave him confidenee ‘and hope, and he held forth his hand and said in a yoice that quivered: “Wilbur, forgive my insolence to you that day and be my friend.” “Gladly; now to business, and pardon me if I seem very inquisitive, but you know it’s a lawyer’s prerogative toward a client,” me from the gallows?” Ce ie eh tee et ea a SE yeh ne! ores Pay ULE, THE JEWESS what brought all this about,” and for a long half-hour Harold Lynde underwent a most searching ordeal of questioning, and to all gave frank and truthful answers. Then the keeper reappeared, and Merton Wil bur arose, and said, in his pleasant way: “Cheer up, Lynde, for your case is by no | means hopeless, and you may yet live to see old Quilp hanged.” CHAPTER XIX, OUT OF THE DEPTHS, MorTHER Naomr was slowly wending her way homeward, a small market-basket upon her arm, when she came upon a man who put out his hand, and, almost rudely, stopped her, while he said in Hebrew: ‘“Do my eyes lie? or are you Rachel Muir?” She looked him straight in the face, striving to recall his features, and said slowly: **T am she that once was Rachel Muir; now I am Rachel Naomi, grown so old that folks call me Mother Naomi; who isit that finds resem- blance in this old face and drooping form to the Rachel of long ago?” ‘Look in my eyes, Rachel, and see if you cannot read the name I bore a quarter of a cen- tury ago,” and he placed both hands upon her Shoulder and turned his dark eyes full upon er. She saw before her a man of forty-five, per- haps, of supple form, bronzed face, and clothed iach baal es Uae aie 2a ata F) are lar ** But withal it is a pleasant home; the rooms e and comfortable, the air is fresh, the view of the river is beautiful, with its bosom dotted with sail, and the birds sing merrily 12 the trees; itis like you and me, Isador, old ane time-scarred without, but like our hearts, whet you look within the house you will find it cheery tul, and a warm welcome will be there for you. ~ She had paused as she spoke, her hand upot™ the door-knob; butnow she threw it open ang” ushered him in, and then up to her own rooms) At @ harp, idly running her fingers over the strings, sat Jule, the Jewess, and she looked up” in some surprise as her mother entered with # stranger. “Jule, hast thou a welcome for one we deemed dead before you were born; one whos? wail, as we have often sat by the seaside, wa have thought we heard on the winds, and whose 4 groan wecaught in the roar of the surf; on@7 who wentaway in the long ago, not to die, bub) to return to us broken in health, destitute, and seeking only a corner at her fireside?” The woman spoke with strange pathos, and; at her first words Jule had risen. A The man stood like a statue of poverty, hig tattered clothes hanging around him, his bronze face stretched forward, and his eager, burning eyes watching as he waited. Coming over to him Jule took both of his hands in her own, and said frankly; “You are uncle Isador I know, though w@ never met, and I grew up to think of you as” dead; as one from the grave you come to Us; and our warm hearts will shield thy latter years — “ Not the slightest, though he told me to use i in tatters. his purse as my own to do so,” He was a Hebrew, with a face strongly . 5 - . or rather the « “. “And my sister?’ arked with boldnr d determination, but ‘etwas | «Ts hopeless, for I received a letter from her, | jooked as thou oat Ne wostecttis wacgeroipe gop e e oe shag cee Diane distress thy earlier ones | firm did.” * And your partner, Judge Graham?” ' “Has the lawyer’s hope against hope.” You draw a dismal picture, sir.” “Day brightens as the sun rises, Mr. Lynde.” ** The public believe me guilty?” * Why should they not when you ran off?” _ *€ You are plain-spoken at any rate; but does one believe I can be saved?” “There is one who does, but who I know not, as the note and accompanying funds were ‘“Yes, I recall a resemblance to one who was my kin,” she said, slowly. ‘*Hal go on, Rachel, and tell me who he was?” ‘He was one whom our mother bore with me; he was my twin-brother, Isador.” ‘* Have you done, Rachel?” he asked, eagerly. **You are like Isador, but you cannot be my brother, and yet—” *“Go on, Rachel.” ‘And your eyes cannotlie, be the face and “The God of Abraham bless thee, Jule Naomi, and the blessings of Israel fall upon this — household,” said the man, in an impressive tone, raising bis hands above his head. aa Then, with a strange twinkle in his eyes, he © said: | ‘¢ Rachel, sister, thou hast reared thy child af- ter thy own heart, to have her welcome one like me; but know thou, Racheland Jule, lam not a beggar I seem, for I come to thee rich; ay, theré can no more want come to this household, for * anonymous.” . i i ane : | eVitet mean you, Mr. Wilbur‘ asked Har. | fot hat Ifmay, she said, amnesty, and be | th yeaith of isador iui fas thine own.” ':~ old, in surprise. “ey ” > &T received by express a package of money, Lh arg Be awiot CHAPTER XX. Cement es amounting to twenty-five thousand dollars; ' with it was a note, ina hand that was beyond “my knowledge to trace whether written ya man or woman, and it read simply: _,“*Ose this tosave Harold Lynde by fair or foul eans. ““*If you need more, ve it double or quadruple ‘ this sum, put in the Personals of the Herald the _ amount needed and sign to it the one word Hope.’” * And no name was to this strange note?” said Es ‘the amazed young man. ; None.” Ba ak ; eaned. “One more + “Well?” - “Do you think question to you, sir?” ou can save me?” /, “That is what I have come to find out by a chat with you.” pont pply your inquisitorial screws; I am .” was the resigned remark, and Harold back indolently in his chair; but was brought up with a start at the first question. _ “Is miser Quilp a liar, or are you the assassin ‘* But Isador is dead.” “* Dead?” Yes; he left us in the long ago, with a heart bowed down with woe, and he sailed for a far- away land just as he had crossed the threshold of manhood.” ‘Why did he sail, Rachel?” ‘A woman; one with a sweet face, but he believed a false heart, drove him away, and the ship went down in the sea, and we haye never heard of him more.” “He was lost then?” “ Yes. ” ‘ “Rachel, Iam Isador Muir.” One glad cry and the trembling hands of the woman rested upon his shoulders, and her head was bowed until her gray hair rested upon his _ breast, while she said, in quivering tones: ‘You were but a boy then, and in all these years changes have come, my brother, but you are Isador Muir, and blessed be the God of Israel for bringing thee back to me.” ‘But I come in rags, Rachel,” he said, sadly. A LEAF FROM THE BYGONE, “You would hear, Jule, why thy uncle s0 long remained as though dead, and, with a for- tune, remains in rags like the veriest beggar,” said Isador Naomi, when the two sat together that evening after dinner. “Yes, for 1 confess to m curiosity, uncle,” answere with a smile. ‘‘ Dost know why I left my native land?” he asked, quickly, “Only that thou hadst a sorrow that drove thee nope “Girl, I will tell thee of that sorrow; I will tell thee that when but one-score years had left their impress upon me I loved. ‘*The one I loved was a girl as beautiful as thou art in face and form, but her heart was hideously deformed.” ig His eyes flashed as he spoke, though he re- catled one to memory who had proven false tO — him nearly thirty years before, and Jule said, share of woman’s Jule, the Jewess, a at heart he says you are?’ “ What Scans ie Siete ty quietly: _. “Mr. Wilbur!” and indignation flashed in the nee Care ON Aa ea eae ‘Don’t tell me the’ story, uncle, if it gives eyes of the prisoner. gna for did you not recognize Rachel Muir, the sou pain? ’ ’ gi “Mr. Lynde,” was the calm response, “do iy rr “4 oe Ezra Quilp” r Wg ie - not forget that you are to be as an open book - tome, and I must read your thoughts as I can _ my own; there must be no blot upon the page - to hide aught from me, for I must work with mp / my eyes open, tosee beyond these walls where as are yours; in fact, I must know everything, you cannot see, my hands free, and not shackled ain I ask you, did you attempt to kill sist the fascination of the mau before him, for the dark, strong face, the brilliant black eyes, and the winning voice held him as under a ‘ inne he said in response, in a firm voice; “7 did. very life Harold Lynde could not re- |. beauty of thirty years ago, in old Mother Naomi?” ‘* But you seem not rich, my sister?” “T am not,but I am comfortable, and my home is as thine, for we have a warm friend,” ‘* Wel who?” ‘My child and I.” ‘‘And thy husband, for thou dost bear the name of Naomi?” ‘* Lies in his grave.” ‘* Alas!.and thy children?” ‘*But one, I said; a daughter, Jule.” **Ts she as beautiful as thou wert, Rachel?” * More so, Isador.” **Then she is proud.” ** Only as becomes her blood.” * But will not welcome her vagabond uncle.” ‘Pain! why, child, I haye known only pain in all these long years; it has at last eaten & sore in my heart that is killing me, and that is why I came back to my native land, for here are our people at home. s “T had several attacks that prostrated me iD the street, and I came back home to be near my kindred when the end shall come,” “Oh, uncle, you will live many long years yet,” said Jule, hopefully. ‘*Not so; the canker-worm is gnawing to the seat of life, and the end must come soon, thoug? perhaps not for months. “But I was to tell thee, Jule, why I left my kindred and my home. “The one I loved, Salome Monica, lured me ‘ _“Enough on that score as to what you did: : A on to my own destruction, fed me with hope, — © ‘mow, again: did you kill Detective Dade with: | ,,Al Tsador, be not a skeptic regarding thy | ana then became the wife of Marcus Hugo, 1nY aint Z cause?” pis ha u ne my he tig Isaid. Come hist friend? ee ” and see if she welcome not thee. : 6 5 py tits le ee Apesoribe these.” abe, Sok him by the hand, and, asin years | sadignantiy, and then sho added: Her name gn I le ee Raa ga Se RCI Brien ceed ba ahaa terrae ni ? ey hads 6 gate leading in e ! Bei declan as an.ollcer on the law, I arrest you siento secadcgratn erties and up tes narrow |... oS dat fe quarter of a century ago they — _ for intent to kill Ezra Quilp. path she conducted him. were married. : ia ©‘ And your reply, Mr. Lynde?” Rachel?” he asked, looking She sent me a note, begging me to forgi fag, fol him he had mistaken his man, and—] 1 ~ iy ee “ Dost live cee ss omestead, ‘w--4 ess her, and to prove my forgivene:s by going critically at the ol killed him.” . rhestiaeey Se Buea | the wedding. ee at ul “Thank you, Mr. Lynde, now wo will see | Then indeed have thy riches fed from thee.” | ‘1 did $0. Sule: T ng 6, Sree Re At Wee an rh pag ty A in tei DAS alee, ‘ae bana pages ey

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~— . ' - ae SSFP A fee Pea -JULE, THE JEWESS. — 15. * and a skilled worker, and I toiled night and day to give her a wedding gift worthy of the for- fiveness of Isador Muir. “Tt was completed the very ae of the Wedding, and it cost me every dollar [ had in the world.” ““T have heard of it; a star of solid gold, set With opals, rubies and diamonds,” said Jule. “Yes, and with the gold face of it carved beautifully to represent a star and its rays, the Tays being of various tints; ah! it was a costly ’ trinket, and a beautiful one, and I was repaid for my work on it, for it accomplished its end,” the man said with sudden fierceness of manner, Which caused the maiden to start, and ask: “‘ Accomplished what end, uncle Isador?” “The end I sought, of course; to show her that I forgave her and her husband.” “Shs is dead now I believe?” “Yes, she died one year after her marriage, and since then I have heard no word of home and kindred, for the night of the wedding I left, as I believed forever, and the shipin which I Sailed went down in mid-ocean, and but two of us survived of all her crew, and we were res- cued, after days of drifting in an open boat, more dead than alive. “From that day I have been a wanderer in foreign lands.” “She teft one child,” said Jule, as though her thoughts were of the woman who had driven dor Muir to become a restless wanderer about the earth. The man sprung to his feet as though an ad- der had stung him, and cried, with vehemence: ‘*Salome Monica left a child?” “Yes, uncle, a boy.” ““ Where is that boy, now?” ‘“ Heisa man, now.” “Aman; well, I forget that it was long years ago: did Marcus Hugo also die?” “Jule, tell me what you know of those two,” he said, pleadingly. ““My mother, in speaking of you, has spoken of them, and she it was who told me that Sa- lome, who treated you so ill, died one year af- ter her marriage—’ “Ves, that was well, that was well,” the man mutteringly said. “That she left one child, a boy, whom they hamed Adolph Isador Hugo.” “Ha! after me?” “So it seemed, uncle.” *¢ And that boy?” ‘*Grew to man’s estate, and his father educa- ted him as well as his means would permit.” “Why, Hugo was rich.” ‘““ Was, but he lost his riches in some way, and what he lived on, and educated Adolph With, was the money he got from the gem star, your wedding present.” “Ha! he sold it then after his wife’s death?” the man asked, guickly. ‘*No, he kept it until forced to part with it, and then he pawned it, and paid the interest on it up to his death; but Adolph, learning its his- tory, it seems, refused to pay more on it, for he said it would be as a star of ill-omen to him, eke as it was by a man whom bis mother had een false in heart to.” : 2 “The boy had honor; well, this star of ill- Omen was then lost, Jule?” ‘* $0 I suppose, uncle; that was years ago.” The man was silent for a moment, as though communing with the past, and then said: : “Now, Jule, let me tell you why I dress in Ta: ‘3,7? ey will be glad to know, for, as you are no Iniser, like the one we rent our rooms from, it is a strange freak for a rich man.” ‘‘ Well, [ have been such a tramp that the arb suits me well, Jule;.but when I Jeft home ong ago, I wanted to die, but I would not take my life; then, when our ship went down I clung to life, and, in my gnawing hunger and damn- ing thirst, in my fearful danger of death, I prayed to the God of Israel to spare me, and aig Sp myself to dress as a beggar the remain- er of my days. “My life was spared, and in tatters have I Clothed myself ever since; but the heart, Jule the heart is not deformed, and my blood is still Warm for my kindred, as you, my sweet Jule shall know, for fortune has followed after my footsteps through all, and you shall be the ®iress to the riches I possess.” s ; Jule gave one quick, surprised glance into his , and then, overcome with emotion, burst tears, for her heart was too full for utter- ce, CHAPTER XXI. JULE GROWS INQUISITIVE. _ “Way. child, Jule, what ails youi” asked Isador Muir, as he saw how deeply the maiden was moved when he told her of his intention to make her his heiress. ‘¢Oh, uncle! do you think I have no heart to remain unmoved by your kindness?’ she said, reproachfully. — ‘Well, Jule, it should not bring tears; let me tell you that I knew not of your existence, and there was one I intended to make my heir.” ““Do not change then, uncle,” said the maiden, quickly, — a Ah, girl, death made it necessary, for he ied. ‘*T will tell you about him, and strange to say he looked as much like you to be your brother, though he was not of our people. ‘“No, he was a handsome Christian lad of eighteen when death called him away. ‘“‘ His father had gone out to India and pros- pered there, and we were friends, for he was not a man to sneer at our race. ‘(The lad, then a little child, was most kind to me, and once, for weeks, nursed me through a long spell of sickness. ‘Again he saved my life when a man sprung upon me in anger; he turned the knife aside, for he was passing near, and I never forgot the no- ble boy. ‘When his father died, the boy kept on at the business and accumulated quite a sum3 but he seemed homesick, and one day, when i told him I was coming home, back to America, he said he would come, too. ‘¢ But then it was that death stepped in and prevented, for he fell sick of fever; but to me he intrusted his gold and his papers, for I stood by holding his hand when he died. “Well, [ came on to America, and some day soon I must go down to the Tombs, where the boy has a brother of his fathér an assistant keeper, I believe, and give him up the papers and the gold.” Jule, the Jewess, started suddenly, as though some strange thought had flashed through her mind, and shesaid, quickly: ‘‘ The uncle of the tad was one of the keepers at the Tombs, you say?” “Yes, Jule.’ ‘¢ He does not know of the boy’s death?” “¢ Ah, no, for he died in India, and there was no one to tell him.” ‘Of course he knew that his brother went to India?” “Yes, and died there, for he wrote the lad, raped Grey, to return to him, and be as a son to him, for he had no son, being a bachelor.” “* And you have the boy’s paper's and gold?’ “Yes, a trunk of papers and things he left; it is the one that came with my chest this morn- ing; then I have drafts on a bank here for some five thousand dollars the boy left his uncle, but [have delayed going to the Tombs, as I have a dread of going there.” ‘*Let me do it for you, uncle, for I would be glad to see the interior of that old pile of stone,” said Jule, coaxingly. “You go in there, Jule?” ‘*Yes, uncle, why not?”? ‘Well, if you wish it, for I would be glad to be shut of the duty.” “Then tell me all about the poor boy, his early life and habits, that you know.” “Tl give you all the information I can, Jule and itis much, for I knew him as well as did his father.” ‘* How old was he when he went to India?” ‘But a year or two, and his mother died on the voyage over.” With strange persistency and inquisitiveness Jule, the Jewess, questioned her uncle regard- ing the dead youth and his antecedents, and then. asked, in an earnest tone: ‘‘ Does any one know that you have charge of the boy’s money and effects?’ ‘Oh, no; he died at a bungalow, and I and several natives were all that were with him.” Jule’s eyes gleamed with a strange light, and her face was flushed, as though from excite- a he but suddenly changing the subject she asked: ‘* When do you and mother go to Baltimore, uncle Isador? ‘“Whenever your mother is willing for I am anxious to see if I can find trace of some little roperty your father had there, and which he ught when I was with him, and that has es- caped your mother’s memory. ‘The town has grown since then, and if your father did not sell it, the property is most valu- able if we can get hold of it; but you accom- pany us, Jule?” ; z ‘No, uncle; you know that I have some little literary taste, and I am anxious to complete a work I am engaged on, and I will do much the day or two you are gone.” \ i et os , oo » ASK : Get ed WX fr e Re peer ae oe ee I te *But-we-may be away for a week, and per- haps two.” A ‘So much the better for Isador.” “ But you will be lonesome here alone.” ‘Not with my work, books and harp.” And to all urging of both her uncle and mo- ther Jule remained deaf, and the two started for Baltimore, leaving the maiden alone in the: old homestead, for the past few days Quilp the miser had seldom been seen at his home. As her mother and Isador Naomi disappeared from sight Jule’s face brightened greatly, and with a triumphant flash of her splendid eyes’ she said: ‘Now, Harold Lynde, you shall see what 4 woman’s work shall do, for if you are not free this night week I shall no longer take pride in the name of Jule, the Jewess.” . my work, uncle CHAPTER XXII, AN ARRIVAL AT THE TOMBS. _ASSISTANT KEEPER Stanuey Grey, of the city prison, was pacing the stone corridors be- tween the cells, having attended to his morning supervision of the prisoners, when one of the guards came to him and told him that a youth © wished to see him. In a small ante-room Stan Grey, as he was familiarly called by those who were his associ- ates, found a handsome lad of about seventeen or eighteen awaiting him, The youth’s face was darkly bronzed, as though from long exposure.to wind and wave, his black hair curled about his temples, and he was dressed in a, jaunty suit, while he carried a small cane in his hand. ‘‘Are you Stanley Grey?” asked ‘the youth, stepping forward as the keeper canic into the : room. *‘T am; who, may I ask, are you, and how can I serve you?” : ¢ ‘‘Do you recognize no resemblance in my face’ + to any you have known in the past?’ “By the Lord Harry! Fie are my nephew and namesake, Stanley Grey; right weleaea are you, my boy, right welcome indeed,” and the keeper, with tears in his eyes, for he a warm heart, in spite of his stern calling as the guard of criminals, drew the boy to him affee- tionately, while he continued, in disjointed sen- tences: ‘You look like your father—when he was your age—poor Alf, to find a grave ina far- away land—and you _ have come to cheer your old uncle’s heart? Well, I am glad, so glad of it—when did you come—” “The steamer from England arrived this morning, uncle Stan.” “Ah, yes; well, you came that way, did you?” “Tt is the pleasantest route, and the quickest to come via England.” “Why, so it is; and what a great traveler Stanley ; but come into my aS you have been, quarters with me, and we'll have a chat until am off duty and then we'll go and have a good. dinner together. ‘‘ This is a dismal place to welcome a long ab- sent nephew to, but than one gets accustomed to stone walls, iron bars and misery, you know, boy, and I have no other place to invite you.” ~~ “T do not mind it, uncle Stan; in fact Iwill - take real pleasure in looking about this old pile; that is if it is allowable,” answered the youth. ““Oh, yes, as my n w you will have the run of the place,” said the keeper, with some pride in his own importarze, and he led the outh to his own quarters, all the time asking im innumerable questions. At last the two were seated together, in the corridor facing one of the cells in which a man untiringly paced to and fro, and the eo looked into the face of his nephew and curiously: ; “Stanley, it seems to me you’ve got just the / faintest look of a Jew oe you.” : “Do you think so, uncle?’ “J do indeed; your mother I never saw but ~ once; she was a Miss Phillips I believe.” ai - © Yes, my mother was a Jewess.” ‘ ‘‘ Ah, indeed! now I never knew that before; + but then Phillips is a Jew name.” ‘*Yes, uncle, ‘‘Then you come honestly by the little Jew look in your face, my boy; but I won’t’com-~ plain of that, and, in fact, it’s not enough to_ speak of, and rather adds to your for, Stanley, you are a very handsome youth,” . : nk you, uncle.” ; ) “Yes, you look like your father too, and he and I were said to be as much alike as twins; yes, you are the image of him, nephew, and you. come well by your gpod lodxs,” and the somey * 4; RE Pig ee it t ree iF fw ie i bre > . AS w tt et a oe CR eS on Se / J yee ‘4 4 Fl ty i “Hy

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- what homely keeper stroked hisown face caross- ‘Uncle, who is that prisoner?’ asked the youth, attentively regarding the man who s0 persistently paced his cell. ‘ _ “Phat isa young aristocrat who has run his ~ head into the gallows fioose,” was the answer. +» ** Ah! what has he done?” Tried to.kill one man, and killed another, ay and one of the best officers in the secret ser- _ ¥ice.” ~ ‘What is his name, uncle?” ae “Harold Lynde, and his father is a million- aire, and will spend hundreds of thousands to save his son’s neck; in fact, I have received a hint that I could make a snug little fortune by 2 letting the young aristocrat go free.” + “Tt’stempting, isn’t it, uncle?’ said the youth. _ . * Yes, to some men, but not to me, Stanley; -* my duty is here, and my honor at stake, and » one hundred thousand dollars would not tempt _. ™e; in fact, money cannot buy me, be the price what it may,” said the honest man, and his face was an indication that he spoke the truth. _**T shouldn’t think any one could escape from § place,” remarked the youth from India, ~~ glancing curiously around. / 1» Oh, yes, a man with friends and money can escape from any place but the grave; if Mr. » Harold was poor he’d hang, for it looks~as * though he were guilty, and if so he must go un- ‘der the gallows rich as he is,” The youth sighed, and, some one calling his uncle aside about some matter, he strolled bin- self about the passageways, apparently with Foye curiosity, and soon stopped and looked in through the eves door of the cell o¢cupied y Harold Lynde. The young man’s face was haggard and pale, and his lips were firmly set, as though he suf- fered, while his eyes were sunken and inflamed. “TI am sorry for you, sir,” said the youth, kindly, yet ina very low tone, ’ Harold Lynde turned an angry look upon the ~~ he arpa and seemed about to make some impa- ; t retort; but_there was something in the id’s face that checked him, and he said, bit- tery _ “tam sorry for myself, boy.” _ “* Well, lad, have you made the acquaintance i Mr. Lynde?” called out his uncle some min- ) Utes after, as he returned to his post and found _ him talking to the prisoner. _.. Yes, uncle Stan, I have promised to read to Mr. Lynde, if you will let me, for he says he ' would like to have me, and is too restless to * read himself; it will keep his mind off his troubl: ou know.” ig would be glad to have your 4 ¥ i ombs, telling the keeper he preferred to re- with to going about the city seeing and Keeper Grey consequently ar- 1 it SO as to have his nephew become a ivileged personage in the gloomy old pile at covered so much of crime, sorrow and y from the gaze,of the busy world with- , ‘CHAPTER XXIII. 2X OLD HEAD ON YOUNG SHOULDERS. Sran-xy run up to the court-house, where went with me yesterday, and ask the judge lease send two officers from there down af- the prisoner, as the funeral of Keeper ns to-day makes us too short just now for to spare any from here, and Keeper Grey anced at an official-looking paper he held in : WW hat prisoner, uncle?” asked the inquisitive Mr. Lynde; and tell them to come in a car- for he is so well-know that he would be ized and have a rabble at his heels; go Stanley, for he must be at the court by u lock,’ youth, departed on his errand, and the ar turned to Harold eeras, who, hearing are mentioned, asked what was the matter. Oh, I guess your father’s money is going to mi bailed out after all; but, if you were a an, it could never be done.” 5 makes you think so, keeper?” asked r, quickly, while a flush of hope ust sent @ messenger hero with | ‘ ; be i ‘ AG NO | Fe orders to bring you to his rooms; and, as you .| were put here to await your trial, it looks as if that smart young lawyer, Wilbur, had found flaw enough in the commitment to get you bailed out, for what else can it mean?” “I certainly cannot tell you; well, do you go with me now?” “*T don’t go with you at all, as I cannot leave here, and being short to-day, on account of the funeral of one of our men, Ihave sent for the court officers to take you there, so you’d better get ready,” and the keeper seemed in ill-humor at the prospect that thoney was going to save the man who killed his friend, Detective Dade, from hanging. In less than half an hour the youth returned, and he was accompanied by two court oflicers, one of whom was known to Keeper Grey. Securely handcuffed, Harold Lynde was led out of his cell to the carriage in waiting, which rapidly rolled off up towand the City Hall. issing his nephew after awhile Keeper Grey upon being relieved of duty, went in search of him, and not finding him about the prison, con- cluded he had gone on to the court-room with the prisoner, so he wended. his way in that di- rection. But searching there was fruitless, as far as finding the youth was concerned, though to the dismay of the keeper, he learned a fact that alarmed him, for in full haste he returned to the Tombs, ‘*Has the prisoner been brought back?” was his breathless question, “What prisoner, Grey?” inquired the officer on duty. **Harold Lynde,” ‘*Didn’t know he was out.” “Yes, a letter came hera from the judge while you had all gone to the funeral, telling me to send Mr. Lynde up to the court-house, and I thought his lawyers wero going to get him bailed out, so sent him under the charge of two officers,” “Well, what are you anxious about, for he is up there.” ‘No, he is not.” *‘ Where is he then?” “God only knows; the men at the court- house say he did not come there.” **Perhaps he went to the house of the judge,” suggested the other keeper. ** Yes, that is it,” said Keeper Grey, with a sigh of relief. hen he quickly asked: “Have you seen my nephew?” ‘No, but he’s around, I guess.” ‘‘He went off with the prisoner, I think, for he seemed deeply interested in Lynde the three days he has been here with me.” “He’s a handsome boy, Grey; don’t look a bit like his uncle,” and there‘was a merry twinkle in the speaker’s eye. “Why, he’s very much like me, Ben,” said Keeper Grey, earnestly, and he added: “* He’s a fine boy, Ben, a fine boy, and I would trust him under any circumstances; what is it, Carter?’ and Keeper Grey turned to a prison ars who just then entered, a letter in his and, i. A letter for you, sir, and a trunk came with ** Ah yes, my nephew’s; how much is the ex- pressage, Carter?” ‘He simply left it at the door for you, and went off; the man brought it on his shoulders: bunt what is it, sir?” And well he might ask, for Keeper Grey had opened the letter and reeled back against the stone wall, his face livid. ‘* Boys, there has been Satan to pay here, and I’m the victim; read this letter, Ben, for I can’t do it,” and he sunk into a chair, while Ben ary took the letter and read aloud as fol- OWS: “Kreper STANLEY GREY; * DEAR SIR: “You are too noble and honest a man to hava been made a tool of, but the life of Harold Lynde was not to be sacrificed if aught could save him, and oe have been victimized, and I regret it deeply, but I would far more regret the death of the pris- oner, for whom there was no hope, did he wait to stand his trial.” The reader paused, and the three men looked at each other with surprise. you had ; ai ainsi I grieve to tell you that the one ywho.gave 4 + u 4 Jule, where is your mother?” ‘me the information saw your nephew die of fever seven months ago in an Wasr-lodian bungalow—” “God have mercy upon me!” groaned the poor keeper, and Ben Curry continued: E ‘Ere your nephew died he gave into the hands of my informant all his papers, and his effects, with — five thousand dollars in gold, 7 ‘The trunk I send herewith, and in it you will find all as your nephew left it, the money being there also, and to you, his uncle, for whom he was named, young Stanley Grey left everything.” + “That’s a windfall for you at any rate, Grey,” said the reader of the letter., ‘Curse the gold! I would give it all to have Harold Lynde now in that cell; but read on, Ben, read on!” Resuming, Ben Curry read: “Knowing, asI did, that there was an accidental ~ resemblance between myself and your nephieyy and being in possession of all the facts, with his trunk papers, clothing and gold, and aware that you had not seen him since he was an infant, I boldly as- sumed his name and character, and plotted success- fully the escape of Mr. Lynde. “Through a clerk at the court-house, who was well bribed, I got a letter written as from the judge, and gold bo t another official to play his part in oing to the Tombs, in company with another hire- ing, for the prisoner. “Once out of the prison walls, and the bribed court officer and clerk drove the prisoner to a place of safety for him and themselves, and pursuit will be useless, as their escape is too well planned, “‘As for myself, when you catch me, 1 am willing ; to undergo my punishment, but it is ‘catching be- ‘ fore hanging,’ you know. af ‘With sorrow for the loss of the noble nephew whom you hoped to have live to cheer your later years, and sincere regret at having had to make you the victim, I am, very sincerely, yours to command, but 707 Your nephew, “STANLEY Grey,” “Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said Car- rs “That youth is too sharp for us, that’s a fact,” remarked Ben Curry, “Tt isa bitter blow for me, my friends; but Tl face it, come what may; now to spread the alarm of Harold Lynde’s escape, and we'll see — if he is beyond recapture, as this daring boy __ asserts. ¥. “By Heaven! I was once called the best de- tective on the force, ton years ago, and I'll go back t» the old work and ferret out the hiding- place of Haroid Lynde, if it takes a lifetim and he’ll know who that boy is, and let me ge my gripe on him once, is all I ask, “Sound the alarm, Ben,” and the next morn- ing the papers were full of the clever escape of Harold Lynde through the daring of a boy who had played his cards with a master hand, and Ue entire detective force were busy working up © Case, CHAPTER XXIV, A SURPRISE, ‘* WELL, Jule, in spite of all my plotting and planning to aid Harold Lynde to escape, I fail- ed, and some one else has done so,” and Victor Moloch entered the home of the Jewess early on the morning after the escape, all of the morning papers in his hand. ‘Yes, I was startled an hour ago by loud curses, and found that it was Miser Quilp, who had just learned the news, Victor, and he seemed half crazy about it, and swears he will offer twenty-five thousand dollars reward for Mr. Lynde’s recapture.” ‘Did you read the account?” "Yes, the miser left me his pee when he rong off frantically to the Bo ice Departe. ment, ‘* Well, whoever that boy is he is a clever one, and a daring one; only it reads like a romance the way accident aided him, and then his bol plot and successful carrying of it out after he got into prison.” “ Do you think they will capture Mr. Lynde, Victor?” asked the girl, anxiously. \ ‘*T fear so, though certainly hope not; but the city is being searched in every crevice and cor- ner, for all the detectives seem confident that he has not gotten out of town, and the high re- wards offered, for keeper Grey also offers his five thousand left him by his nephew, will do much toward finding his whereabouts; but, “Tn Baltimore.” “Did you return alone?” - “Oh, no; the truth is, Victor, when I wrote you not to come up, as we were going to Balti-. more, I did not go,” __, na ‘““Why Jule! and you remained here all alone?” iS “ate

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vil --thdomitg vi ee “Yes, anil I am going to make you my ¢on- nt, Victor; you remember mother often has Pict of her brother Isador?”’ es “Well, he has returned.” , “From the grave?” asked the young man, in amazement. “Oh no, for he was not lost af sea as was sup- Posed; but he has been in foreign lands, and Came home to die, he says, as he has had several attacks of heart disease.” “Poor man, and where is he now?” **Jn Baltimore with mother; they went there tosee about some property which uncle Isador Teminded mother that father once owned.” ~. “T’am surprised that your mother left you ére alone¢ Jule; it was not right.” “Oh! I told her [ wanted to work, and that if I felt lonesome I would send for Zitelle Cohen, While you would come up every day to see how Was getting along.” 4 . “ How should I come, believing you to be in altimore, Jule?” _ “I did not tell her that I had led you to be- lieve in my letter that I was going; that was a Part of my plot, Victor.” “Your plot?) Why, Jule, you are as mys- terious this morning as a puzzle.” “Then I will tell you all; you remember you Were to come up and see what plot I had con- Cocted to rescue Mr, Lynde?” my os,” “*My letter was to prevent your coming, for knew you would not let me remain here alone, Qnd also that you would refuse to aid mein the Plot [ had formed.” “T am listening anxiously, Jule, and also, I May say, with some impatience; why do you Pause?” “lam thinking where to begin to tell you.” “ Begin at the beginning.” “Well, my uncle met mother and, strange to ny recognized her, and he came home with er “* He looked like a beggar, in dress, and plead- 2 poverty, we gave bim a welcome, as was our ity, and then he tells us he is rich, and makes Me the heiress to his wealth.” “TI congratulate you, Jule, from my inmost eart, upon your good fortune, for, as you have Never allowed me to give you such a home as Your mother and yourself deserved, you can Now live as you should.” “You have been too kind, Victor, and both Mother and myself have known that father died Owing you money, and more, we believe the in- fome you pay us, and which you have said is Tom an investment father got you to make for im, is not true,” “Jule!” and the face of the young man be- fame crimson. ; Vi. We have lately come to that conclusion, lector,” she said, firmly. : b “Do you think I would deceive you, Jule?” ® said, reproachfully. ‘Yes, where you were keeping us from want; You are truthfu , Victor, but your heart would Cause you to tell a falsehood any time to aida friend’ (Jule! Jule!” “ Well, I will not talk of that now, but go on ig my story; my uncle told me a secret, and, divulge it to you, I must have your word Rot to betray him.” certainly not, Jule; command and I obey.” te) (OU are ever noble, Victor; but how can I ut you all?” she said, in a worried way. ust me, fully, Jule.” he secret my uncle told me was about a Youth he knew in India, and who died there, ei that he had brought his trunk and money 4 to give to his kindred here. _+ was deeply interested in the story of the Poor dead boy, and begged my uncle to let me Rive his effects to his people, and he turned them Ver to me to do so, As my uncle said I was strangely like the youth, I concluded, as his kinsman was in the ombs, to— L God of Israel! Jule, you rescued Harold Ynde! You are the supposed boy !” dro, Maiden made no reply, and her head fap bed upon her hands, and she shut out her the trom his gaze; but Victor Moloch knew ®n who the daring youth was that had so Eeverly played the part of the dead East Indian his er some moments he regarded herin silence, qui once wearing a troubled look; then he said, ~ Jule, you have proven yourself to possess 1 le courage and nerve, and you plot- “foartanmed, and executed well; but you took geet Know it. Victor: but what could I do, when JULE, THE JEWESS. accident put such a chance in my way?’ she said, without looking up. “Does your uncle suspect this?” “Oh, no!” ‘You may get him into trouble.” ‘No, for he came here just after the death of the boy; no one but several native Hindoos knew that the boy died, or that my uncle had his effects, and no letters were sent.” ‘*He will see. it in the papers, and know that you alone could have played the part,” ‘*T will see him, and confess all, as soon as he returns; but, he does not read the papers, neither does mother, and I do not wish her to know anything about it.” “Under these circumstances’ the secret can be kept; but, where did you get the disguise?” ‘ “From the trunk; it was a suit of the dead Oy. - So did you hide your glorious hair?” ee | She took off the head-dress she wore, as she = yc and there sprung to the lips of Victor oloch something strangely like a Christian oath, while he cried: “Cut it off! all gone?” ‘*'Yes; is not short hair becoming to me?” “Jule! Jule! you have done this for Harold Lynde, and yet say you do not love him!” ‘* No, he was kind to poor father, Victor, and, —but never mind, Tl say no more,” she said, with a blush, for she had nearly confessed that her disguise, given to Harold Lynde, had gotten him captured at the ferry. “Jule, does Lynde know who you really were?” oe Yes.” ** And where is he now?” She answered, in a whisper: “* In this house,” CHAPTER XXYV. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR, Inthishouse! Harold Lyndein this house?” and Victor Moloch stood gazing at Jule in utter amazement. “Victor, Dbeg of you not to speak so loud, for if one word was heard you would not only undo all I have done, but get me into trouble as well,” said the maiden, earnestly. “True, Jule, I am wrong; but then I was thoroughly amazed; but in the name of Abra- ham! why brought you that man here?” ‘* Victor, I had but little time to decide what was best, and I knew of no safer plaice for them oe hide until we could get them out of the city. ** Them !” ‘Yes, the court officer and clerk whom I bribed.” ‘Ah! that reminds mé; where did you get the money, Jule?” ‘‘Uncle Isador left a large sum with me, and TI used that, knowing you would replace it, and that Mr. Andrew Lynde would pay you back,” “T do not ask it of bim, Jule; but I will send you up the money by messenger to-day; how much is it?” “T spent but twenty dollars over the bribas.” ** And what were they?” ‘*Two thousand each to the officer and the clerk, with promise of expenses to another country.” ““They sold themselves cheap,” said the He- brew, with a sneer. “*T saw that they could be bought and made the purchase.” ** And they know you as you are?” * ‘No, my two purchases think yet I was a oy. iS and you brought them here last night, ule? “Yes; the carriage took thém to the river, where they took a boat to the other shore; but they came up along the bank after dark, and I met them at the landing and took them up- stairs to the garret.” ‘They had better be careful, for the slightest sound will awaken the miser’s suspicions.” “‘T was careful; there are boards up there across the timbers, and I took up quilts and put on them, to drown all sound.” “Well, they must not remain there long.” “Two of them say they will leave to-night, as soon as 1 can secure disguises for them.” ‘*] will get them for you and send them up; can one of them be made to look like a wo- man?” ‘““-Yes, the clerk has a beardless face,” ‘* Well, I will send an old woman’s attire for him, and a countryman’s suit for the other, and they can easily escape out of the country, if! they have any tact; also, I will send you a thousand dollars each for their expenses.” | “You are very kind, Victor.” _ ; A t - j hee re ee ae 7 7 » , ve | Asi ee, ie: ** Not at all, for as you said, the millionaire will repay me; now what about Mr. Lynde?” “He thought it best to remain in hiding. un- til the public felt confident that he had certainly escaped from the city.” “If discovered, by any unfortunate accident, you will be compromised, Jule,” ‘No, I think not; it will be looked upon/as a splendid piece of strategy on his part, coming to the very home of his enemy to hide; the windows in the old cupola on the roof are open, and banging all the time, and the three went: up by way of the balconies and got in, so that no one else than Mr, Lynde will be believed to be implicated in his coming here, if he should be discovered, which I doubt.” ‘* Well, I must concert some plan to get him out of the city at once,” ‘“* My idea is that if Mr. Lynde shaves off his mustache, cuts his hair close to his head, and uts on a common sailor’s cap and suit, he can’ Boldly walk down Broadway to the wharf and ship on board of some vessel leaving for a foreign port.” ) ** Jule, you are a troasure; it is the very for its very boldness would cast off sus to-night we will get the other two off, an plan, icion ; I will ascertain when a vessel leaves, which it would ’ be well for him to take; but when do pect your mother and uncle back?” ‘““At any time they may arrive,” “Then you must be most cautious; now I willleave you, Jule, but I will be back toward evening, and we will get the officer and: the clerk off,” and Victor arose to Zo, when Jule said in a low tone: ; ** Victor, I have a favor to ask of you, please?” “Tt is granted beforehand, Jule,” he said, with a smile. “Thank you, Victor; but you have heard that in the past my uncle Isador loved ons who was false—that is who married another?” ‘Yes; but he forgave her and presented her with a most costly wedding-gift.” hice you ex- ‘True, but he still feels sore at heart toward” her, and her son, and I beg of you never to speak of Adolph Hugo before him.” The young Hebrew’s face became clouded, and rising, he paced the room several times be- fore he answered; then he said in a calm tone: “Tt shall be as you wish, Jule; if he does not know aught of Adolph Hugo, there is no | reason why he should do so from my lips.” “Thank you, Victor; but hark!” \ A: step was heard without; a soft, cat-like. tread, and stepping quickly to the door Victor ~ threw it open. ; ; ; It was Hera Quilp, the miser, who stood with- out, * CHAPTER XXVI. Me ON THE VERGE. At sight of Quilp every particle of color left ~ the faceof Jule, the Jewess, and Victor Moloch turned pale, while he gave a quick glance at the maiden, and caught her eye. There he saw the thoughts that had flashed through his mind. — “Bad Ezra Quilp been long without the doer?” \ “Had he heard what had passed between’ them?” ‘‘ If so, what was to be done?” Seeing that Jule was not alone, the miser \) seemed ill at ease, and this, to the quick eye of © the young Hebrew was a good omen for them, for his manner gave evidence of his not hayin known that Victor was there, and his words carried it out, for, bowing obsequiously, he * said: ; ‘Pardon me, Miss Jule, but I did not know you were enga ¥ “This i the ed,” . s is Nae Victor Moloch, Mr. Quilp rigs of my mother and myself,” said Jule, co rented these rooms from him for your mother always ask a high price for what they sell, ex- you know.’ I must ay. your dealings have been with a very pardons I mean Mr.—Mr.—what ind of a loc ny ee a ‘* OD think Mr. Quilp will remember me, as I~ ictor, in no ~ |” r¢ wale , gy et a S ee WAL ‘ } f 7

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‘ ‘ oe ace de Bann. ’ Cite =; KeUpsce conversation, and fled?” she asked? hersélf, and “My name is Moloch, sir; Victor Moloch.” | Jule, now wholly on ber guard, though not | ¢on' whether it was accident or design on | again she rapped, and louder than before. — ‘Ab, indeed! I have heard that name down in Wall street, as a very rich broker, _« relative of yours?” + ~~ “Tam Victor Moloch, sir, and my office is in Tall street, and I am a broker.” + “No, no, now; well, sir, you have a sweet sis- _ ter here indeed, and your mother is a most es- | timable lady.” _ Jule saw that Victor was losing his patience, ~and shesaid quickly: » “Mr, Quilp, as I told you before, this gentle- geen is ae my brother; but he is my intended _ ** Ah! well, I declare; you will be a splendid- | looking couple, if you are Jews; but, Miss Jule, | called in to ask you for the paper I let you have early this morning, as it would cost me " four cents to get another, and I wish to read | that account of the escape of Mr, Lynde once | more; you heard, doubtless, Mr. Moloch, of that _ daring affair?’ +.“ Yes, as you doubtless heard, sir, Miss _ Naomiand myself were discussing it before you -came in.” ** Lord dear, no, sir, how should I hear it?” "Tam sure Teanno tell, unless you listened,” was the abrupt reply, and Victor turned on his heel impatiently as Jule handed the miser the Ps PT i could not give mea clew, could you, sir, as to which way Mr. Lynde has gone?” asked Quilp. “Tam not on the detective force, Mr. Quilp.” » . “Well, I am determined to have him, forI ~ have offered twenty-five thousand dollars for ~* his recapture, and there will be as much more in rewards given.” “You must be most desirous of capturing | sir, ~» “fam indeed, sir: Ihave a debt to pay him, ~ ~ and one of long standing with his father, which ' Iwish settled; in fact his sister I also wish to make a payment to, and it shall be all paid in » the same coin, and one they won’t like either,” sage 4 fiendish look came over the face of the man that made Jule shiver, and seeing that he had, perhaps let his feelings be too plainly seen, be sa d, quickly: ,.* Your mother and father are away, I be- | _tieve, miss?” _ **My father is dead, Mr. Quilp.” _Tndeed! then the gentleman with your mo- q er is—” me brother, and my uncle,” said Jule, “Ah; by the way, miss, I meant to ask you he rats in the garret disturb you much?” Jule felt her face grow white again, and see- At, Victor, with a good deal of presence of , said, with a laugh: Pew Now,: Mr. Quilp, if you wish to lose Miss _ Naomi as a tenant, don’t speak of rats, for _. thereare so many rumors that your old rookery is haunted, that you will drive her away at once; see how pale she is at the thought of lid not say ghosts, sir, but rats; rats cer- nly are not dangerous.” “Indeed they are, Mr. Quilp,” broke in Jule; ‘Thate rats, but do you not think it may be ghosts that make the noise, and not rats?” _ No, no, for these rumors are idle gossip, to | ent my renting my house; but last night it [to me the garret was full of rats, and I ed to say if you found them annoy you, I | would send a man up there to-day, and have Gaeeen cleared out, for the garret is full of | oe ce oa pbis “No, no, not on my account,” cried Jule, e Victor remarked: “Tt might be a zood idea, Jule; suppose we ake an advance on the garret now, with Mr. D to lead us.” le looked at Victor Moloch in horror at poenth @ suggestion; but she saw, by his cool, seasy manner, that he acted for some good rea~ on, and answered: bn let us have a look at the old garret, its 3 and its rubbish, Mr, atip,” jut the miser seemed in no humor to lead the vance, and replied eagerly : _ “No, no, not if the rats do not trouble you; tif they do tell me, miss, and I’ll have the ie out if it costs me half a dol- a are too generous, Mr. Quilp,” said ut unnoticing the irony in her words, he , rappe oa | ot Oak; Paes aeey ake virile s | knowin sir; any | his part | than she was willing to disliked to advise her to take this last step; to torture her so, or her guilty con- “Yes, but it makes you look a little boyish.” “So T told her, . Quilp; you see some ladies who have very long and thick hair, such as Jule’s, suffer with headache, and it is best to science, | have it cut off; you have not had any trouble with your _head since you eut off your hair, | have you, Jule?” “No, Victor,” was the quiet reply, while the miser said ina tone meant to show his great knowledge of the sex: “Tt is heartaches, my dear young lady, that do.the most harm to womankind.” “You seem to have dissected a woman’s heart pretty thoroughly, Mr. Quilp,” answered Jule,in a voice in which the miser was certain he detect- ed sarcasm, and, dreading above all things the idea of being ridiculed, though he constantly made himself a.subject for it, he responded Tor “Well, well, I must take my paper and run off— Ha!” All three started, for there came from above their heads a distinct sound, that appeared too real to be caused by any creaking of the house, or scampering of rats. “Your ghosts are at it again, Mr. Quilp,” quickly said Victor Moloch. “Rats, sir, I said rats; but they are most in- fernal ‘large rats, and I shall send a man up there to-day if it costs me sixty cents.” “Better go yourself, Mr. Quilp,” suggested the Hebrew. ‘* No, no, I’ll send a man to clear out the rub- bish.” ‘It would be a good idea; but before you go, sir, perhaps you can tell me where I could nego- tiate certain stocks I have for cash? I will pay liberally for it.” The word pay caught the miser’s ear, and he forgot about the rats, and said eagerly: “Yes, yes, if they are secure, 1 can arrange it for you, Mr. Moloch.” ‘They are all right, sir; so you had better go down to my office with me; we will take a car- riage at the nearest livery stable.” **T will go, sir; just wait until’ I get some money from my safe,” and the miser hastily | left the room. ““T will keep him busy making money until night, Jule, and then all must go; but you shall hear from me soon,” Victor had just time to whisper, when back came the miser, and the two men left the house together, and Jule was in a tremor of dread, for she feared the miser really knew her secret, or suspected her. CHAPTER’ XXVII. DISCARDED. Or the business transactions that Victor Mo- loch interested Ezra Quilp in so thoroughly as to keep him down-town, and'almost happy, for he was making a ‘‘ corner ” in a number of little schemes, I will not speak, but simply state that ; the young Hebrew found time to write a note to Jule, inclosing her the money he promised, and to send it by special messenger, along with | the disguises for Harold Lynde and his two as- sociates. These latter he purchased from a shop where dramatic costumes were kept, and he was care- ful to get the very best. In his note he urged Jule to get the clerk and the officer off at the earliest moment, and, if her mother had not returned from Baltimore, to have Harold Lynde leave the garret, and in some way conceal him in her own apartments. Knowing the young aristocrat as he did, and already dreading that Jule knew him_better dmit, Victor Moloch but after her clever rescue of him from prison, and all the risk that had been run, he would not hesitate upon a quibble, while also he had per- fect mah parts in the maiden, ut no answer came, though her quick ear de-_ tected a peculiar sound. ; Tt was the tick, tick of a watch, and she knew _ that Harold Lynde must be lying down on the ~ trap, not daring to reply, until assured who it | was that wished to gain entrance, ; “Mr, Lynde, it is Jule, the Jewess; come — quickly,” she said, as loud as she dared, and al- most instantly the trap was opened and the pale, stern face of the young millionaire looked down upon her. ‘““Come! you and your comrades, and you have no time to lose,” she said, earnestly, and at the same time descending the ladder, Without hesitation they followed her, closing the trap behind them, and the next moment they stood in her room, the aristocrat pale, but calm, and with a reckless light in his eyes; the clerk trembling, livid, and almost unnerved, bay. *‘Oh! if I were out of this in safety, I would not do it again,” groaned the young clerk. ‘You are like the drunkard, you swear off, Johnny, when there is no liquor to be had; but tempt you,” muttered the officer, “But I am _in a worse box than you, Dick Hastings, for 1 forged the name of the judge to the order,” whined the clerk, ‘* And got paid for it,” ‘* Perhaps I’d get more to—” “ What Q?) It was Harold Lynde that uttered the word, and, while one hand grasped the throat of the young man, the other held a knife over his eart. “I didn’t mean to, indeed I didn’t, so don’t: please,” cried the startled clerk, for the hand that held him he knew had already taken hu- man life, and the eyes of the escaped prisoner © glared into his own with a menacing look that boded no good for him. “You'd do right to knife him, Mr. Lynde, for the thought was in him to turn State’s evidence and give us both up, and enjoy the reward; but, my on me,” and the officer also turned upon him. Seeing, as she came from another room, what was going on, Jule came to the rescue of the frightened youth, saying, quickly: **Oh. do not harm him, for he will not be so despicable as to carry out his half-formed threats; here, sir, isa female costume for you; it is that of an old lady, bonnet, spectacles, and all, and I can paint your face a little, so as to wholly disguise you, so go into that room and dress, please. ‘‘Giveme my rig, miss, and I’ll go with the kid; I don’t like to have him out of my sight, I loves him so,” said the officer. ‘“Your dress is that of an old man, and here is a razor to shave off your mustache, and these gray false side-whiskers will fully disguise you.” “You are right, miss; Pll think I am my own nating when I look in the glass; come, ohnny, dear,” and with a reckless laugh the officer departed for the next room, accompanied by the clerk. “‘ And what are you going to do with me, fair Jule?” asked Harold Lynde, softly. Instantly she turned upon him, and said ina tone that was decided: “Mr. Lynde, when at school I was called Jule, the Jewess, by my associates, to distin- guish me from another of the same name; to you, sir, Jam Miss Naomi.” The face of Harold Lynde flushed at the re- buke, and he said, humbly; “Bardon me, lady; but I thought our inti- mate relations sufficient excuse for my crossing the barrier of cold reserve.” ‘“‘Again you anger me, sir, for between us there are no intimate relations; in the past you were kind to my father, and to my mother and myself; what your motives were rests witb - our Own conscience. “ Accident brought me in contact with you, and I prevented your hand taking life, and, to repay those par kindnesses, I sought to save you when I knew the miser intended to have » you arrested, “The very disguise I gave sto get you out mS you, it seems, and again [sought to of the danger, into which ‘unwittingly my own act bad gotten you, and I stepped out from the pale of womanhood and fre you from prison. _ “Now, Lam going to conceal you here until night, when you can go a ye safety, in the ‘disguise I have for you, and ship on board a ves~ _sel that sails to-morrow, I learn, for Ri ve this our paths sone: leave th through lif Tam gladt a) SO a Oy while the officer looked like a hunted stag at ~ another thousand offered in alike case, would boy Johnny, you'll not play that game » "

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He heard her through without one word, and it was evident that her honest words touched ; buta man of great fascinations, a favorite among women, and with an inordinate store of Self-conceit, he could not believe the Jewess was acting from a motive only to return a kindness ~ he had shown her and hers in the past. From his first seeing her he had been deeply interested in her, and had she been rich, he would have endeavored to win her love; but . poor, unprotected, and yet ravishingly beauti- ful in face and form, he sought to win her as a : toy to cast off at will, and this alone prompted his every act of apparent kindness to her dying | father. Believing, from the standpoint of his selfish nature, and inordinate vanity, that she really loved him, when she risked so much, and did so Se for his behalf, he was emboldened to say o her: “*Fair Jewess, what I did in the past was done from love of you; what you have done for me, you say, is wholly gratitude.” ““You have named the motive, Mr. Lynde; gratitude to you prompts my action, and the remembrance of your sweet sister also encour- aged me, for we were schoolmates.” ““You a schoolmate of Isabel’s?” he asked, in surprise. “Yes, we were at school in Boston together, and she ever had a smile and kind word for Jule the Jewess, where others had a sneer, because if was not a Christian,” she said, with a con- temptuous curl of her red lip. ** And you, the friend of my sister, the one I love, for I must say so, bid me go from you for- ever?’ he said, earnestly. “*T bid you go your way, and I will go mine.’ **T will seek a homein a foreign land, where I will not be as a hunted beast; I will build there, for I have money, sweet Jule, a bower of love, a cosey nest, into which to welcome the dove of my heart. ‘You have saved me from myself, and more than ever I idolize you, andI bid you come to me there, when you learn from me that I have escaped the bloodhounds on my trail.” He spoke impassionedly, and his handsome face lighted up with fervor, for, as much as. his nature and selfish heart was capable of loving, he loved Jule, the Jewess, and all she had done for him did really awaken gratitude and kind- ness toward her in his bosom. But her words sent a chill upon his heart, as she said firmly: “Mr. Lynde, you have no right to speak thus to me, and I will not listen to you.” «But you do love me; your look, your actions show it,” he persisted. She drew herself wp to her full hight and faced him, and bitterly, seathingly fell the an- swer from her full, red lips, and in tones he sous not misunderstand, be his vanity what it might: tiave you, Harold Lynde? I am pledged to be the bride of another, of one of my own race, for I am no traitor Jewess, and, were it not so, could I love one whose hand I withheld from assassination, one who is now a fugitive from the gallows for a cowardly murder committed?” A wail, rather than a cry, broke from his lips, and the severely punished man turned away and buried his face in his hands, for the arrow had found its mark, had cut deep into even his Selfish, stony heart, and he had been made to feel all that he was in the eyes of a pure wo- man. ‘She saw his anguish, she felt that she had been intensely bitter and severe, and she turned to him with pity in look and voice, and said quickly: “Forgive me!” Ere he could reply, he heard a startled ery from her lips, and turning quickly beheld that they were not alone. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PARTING, THE exclamation from the tips of Jule, the éwess, and thestart given by Harold Lynde, was at suddenly finding themselves not alone ut on the contrary two persons had entered he room unheard, Those two were an old man, whose years had bent his form, and who carried in his hand a Cane, and an old woman also bowed by years. fe) ag was their disguise, so thoroughly -did they look the old couple they pretended to _ be, that no wonder was it that both Jale and _ Harold rave, who for the moment had for- _ Sotten their existence, believed they were sur- __ prised, and failed torecognize at the first glance the clerk and the officer, the hunted companions of the young aristocrat. ; Gre’ “iy 7 Heaven! you gave me a start, Hastings, a vor a aS od , hh aes PH x yee Ye T assure you,” said Harold Lynde, recovering his former composure. ; “Pm glad we did, Mr. Lynde, for, if we can fool our pals, then our disguise is perfect, and I guess Johnny and myself will get along all right; you see, miss, I believe Johnny here, my old woman, will think better of preaching against us, and as we hasn’t many kinfolk to tie to, or weep for us, and no wives to leave be- hind, we can find a home in another country; but it’s Mr, Lynde I pities, as he has to go alone, and then he has that on his conscience which we hasn’t.” An impatient imprecation from Harold Liynde checked the speech of the officer, and Jule, seeing that the man was also cutting deep into an already wounded heart, said, hastily: ‘‘ Well, I do not wish to detain you, now that you are so well prepared to go; so here are a thousand doilars apiece for you, for expenses in seeking a new home.” The eyes of both brightened, for gold was an idol with them, as it is with most of mankind. ‘“*We thanks you, miss.” “Yes, I feel better now about going,” put in Johnny Cameron, the clerk, as an echo to the officer’s speech. ‘* Pardon me, Miss Naomi, but permit me to pay this,” said Harold Lynde. ‘No, it is all attended to, sir, without trou- bling yeu.” ‘You are very kind, Miss Naomi, but as I am very flush, my father having sent me a handsome sum to buy my way out of prison, [ll | add a like sum to the fee given these gentlemen | for their professional services,” and the young aristocrat took a roll of bills from his pocket, and, in a sudden freak of generosity, handed his two aiders and abettors in his escape two thousand dollars each. “You are more than generous, Mr. Lynde, and I guess the old lady here and myseif are fixed for life,” said the officer. “Then come, and I will see you to the door,” said Jule, who was quite nervous from dread of the miser’s return. ‘*Good-by, Mr. Lynde; luck to you, sir,” said the officer, Dick Hastings. “I wish you good fortune, too, Mr. Lynde,” added the clerk, Cameron. ‘Good by, and let me add, mend your ways, for if you had not both been precious rascals, you would never have taken a bribe; one ste down-hill leads to the gallows, so look out both of you, for you have taken that step. “ Now, with this little unasked sermon from me, I advise you to clear out,” and the haughty young millionaire fugitive from justice turned coolly on his heel, while Jule led the two out and saw them to the lower door. Returning to the room she had left, she watched them from the window until she saw them disappear in the distance, and then she gave a sigh of relief. “T would that sigh were for me, Miss Naomi,” said Harold Lynde behind her. ‘*Tt shall be, sir, when I see you depart from this roof in safety.” ' “ Ab! it will be a sigh of relief, then?” Yes.” ** And should I not depart in safety ; should I go from here in irons back to that dismal, fear- ful prison, would you sigh, too?’ fi would deeply regret it, sir,” she said, coldly. Mi Ah me! I know how you regard me, and I dare not. say more; but, would to God I had been different, that I had met you ere false pride warped my nature, and I became a sin- encompassed man, and then—and then—we might Aes been more to each other than we are; you might have looked upon me with kind- ness.” “ Never!” ‘Do not say that; let me at least hug to my heart the sweet assurance that it might have been, sweet Jule,” he entreated. “J say never, Mr. Lynde, for between us there rises an impassable barrier for you and ” ‘*No, no, if you refer to your engagement, for men and women often are bound nowadays when no heart-love is felt.” ‘““Mr. Lynde, you are a Christian, I am a Jewess; your people are often traitors to your religion, but seldom is it that’ one of my race ” “There are exceptions to all rules, Miss Naomi.” ‘‘{ would not make the exception, unless—” ‘* You pause.” ‘‘T care not to say more.” “Pray do.” “Tt would not interest ueu.” D Ah tain So Pies t eet : Spams soot: a % e Ara ~~ all i Ls 3 obey | one tndeed 16 would, if you will say what | “K see father, or sent us one word o TN eee a eee aN a ees ee oe ees ae ee keh abt oe S Si 3 em rt: aoe Ratios Seater Bee ER ear als Tle inten . “Tt had better remain unsaid.” | “Let me be the judge.” aly “So be it; I would have said that I could never bea traitress to my creed and my people, __ unless [loved a man more thanI did my kin- __ dred and Israel’s God.” Pete: He drew nearer to her and bent his int Shs sioned, fascinating gaze upon her, and said in pleading tones: eo ‘“‘Will you not say that you doso love me, | er sweet Jule?” “t pew time no word was spoken. f Then she broke the silence: ae ‘Mr. Lynde, twilight is gathering now, and there is your costume; will you permit me to cut your hair?” ater b> He had long, silken brown hair, and it was_ his pride, and his vanity asserted itself in impatient: fore “Would. you me of my hair? ** As you please, is much less.” like Sampson’s wife, deprive = 4 sir; the risk of recognition ~ he said, bitterly, and then he added: eae ‘J come like a lamb to the sacrifice, Miss” Naomi.” c\iee aoa ‘“‘ Would to Abraham that you had the lamb’s ~ innocence,” she retorted, quickly. . © = |) = Getting a pair of scissors, she soon had his hair cut short, and then, taking a razor she ~ re rag him, he soon cut off his long mus- tache. : “Why, I would not know myself even, f my hair was never worn short, arti I have hud a mustache since I was seventeen,” he said, with evident surprise at his changed appear-- ance. ee ee ‘The seamam’s suit and cap will change your — appearance still more; To will find them the adjoining room,” said Jule, the Jewess. — He silently left her, and in'a short time re- turned, a bona fide sailor in appearance. _ “JT assure you, Mr. Lynie, Keeper | would not know you now if he met you fe face; but it is dark now, so 1 must beg that yo hasten away, for I expect the miser back at an moment.” ie. “Curse him! if I met him now, it would not’ be—” ; ead ‘“*Hold! would rom still deeper dye your — hands in human life, and blacken your ¢ ; science with crime, wicked man?’ she cried, im — an angry tone. ee ge ‘Tt was wrong, as I ever am; forgiveme, forget me; farewell!” he held forth his & and she hesitated, when he drew it back ar offered his left one, saying pleadingly: “This one you will take? , Fs “Yes; good-by, Mr. Lynde, and may you be- | come a changed man is the prayer I will offer to the God of Israel.” es ‘J thank you; I dare not tell you how mu farewell.” bye His voice trembled, and he turned away, the door closed upon him. gt The next moment Jule, the Jew ¢ him hastening away down the w p path, and disappearing in the gathering gi Then she sunk down upon her —— with her face buried in her hands, b » tea1's, while she murmured: Lise “] have done my duty; the debt is” and now his life is in his own hands.” CHAPTER XXTX. _ GLAD TIDINGS, ah es Ir was the second day after the escape Harold Lynde, and the pavers had been fi the clever ruse of the unknown youth, tha so daringly taken a prisoner out from under the very eyes of the most trusted officials, - Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, had startling announcement the day” bet had at once driven to the Tombs, to. the report was indeed true in every p From there he had returned home to Isabel with. the, to them, joyful tid they had talked the matter over at again, and hoped that the son and brot escaped from the city. > : SRE 4 yr morning Isabel read her ou at was said in the papers, ¢ shesaid: aE 8 “It is strange that Harold has n

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__ “He dare not do so, my child, for our house _ is watched day and night, and Richards, bring- : fog ny mail this morning, says an officer Rios: ed him and examined the postmarks on N | “Tt is terrible to be watched this way; to be tantly under this fearful espionage,” said “4g Isabel peevishly, ai) ee Yl stand anything, Bel, if Harold can only escapé, for it he is retaken, all the law and law- -Aiyers in the land cannot save him.” )..' And yet, after our talk with Mr. Martin iw bur I had strong hopes that he might es- eine.” f 7 No, Wilbur is a lawyer, and a good one, and he looks on the winning side always; but they ould hang Harold certain, and far better a ted fugitive in foreign lands than an igno- inious death, for what a disgrace it would n : PR The very thought of it, or fear, has kept they show their hu- degree,” said Isabel do, that I have lost my money, as Harold Said to have had to go to that accursed miser, lp, for funds, and that my son is going to be au ang , they keep away from us most severely; ') butlet us not think of friends that have fled, but sod we can think who it was that helped A ; out.” - “Thave not the slightest idea, think as much ‘as ayen” on the subject.” “Well, it is remarkable indeed; I took the y twenty-five thousand in large bills, and jim to hint to the keeper he could make a iali fortune by aiding his escape; but this youth aaa to. have been an outsider; well, 8 ro A gentleman to see you, sir,” said the ser- ,and he handed a card. ictor Moloch,” read the millionaire aloud, € looked toward his daughter. isk him in here, father, for his note of athy to me was so kind, Lowe him thanks S magnificent present, and I believe he the one who sent that money anonymously 1901 say, here, Rich legantly attired, courtly in manner, and a full of unfeigned sympathy, whatever his on of the brother and son might be, Victor h entered the library of the millionaire, ras received most graciously by his host, with a kindness he did not seem to have an- ated from Isabel. : . Moloch, permit me to verbally thank ou cS ag superb present to me,” said Isabel, ter a few words of greeting had been spoken. im glad you were pleased with them, Lynde, and I wished you to have some my child; ask Mr. Moloch to come ards.” you into a compact through your fa- misfortunes,” he said, softly. eded no such reminder, sir, for though I to acertain fretting under compulsory /cannot but feel tbat you nobly served iy father and my poor brother,” and the tears ne into the beautiful eyes of the maiden. 6s, Mr. Moloch, you know all concerning ‘ boy,” said the millionaire, feelingly. tospeak of Mr, Harold Lynde, sir, that 4 me to your home, ere the expiration thirty days’ grace I gave ypur daughter re her uni th me; of course you heard on easure of his fortunate escape?” , and a remarkable one, too.” haps Mr. Moloch can tell us who the outh was?” suggested Isabel, in such a 8, significant tone, that it brought the » color into the face of Victor Moloch mced cautiously around the room, an lds he Spaniards say that walls have ears es tena , 1 took the hint, and rising passed out of into the music-room, and thus by the into the library, and said: 3 is no one near, sir, and Richards, our lold butler, would keep watoh if he saw the servants inclined to too great curi- ; you do, then, know who the youth was?” , he was a friend of mine,” we owe to you thanks for Har- ” said Isa the youth.” - anit ‘the burden o ; ‘| _ “T answer you no, Miss Vilbur to aid poor Harold, sol wish to | ‘reminder of me than the fact that I had | » quickly, and with |. | Neate en oh . | * He was but as a cat’s paw in your hands—” the Hebrew, with a smile. ‘*Pardon me, I had pri tae de when L spoke, | who it was, in the old story, tha aw to secure the chestnuts; but, seriously, Mr. oloch, we owe you more than we can ever repay.” “You owe me nothing, Miss Lynde; but al- low me to tell you that your brother is safe.” “Safe!” ese” “*He has left the city, then?’ eagerly cried both father and daughter in a breath. “‘He has; he sailed: on a vessel last night, bound for Rio; I saw him go on board, and watched the ship sail down the bay.” . “But, he will be recognized,” said Mr. Lynde, anxiously. ‘“Not disguised as he is, for I would never have known him, had I not myself purchased his suit, and been on the watch for him, for he was shorn of his hair and mustache, and shipped as a common seaman,” ** Poor brother Harold!” “He is better away, Miss Lynde.” “True, for it would have been anignominious death to have remained here; but, thank God, he has gone, and to you, sir, we owe more than words can express,” and, rising, Isabel grasped the hand of Victor Moloch in both her.own, and her father silently wrung the other, and their | Hewaie deeply touched the heart of the noble ebrew, who said, hastily: “Your brother shipped as Nick Buntlin, first- class seaman, on board the clipper ship, Ring- leader, bound from New York to Rio, and a letter to that name, Rio Janeiro, will reach hina, and when he writes to you he will address under cover to me, as a letter directed here, from a foreign land, would assuredly put the law-hounds on his scent. “This I arranged with him the moment I saw him on the dock before he sailed last night; now, i must say good-morning, as this is a busy day with me.” **Mr. Moloch, we owe all to you, sir, and, bound as I am to you, I hope you will not con- sider it unmaidenly in me to say that only by a lifelong devotion can I repay the debt of grati- tude; come to us whenever you feel inclined,” and turning quickly Isabel Lynde went to her room, while Victor Moloch, with a heart and brain on fire, caused by. the conflicting emotions he felt, sprung into his waiting carriage and was whirled swiftly back into the busy stream of money-making men in the heart of the me- tropolis. CHAPTER XXX. NICK BUNTLIN, SEAMAN ON THE RINGLEADER. THERE were many, of course, who believed that the story of the East Indian nephew of Stanley Grey, assistant keeper at the city prison, was a concocted’ story made out of whole cloth, so to speak, These same persons hooted at the idea, and set it down in their minds that the keeper had got- ten a comfortable fortune for his little work in the escape of the aristocratic and wealthy pris- oner, But the powers that were, the head officials, had sifted the matter pretty thoroughly, and the trunk of papers and clothes, unmistakably East Indian, the money in it, the absence of the officer, Dick Hastings, and the-clerk, Johnny Cameron, proved to them conclusively that the keeper was the victim of a most clever and dar- ing plot, and not a confederate in it, and Stan- ley Grey, at his own request, was relieved from duty at the Tombs, and became a member of the secret service. ' From the hour of his becoming a detective he set to work to track down those who had vic- timized him and to capture the escaped prisoner, and day and night he was like a tireless houn on the scent. One day he strolled down to the docks, his eyes open for anything of a suspicious nature, for not a singleclew had all the unraveling of detective’s skeins revealed. : ee =] = 2 @ fe] 3 ~ 5 or oS = fe) Lad cS 3 Gs ce} 3 B z = | about the way some rae | kid played you.” lack Fieteber, a Lynde; the boy did “Victor Moloch being the monkey,” suggested | “TIT go with pleasure, Jack, for the sniff of. sea air will do me good, and you are a good fel- low to got points on in my little biz that I am in now.” “ They fired you out then from the prison, old fellow, believing you’d made a penny for ‘Oh, no; the papers cleared me in full, and only those who don’t know chin about my being bribed and putting up the whole job; but I lef the dismal den and am now hunting the trail of the prisoner and the youth who payed me so cleverly for a fool, which I believe I am; but it seemed awful real, Jack, and the boy did look so like his dead father, as I believed, and like me, and he was so handsome.” “Yes, he must have been, Stan, to have borne resemblance to you; but come, let us go on board,” and leading the way to his pilot-house the comfortable tug, with a gay party on board, was soon steaming down the harbor for the lower- bay. Once through the Narrows the steamship was sighted heading up the harbor, and with a cheer the tug started for her. ‘* What in thunder ails her?’ suddenly cried the pilot. ‘What is it, Jack?” asked Stanley Grey. “Why, her bow is stove in bad, and she’s got canvas stretched over it to keep out the water; she’s had a bad collision, I’m thinking, an from her looks I’m thinking the craft she struck has gone down.” Every eye on the tug was now bent with deep interest upon the coming steamer, that plainly showed she had met with a serious ac, cident. But she came steadily on, and the party in the tug recognizing their friend, the ‘‘ big-bug,” as Jack called him, cheers were given, the band played, and the two vessels steamed side by side back toward the city. At Quarautine Jack Fletcher called to one of the mates of the steamer whom he knew, and who was not on duty, to come on the tug, and tell him about the accident, “Oh, we ran down aclipper ship last night in the fog, and she sunk quickly, with some of her passengers and crew, while others saved themselves by jumpi s on board, and a few we threw ropes to and pulled out of the water; but there was one fellow we had to save by sheer force, for he seemed to wish to sink.” “What was the matter with him?’ asked Jack Fletcher. ‘No, one knows; and he was a fine-lookin seaman too; but we got him on board, an fearing that all was not right with him the sur- geon took him in hand, and soon after dis- missed him, as he found nothing wrong about him, excepting one thing.” “And may I ask what was that, sir?” said Stanley Grey, in spite of himself interested in the strange seaman. ‘“ Well, he was shipped on the Ringleader, which was the name of the craft we ran down as a first-class seaman, and under the name of Nick Buntlin, so his messmates said, and yet the surgeon let it out that his underclothing was of the finest silk, and had two initials embroi- dered on them.” “Guess he stole ’em,” said the pilot, bluntly. “Then if he did, he stole his handkerchief, too, for he had one he wore in his shirt pocket, and another round his neck, and they were both embroidered in the same way.” ‘He may be some tony fellow in hard luck,” sugecste the pilot. ‘Maybe, or some man who has committed a crime that makes him hide himself under a sailor’s jacket,” responded the steamer’s of- ficer. The remark caused Stanley Grey to start, and he asked quickty: ; ‘“‘ What did you say was the name of the ves- sel you ran down?” “The Ringleader.” : ‘Where bound?” i “To Rio Janeiro.” gf. ‘* When did she leave New York?” ‘The night before we run into her; you see we came the southerly passage across, and @ gale had driven us off our course to the south- ard, as we had to depend upon our sails for two anys, owing to an accident to our machi- nery, 1 “Could you tell me the letters embroidered on tie seaman’s underelothing and handker- chief?” asked Stanley Grey, with renewed in- terest. “ : “This isa hound of the law, mate; in oth thinks he’s g« our . Id the cat’s | Old age, by saving the aristocrat’s neck?” as- o y. Mr. | serted rather than asked Jack Fletcher.

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he has, for he’s been served a dowiiright shabby trick of late, and he’s a pard of mine and square clean through.” “*Do you recall the initials?” repeated Stan- y Grey. “Oh eee they were H, L.” The pilot and the detective glanced know- ingly at each other, and the former said with vehemence, preceded by a sailor’s oath: “Tm durned if you hav’n’t got him, Stan.” ** Don’t be too sure, Jack; but as the steamer is going on up to the city now, will you kindly permit me to go on with you? “ Certainly.” **Now, sir, will you point out your strange seaman, who did not care to be saved from drowning, and wears silk underclothing?” asked Stanley Grey, quietly, when the two were on the steamer’s deck. : “Certainly; there he stands, leaning over the bulwark forward.” ; The detective, keeping in concealment him- self, walked up near to where the strange sea- man stood, and took a long look at him. “Well, I am right; that man is the one I want; once I return him to his old quarters PU get the boy, I’m fagset ng siege Thus saying, he put his hand in his breast pocket, and drawing out a Derringer pistol, stepped quickly up to the seaman. _ Placing the weapon to his head, he said sternly: sy Nick Buntlin, first-class seaman of the Ringleader, I arrest you.” “Great God! it is as I feared! I have come tack to my doom,” cried the man, bitterly, as he beheld who confronted him, “Yes, Harold Lynde, you have come back to die on the gallows. “*Tt had been better for you had you gone down in the hull of the Ringleader.” “Would to God I had.” “T do not say amen to that; here, Mr. Lynde, bold out, your hands for the bracelets,” and the detective drew a pair of steel handcuffs from his pocket. yh Fare With a shudder, and livid face, but in si- lence, Harold Lynde obeyed, and one hour after he was again an inmate of his cell in the Tombs, while Stanley Grey was receiving the congratulations of all upon haying run down his prey, le CHAPTER XXIX. ONE LAUGHS WHILE ANOTHER WEEPS. Liz a bombshell in a bivouac fell the start- ling news upon the city, of the capture of the isoner, who had so cleverly escaped from the Fombs, and then, just as cleverly eluded all ursuit and gotten out of the clutches of the Foutide of the law that hunted him down. The papers were full of the strange capture, and Keeper Grey was redeemed in the eyes of even the most skeptical, while the ‘‘ I—told —you—so” busy tongues who had faith in the keeper were triumphant, and vice versa, were correspondingly cast down. 2 The ministers held it up asan act of Provi- dence to prevent the prisoner escaping, not taking into consideration, as do most of those who lay every event happening upon poor Pro- vidence, that several lives were lost, and a fine vessel sunk, with much injury to trade, by the capturing of one escaped prisoner. ; n the circles more deeply interested in the event, the bringing back of Harold Lynde to his lonely prison cell, a thrill was felt that went to the heart, for, where old Ezra Quilp gloated over the circumstance, it was far different with those who held kindred blood to the prisoner, and bad done so much to aid his escape. In a pleasant room of a restaurant, the after- . noon following the recapture of the prisoner, three persons were seated ata table groaning with edibles of a substantial kind and luxuries, while ‘‘extra dry” was ee in the glasses. Those three were first, Keeper Stanley Grey, the detective who had run his game to earth; second, the pilot of the tug that had invited the keeper to take the run down the harbor with him; and third, the second officer of the steam- ship that had told the story of the running down of the Ringleader, and of the strange Sailor on board, who proved to be Harold ynde. The keeper had received the reward offered by the mayor, and Ezra Quilp had promptly dhis before ten o’clock that morning, and he three were enjoying themselves at the ex- nse of Stanley Grey, who had forced. upon is companions, as aids to his success, a thou- _ Sand each, and a dinner, at which all were ee Ty over this misery of a human oh ae ! y Re eae a aaa murs ie. ot a oe ee ee ~ Nett Pry CHOU . sorrow another’s joy, one’s food another’s poison, and thus wags the world along. In the palatial home of Lynde, the million- aire, sat in deepest grief the father and sister of the prisoner, for like a stroke of iron the news had fallen upon them, and together they were brooding over their sorrow, and seeing in imagi- nation the hideous gallows rising before them to take the life of him they loved. Presently a card was brought in by Richards, and a gleam of pleasure shot over the face of the millionaire as he glanced at it, and he said quickly: “Show him in, Richards; it is Mr Moloch, my dear.” A faint tinge of color came into the face of the maiden, and rising, she extended her hand to the handsome Spe oe Sa ew as he entered. ‘7 need not ask, Mr. Lynde, if you know the sad tidings, for your sorrow is photographed on your heart,” he said, kindly. ‘*'Yes, we know all, Moloch, and we are glad you have come, for we know not what to say or do.” “‘T have come to have a little chat with you, for I have Wilbur, and all depends now upon the trial.” ‘“‘So if seems, for money could not buy a keeper now, I suppose?” ** No, they have placed a treble force on duty, not for fear of a rescue, but upon the eb tod that one keeper must watch another; I just/left the Tombs with Mr. WiJbur.” “‘And you have seen my brother?’ quickly asked Isabel. “Yes, and he seems despondent, though the lawyer bids him hope; your son, Mr. Lynde, spoke of a clergyman who accompanied the millionaire miser here on his visit, when he bought your notes?” “Yes, a man I am convinced puts on the livery of the Lord to serve the Devil in.” “Mr, Harold Lynde could not recall his name.” iy I can; it is Silas Sloan; here is his letter to e “Can I keep this letter?” Victor asked. ‘*You can, sir.” “Thank you; now I must be off, but I frank! tell you the battle is not lost, and I have faith in young Merton,” and Victor Moloch departed, both Mr. Lynde and Isabel accompanying him to the door, for his visit had been like a ray of sunshine penetrating into their gloomy hearts, From the palatial mansion of the millionaire, I will take my reader to the den of the miser millionaire, Ezra Quilp, who made gold his god, and yet would sacrifice it most freely to gain his revenge, He had seen by the morning paper that Har- old Lynde had been taken by keeper Grey, and he had hastened off to the Tombs and promptly paid his reward. From there he had gone to his lawyer, whom be had engaged to aid the District Attorney in the pragecuton, and told him to leave no stone unturned to press his enemy to the gallows. From there he had driven, for the miser mil- lionaire had become strangely extravagant of late, to the parsonage of the Reverend Silas when he read it, Sloan. Fast dropped in a moment, Sloan, to tell you that the trial comes off next Monday, and you must be on hand; have you received your sub- poena?” ‘Yes, and shall be there.” “Right; there is little you can say, you know, other than that you dropped in with me, we be- ing together, and heard me ask young Lynde to pay his notes.” “ Young Lynde! you mean the old man?” “No, I mean young Lynde, Harold, who is now in jail.” “ce Ah! ? “*Thatis right, you begin to understand, I see,” “But, have you such notes?” "Oh, yes, they will be produced at the trial; well, you heard me ask Harold to pay his notes and he refused, and his father refused, and I threatened to protest, and they kept me there until it was too late.’ “Yes, Ihearditall; but, I do not well sechow I can be at the trial, as my ministerial duties call me aay 5 a see I am going to the convenh- tion, to eld at St. Louis-next week, and I hope to get a few thousands to help along my church,” | * Curse yore church; here are a couple of thousand for the corner-stone, so be on hand and I will give ou 8 written statement of what you are to say. , “JT gannot come for two at the convention,” , t; Se ehie eal Ga eller . wy But what is one’s loss is another’s gain, one’s ousand, as I will —: = eaary = cari pes ‘Your testimony is worthless, only it is best ‘to have you there.” Peg a “Well, I'thank you, Mr. Quilp, for thissmall — donation to my church, and wish I could beat ~~ the trial, but [ cannot, as I would lose five thou- ~~ sand dollars.” oe . “‘Curse you, I'll give you the five thousand pe you the three more when you — stify. ae ; s wi “The five more.” he a “You have two there.” Ma es. “Why, that was a donation to my dear, church, and—” : Bice “You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Silag Sloan, as I have ever believed you to be.” x a “ The clothes fit too, Quilp, the miser million- aire, and believing me to bea Villain, yowsought me out as an associate.” : 5 The miser uttered a curse, but answered: ~~ **Well, I will give you five thousand dollars the day you testify.” — ! RG ee ‘You might forget it; give it tome, now.” “T will not.” a ‘*'Then I will not testify.” *T will give you my due-bill for it.” Very well.’ : The miser millionaire wrote the necessary paper, and departed. Sat *‘ Where now, sir?” asked the driver. aa To my home.” ae “You live at the old Rhineberg homestead — gh Seventieth street, don’t you, sir?” =) es ; te _ And to his rickety old mansion the miser mil- lionaire was driven, and there, in the following — chapter, the reader will kindly follow him. : CHAPTER XXX, » THE MISER’S LITTLE GAME. ae ‘Hx! he!” and the miser millionaire gaye —— low chuckle, as he held up several notes and gazed at them. hea The Government bank-note — “a ~ ans “He! he! he! o engraver couldn’t give notes that''looked more real. R ey Abe ‘The old man gare his on his own note-book, made for him, with his name printed in oneend, and this is a fac-simile of those he gave me, ex- cepting the name of Harold Lynde, instead’ Andrew. ; Sai ‘‘The engraver charged me well for t work, but he did it well, and I’ll not, complain ha! hal ha! now, Andrew Lynde, 1 not o strike you for robbing me of my bride/in th ba joy to me. ' ee ‘‘Now to get possession of the notes of. drew Lynde, which he paid, and then all be well; but Pll get them, for it was a lucky © idea of mine to advertise for a per man to do a secret service for high pay, and the one E selected out of the lof who came I know will the work; ah! there he comes up the now.” Hastily putting his notes away, the. millionaire went to the door and admitted a red-headed, black-eyed, freckle-faced I man, who jooked as wiry as an eel, ai doubtless, to judge from his appearance, as slippery in character. ee nee “Well, my man, you have come on time, see.” es ‘‘Allus on time when chuck’s ter be made,” was the laconic response, ea ‘Good! now do you scare easily” . — “Try me.” ois ‘* No, no, I don’t wish to do that; but you are willing, as you told me when here this morn- ing, to do a little job for me that requires cool head, light fingers, and nerve.” T has ’em all.” Hee **You look it; now about your conscience,” “My what?” "ein **Conscience.” ‘¢ Don’t take, pal.” a «, ‘¢-Your compunctions!” tae ‘Never had any.” ce ** Good.” ‘ Ces Tf they’s good, then I'll get some,” “You don’t understand me; I mean do commit a crime and then get sorry about ‘‘T hain’t such a durned fool; ef I was ter be sorry I wouldn’t*do it,” © Tk “You are a fine fellow; now I want you break into a house,” eine ‘* And rob a safe,” 3 “That’s nothin’ ter do,” ‘You are a thoreugh scamp ne SN is a good deal alik “We'll not, discu benefit by your rob “cc Tsee.”

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_ hold of some papers, and all the money you find _ in the safe you can have for yourself.” - Might not find none.” *6 Oh, yes, you will.” *¥ must get chuck for ther job; if I finds money, them is my perquisites.” ; ** Pil give you one hundred dollars.” _ ~ “How much money will I find in the safe?” ~~ Several-thousand dollars; perhaps more.” > **Then he would give more for me not to rob it; guess Vl do the job for him,” a | , } tT ho? 2 s ee a] 4 ~The man who owns the safe.” _. The miser millionaire knew that he had been ' eaught by a villain who was his superior in ties if -’ shrewdness, and he said at once: $e ~vi eS _-. what you find there.” —- _ “Good! I'll do it; who is he, where does he ’~ live, how many in family, what hours do they + ‘keep and has they dogs?” "Like a chain made of links these questions i .; game out, and nearly took the miser’s breath; ' ~ , but after awhile he answered them all, gave a See Sn of ome and bene in a was the - safe, and the young man departed, promisin _~ to do the work that night. ; * ~ When he had gone Quilp paced to and fro, _, ebuckling to himself, as he knew that a few » ) more days only and Harold Lynde would be » had woven around him a web of guilt that no testimony could break down. ._ , -“When that red-headed oung scamp brings moe the notes of old Andrew pone, woe be unto you; ha! there comes that i _ aristocrat.” , _ Going to the door the miser saluted Jule, the Jewess, who was coming in with a basket of “marketing upon her arm. _ * You are still alone, Miss Jule?” he said, in- quiringly. (KOR, sir, but my mother and uncle return _, to-morrow.” ' ' . “Indeed! they have made quite a stay.” Yes, longer than they expected; but then they went to Baltimore to trace up some old roperty of my father’s, that was worthless twenty years ago, and had been forgotten, but which is now quite valuable.” _ , And they got it, Miss Jule?” ' Yes, after some little trouble.” -“T congratulate you upon your good fortune for Thave feared you were not in the best o circumstances, and, as you did me a good turn intend to reduce your rent to twenty instead f twenty-five per month.” — : “You will do no such thing, Mr. Quilp, for neither my mother or myself accept favors, besides, we are in no need,” said the ‘maiden; hau soit “Tndeed! I really hoped you were, so I could rye you; you saved my life, and that would’ take off sixty dollars for the year.” _ : eet “You value your life cheaply, Miser Quilp; _ but then, reading your nature, as I do, I think ou are one to go to any extreme in remember- ig-an injury, but have a convenient memory to forget a favor done you.” ; ~ Wh , you are severe, young woman,” said Y, ly. be just.” not quarrel with you, for I admire too much; so let us change the subject; ‘what do you think of the recapture of Mr. Harold a. clever piece of detective work, as it not? “No, it was an accidental capture only; his F next Thursday, I believe.” _ “Yes, and you are subpoenaed to appear.” _ ‘TL received my summons and shall be there.” _ “Your testimony will be most valuable to me, and I shall pay you well for it.” “Thank you, sir.’ “My eet will outline for you what you are to testify to.” 6b Yes.” ‘So that there will be no mistake.” ule; the Jewess, made no reply, but went on into her room, while the miser, too nervous to emain at home, went out for a walk. CHAPTER XXXI. |. HE REVEREND SLOAN RECEIVES A CALL. ’ Ir was a neat little parsonage which the con- tion of the Reverend Sloan rented for their bachelor pastor, for he was a great favor- ite with his flock, for he was always leading his ibs to shady nme and cool streams, as : "er es OR als,” and “excursions” were ; rindulgedin, § : ae! . * >) » igs ae er 44 WS \,5 Uh, he We er ha GN hy } **T'll give you five thousand for the job and | ’ brought to trial and certainly be hanged, for he | . Wig 2 eS oe en’, Be ees nee Bt} Ay 24 yi: Ge AE nok LPs iek TE avsach simi ah Dk at Mie Tees MG ies ipa ULE. THE JEWESS. He had ‘* picked up,” so to speak, talking Gos- pel and temperance to the public who tarried y the wayside, and, an eloquent preacher, a man of fascinating address, and certainly a scholar, he had interested several men of influ- ence who heard him, and then gave him a call to their little chapel, which had’ just split off from the foundation rock, owing to some dis- agreement among the flock, as to which was pats 7a etre PF | the most direct road to the heavenly kingdom. | A small furnished cottage and a thousand a ear was what Silas Sloan’s congregation paid im, and they considered him worth the money, and fed him onthe hope of a raise of salary, should he be convinced that it was not right for man to live alone and take unto himself a wife, Knowing that the vestrymen had held out this bait to the minister, the widows and virgins of the congregation kept their lamps trimmed and burning s0 as not to be caught unawares by the handsome young divine; but he fought shy of any one bright particular star, though he doated on perhaps two-score collectively, with perhaps a leaning toward the ugliest girlin the church, who had the largest purse. Seated in his sanctum one morning, the Saturday previous to the day set for Harold Lynde’s trial, Biddy O’Fidget, the maid-of-all- work and good at none, in the pious parsonage and whom the arguments of the clergyman ha failed to win over from Catholicism, came in with the announcement: ‘*A gintlemin ter say your riverince, what is no riverince at all, sayin’ as yeezis not afther bein’ © priest o’ the church, sur.” ** Who is it, Bridget?” 6 Divil a loikes o’ me knows at all, sur.” “One of the dear souls under my keeping, 2 suppose?” ** No, sur, be’s a man.” ‘*¢ Ask him in, please.” Bridget obeyed at once, and a dashing, hand- some man entered the room, and said politely: “Mr. Sloan, I believe?” “Yes, sir, I am the Reverend Silas Sloan, an humble worker in the great vineyard of my Heavenly Master.” ‘*-You are the one J have come to see, sir; are we alone?” asked the stranger. ‘We are, sir.” The stranger stepped quickly to the door, and opening it, Miss Bridget O’Fidget came sprawl- ing into the room, having been leaning heavily against it, with her ear to the keyhole. ** Holy Mither, er riverince, 1’m havin’ a fit, Iam, for I was afther comin’ to tell yeez there was no paraties fer dinner, when a dizziness seized me all ter wunst, and I was afther tum- blin’ inter ther room,” and Biddy looked as in- ote as the most pious member of the pastor’s ock. “Well, try that caper’ once more and I'll seize you, and the fit would be preferable,” sternly said the visitor, and he escorted the srushed Bridget to the door, and saw her de- scend to the culinary depths below, and, to the surprise of the Reverend Silas, withoug a word in reply; but the visitor had suddenly shown the servant a badge which she understood, having on several occasions been in the lock- up from a too great fondness for the cup that doth inebriate. 3 ‘* Now, my reverend sir, to the little matter for which I called; you are a witness, I believe, in this trial of the State versus Lynde?” ‘“T expect to be, sir, and Mr. Quilp asked me to hold some conversation with his lawyer as to whether my testimony would be valuable to him. ‘‘T am a lawyer, sir, and upon account of your being a witness 1 have called; may I ask what will be your testimony?” “Yes; Isaw Quilp tender the notes for pay- ment, and they were refused.” ‘““Mr, Andrew Lynde refused them?” ‘‘ He refused to pay them for his son.” * Ah! they were his son’s notes then?” ‘Yes, as 1 understand it.” “‘ And why were you with Mr. Quilp?” * Accidentally meeting, he asked me to ac- onppehy, him.” $ “Ah! Reverend Richard Ellis—” “Great God!” 3 A “TJ repeat the name; Reverend Richard Kiiis, I‘see you have not improved since you were dismissed from the Theological Seminary for evil-doing; on the contrary you have retro- aded, and it becomes me, as an officer of the w, toask you to hold out your hands for these bracelets.” ‘Heaven have mercy b aek me!” groaned the man, and his head sunk upon the table before hi : “Do not call upon that Heaven which your actions have outraged, sir; I haye it in my | Ms ‘ “a “a= Ant oles Gor ee ee i ectaas Nae ta), Diemer VEO Wiis ae eS ~ 7 power to send you to Australia under three charges, which will put you in prison until your hair turns gray—” ‘“ Mercy! mercy!’ **T have itin my power to put, you on trial here for being a fraud, and thus taking money under the pretense of being a Christian. **T know your career, Richard Ellis, and that you have deceived your congregation most thoroughly. ‘‘Had you been living a true life here you might have escaped; but I know all that you are.’ “Who are you?” groaned the unhappy man. “Tam one who shall insist upon keeping an eye upon you for a short while, sir.” ‘Lord have mercy, for I am utterly undone,” and the man with livid face began to sob as though his very chest would burst with the in- tensity of his emotions. The visitor looked at the renegade minister without one atom of sympathy in his handsome face, and, after awhile said, coldly: “Calm yourself, sir, for I wish to have a talk with you,” “You have then arrested me?” gasped the an. ““Yos, youcan consider yourself under arrest, as I am an ofticer of the secret service as well as a lawyer.” ** And will bring me to trial?” ““You certainly deserve it, sir, for you are a most bare-faced villain, although you wear 4 ministerial garb; but, as I said before, I wish to have a talk with you and then we will de- cide what is to be done; now, what does Quilp give you to testify in his behalf?” “Sir!” said the minister, angrily. “That is right; get angry at me for suspect- ing you of taking a bribe,” sneered the visitor. “I am not in the habit, sir, of being paid to give testimony in a case which accident made me a witness in.” “*T say it was not accident, but design.” The minister dropped his eyes before the piercing gaze fixed upon him, but said: a vas an accidental meeting with Mr. ilp. “You had met him before, I know, but once, and that was when you knew that one of your parishoners, who owed him largely, was going to fail, and went to him and told him, so that he got his money, while others suffered; for that you were paid by the miser, and this made him go to you when he wanted some dirty work done.” ‘* As what, for instance?” “ Performing a secret marriage betweon him and the daughter of the man he intended to crush, and whose son he will hang if it is in his power to do so.” Again the man dropped his eyes; dui ofter a moment said: ’ ‘You led me to betieve that you were a law- yer, sent by the miser, and therefore 3! spoke openly to you ” “I led you to believe nothing of the kind; Quilp had called on you, and I knew you were to testify for him, and I sought you out,” “* And who are you?” “T am a lawyer, I said.” ‘* Have we ever met before?” “Yes. ‘When I was reading law I was sent by the Aa me in whose office I was to England on egal business for him; from there it called me to Australia, and on board were some English criminals sent to prison in the colonies, ‘¢- You were among the number, and a gentle- man on the vessel, who bad known you when you took holy orders, and afterward was at your trial for forgery, told me your history, and that you had escaped from prison in Aus- tralia, and they were taking you back. “T remember now, that when I returned to this city, in an Australian paper sent me, I read of your escape a second time, and when I saw you on the street yesterday I recognized ou. ‘*And you are not then an Australian of- ficer sent after me?” eagerly said the degenerate minister, ‘* No, I have the honor to be an American, @ Member of the New York bar, also one of the secret service bureau, and my name is Merton Wilbur.” ‘‘ Ha! you are the lawyer of Harold Lynde in his trial next week?’ ‘“Yes, Reverend Richard Ellis alias Silas Sloan, [am Mr. Harold Lynde’s lawyer in the coming trial, and you will prove a valuable witness.’

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g CHAPTER XXXII. é\ THE TRIAL OPENS. _, Attu New York was agog with excitement, » for the trial of Harold Lynde, the young aristo- Sag and millionaire, was to begin that morn- Beg ; At an early hour the court-room was crowded suffocation, and at ten o’clock the trial began. Upon one side sat the District Attorney, de- fending the State, and aided by a lawyer who Stood at the head of the legal profession, and Who had been engaged by Quilp, who un- lesitatingly paid the extravagant fee demanded, for his valuable services. Between them sat the miser millionaire him- “Self, dressed in a new suit, and with his face full of cunning delight, while he was the cynosure of all eyes until better game appeared in the person of the prisoner. Upon the other side was Judge Graham, the peer and rival in legal lore of Quilp’s lawyer, and next to him sat the prisoner, calm, pale, and with eyes cast down, for well he knew how oe was regarded by four-fifths of the people ere, Next to him was Merton Wilbur, his hand- some, intelligent face full of hope for his client, and attracting considerable attention, for a young lawyer unknown to fame, by his distin- gué appearance, Behind these were Andrew Lynde, the mil- lionaire, and his beautiful daughter, whose beauty, however, was vailed from sight. Not far distant was the wife of Detective Dade, whom Harold Lynde had killed, and at her side were her four fatherless children, all in deepest mourning, the said black attire being & present from Quilp, who felt that those five would win useful sympathy from the public, and more especially the jury who were to sit on the case. At length the case was called; those impan- neled for the jury-box were called one by one, Challenged or accepted by the watchful attor- heys, and at last the twelve were made up, and Certainly they were ‘‘twelvye good men and true,” which is not the usual case in trials, as more ignorance is frequently found among men whom the law calls to try their fellow-beings for crimes they are charged with, than among any other work that mankind may be picked Out to perform. From the first it seemed a foregone conclusion that Harold Lynde was to hang for his crime, and the gamblers who haunt court-rooms to make wagers on the result, would offer no odds in favor of acquittal, and betting was conse- quently light. The shrewd and able District Attorney, with _ the lawyer engaged by the millionaire miser, called their witnesses, and one by one they told their story. First came Quilp himself, with a manufac red evidence of his having, at different times, advanced Harold Lynde money on his personal Notes. “And where are those notes, Mr. Quilp?” asked Judge Graham; but, before reply could be made a telegram called the judge away to oe his wife, who had been suddenly taken very Here was a confretemps, for what was to be one? The judge on the bench, from sympathy, would have adjourned the case, but Judge Gra- ham stated that his associate, Mr. Merton Wil- ur, was fully capable of going on with it, and hoped to soon return, All eyes turned upon the young lawyer; but he seemed as cool as an icicle, and, bidding Judge Graham farewell, immediately turne and repeated his question: | ‘‘And where are those notes, Mr. Quilp?” They were at once produced, nine in all, an Covering the sum which Quilp had advanced to the millionaire himself, and not to the son. The young lawyer glanced at them coolly, and then the miser went on to state how they had been refused payment by the drawer, and then by the millionaire, and that that very Hight Harold Lynde had ridden to his home Climbed to his rooms and gained entrance, an Would have taken his life, but for the arrival of ©he person whom he would produce as witness, 0 corroborate his words. everal unimportant witnesses were then Called, to prove that they knew Q Notes of Harold L then the Reverend the witness stand. uilp had de in his possession, and ilas Sloan was told to go to For some moments he could not be found, and “ thea he entered hastily and seemed nervous and - Pale, for one whose calling brought him con- , Stan before the public. ; ‘Mr, Sloan, you were with Mr. Ezra Quilp ys t eI Cahn PW, Oe when he visited the Lynde mansion, to request the payment by Mr. Harold Lynde of his notes?” asked the district attorney. “*T was, sir, but I was under the impression that Mr. Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, was the drawer of those notes, The answer caused Ezra Quilp to turn livid; what could it mean that his witness should make such a mistake, he asked himself hur- riedly, and then whispered to his lawyer, who inquired: ‘*Mr. Sloan, who was in the room at the time?” ‘Mr. Quilp, the Messrs. Lynde and myself.” ** And Mr. Harold Lynde refused payment of the notes?” “No, sir, his father paid the notes,” Here was a bombshell, and Quilp was livid with rage, and, after a hasty conversation, Mr. Silas Sloan was withdrawn from the witness stand, the public believing him to betoo devoted to Gospel to understand law, and a sad blun- derer for the side that had summoned him. “J will call on the Reverend Silas Sloan anon,” said Merton Wilbur, with a smile, and then Miss Jule Naomi was called to the stand. She walked forward, accompanied by Victor Moloch, and calmly took her seat. She was dressed in a black silk, trimmed with lace, wore a jaunty bonnet and a vail, which she was re- quested to raise. ’ Already her exquisite form bad attracted uni- versal admiration, but, when she calmly raised her vail, and her beautiful face, a little flushed, was revealed, a hum of pleased surprise ran round the room, and Isabel Lynde said ex- citedly to her father: “Why, it is my old schoolmate, Jule, the Jewess,” In consideration of her known religion, the oath was not administered by the New Testa- ment but upon the Old, and then the district at- torney explained to her that as Mr. Harold Lynde was being tried for the killing of Detec- tive Dade, all circumstances attending to the case were being brought in, as the case of his alleged attempted assassination of Ezra Quilp hinged on the death of the detective. ‘*T believe, Miss Naomi, that you have rooms in the house of Mr, Ezra Quilp?” asked the dis- trict attorney. ‘JT live with my mother and my uncle, sir, in rooms rented from Mr. Quilp,” was the reply, in a rich voice that reached every ear in the room. “Upon the night of Thursday, the 10th of last month, where were you, may I ask?” ‘* At home, sir.” ‘* You will state to the court what scene you witnessed in Mr. Quilp’s room, who were there, and what you did.” “Sir!” and Jule’s eyes flashed as she turned them upon the attorney. In surprise he repeated the question, and then came the answer: “Mr. Ezra Quilp has made overtures of money to me, sir, to state his case as he wished it; I refused and I now refuse to speak at all.” A wild excitement pervaded the court-room, for the words of Jule, the Jewess, fell like a thunderbolt upon all, and the livid miser, after another hastily whispered conversation with his lawyers, asked to have the maiden withdrawn from the stand for awhile, and it was done, Merton Wilbur waiving a cross-examination of her for the present. It was evident that whatever the ideas of the public might be upon the guiltof Harold Lynde, as far as the killing of Detective Dade went, the case of the millionaire miser, Ezra Quip, was weakening, for, if his witnesses showed weakness under the questions of his own at- torneys, what would not they do when turned hl a the dashing lawyer of the young aristo- cra z CHAPTER XXXII, UNDER FALSE COLORS. Arter a recess, in which the starting in of the trial was excitedly discussed, and Ezra Quilp and his satellites rushed frantically around, in a vain endeavor to find Jule, the Jewess, and Parson Sloan, court was again opened, and all resumed their seats as before, the millionaire miser pale and nervous, after the unexpected rebuffs he had met from the witnesses he had summoned for the prosecu- tion, and anticipating more trouble from them, when Merton w ibat pot them into his sarcastic legal gripe, so to speak. The first witness called by the defense was Levi Cohen, a bank messenger, and a Hebrew. edred to bea youth of nineteen, with a pe eae tate mustache and curling’ hair, se ioe Fis Lan a iS : 7 ieee OS Sa and he spoke in a quick, terse manner that car- °~ ried weicht with his words. es “Mr. Cohen, I believe you were authorized > to pay Mr. Ezra Quilp the amount of the notes of Mr, Andrew Lynde, and the interest ac- cumulated upon them?” said Merton Wilbur. “*T was, sir.” + tee “ What was the interest on those notes?” s “Usurious in thee ‘eme; ten per cent.for ~~ six months,” was tue quick reply, and if - — brought the other side to their feet with objee- : tions, but already had the shot hit the target. ; «Mr. Quilp refused to sell, I believe?” / i ‘He did.” t ‘‘Did you offer him the full value of notes and interest?” ¢ “‘T offered him double the amount, and even more.” 3 “You seemed anxious to get the notes, sir,” sneered the lawyer of Quilp. ‘ em. “I was acting for a friend of Mr. Andrew Lynde—” ‘ “You mean Mr. Harold Liynde?” ae” “No, I mean Mr. Andrew Lynde, the mil- lionaire, for they were his notes.” apee The District Attorney and his associate both — glanced at Quilp, who was now painfully ner- ; vous. ae There was something in all this which they ~ could not understand. ; eg ‘‘ Why the anxiety of your friend to serve Mr. Lynde, Mr. Cohen?’ he Stee ‘Because he knew that the miser-millionaire ~~ held him and his fairly in his power, and in- tended to bring them to his nefarious terms.” fei This was evidently a bad witness for Quilp, .. _ and so all in the court-room thought, when, af- ae ter a few more questions, he was allowed tode- part, and every eye followed him as he went . ~ aoe the court-room, followed by Victor Mo- och. ae Next, the Rev. Silas Sloan, whom Quilp had been unable to find at noon, was called,and he ees the stand, more self-possessed than be- ‘ore, > : J ‘*Mr. Sloan, may I ask why you accompanied — Mr. Ezra Quilp to the home of Mr. Andrew L E a the night in question?” asked Merton ilbur. Here: money to pay the notes, and taking themup, drove the miser-millionaire from the house.” A laugh at the name applied to Quilp min- upon Ezra Quilp, whose face was like marble. “Was aught said of ‘There was not, sir,” ra “Did Mr. Quilp call upon you, asking you to ee testify in this ease?’ : ia Me ‘“‘He paid me to testify, sir, and here is the — ae money he paid down, and his due-bill for more, .. and which [ now return to him.” ae Merton Wilbur simply took the money and - a and handed both to the judge, and then said: Pa “That is all, Mr. Sloan, andI thank you Sin. ae With a sigh of relief the minister leff the wit- = ness-box, and next there was called tothe stand a youth whom the reader once saw in conversa- tion with Ezra Quilp in his rooms, and plotting _ the breaking into a private house and robbing — the safe of certain papers, Z Se fan? The appearance of the youth was not pre- — possessing, for his clothes were by no means of , a fashionable cut, his face was freckled,and looked decidedly soiled, his red hair was un- kempt, and his black eyes alone seemed to‘re- deem him from a picture of arrant deviltry. “You have met Mr. Quilp then, I believe?’ — a t Ag asked Merton Wilbur, with a smile, as he tee ee garded the witness, Neer: “have.” i. Peay ‘When and where?” os oe “Some days ago in hisshaky old house.” =| iw Sta “What were doing there?” = “He hired bie” . Te pe ae

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oh is 7s 6 Bor what oses? Oe panier 3 bees in ‘the house _, the millionaire, and rob the ~ 4, * Rob it of what?’ eM Md rs for him; the lucre I was to have,” ay A ; wee get the papers? i “And the money?” eet ot ib.” +4 “* What did you do with all?” __ “Gaye the papers to Quilpy and kept the cir- | culating medium.” It was evident that this witness was a startling ‘one, even to the judge; but Merton Wilbur, per- | | fectly cool, went on to ask: > + * “What were the papers you gave Quilp?” _ . *Notes of Andrew Lynde to him.” ~~ By his own words he has committed bur- ' -giary,” muttered Quilp’s lawyer, but, with a » «smile, Merton Wilbur asked: mee =.' So you area burglar, are you?” 6c No. ? ne “You broke into the house of Mr, Lynde and, ". according to the newspaper accounts, opened _ the safe with false keys, robbing it of its con- | ie + tents.” “{ did nothing of the kind; I went to Miss safe.” of Andrew L ids | Rae | tions were asked her, and she departed from the _ Isabel Lynde, told her what Quilp had hired me todo, and her father was taken into my plot, for Lhad formed one, and he —— the safe, ty pve me the money, but not the notes, but in =; heir place fac-similes of them with three ex- ' * ceptions, the description of properties named in we the aoe one; the date, which was put back ‘ skillfully twenty years, by making a 5 resemble . , 4&8, and the signature, which was somethin in Te ~ Mg and ‘: \ this strange testimony was intense, and rising, _ the wrong man in this case, and that Mr. Quilp that he appear in his true character.” ay _ a@little rubbing of the face revealed a pure com- pre dad _ tothe papers.” __ For some moments the excitement caused by . ‘Merton Wilbur said: _, .. “Your honor, it seems that we are trying _ ‘seems to be the real criminal; but that my wit- | ness may be proven of good character, I beg | Amotion was then made to the witness, and off came the red wig, and sandy mustache, and plexion, while an outburst was heard on all ‘sides as the beautiful face of Jule, the Jewess, Baie flushed, but calm, glanced at the judge on the ~* . ‘enc he; 7 en CHAPTER XXXIV. abe THE VERDICT. _. WHEN Ezra Quilp, the miser millionaire, saw - who it was that had so cleverly deceived him, *, he attempted to leave the court-room; but the ' »* quick eye of Merton Wilbur detected the move- * ment, and he cried out: att May ae ease the court, I think it is neces- ‘ae poor rag Tae Mailp remain here.” nel Quilp wi Vets ray remain,” said the judge, yay} sternly, and then Merton Wilbur continued: » would ask the witness to explain regard: ~*~ ing the alleged notes of Mr. Harold Lynde in Ba) the ion of Mr, Ezra Quilp.” ie Mer. Quilp,” said Jule, the Jewess, in a far ‘different tone and manner from what she had used under her disguise, ‘‘loaned me a paper which he said he wished returned. _ “After reading it I took it to his room, but _ no answer coming to my knock, I tried the door -., and found it unlocked. pages were filled with the signa- re copies, un on. _ Some of these notes, cast aside as not good enough, and a page of these signatures, I took me, tece tere paper back, not to let fr. Quilp know I had been in his room.” ag ‘And where are they?” asked the District _. Attorney, y, for he was in no pleasant * “Tn the on of Mr, Merton Wilbur, to whom I gave them.” . The young lawyer handed them over to the other side for exa’ and they were rr Pea ged gen dle and all looked’ _ daggers at the n who sat like one dumfounded, = ; dees Ore a. Cl ae ee 2 pies Va ae i ‘The witness was turned over then to the Dis trict Attorney, but only a few unimportant ques- court-reom, to reappear in half an hour as her / natural self, accompanied by Victor Moloch | and her mother, who had returned with her | brother from Baltimore to be amazed at all that had transpired in her household during her ab- | sence, but was too deeply interested in both | Jule and Victor Moloch to say or do aught to prevent the carrying out of their plot to thwart the deviltry of the millionaire miser. In the mean time, during the temporary ab- sence of Jule, Merton Wilbur had called upon Mr. Andrew Lynde and Isabel, to corroborate her testimony, and both had done so, acknowl- edging however that they had never suspected her of being other than a shrewd urchin, and had placed confidence in him only, as he brought a letter from Mr. Merton Wilbur. Then, in a brilliant manner, and with telling sarcasm the young lawyer arraigned a Quilp, the miser millionaire, for his plot to re- venge himself upon Andrew Lynde, for a wrong done in tho far past, and having carried it so far as to accuse Harold Lynde of attempted assassination. Though knowing the truth on this point, Merton Wilbur spoke of it with the utmost ridicule, for he knew upon that hinged the after deed of the prisoner, and hooted the idea of a man attempting to kill another for a debt he did not owe, : To show the plot of the miser’ millionaire in allits deviltry, he called upon the rich young Hebrew banker, Mr. Victor Moloch, to show that he had sent Jule, the Jewess, disguised as a Jewish youth, and bank messenger, to pur- chase, at any price, the notes of Andrew Lynde, and which even the miser’s greed of gold al- lowed him to refuse, his greed of revenge being greater. In a clear, logical, eloquent manner, he laid the whole plot cf the millionaire miser before the jury, admitting the temporary embarrass- ment of Andrew Lynde for money, and then showing that hisenemy, and boyhood compan- ion, Ezra Quilp, intended his ruin, and to hu- miliate him by making him give him his daugh- ter to save all from wreck. Failing in this, Merton Wilbur showed forci- bly, that the miser millionaire had brought the charge of attempted assassination against Har- old tain. and which his own witness had said he had offered her payment to testify to, as had the Reverend Silas Sloan also testified, and pre- sented proofs of being bribed to appear as wit- ness. Then Merton Wilbur turned to the main charge, that of murder, and showed how a war- rant, sworn out by Ezra Quilp, had been placed in the hands of a detective, who was sent at nighé to serve it. And here he again called Jule, the Jewess, to peeks that she had overheard, when seated at er window, Ezra Quilp tell the detective that he would give him, the day of Harold Lynde’s death by hanging on the gallows, ten thousand dollars, if he would push it to the bitter end. Armed with his warrant and this generous promise of blood-money, said the young law- yer, in withering tones, the detective had gone to the happy home of the millionaire mer- chant, called young Lynde from his dinner, and then what occurred, as but one only could tell, the prisoner, he would ask that that one should speak, Pith a marble-like face, and in a voice that was distinct, Harold Lynda said, while not the rustle of a fan was heard in the crowded room: ‘‘T went into the hall and found there a man who was unknown to me. “Instantly, as I approached,:he seized me, and said, harshly: “«¢ You go with me, Harold Lynde.’ ‘* At the same time he attempted to handcuff me, and placed a pistol to my head. “T struck aside the irons, grasped his pistol hand, and, drawing a weapon, which the threat of Ezra Quilp ha pret me to arm myself with that day, shot him, as I believed, to save my own life, for-he showed me no papers of ar- rest, and was, I thought, sent to take my life by some foe, or to kidnap the forransom money. “« He fell dead at my shot, and, excited, hardly knowing what I did, for L was urged by my father and sister to fly, I threw on a disguise and sought safety in flight, but should aa thought afterward, have returned and deliy- ered myself up.” The story was breathlessly listened to, and whatever might have been its truth, it carri weight with it, for the plot of Ezra uilp against the Lyndes, and the testimony of Jule, the Jewess, that Detective Dade had been of- .to appear by the brilliant handling of the case — fered a bribe to aid to hang the prisoner, was sufficient to gain the sympathies of one and all. Knowing the weakness of the charges against ~ the aristocratic prisoner, as they had been made — by the young lawyer, the judge charged in a — manner that impressed the jury toward acquit- tal, and, without leaving their seats, the verdict was rendered: ** Not guilty!” The following morning there were numerous comments upon the trial and the result in the morning paper, and all credit was given to the daring and skillful entrapping of Ezra Quilp, by Jule, the Jewess, and the brilliant and most aloquent defense of the prisoner by Merton Wilbur, who at once sprung into great promi- nence as a lawyer, im conclusion, one of the morning journals re- marked: “We learn that Ezra Quilp, better known as the miser millionaire, was arrested at once upon the charges of forgery, blackmailing, conspiracy to ruin, perjury and false accusation, and knowing the ability of the distinguished young lawyer, Mr. Mer- ton Wilbur, sought to have him as his attorney, an honor the legal light, that has. so suddenly soared into popularity and fame, respectfully declined,” Another article read: “Mr, Harold Lynde, just set free after his trial, which all believed would send him to the gallows, and to escape which caused him to make so clever an escape from. prison, and the secret of which ia still a mystery to the public, sails for Europe in to day’s steamer; we wish him don voyage. “Another passenger also sails in the same steamer, and one whom his congregation will regret to part with, as the Reverend Silas Sloan has many friends in our city. “But Mr, Sloan claims ill-health as the cause of his sudden resignation from the pastorate of his church, and says his determination is to retire from the ministry altogether.” So much for the newspaper comments, whose keen-eyed reporters could not see behind the: scenes, or discover the wheel within the wheel, which my romancing pen, in the next install- ment of my story, will unfold to the patiens reader, who has thus far followed me in my ower true tale of ill-omened lives, CHAPTER XXXV. A DOUBLE SECRET DIVULGED. Wuen Harold Lynde left the court-house a free man, he drove rapidly to his home, accom- panied by his father and sister, anxious to avoid the congratulations his friends desired to shower upon him. Calm outwardly, his brain was yet in a whirl, and his heart beat tremulously, for he knew that the skill and RATE ot Jule, the Jewess, and Merton Wilbur alone had saved him from the gallows,‘and that in intent he was guilty and deserved punishment. At dinner he barely tasted his food, refused his wine, and ordering his horse saddled, rode rapidly away as soon as it was dark, leaving his father and sister to pack up his traps, as he had made known his determination to sail upon the following day for Europe. Straight to the old home of Ezra Quilp he rode, and dismounting knocked for admittance. The door was opened by Mother Naomi, and at his request to see her daughter, she ushered him up-stairs into her sitting-room, and he found himself face to face with the beautiful - Jewess, who seemed surprised at his entrance. ““Fule,” he said, earnestly, ‘‘I owe you my life, for you, aided by Merton Wilbur, saved me from the gallows, “‘T am an innocent man now, in the eyes of the world; but in your eyes I am guilty, for you krow allthat Tam. ““The story of repentance at the last, as the thief on the cross, which with your creed, you do not believe, shall be true in my: case, for, from to-day 1 am a changed man, and I wish to live for you. *T love you with all my heart, and I implore you to return that love, and go with me as my wife far from here, and let me devote my re- maining years to your happiness; will you go, Jule, or must I go alone into the world, with your image only in my heart?” She listened to his impassioned language with- » out a look, act, or word of interruption un he had finished, and then she said softly, but pais ‘ou must go alone, for I can never be your witie. ‘‘T know that you say another claims you a3 his promised bride, but I know too all that you have done for me proves that you love me.” Ere reply could be made a third person en- bev the room and advanced to where they stood, ee «pa 4

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fe that my parents | JULE, THE JEWESS. = F i (25. It was Victor Moloch, and he was very pale; ut he said quietly: Jule, from the adjoining room I overheard the avowal of love made by Mr. Lynde, and I have a word to say, and say it now, as I believe I know the secret of your heart, and it gives me joy, for I feared togive you pain by a confes- sion I must make. “Mr. Lynde, to mg ae to you, sir, I must eft me comparatively a poor man; but one, who had received kindness at my father’s hands, left me an enormous for- tune, and upon two conditions: “Hirst, I was to take his name, and second, I was to make Jule Naomi my wife. ‘*T agreed to these terms for two reasons, first, I needed money, and had a certain duty to poste, which it would aid me in, and second, felt that 1 could love Jule. -“ Since then I have worn the name of the one who left me my fortune, and which I am free to say should have gone to his fair kinswoman here, Jule Naomi; and more, using that wealth skillfully, I have trebledthe amount I inherited, and can now give to Jule all that was left me, with the full state interest to date, and yet have oP increase, which is a large fortune, for my- self, ‘But I care not for it, Victor; it is yours, and together only will we share it,” said the J ewess. ‘Hear me,” murmured Victor Moloch in the same quiet tones, **One night, some time ago, I saved the life of a young and beautiful girl, and from that moment I madly loved her. “ But her creed was not my creed, for she was a Gentile, I a Jew, and between us well I knew there was a great gulf fixed. ¥ “Yet I loved her, and only when. I knew that she was in distress did I seek her out. ‘You, Jule, believed that I served her and her kindred from love of yow; ah! how bitter was your mistake. ‘¢ | served her because I loved her, though her kindred I had had bitter cause to hate in the ast. i Who that maiden is you both well know, and that I saved her from Quilp, the miser mil- ' jionaire, to make her my wife, you are aware, Mr. Lynde, though Jule is not. “But I speak the truth, Jule, for Isabel Lynde is pledged to be my wife this very day, as her brother will tell you.” ‘Thanks be to the God of Israel!” broke from the lips of Jule, the Jewess, to the sur- prise of Harold Lynde and Victor Moloch, for the latter had believed that it would fall like a blow of iron upon the heart of the maiden, “Do you mean this, Jule?’ he asked, eagerly. “JT do, Victor, for a brother only have you been to me, a lover never, and my heart re- belled at having one day to call you husband, though I love you, oh, so dearly in the light of kindred, as such you only seem.” *‘ And I say thanks be to the God of Abra- ham,” fervently said Victor Moloch, while Har- old Lynde eagerly cried: “Then now there is hope for me?” “None, for I do not love you, Mr. Lynde, and all I have done for you, I tell you again, was prompted only by gratitude for the past; if those acts of yours deserved such gratitude, you well know, and now we can part with no claim the one upon the other.” He saw that she meant every word she ut- tered, and, in a voice that trembled and witha face that was ashen pale, he said: “'Phis then is my punishment for my sins, and I deserve it.” © And, Harold Lynde, you deserve more; J saved you and yours from being ruined by Ezra Quilp, and Jaided in saving you from the gal- lows, as Jule Naomi will tell you, and your greater punishment shall be to know that Iam avenged, ay, avenged for a cruel blow and scorn in the past, for lam your old college mate, Adolph Hugo.” Harold Lynde started back with a bitter, amazed cry, and: then he groaned forth rather than said: ‘“Yes,. Hugo, bitterly, cruelly you have avenged yourself, and this moment the anguish is deeper for me than did I stand upon the gal- lows, the hangman’s noose about my neck, ‘You have triumphed, and I have lost; you have risen and I have fallen, and now we part forever.” Without another word he turned away, and neither of the other two speaking he left the room and the house. For a moment a silence fell between Victor | . Moloch and Jule, the Jewess; then the man spoke: ‘Forgive me, Jule.” **T have nothing to forgive, Victor.” **T am glad, for I feared to give you pain, and I loved her so.” “So be it.” ‘* And she shall become my wife this day, and Icame hither to tell you so, and to give into od hands the inheritance I received from ictor Moloch, whose name I took. “Here is the amount he leit, as you see by his will, and here is the check for all interest ac- cumulating to date, and from this day I am once more Adolph Hugo.” % mene 6 my congratulations, Adolph, for the name of Moloch I never liked, though a family name of ours; but the money I care not for.” ‘* And I will not retain it, so do with it as you wish.” “So be it; now we are quits, and gladly will Isée you marry Isabel L nde.” ‘*She is not a Jewess, Jule,” ‘*T know it.” “She is a Christian.” “That I know.” ‘And you would see me become a renegade to my creed, my people and the God of Israel?” She turned pale, and then her beautiful face fiushed as she replied: “You can still hold your creed, be true to the God of Israel, and love our people.” “A strange argument for you, Jule; but I thank you for it, thoughI n:ver expected to hear such words from your lips,” he said, thoughtfully. “T argue from the same stand-point that you do, Adolph.” “Fla!” and he started at her words, She turned crimson, but answered firmly: “Yes, from the stand-point of love, for J am pledged to become the wife of a Christian.” CHAPTER XXXVI. ISADOR MUIR MAKES A PROMISE. AFTER the startling avowal, made by Jule, the Jewess, of her love for a Christian, Adolph Hugo, as I now once more call my hero, left the home of his friends in deepest meditation, while the maiden paced to and fro, her thoughts evi- dently far away. ‘*T was insulted when he accused me of loving Harold Lynde, and yet how differently I feel, when I really love one who is not of my creed or people. ‘ “Fe is a renegade, and so am; but the. one he loves and he whom I love, are enough to make one prove recreant to every faith— Oh, uncle Isador, come in, for I have something to tell you, if mother has not already made it known,” she said, as Isador Muir, the ragged, oath-bound wanderer entered the room, ‘“‘She has told me you are to be a renegade to our faith, Jule,” he said, sternly, ‘“‘T'rue, and so is one other.” “ Who ” ** Victor Moloch.” ‘You mean Adolph Hugo?” 6c Yes,” ‘“‘The son of Marcus Hugo and Salome Moni- ca?’ he again asked, in a suppressed tone, “Yes; how did you know him as such?” “T heard all that was said.” *¢ Ah! and you know there are two of us rene- gades?” “Yes, but from their son I might expect it; but from you, no.” ‘“Thave but one excuse: I love a man more than my creed, and Adolph does the same, and I know we shall both be happy. “ “JT hope that you may; love drove me upon the wide earth a wanderer and made me what I am; but in proof that I forgive you, and him, I wish you to make his bride one present I give you, only let it come as though wholly from ou. “T thank you, uncle Isador; but, as you heard all, you may know that L hold here in this pack- age all the wealth Victor Moloch, our kinsman, left Adolph Hugo, and can buy a wedding pre- sent from my own means,” “Never mind, I have a his bride; you remember, one?” “Yes, and it took your last dollar to buy the gems, and you, being a silversmith, made it yourself,” : “Yes, and oh, how beautiful it was, niece; but you said it was pawned by Adolph’s mo- mother to educate him, I believe, and give hi a start in the world,” “So it was, I have been told.” ‘But, the interest not being paid, I suppose it was sold?” “Yes, uncle.” “Could you tell me who was the pawnbroker who received it?” resent in view for gave his mother ce po Res I have heard mother say it was tleberg, of B. “Thank you, child; now do not speak more | of it to any one, and you shall have that gemmed star to give to his bride as a wedding gift, for what more appropriate than for her to wear what his mother wore?” “ You dear old uncle, how can I repay all of our goodness to me?” said Jule, with tears in er eyes, “Never mind, my child; I have not long to live, { know, but 1 wish to make you happy while I do linger here. a “Now tell your mother that I have been called away to Boston to-night, for I go to see Castleberg, and if he has sold the gem, I can readily trace so valuable an article, and will - buy it, cost what it may. ; ‘‘It is doubtless in some pawnbroker’s hands, or jeweler’s, now, as few could afford to keep such a present. “Good by, Jule, and expect me to return with the gem.” CHAPTER XXXVIL : THE TRAMP, Tux street lamps of a handsome Eastern ci eere just lighted, and mingling their rays wit the dying twilight, when a man entered the out- skirts, and wended his way down one of the principal thoroughfares, He walked with a tired step, pushed to haste from some cause, and carried a heavy stick, or rather staff, upon which he leant with apparent good will. Such a man, in general make-up, one meets daily in our land, both in country towns and highways, and now and then within the limits of our largest. cities, and they are called— tramps. Houseless, homeless, even countiyless, often, they wander north, south, east mt west the swallows, seeking the genial sunny climes in winter, and wending their way northward in the sultry time of summer, ; Ragged this man was; almost shoeless, and his hat was drawn down over his eyes, but not so far but that when a street lamp flashed upon © | him, the face of a Jew was revealed. To the honor of the Jewish race be it said, the street beggars, the country tramps, are not rep- resented by their people; but, as all rules have exceptions, in this case, the tramp was a Jew. Other than his dilapidated attire, and his staff, he seemed to possess nothing else in worldly goods, not even a bundle, and his left hand was serving no p se on his travels, and hung idly at his side, unless I except a neryous clinching and working of the fingers’ as he walked along, his haste evidently taxing his — powers of endurance. Into the busy mart of the town he took his way, following, apparently from long habit, rather than intention, the center of the street, and now and then raising his eyes and glancing at the signs over the stores, ~ Presently he halted, took from an inner re- cess of his tattered garments a card, and appar- ently satisfied that he was right, went i] to the doors of a brilliantly-illuminated jewelry store, “BRAZIER & COMPANY, “SILVERSMITHS AND JEWELERS.” Such read the gilded sign over their store but without hesitation the man in tatters opened the door and stepped within. “Nothing for you!” called out a haughty clerk, with his hair parted in the middle, and a diamond stud, loaned by the firm as an adver- tisement, glittering in his shirt-front of im- maculate linen. ae ek the man came further into the gorgeous ore, ‘Beggars not admitted ; begone!” sternly said the clerk, and the eyes of all turned upon the man, But, undismayed, he walked up to the glitter-, ing case, and said calmly: “Tish no peggar, mine frint,” “ What are you, then?” “4 tramp.’ ‘A tramp, self-confessed; then what the deuce do you want here?” “To make a purchase, mine frint.” A general, vulgar laugh followed this an- nouncement, for what had Brazier & Company in their store that a beggarly-looking tramp could buy? ; “A purchase, eh? Well, what will your trampship buy? Perhaps this set of diamonds; they are cheap at ten thousand,” sneered the ‘curled darling ” of the establishment, ‘No, lish vant dat star of rupies, dimints ant i a mine frint.” ‘ A loud laugh followed this announcement,

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for the article referred to was the most. costly piece of jewelry in the store, being a five-point- ed star with an opal of great size.in the center, and a circle of immense rubies, rare and. blood- red, around it, and the points being set with diamonds, differing in siz2 from the one next to the ruby circle, to the one in the star point. This magnificent and costly piece of jewelry, with its massive gold setting, the clerk placed his hand upon, and said in the same scornful way: “Ah! I see, that is what your trampship | wants?” . ‘“Yesh, mine frint.” “Well, I guess you can buy it; will you give our check for it now, or shall I send it to your otel for you, C. O.’D.?’ “T vill PAR HOW | *€ Good! ell, it costs just fifty thousand | dollars.” : “* And here ish te monish, mine frint.” In ‘blank amazement the clerks gathered around, while from an old morocco wallet the Pew took outa roll of. bank-notes, and counted out the sum demanded. ‘‘Dere ish te monish; fifty t’ousant. tollars, mine frint, ant I ish have one toliar left.” So saying he ati the remaining bill back in his wallet, which he returned to his pocket. '. Instantly there wasa change inthe manner of the clerks, At first they seemed to doubt the genuineness of the bank-bills; but these on examination proved beyond cavil. ‘Well, sir, I hope you will pardon me for my little joke; but it is nearly closing hours, and we are so often deceived in people,” said the clerk, politely, to his fifty-thousand-dollar mer customer. - “So ish tramps, mine frint; oh, t’ank you, I vill take it mit me now,” and he took the vel- vet case and its treasure, and added, as he left the store: ‘*Goot-night, mine frint.” ‘Perkins, I fear you were wrong to let that go to such a purchaser; he may be a thief, “Tl stop him and have him arrested,” shout- ed Perkins, before his fellow-clerk could say more. But when he gained the street, the Jew with his costly jewel had disappeared. CHAPTER XXXVIII. ISABEL LYNDE’S CONFESSION, WHEN Adolph Hugo left the home of Jule, the Jewess, he secured a carriage from a stable near by and drove to the palatial mansion of the millionaire, Andrew Lynde. Thither Harold Lynde had already preceded him, and, with his father and sister were seated “in the library, when Richards announced: ‘Mr. Victor Moloch.” Tsabel’s face flushed, for, from her brother’s ee; she had just learned the story of the past, when the two were at the University together, and also that Merton Wilbur had been a class- toate with them: in fact, the humbled and sor- rowing Harold had told all, _ “Mr. Moloch,” she began; but he broke in with: “Tam no longer Victor Moloch, Miss Lynde, for that name I assumed at the will of one from -~ whom T inherited my fortune. ma ee ‘ ‘Tam now Adolph Hugo.” Ves, Lrecall you now; your full beard de- ceived me, though often have I wondered where 1 had met you before, ; “You saved my life on that awful night of wreck, when I was returning home from board- eit peer ite and thus I find I owe to you another debt of gratitude.” “Miss Lynde, before your father and bro- ther, I wish to ey that you owe me ne debt. “Tloved you from that night of which you speak, and, possessing the money to aid your father, and, wishing you to be mine, and not sacrificed to Ezra Quilp, I bound you toa pledge to become my wife this day. : “That pledge I give you back, if so you will, “for I wish no unwilling bride if so you be.” He was very pale, and. breathlessly awaited her reply. Chok os back her emotion she said, in a trem- bling voice; we ‘ “And ou.shall have no unwilling wife, ‘Adolph Hugo, for, from that night have I also -JULE°THE JEWESS. ‘loved You, and it was thus losing one whom T belisved had forgotten me that made me reck- less of whose wife I became, and caused me to offer myself. as a sacrifice to the miser to save | my father and brother from. ruin; yes, Adolph | Hugo, Tlove you with all my heart, and if you | will take me, in the presence of my father and brother, who owe you so much of gratitude, I tell_you that thy home shall be my home; thy God my God until death do us part.” ** Amen!” The one. word eame from the lips of the mil- _lionaire, while his son, with his face buried in | his hands, made no reply. , ““Tsabel, I thank you, and. may the God of Israel forever bless you; but this day will I not | Claim you, as I wish no hasty dragging of a bride from her home and father, ‘‘ To-day two months, if so it please you, I | will claim you as my wife, and in the mean | time the world may know of the step you take, and which I take, for it is no slight thing for one of my race to turn his back upon the daughters of Israel and the laws of his race.” “Tam content, Adolph; claim me when you will, for frankly I confess that you only can I love,” she said, earnestly, and soon after the oung Jew took his leave, Harold Lynde offer- ing his hand in farewell as he departed, and hearing the words: “For your sister’s sake, Mr. Lynde, I forgive the past, and shall forget it; may your life in the future be truer and nobler than in the past; arevwell.” CHAPTER XXXIX. THE STAR OF ILL-OMEN. THE day set by Adolph Hugo for the one on which he was to claim his biide rolled around at last. But in that time changes had come to some of those who have become known in these pages to the kind reader. Harold Lynde, a far different man from the haughty aristocrat of his earlier years, had set- tled in Par's, and was living a quiet, uneventful life, for there were memories that haunted him which would not down at his bidding, The Reverend Silas Sloan, who Pid accom- panied him to England, had found out upon his arrival that the way of the transgressor is hard, for he had been recognized as an old theological student who had fallen from grace, committed crimes that had sent him to prison, and, having, as the reader is aware, crossed ere his sentence was out, had been sent back to a cell to medi- tate upon the brilliant career he had led in the New World asan impostor, and regret that he had not taken Merton Wilbur’s advice and gone toa more congenial clime than England, for, having promised the evil man protection, and not to betray him, if he testified to the truth against the miser millionaire, he could not, in honor, deliver him up, as he richly deserved, for his crimes. And Ezra Quilp, the miser, had one to prose- cute him he little liked, for it was none other than Merton Wilbur, who hed become District Attorney at the expiration of his predecessor’s term, and his eloquence sent the wretched man, in spite of his money, to prison, and the public verdict was that ‘it served him right.” Of course the rumors that there were to be two weddings in high life set all the fashionable people on the qui vive; but when it was known that the belle and heiress, Isabel Lynde, was to marry a Jew, none other than Adolph Hugo, a millionaire banker, ety was on the tip-toe of excitement, yet could find no word against the young man other than that he was nota Chris- jan, and there were some who openly said that he lived a purer, better life than those who were. The other wedding to be, was a poorer one, for the popular young District Attorney, Mer- ton Wilbur, had looked over the heads of the Christian maidens and fallen in love with Jule, the Jewess, and the double wedding was to be celebrated at one and the same time. And it was celebrated, with great pomp and splendor, and by a double ceremony, for both a Christian clergyman and a Jewish rabbi read | the services of their respéctive churches. And off on a bridal tour sped the happy quar- tette, to be gone for amonth, but ere very long Adolph Hugo and his bride returned, for, strange to say, the health of the young wife began sud- denly to fade. And soon.after Merton Wilbur and Jule were called home to see Isador Muir die. But they arrived too late, for that strange character breathed his last ere he again gazed upon the face of his loved niece. | { | But to her he left his fortune, and‘his papers. | And it was in looking over these latter one — day, when alone, that Jule suddenly turned deadly pale at something she read. Again and again she read it over, and then thrusting the paper into her bosom, hastily called for aservant, ; ‘‘Order my carriage at once, Rachel,” she said to her maid, and, by the time the vehicle came round to the door of the handsome home where she lived with her husband and mother, she was dressed for her drive. ‘‘To Lynde Manor, Reuben, and drive in haste,” she said to her coachman, and soon after she sprung out at the door of the mansion. “‘How. is Mrs. Hugo, Richards?’ she asked, quickly, of the worthy old butler. ‘Seems to be daily fading, miss, though none know why.” ‘‘T will go at once to her room,” announéed Jule, and the next moment she entered the handsome chamber, where Isabel indolently lay upon a lounge, idly toying with a costly, gem- med wedding gift that was fastened around her neck by a gold chain. Warmly she welcomed the Jewess, and her pale face flushed slightly; but Jule hastily said: ‘Isabel, I have come to cure you, for I have cierto what the physicians have failed to 0. ‘What do you mean, Jule?’ asked Isabel, languidly. ‘‘ I mean that I understand the nature of your disease; here, let me have that gemmed star.” ‘No, I have not taken it off since you clasped it vias my neck, Jule, the day I was mar- ried. “J will take it off, for I wish to examine it,” and she did so, Then she took from her bosom the paper she had thrust there, and which she had found among the effects of her uncle Isador Muir, and said: ‘‘Isabel, you have often heard me speak of my Range kinsman, uncle Isador Muir,” “Yes, ‘1 have told you his sad history?” “Yes; well?” ‘* He was a skilled jeweler, and also a chemist, and knowing these facts about him, and that he had a most revengeful natur:, you will under- stand what I now read to you, and which is a leaf from his diary of many years ago. ‘It is as follows, and in a secret cipher which he taught me one day: “* Paid almost my last dollar to-day for the gems to fitin my revenge present. “*Tt will be most beautiful, and the poisons I have so set. in the rays of the star that they will do their deadly work and none ever believe that I caused the death of Salome Monica, and revenged myself upon her for discarding me and becoming the wife of Marcus Hugo.’” ““Great God! Jule, what does this mean?” cried Isabel, in alarm. “Tt means, Isabel, that my poor uncle so hated the woman he once loved that he never forgave her, and sought revenge upon her son, your husband, through me. “This is his wi ang erraent to her long years ago, and she died with a disease none could fathom. 2 ‘**She was poisoned by this ill-omened star, as you are being day by day, and he gave it to me to give to you, that he might see you dice, and ‘hus gloat ih his revenge upon Adolph Hugo, “Now, Isabel, I take back this gift of ill- omen, and, thank God, in time to save you, and, when next Merton takes me for a Sail in his yacht, you go, too, and far down in the sea will I send it never more to do harm, ** Now come, rou‘e ont of pout, indisposition, for the cause is removed; but, Isabel, for the sake of the dead, let this secret be buried be- tween youand I.” Isabel was deeply affected by all she had heard; but already did she seem to feel better, and casting off the presence of gloom, upon her, she roused herself to liveliness, and greatly was her husband cheered when he found her in such high spirits upon his return home, rom that day her health improved, and then she knew, indeed, that but for Jule’s discovery of the cipher diary she would have met her death, the victim of Isador Muir’s revenge. And Jule, the Jewess, kept her word, for one pleasant afternoon, when Merton Wilbur’s yacht, The Jewess, was bounding along in # race around the Lightship off Sandy ook down into the depths of the sea sunk from sigh the “Star of Ill-omen.” THE END.

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ane Return, Forfourmales, — - lia. “For several children. Too Much for Aunt Matilda. For three females. Wit against Wile. For three females and one male, A dudden Recovery. For three males. The Double Stratagem: For four females. unting Chickens Before They were Hatched. For tour males, Dime Dialogues, No. 22. fhe Dark Cupid. For 3 Gentlemen and 2 ladies. hat Ne’er-do-Well. Two males and two females. High rt. For two girls. Strange Adventures. For two boys. The Ki g’s Supper. ‘For four girls. -A Practical Exemplification. For two boys. Titania’s Banquet. For a number of girls. Monsieur Thiers in America. For four boys. Oxy’s Diplomacy. For three females and a num- Pp | r of ‘* incidentals.” 4 Frenchman. For two ladies and one gentleman. Boys Will Be 2 Sa For two boys and one girl. Al 4 Day. For three young adies. God Is Love. For a number of scholars. Fandango. For various characters, white and other- Wise. The Little Doctor, For two tiny girls, Sweet Revenge. For four boys. A May Day. For three little girls. From The Sublime to The Ridiculous, For 14 males, Heart Not Face. For five boys. Dime Dialogues, No. 23. Rhoda Hunts Remedy. For three females, one male. Hans Schmidt’s Recommend. For two males, Chee and Grumble. For two little boys, he Phantom Doughnuts. For six females. Oes it Pay? For six males. mpany ales, two females and two children. ihe Glad Days. For two little boys. mptortunate Mr. Brown. For one male, six females. © Real cost. For two girls. A Bear Garden. For three males and two females. The Busy Bees. For four little girls. Checkmate. For numerous characters. peeool-Time. For two little girls. pon Scene. Two principal characters and adjuncts. ross and Gold. Several characters, male and female. Onfound Miller. For three males and two females. Lu orance vs. Justice. For eleven males. @dants All. For four males, THE The Way He Managed. For two males, two females. anners and Home Impoliteness. For two | | Little Wise Heads. The Regenerators. Dime Dialogues, No. 24. The Goddess of Liberty. For nine young ladies The Three Graces. For three little girls. The Music Director. For sevenmales.~ ~~ A Strange Secret. For three girls, An Unjust Man. For four males, n The Shop Girl’s Victory. For 1 malé and 8 females. The Psychometiser. For 2°gentlemen arid 2 ladies. Mean Is No Word For It. For four ladies. Whimsical. A number of characters of both sexes. Blessed Are the Peace-makers. Seven young girls. The Six Brave Men. For six boys. Have You Heard the News? A gossip’s catastrophe. The True Queen, A colloquy in verse. 2 young girls. A Slight Mistake. 4 males; 1 female, and several auxiliaries, | Lazy and Busy. Adialogueinrhyme. 10 little fellows. The Old and the Young. 1 gentleman and 1 little girl. | That Postal Card. For 3 ladies and 1 gentleman. Mother Goose and Her Household. A whole school fancy dress dialogue and travestie, Dime Dialogues, No. 25. The Societies of the Delectables and Les Miserables. 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What Will Cure Them, For a lady and two boys, Independent.. For numerous characters. Hach Season the Best. For four boys. Tried and Found Wanting. For seyeral males. The Street Girl's Good Angel. 2 ladies & 2 little girls, A Boy’s Plot. For several characters. “Phat Ungrateful Little Nigger.” For two males. If I Had the Money. For three little girls. Appearances Are Deceitful.. Several ladies & 1 gent, Love’s Protest. For two little girls. An Enforced Cure. For several characters, Those Who Preach and those Who Perform, 8 males, A Gentle Conquest. For two young girls. Dime Dialogues, No. 28. A Test that Told. For six ladies and two gents. Organizing a Debating Society. For four boys, The Awakening. For four little girls, a oro Proper. For three gentlemen and two adies. Exorcising an Evil Spirit. For six ladies. . Both Sides of the Fence. For four males, The Spirits of the Wood. For two troupes of girls, No Room for the Drone. For three little boys, Arm-chair. For numerous characters. Measure for Measure. For four girls. Saved baie Dream. For two males and two females, An Infallible Sign. For four boys. » A good Use for money. For six little girls, . An Agreeable Profession. For several characters. For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent, post- paid, to any address, on receipt of price, ten cents. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pustisumrs, 98 William Street, New York. SPEAKERS. Numbers 1 to 23, inclusive. Each Speaker, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 50 to 75 pieces, Practical Phrenology, Brian O’Linn, - Beautiful, Crockett to Office-seekers Cabbage, Who Is My Opponent? récable People Political Stump ‘ What is a Bachelor Like? | Comic Grammar, No. 2, Funny Folks Farewell to the Bottle, A Song of Woe, The Cork Legy Ward’s Trip to Richm’d, | The Smack in School Parody, Slick’s Definition of Wife, The Mountebank, Tale of a Hat, 0 09 » Compound Interest, The Debating Club, A Sermon on the Feet, A Dutch Sermon, © Old Dog Jock, | Lecture on Locomotion, The Fishes’ Toilet, Mrs. Caudle on Umbr'lla, Dime Elocutionist, No. 5. SEC..F.. Princrietus or TRuE CIATION. —Faults in Enunciation; How to Avoid Them. Special Rules and Observations, SEC. Tf. Tur Arr or Oratory. 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By Corinne Cushman. 39 A Dancrrovs Woman. By Margaret Blount. 40 Ovrpa’s Love. By Henrietta E. De Conde 41 Lost: A Wire.» By Corinne Cushman. 42 Winnine Ways. By Margaret Blount. 43 A Woman’s Heart. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 44 Tur Drap Letter. By Seeley Regester. 45 Lorp Lisix’s DaucurmR., By C. M. Braeme, 46 A Woman’s Hanp. By Author of ‘ Dead Letter.”’ 47 Viats of WratH. By Mrs*Mary Reed Crowell. 48 A Witp Girt. By Corinne Cushman. 49 Tas Mapprst Marriace Ever Was. By Burton 50 Love In A Maze. By Mrs. E. fF. Ellet. 51 CaTHoLiIna; or, WALLED Up Ativn. By Robinson. 52 A RoMANCE.OF A Pook Youne Girt.. By Mrs. Ellet. 53 Tue Lockep Hrarr. By Corinne Cushman. 54 Tue Pripe of tHE Dowyes. By Margaret Blount. 55 A Srrance Giri. By Albert W. Aiken. 56 Tue Prerry Purrran. By Parson’s Daughter. 57 Dip Sue Sin? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 58 DousLy Drvorcep. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton. 59 A WickreD Woman. Lillie Devereux Umsted Blake. 60 Burnp BARBARA’s SEcRET. By Mary G. Halpine, 61 AN AMERICAN QuEEN. By Grace Mortimer. 62 MarGoun, THE STRANGE. By Wm, M. Turner. 63 Wire orn Wipow. By Rett Winwood. 64 Tue Creote Cousins. By Philip S. Warne. 65 Pursurp To THE ALTAR, By Corinne Cushman. 66 THe TERRIBLE TruTH. By Jennie Davis Burton. 67 Execant Eaprert. By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Lapy Heten’s Vow. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet. 69 Bowrn, Tar Kniaut of Curvatry. By P. 8.Warne. 70 Dririne To Ruin. ; By Mary Reed Crowell. 71 Tus Parson’s DauaHTerR. By A Parson’s Daughter 72 Tan ysreriovs GuarpiaNn, By Corinne Cushman, 73 Was Soe A Wire? By Rett Winwood. 74 ADRIA, THE ApopTeD. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton, 75, PRETTY AND Provup, By Corinne Cushman, 76 Tus Brrrer Fxup. By Mrs. Jennie D. Burton, 77 A Woman’s Work. By Mrs. E. F, Ellet. 78 Tur Buack Ripprx. By Corinne Cushman. 79 CornaL AND Rupy. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton, 80 Drvorcep But Nor Divipep. A Parson’s Daughter. 81 Aumost Marriep. By A Parson’s Daughter. 82 Two Farr Women. By Wm. Mason Turner, M.D. 83 Tar INHERITANCE or Hate. By Mrs. Burton. 84 Peart or Pears. By A. P. Morris, Jr. 85 For Honor’s Saxe. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell, 86° Lance Urqunart’s Loves. By Annie Thomas: &7 SareLy Marriep. By the author of “Caste.” -88 FLorerre, CHILD of THE StrREET. By Ingraham. 89 Tare Times DeAp, By Miss M. E. Braddon. 90 For A Woman’s Saxe. By Watts Phillips. 91 “*‘He Comern Not,’ SHe Sar.’ Annie Thomas, 92 Toe New Maapaten. By Wilkie Collins. 93 AN OpEN Verpicr. By Miss M. ®. Braddon. 94 Sworp AND Gown. By George A. Lawrence. 95 A BrcearR on HorsEpack. By James Payn. 96 Her Face Was Her Fortune. F. W. Robinson. 97 JANE Eyre, By Charlotte Bronte. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. ' 98 Wrecked mn Port. By Edmund Yates, 99 THe CoLLEEN Bawn. By Gerald Griffin 100 AN Amprrious Gmu. By A Celebrated Actress 101 Foun PLay. By Chas. Reade and Dion Boucicaull 102 Carnitas. By Mrs. Oliphant. 103 A Woman Hater. By Charles Reade, 104 Arter Dark. By Wilkie Collins. 105 Harp Times. By Charles Dickens. 106 Grir. By B. L. Farjeon. i07 Frenron’s Qumsr. By M. EB, Braddon. 108 Tourer Frearaers. By William Black. 109 Joun Hatirax, GentLemMaNn. By Miss Mulock 110 Murpuy’s Master, By James Payn. 111 Heaps or Mongy. By W. E. Morris. 112 In MorraL Perm. By Mary Reed Crowell. 118 Tue Deap Secret. By Wilkie Collins. 114 Puayine To Wry. By G. M. Fenn, 115 Dents Duvau. By W. A. Thackeray. 116 Too Soon. By Katherine S. MacQuoid. 117 Tae Two Desrinins. By Wilkie Collins, 118 Ar His Mercy. By Corinne Cushman, 119 Cucin’s Tryst. By James Payn. 120 CLoups AND SunsHINE. By Charles Reade. 121 Vateriz., By Captain Marryat. 122 Bounp BY A SPELL, By H. Rebak. 123 Tue Gotpen Lion or GRANPERE. By A. Trollop® 124 Top Creare In Cuares. By Mrs. Oliphant. 125 THe Mrpnicur Sun. By Fredrika Bremer. 126 Tue PrnaRims or THE RHINE. By E. L. BulweF 127 Founp Drap. By James Payn. 128 Harry Hearucorz.. By Anthony Trollope. 129 Tum Fuerrives. By Mrs. Oliphant. 130 Tor Best or Hussanps. 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For sale by all newsdealers, price ten cents, F sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers 98 William street, N. ¥ eat Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Wuoa, Emma! and 59 other Songs, 2 Caprarn Curr and 57 other Songs. 3 Tue Gatnsporo’ Hat and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny MorGcan and 60 other Songs. 5 [un Srame You Wire A Fratuer and 62 other® 6 GrorGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tae BeLLe or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Youne Fenian, You're Too Fresx and 60 othe! 9 Say Youne Grru and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m rH Governor’s ONLY Son and 58 other Sons” 11 My Faw and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ THro’ Tur Rye and 55 other Songs. 18 Tar Roiiickine TrRIsHMAN and 59 other Songs. 14 Op Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Wuoa, CHartin and 59 other Songs, 16 In THIS WHEAT By anv By and 62 other Songs 17 Nancy Ler and 38 other Bones 18 I’m tar Boy rHAT’s Bounp To Buaze and 57 othe™ 19 Tae Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs. ! 20 WHAT ARE THE Witp Waves Sayina, S1sT®* and 59 other Songs. 21 Inpiananr Potty Woe and 59 other Songs, 22 'THp OLD ArN-CHArIR and 58 other Songs. 23 On Contry Is~anp Bracu and 58 other Songs: 24 Oun Simon, THE Hor-Corn Man and 60 others, 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 23 PARADE OF THE GuaRDs and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Hrave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 *T'witt Never po To Gis rt up So and 60 others 1g 29 BivE Bonners Over THE BoRDER and 44 0’ 30 Tas Merry Lavcnme Man and 56 other Songs 31 Swen’ Foramr-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. 32 Lerrie BApy Mine and 53 other Songs. ere 33 Dr BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FOR Mz and 53 oth 34° Tarry and 50 other Songs. 35 Just ro PLuaAsE THE Boys and 52 other Songs: 36 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GuTrER and 52 others. 37 KoLorepD Kranks and 59 other Songs. 88 Nua DespERANDUM and 53 other Songs. : 39 Tax Girt I Lert Benrwp Mx and 50 other Sone, 40 Tis pur A Lirrur Fapep Fiower and 50 ot 41 Prerry WaILErLMtina and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN 'THE Barn and 63 other Songs. na 43 H. M.S. Prnaror®, CoMPLETE, and 17 other 8@ Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five © per copy, or sent post-pcid, to any address, 0? ceipt of Sia cents per number, / BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pun.isHERS, — 98 WiLuI1AM STREET, New YORE+— j is

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a “a ' rt 2 ~ r ¥ ~ ry Saereamieen al 4 For scHo0* ” Home ENS Mon, 1 to $8 imelusive. 15 to 24 Popular Pialogues and Dramas in each book. Each volume 106 12me pages, an Dg post-paid, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors with ® Without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and female. It is fair to assume tno other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment Dime Dialogues, No. 1. Young America. For three males and two females, | The Golden Rule. For two males and two females, Meo : Josephine’s Destiny. For four females, one male, The Gift of the Fairy Queen. For several females, Bai ting of the Muses. For nine young ladies. The Folly of the Duel. For three male speakers, Taken in and Done for. For two characters, Tages a Live Englishman. For three boys, Dogmatism. For three male speakers. Country Aunt’s Visit to the City. Several characters, Rao 8 Coronation. For male and female, The Ignorant Confounded. For two boys. The Two Romans. For two males, Marion. For two ladies. The Fast Young Man, For two males, Trying the Characters. For three Whine nearsal. For six boys. The Year’s Reckoning, Twelve females, one male. | The appy Family. For several “ animals.” ch will you Choose? For two boys. The Village with One Gentleman, Foreight females | The Rainbow. For several characters. The een of May. For two little girls, and one male, How to write “ Popular’ Stories. For twe malem. Rien an, “ Pe A ag Rep hs Di Di The New and “9 sore nae two — enes in Wedded Life. For male and female, m A Sensation at Last. For two males, e Dialogues, No. 2. The Greenhorn. For two males. ws Sniffies’s Confession. For male and female. Bopsussion of the’ Spirits. For five young ladies. | The Genius of Liberty. Two males and one female, | The Three Men of Science. For four males, Ne Obbing. For five speakers. Cinderella} or, the Little Glass Slipper. The Old Lady’s Will. For four males. Secret of Success. For three speakers. Doing Good and Saying Bad. For several characters, { The Little EB ge ese For two little girls. How to Find an Heir. For five males, The Virtues. For six young ladies, A Connubial Eclogue. The Public “jin For five males and one female, The English Traveler. For two males, Dime Dialogues, No. 3. The May Queen. For an entire school. Dress Reform Conyention. For ten females, Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males. Courting Under Difficulties. Two males, one female, National Representatives. A Burlesque. Four males, Escaping the Draft. For numerous males. The Genteel Cook. For two males. : Masterpiece. For two males and two females. The Two Romans. For two males. The Same. Second Scene. For two males, Showing the White Feather. Four males, one female, The Battle Call. A Recitative. For one male,~ } The Frost Wing. For ten or more persons, Serre bon e. For three males and two fer Faith, a and Charity. For three litte gi f eee and Joan. For two males and one fe he May. A Floral Fancy. For six Mittle girls | The Enchanted Princess. 2 males, several f Honor to Whom Honor is Due. 7 males and 1 female | The Gentle Client. Several males and one female, Phrenology. A Discussion. For twenty males, The Stubbletown Volunteer, 2 males and 1 female, A Scene from ‘ Paul Pry.’’ For four males. The Charms. For three males and one female, Bee, Clock and Broo For three little girls. .. The Right way. olloquy. For two boys. s. For two males. The Crimes of Dress. A‘Coll . Por two boys. The Reward of Benevolence. For four males. Dime Dialogues, No. 5. The aures yey es school or parlor. Sentiment. “Three Persons’ ’’ Farce, Behind the Curtain, .For males and fe The Eta Pi Society. For Jape ae thodher. Examination Day. For several female c Trading in ‘ .’ For several males. Phe Schoolboys’ Tribunal. For ten boys. a et BEADLE ASD ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N, Y. (feneral Dime Book Publishers. eS eee te a a) +n a ao es ee

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», THE DIME SPEAKERS. —Continued. Dime Humorous Speskets N o. 6, A Sad Sto: Poetry Run Mad, A String of Onions, Right Names, A Tragic Story, Scientific Lectures, Cats, The Ager, Courtship, The Cockney, Debt The Codfish, Devils Fate of Sergeant Thin, Dow, Jr.'s Lectures, The Features’ Quarrel, Ego and Echo. Hamerican Voodchuck, fashionable Women, The Harp of a Thousand ern Thistles,. « Strings, ; -Nature, — The Last of the Sarpints, The March to Moscow, Schlackenlichter’s snake, The Mysterious Guest, Hosea ae Opinions, | The awed How the Money Goes, The Sea-Serpent, Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of} The Seeret, July Oration If you Mean No, Say No, Jo Bows on Leap Year, Lay of the Henpecked, Lot Skinner’s Elegy, The Shoemaker, The Useful Doctor, The Waterfall, : To the Bachelors’ Unio LeeeLe. United States Presidents, Matrimony, Nothing to Do, Vagaries of Popping the Old Caudle’s Umbrella, Question, Old-Grimes’s Son, What I Wouldn’t Be, Paddie Your Own Canoe, | Yankee Doodle Aladcin, Parody. on * Araby’s | Ze Moskeetare, Daughter,”’ 1933, ; Dime Standard Speaker, No. 7. The World We Live In, | John Burns, Gettysburg, Woman’s Claims, No Sect in Heaven, Authors of our Liberty, | Miss Prude’s Tea-Party, ‘The Real Conqueror, The Power of an idea, The Citizen’s Heritage, The Beneficence. of, the I uffrage, [Sea, The Mechanic, Dream of the Revelers, ature and Nature’s God | HowCyrus Laid the Cable e Modern Good, [Sun, | The Prettiest Hand, Ossian’s Address to the | Paradoxieal, independence Bell—1777, | Little Jerry, the Miller, JUST PUBLISHED, CONTAINING 17 NEW DIALOGUES. . Tail-enders, The Unbeliever, The Two Lives, The True Scholar, Judges not Infallible, Fanaticism, Instability of Successful Agriculture, {Crime, Ireland, The People Always Con- Music of Labor; _[quer, Prussia and Austria, Wishing, | The Blarney Stone, } ane Student of eis aN e Broken Household, The Bible, The Purse and the Sword My met pet True Moral Courage, What is War? Butter, My Deborah Lee, The Race, | The Pin and Needle, The Modern ey Immortality of the Soul, Occupation, Heroism and Daring, A Shot at the Decanter, Dime Stump Speaker, No. 8. - Hon. J. M. Stubbs’ Views | New England and Union, on the Situation, Hans Schwackheimer on Woman’s Suffrage, All for a Nominatio: Old Ocean, Sea, The Sea,the Sea, the open Star Bangled Spanner, Stay Where You Belong, Life’s What You Make If, Where’s My Money, eng from Conscience, Man’s Relation to Society The Limits to Happiness, Good-nature a Blessing, Sermon from Hard-shell [Baptist, The Value of Money, Meteoric Disquisition, Be Sure You are Right, Be of Good Cheer, s Crabbed Folks, [Shrew, Taming a Masculine Farmers, [Our Country The True “Greatness 0 The Unseen Battlefield, Plea for the Republic, America, [Fallacy, Right of Secession” a Life’s Sunset, Human Nature, Lawyers, Wrongs of the Indians, Appeal in. behalf of Am. Micories of War,[Liberty, A Lay Sermon, A Dream, Astronomical, The Moon, [zens, Duties of American Citi- The Man, Temptations of Cities, Broken Resolutions, There is no Death, Races, A Fruitful Discourse, A Frenchman’s Dinner, Unjust National Acqui’n, The Amateur Coachman, _ || DIALOGUES No. 29. BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y. General Dime Book Publishers, The Cold-water Man, Permanency of States, | House Liberty of Speech, Té Is Not Your ess. Dime Juvenile Speaker, No. 9, John Thompson’s Dav’, — Cleani A Boy’s meets A How the Raven Becamé Hoe Out Your Row, Black, Six-Year-Old’s Protest, | A Mother’s Work, The Suicidal Cat, The Same, A Valediction, Who Rules, Popping Corn, A Sheep Story, The Editor, A Little Correspondent, The Same, in rhyme, One Good Turn Deserves The Fairy Shoemaker, My Dream, [Anothber, What Was Learned, Rain Press On, Cll Never Use Tobacco, The Horse, A Mosaic, The Fisher’s Child, Shakspearian Scholar, Vy A Maiden’s Psalm of Life, | Choice of Hours A Mixture, Poor Richard’s Sayings, Piea for Skates, Who Killed Tom Reper, a Nothing to Do, Ah, Why. Honesty Best Policy, Live for Something, Heaven, Lay of the Hen-Pecked,. | Ho for the Fields, The Outside Dog, Fashion ot the Brain, Wolf and Lamb, On Shangiais, Lion in Love, A Smile, Frogs Asking for a King, | Casabianca, Sick Lion, Homenneeaae Soup, Country and Town Mice, | Nose and Byes, Man and Woman, Home, al 2, A Hundred Years te The Lotus-Planter, his The Madman and Little Things. Little Sermons, [Razors A Baby’s Soliloquy, Suufiles on Electricity, Repentance The Two Cradles, A Plea for Eggs The Ocean Storm, Humbug Patriotism, Do Thy Little—Do it Well Night After Christmas, Little Puss, Short Legs, Base-Ball, [Fever. Shrimps on Amusements, | Prescription for Spring Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker, No. 10. Ben Buster’s Oration Drum-head Sermons, Hans Von Spiegel’s 4th, Schnitzerl’s Philosoped4 Josh Bi s’s Advice, | | ‘‘ Woman’s Rights,’ A Hard-shell Sermon, Luke Lather, The Boots, The Hog, The Squeezer, Jack Spratt, Noah and the Devil, New England Tragedy, A Lover’s a The Ancient Bachelor, Hifalutin Adolphus, Jacob Whittle’s Speech, Digestion and Paradise, Jerks Prognosticates, Distinetion’s. Disadvant- | A Word with Snooks, Smith, [ages, | Sut Lovengood, Gushalina Bendibus, | A Mule Ride, A Stock of Notions Josh Billings on Buzzers, Speaking for the Sheriff, Il Trovatore, Daking a Shweat, Kissing in the Street, Then and Now, | Seandalous, Josh Billings’s Lecturing, | Slightly Mixed, Doctor De Blister’s Ann’t, ; The Office-seeker, Cons ents, | Old Bachelors, Hard Lives, Woman, Dan Bryant’s Speech, | The Niam Niams, A Colored View, | People Will Talk, Original Maud Muller, | Swackhamer’s Ball Nobody | Who Wouldn't be Firety Train of Circumstances, | Don’t Depend on Dadda, Good Advice | Music of Labor The Itching Palm, The American Ensign. Debater and Chairman’s Guide No. 11. 1.—Denatine Sociery. Se | Dkk cae pre Its Office and Usefulness, | Permanent Organiza Formation of, ‘The Order of Busin Constitution of, Considering Reports, By-Laws of, eather * Rules of Government, Subsidiary Motions, The Due Order of Com Local Rules of Order aidering Questibns, Local Rules of Debate, ; iscussi Committees, sere lag ay Objects of a Committee, Why there are few good | Their Powers, eles etri When Not to Sit ©) § - 9 re coe saad Rules of Order and Pro The Logie of Debate, oi 4 How to Report, ene tc Ohare |The Committee of thé The Preliminary Premise, igri? Order of Argument, iscellaneous, Summary. Treatment of Petitio ; The Decorum of De ii.—CHATRMAN’s GuIvE. | Hints to a Chairman. pn pel er and iv~ Diels The Organization, Debate in full: Order of Business and] Which is the Greate#™ Proceedings, Benefit to his Count? The “Question.” Howit}—the Warrior, State¥ can be Treated, man, or Poet? The “ Question.” How to | Debates in Brief: a be Considered, L Is the Reading 14 Rights to the Floor, Works of Fiction to" Rights of a 5 er as| Condemned? ainst the Chair, I. Are Lawyers a Begs, eas and Nays, fit or a CO to Pag Interrupting a Vote ciety? Orcanization of Delibera- ve Bodies, Conven-| v.—QuoraTions ss? tions, Annual or Gen- PHRASES eral Assenablies- Latin. cat

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) f Adventures of Buffalo Bill. From Boy- hood to Manhood. Deeds of Daring and Roman- tic Incidents in the early life of William F. Cody. By Col. Prentiss ngraham. - 2 The Ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of Leviathan. A Romance of Perilous Adven- | ture.. By Captain Mayne Reid. : Ee An Petra Large Number.-@a 3 Adventures of Wild Bill, the Pistol Prince. Remarkable career of J. B. Hikok, (known to the world as ‘‘ Wild Bill,”) giving the true story of his adventures and acts. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 4 The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr, 5 Texas Jack, the Mustang King. Thrill- ing Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro, “ Texas Jack.’? By.Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 6 Cruise of the Flyaway 3 or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon, By C. Dunning Clark. i'7 Roving Jee: The History of a Young “ Bor- der Ruffian.” Brief Scenes from the Life of is Joseph E. Badger, vr. By A. H. Post. 8 The Flyaway Afloat; or, Yankee Boys *Round the World. By ©. Dunning Clark. 9 Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adams? Boy Pard. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ; 10 The Snow-Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of P Fur-Land. By T. C. Harbaugh. 11 ola Grizzly Adams, the Bear Tamers : or, The Monareh of the Mountain. By Dr. P Frank Powell. 12 Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun Club. By Capt. FP. Whittaker, 13 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as Boy and Man of Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. By Prof. Wm. R. Eyster. 14 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur ' Hunters on the Bufialo Range. By Oll Coomes. 15 Kit Carson, King of the Guides; or Mountain Paths and Prairie Trails. By A. W. Aiken. «. ' 16 Red River Rovers; or, Life and Adven- tures in the Northwest. By C. Dunning Clark, 7 Plaza and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,” @lajor Sam §. Hall.) By Colonei Prentiss Ingraham, 18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Littleton 5; Gun Club on the Buffalo ide, By Captain ‘ Frederick Whittaker. -19 Wide-Awake George, The Boy Pioneer; 7 or, Life in a Log Cabin. Incidents and Adven- | tures in the Backwoods. By Edward Willett. 0 'The Dashing Dragoon; or, The Story of General George A. Custer, from West Point to ‘the Big Horn. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 21 Deadwood Dick as a Boy; or, Why ‘Wild Ned Harris, the New-England Farm-lad, be- Came the Western Prince of the Road. By Ed- _,.. ward L, Wheeler. 22 The Boy Exiles of Siberia; or, The \_Watch-Dog of Russia. By T. C. Harbaugh. 23 Paul De Lacy, The French Beast Charmer}; or, New York Boys in the Jungles, A Story of Adventure, Peril and Sport in Africa, By ©. Dunning Clark. The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life ___ 9f Colonel: Monstery; (American Champion-at- 2 _ arms.) By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Round the Camp Fire} or, Snow-Bound ., tt “Freeze-out Camp.” By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Snow-Shoe Toms or, New York Boys in the Wilderness, A Narrative of Sport and Peri) ar Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh. . i Xellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the ‘awnees, The Adventurous Career of Eddie of Nebraska, By Colonel Prentiss In- 24 29 The Fortune-Hunters or, Roving Joe as Miner, Cowboy, Trapper and Hunter. By A. H. Post, 30 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic Sea. By C. Dunning Clark. 81 The Boy Crusader}; or, How a Page anda Fool Saved a King. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 82 White Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief; or, The Romantic and Adventurous Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell, By Col, Ingraham. 83 Captain Balph, the Young Explorer; or, The Centipede Among the Floes, By C. Dunning Clark. 34 The Young Bear Munters. A Story of the Haps and Mishaps of a Party of Boys in ! By. Morris | the Wilds of Northern Michigan. Redwing. & 35 The Lost Boy Whalers; or, Inthe Shadow of the North Pole. By T, C. Harbaugh. 36 Smart Sim, the Lad with a Level Head. By Edward Willett. 37 Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or, The Monsters of the Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck, 38 Whe Settler’s Soms or, Adventures in the Wilderness and Clearing. By Edward §. Ellis, 39 Night-Mawk George, and His Daring Deeds and Adventures in the Wilds of the South and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 40 The Ice Elephant} or, The Castaways of the Lone Coast. By Capt. Fred, Whittaker, 41 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayres. By T. C. Harbaugh. 42 The Young Land-Lubber3 or, Prince Porter’s First Cruise. By C. Dunning Clark. 43 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. By Barry De Forest. 45 Jack, Harry and Tom... The Three Champion Brothers; or, Adventures of Three Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pirate, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 46 The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at the Equator. By T. C. Harbaugh. 47 The Boy Coral-Fishers3 or, The Sea- Cavern Scourge. By Roger Starbuck. 48 Dick, the Stowaway; or, A Yankee Boy’s Str; ange Cruise. By Chau e8 Morris. 49 Tip Tressell, the Floater; or, Fortunes and Misfortunes on the Mississippi. By Edward Willett. 50 The Adventurous, Life of Nebraska Charlie, (Charles E. Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 51 The Colorado Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plantation. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 52 Monest Marry; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the City. By Charles Morris. 53 Whe Boy Detectives; or, The Young Cali- fornians in Shanghai. By T. C. Harbaugh. 54 California Joe, The Mysterious Plainsman, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 55 Harry Somers, The Sailor-Boy Magician. By 8. W. Pearce. 56 Nobody's Boys; or, Life Among the Gipsies. By J. M. Hoffman. 57 The Menagerie Hunters or, Fanny Ho- bart, the Animal Qneen. By Major H. Grenville. 58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines; or, Life Among the Black Diamonds. By bape Morris. | | 50 Lud _Lioseente ne ieee Fighter. | York Boys in Grizzly Land. By T. a, Charo 61 The Young Mustangers. ‘By ©. D. rid ge 62 The Viger Hunters; or, ‘The ee in Tiger-Land. By Joseph B. Badger, Jr ‘= : 63 The Adventurous Life ef Ca: Jack, the Border Boy. (John W. Orford, the Poet Scout.) By Col. Prentiss me 64 The Young Vkoose-Hunters 3 or, ‘Trail and Camp-fire in the New Brunswick Woods. By Wm, H. Manning. int * i 65 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit ysis or; Two Brave Boys to the Rescue. y Roger” Storbnek. 6G Kittle Dan Boeckkss or, The Mountain Kid's. Mission. By Morris Redwing. ee Ve 67 °>Longshore Lije; or, How a Rough Boy oa Won His Way. By ©, Dunning Clark, Mi : 68 Flatboat Fred; or, The Voyage ofthe ar periment.” By Edward Willett. 69 The Deer-Hunters; or, Life in the. eta Country. . By John J. Marshall. — : % oa i 7O Kentucky Ben, the Long Rifle oft the Plains; or, The Boy Trappers of Oregon. Starbuck, " sink, 71 Whe Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wr ; By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. wa 72 Young Dick Talbot. By Albert W. Aiken. 73 Pat Muiloney’s Adventures, or, Silver Tongue, the Dacotah Queen. By C.L. ‘Edwards. 74 The Desert Rover3 or, ‘Stowa Among the Arabs. By Charles Morris. 75 Whe Border Gunmakers or, sy Maiden. By James L. Bowen. . 76 The Kit Carson Club; or, Young B eyes in the Northwest. By T. ©. Harba 77 Left-Handed Pete, the Double-Knite, Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 78 The Boy Prospector; or, The Scout ot t Gold Ravine. By Roger Starbuck, 79 Minonee, the Wood Witch; or, the ‘Squatter Secret. By Edwin Emerson. 80 The Boy Cruisers; or, Joe and Jap's Find. By Edward Willett. at 81 The Border Rovers; 3 or, Lost & the Over land Trail. By J. Milton Hoffman. — ise 82 Alaska, the Wolf Queen; or, The Brothers’ Double Crime. By Captain 0! yt eee = Howard. es ee ee 83 The Young Nthilist; or, A Yankee Boy Among the Russians. By Charles Morris. _ yp, 84 Little Rifle; or, The Young aS : By Capt. ‘’ Bruin” Adams, 85 Fighting Fred3 or, The | Grizzly Camp. By T. C. Eavbeugh a 86 Dr. Carver, the “ Evil Spirit” of or, The Champion Shot io, the] Prentiss 87 Ruff Robsart and His Bear. “Bruin” Adams, - ihre = 88 Eoy the Ses By Major H. B.S 89 Gaspar, the Gaucho}; or, Lost on Pampas. By Captain Mayne Reid. Seen ee An Bextra Large Number oh ve ay <4 f ‘coipt of six. cents. e BEADLE AND oe te . Saige sie

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1 ecaee nok aA Ree BOT) oa Hh ult St iconic Bh UE ee t= age a 2 et eee) " eek ae I) ee ee ala vue 5 a eas rc ere OE kite ge pari yee da ie Nt merican Copyright Novels and the Cream of Foreign Novelists, Unabridged, FOR FIVE CENTS! : gets The Cheapest Library Ever Published! | , A Re fel SER ORE a Tig US CAT sal dead aioe OP Pah ee te le 4 ‘ : ~ « ben Him? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. es 2 Was It Love? or, Collegians and Sweet- hearts: By Wm. Mason Turner, M.D. 3 The Girl Wife. By Bartley T. Campbell. 4A Brave Weart; or, Startlingly Strange. aS. . a cage Sap. ang ssie Raynor, the Work Girl. B William Mason Turner, M. D: “f Arabella Southworth. ; prey Young Man’s His Lawful Wits ee Lawfu fes or, Myra, the Child of __ Adoption. By Mrs. Ann ea teae. adcap, the Little Quakeress 3 OF, The | ‘Naval Cadet’s Wooing. By Corinne Cushman. + Why I Married Him. By Sara Claxton. 5A Wair Face. By Bartley T. Campbell. ‘Krust Her Not; or, A True Knight. By _ Margaret Leicester. 7 A Loyal Lover, By Arabella Southworth. 8 Hiis Idol. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. ~ 9 The Broken Betrothal; or, Love versus __ Hate. By Mary Grace Halpine. 20 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, The Lost Heir. By Agile Penne, 21 Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Mar- Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. 2 ‘Khe Bride of an Actor. , By the author __ _of “ Alone in the World,” “ Clifton,” etc. 3 Leap Weary or, Why She Proposed. By Sara Her Face Was Her Fortune, By Elea- Paudy @ sabool 4 miy a Schoolmistress3; or, Her Untold Secret. By Arabella Southworth. Without a Heart. By Col. P. Ingraham. Was She a Coquette? or, A Strange Courtship. By Henrietta Thackeray. i M nn §. Stephens. pea Her Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton, he Bouquet Girl. By Agile Penne. A Mad Miarrisge. ByMary A. Denison Mariana, the Prima Donna; or, Roses Lilies. By Arabella Southworth. 9 Ji Against Hier. By Clara Augusta. 6 Sir Archer’s Bride; or, The Queen of His ‘Heart.. By Arabella Scatuwworthe ; Gare Big es Cone se Kennedy. is Own Agaings or, Trust Her Not. B Arabella Southworth. | f irtation 3; or, A Young Girl’s Good Name. By Jacob Abarbanell, (Ralph Royal.) ‘le d to Marry. By Sara Claxtom lind Devotion. By Alice Fleming. Beatrice, the Beautiful; or, His Second ove. By Arabella Southworth. 8 Whe Baronet’s Secret. By Sara Claxton. | The Only Daughter 3 or, Brother against Lover. ‘Alice Fleming. me A. Denison. guaxed Mim 3 or, How Will Hs Love at First "Link. rt; or, Saved from the aime, . y Arabella Southworth. $ or, Befrothed, Married, Divorced “Wm. Mason Turner, M. D irl, By Alive Fleming. B “phon By Alice Fleming. Col. Juan Lewis. hel. Bernhardt, _., wo Orphans. By D’E ung Wife. By My Yo Widows. al Rw Maud 196 Haunted Hearts. | 100 Through Fire and Water. | 101 Hannah. | 102 Pee Woffington. Sybil Chase}; or, The Gambler’s Wife. ; Deis 3 er’s Wife. By Annie'Thomas. | 144 1 The Masked Bride; or, Will She Marry | 74 Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage} or, The Story of a Broidered Shield. By Ouida. 75 he Biack Lady of Duna, By J.S. Le anu. "6 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. 77 Christian Oakley’s Mistake. By the author of * John Halifax, Gentleman,”’ ete. 78 My Young Husbands; or, A Confusion in the Family. By Myself. W9A ueen Amongst Women. By the author of ‘‘ Dora Thorne,” etc., ete. -80 Mer Lord and Master. By Florence Marryat. 81 Lucy Temple, Sister of Charlotte. 82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. 83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas. 84 The Laurel Bush. By the author of “John Halifax, Gentleman.” 85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. 87 The Romance ofa Poor Young Man. By Octave Feuillet. 88 A Werrible Deeds or, All for Gold. By Emma Garrison Jones. 89 A Gilded Sin. , . Thorn,”’ ete, 90 The Authors Daughter. Howitt. 91 Whe Jilt. By Charles Reade. 92 Killeen Alanna. By Dennis O'Sullivan. 93 Love’s Victory. By B. L. Farjeon. 94 The Quiet. Meart. By Mrs. Oliphant. 95 Lettiee Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh. By Rachel Bernhardt. By Katharine King. By Miss Mulock, By Mary By Mary 97 Mugh Melton. 98 Alice Learmont. 99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lovers. Patrick. By Fred- erick Talbot. By Mss Mullock. By Charles Reade. y Erskine Boyd. 103A Desperate Deed. By B. L. Far- 104 Shadows on the Snow. eon, 105 The Great Moggarty Diamond. By W. M. Thackeray. 106 From Dreams to Waking. _ By E. Lynn Linton. 107 Poor Zeph! By F. W. Robinson. 108 The Sad Fortunes of the Rev. Amos Barton. By George Eliot. 109 Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses. By B. L. Farjeon. 110 tae Wandering Heir, By Charles eade. 111 °NWhe Brother’s Bet; or, Within Six Weeks By Emilie Flygare Carlen. 112 A HWero. By Miss Mulock. 113 Paul and Virginia. From the French of ‘Bernardin De St. Pierre. 114 °@was In Trafalgar’s Bay. By Wal- ter Besant;and. James Rice. . 115 The Maid of Killeena, By Wm. Black. 116 Hetty. : By Henry Kingsley. - ri 117 Whe Wayside Cross; or, The Raid of Gomez. ‘ By Captain EK. A. Milman. 118 fhe Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver , Goldsmith, , 119 Waud Mohan. 120 Thaddeus of Warsaw. Porter. 3 : 121 Whe King of No-Land. By B. L. Far- eon. 122 Toyah the Widower. By W. M. Thack- eray.. A my island Pearl. By B. L. Farjeon. Cousin Phillis, Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada. By Ed- ward Bulwer (Lord Lytton). B if By Annie Thomas. © By Miss Jane When the Ship Comes Home, Walter Besant and James Rice, One of the Family. By James Payn. The Birthright. By Mrs. Gore. Motherless 3 or, The Farmer’s Sweetheart, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. : tiomeless3 or, Two Orphan Girls’ in New York. By Albert W, Aiken. 2 ; Sister against Sister; or, The Rivalry c* Hearts. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. Sold for Gold. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. Lord BRoth’s Sin. By Georgiana Dickens. om le Leve Her? By Bartley T. Camp- el, Sinned Against. By Lillian Lovejoy. Was She His Wite? By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. , ‘ 7 The Village on the Olifi. ~By Miss Thackeray. By wie Blount. OMnk BOW OS Dor WwW BR Ww Ww CO WwW NNW Ww 8 Poor Valeria. 39 Margaret Graham. we fuck peek fk fed jor ft fk fs esha Sem. fd fk i By Lillian Lovej By Mrs. Mary By the author of ‘Dora | |184 Pursuecd 174 The Pretty Puritan. 181 Under a Cloud, JOY. Reed (195 Im the Balance; or, A Shadowed Love, °198 Wilma Wilde; 146 A Desperate Venture} or, For Love’s Own Sake.: By Arabella Southworth. 147 The War of Hearts. By Corinne Cush- man. 148 Which Was the Woman ? or, Strangely Misjudged. By Sara Claxton. 149 An Ambitious Girl; or, She Would Be An Actress... By Frances Helen Davenport, Love Lord of All. By Alice May Fleming, A Wild Girl. By Corinne Cushman. A Wlan’s Sacrifice. By Harriet Irving. d Did She Sin. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. Hfe Loves Me Not. By Lillian Lovejoy, | Winning Ways. By Margaret Blount, What She Cost Him; or, Crooked Paths. By Arabella Southworth. A Girl’s Heart. By Rett Winwood, A Bitter Mistakes or, A Young Girl’s Folly. By Agnes Mary Shelton. Lady Helen’s Vows; or, The Mother’s Secret. By the Late Mrs. B. F. Bllet. Buying a Heart. By Lillian Lovejoy. Pearl of Pearls, By A. P. Morris, Jr. A Fateful Game. By Sara Claxton. The Creole Cousins; or, False as Fair, By Philip 8. Warne. A Secathing Ordeal; or, May Langley’s Mad Marriage. By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens. A Strange Girl. By Albert W, Aiken, A Man?’s Sin. By Rett Winwood. The Hand of Fate; or, The Wreck of - Two Lives. By Arabella Southworth, 168 Two Fair Women. By Wm. M. Turner, Tempted Through Love; or, One Woman’s Error. By Lillian Lovejoy. | Blind Barbara’s Secret. By Mary | , -_ or al Grace Halpine. : A Woman’s Witchery. By 8. Claxton. Black Eyes and. Blue. By Corinne Cushman. The Cost of a Folly. Dickens. 173 By Georgiana By A Parson’s Daughter. } 175 Is’ Love a Mockery? or, Revenge is Sweet. By Arabella Southworth. 176 Adria, the Adopted. By Jennie Davis ce Burton. . ‘ 177 For the Woman He Loved}; or, Fate- ful Links. By Agnes Mary Shelton. : 178 Whe Locked Heart. By Corinne Cushman, 179 Parted by Treachery. By Harriet Irving. 180 Was She a Witc? By Rett Winwood, By Sara Claxton. ~ 182 An American Queen. By G. Mortimer. 183 A Point of Honor. By Lillian Lovejoy. to the Altar. By Corinne Cushman. ; 185 Put to a West. By Georgiana Dickens. 186 The Terrible Truth 5 or, The Thornhurst Mystery. By Jennie Davis Burton. 187 Outwitted by Herself; or, A Mother's — Scheme, By Arabella Southworth. f 188 Florette, Child of the Street; or, A Pearl - ~ Beyond Price. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 189 Hier Guardian’s Sacrifice; or, A Name — in the Balance. By Sara Claxton. 190 Pretty and Proud. By Corinne Cushman. 191 A Woman’s Maneuver} or, Purse, not Heart. — By Lillian Lovejoy. C 192 The Bitter Feud. By Jennie D. Burton. — 193 Breaking the Fetters; or, The Gypsy’s Secret. By Georgiana Dickens. 194 Whe Mysterious Guardian; or, Little Claire, the Opera Singer. By Corinne Cushman, By Arabella Southworth. 196 Sule, the Jewess3 or, the Miser Million aire. By Dr. Noel Dunbar. é 197 re Sister’s Crime. By Agnes Mary Shel-~ (| on, ; or, The Inheritance of. Hate, By Jennie Davis Burton. 199 The Beautiful Demon, Helen Davenport. ae 200 Morley Beeches; ‘or, Girlish Charms sand Golden Dowers. By Corinne Cushman, . — A new issue every week. > 4 Tar WAVERLEY Lrerary is for sale by all News: , dealers, five cents per Copy, or sent by mail on re+ — ceipt of six cents each. ‘Sy : BEADLE AND yes 98 Willi By Frances