Waverley Library (Quarto Edition) (no. 78) (1881 05 10)
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Copyright Novels Published! Price, but 5 cents each. A ——— a= Tori O | EY “i ‘i Aleta A) Ss RTT SIREN Be May 10, 1881, $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. — —_ —- PRICE, 5 CENTS, No. 78, Vou. it. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., NLY. Y H (: A F nf 4 - th F eighty dollars in one week for subscriptions is a little too much, it seems me! My ong ushan ; Or, 0 18100 it 8 : Of course, Augustus is well known as my husband, and it is expected that v4 they should request him to put his name down on their lists; but why don™ they come to me? a ro BY MYSELF. speak to Augustus about this at the first opportunity. Let them come & vii | me in future; I’ll manage them. CHAPTER I All this time I had been sitting, like a statue of patience, holding a skein of MY HUSBAND AND-’|, yarn upon my hands, and waiting for my husband. ** AveusTUs!" He was to help me to wind it—he had proposed to do it, himself?! My voice awakened the echoes in the spacious) room in which I was seated, as I had flushed with pleasure at the proposition, for it was one of the old atten- I thus called for my husband—my young husband—who is, at once, the joy and | tions he had so often paid me in our courting days, and it seemed to prove the torment of my life. that, though indifferent and neglectful at times he still loved me as well as I was slightly irritated. The truth is, I’ve been in a state of irritation for the | ever. past year, and it promises to become chronic, if matters do not mend. Smiling and pleased, I had opened the skein, and fixed it upon my hands; Now, Augustus loves me—of that I feel quite sure; still, his actions ao .ot then he disappointed me—as he always does—by starting up like a rocket, say- suit me altogether. ing that he wished to go to his room to get a cigar. l’ve heard some people—spiteful people, of course—hint at money when they ‘Tl be back in a minute, Martha,” he had said, ‘and then we'll wind speak of Augustus the yarn; Illsmoke and me;but, though ‘ “ and you can talk, and we'll have a cosy time of it generally.” Did this augur a change? Was he about to make up for his delin- quencies of the past year? Or, was it only a preface to a “ire as I FIR R dest Oe had occurred a) eS SNS: ful-view 1 had be: SS to take of af: the torturing re- flection will. steal into my heart now and then, that he dix marry me for my money, I will not believe it— no, I cannot be- lieve it! I am thirty-five, rather stout—with acommanding fig- ure, allow me to say —my face is led, by some, fine, but rather florid — but that’s spite, again — my S hair is brown, my airs. eyes dark, and my I. arose, sayin mouth and chin impatiently; as i tell of the firmness and decision of my character. Augustus ae ten y years my! or— ee jus -five. YH be <Pola tla, YY parity in age, es- % / Uy, pecially when it is Y on the wrong side, flung . the’!: yarn down into the basket: ‘““Why does. he not come? I’m sure I've called loudly ‘enough for him to hear. Au- gustus —- Augus- tus!” might really be ter- No reply. rible in some cases; My irritation was but I cannot; think fast deepening into that of my own, for;I flatter myself, the years have not told so severely on meas they do on as 2 tried a higher key, that strained my voice so that it cracked, and that made my face vie with a boiled lob- trip about a room ster in color: like these airy, fairy creatures ‘with figures like Still no i bean-poles, nor “He mi be would I wish to; wo inter- for, since Augustus has married me, I thing,”’ I exclaim, must be his style. ~ ae —<— to ppose a er queenliness forgotten all about oe majesty, to the Pett here I've rae ed fool, holdinis thee a bu ¥. a 0. at ~ dand: a maniy renine ; he m y, for as fastidious as ell, if he won't if he were a mil- come to me, I'll go Konaire, and he in- Minnis = toh dulges his tastes as ‘ I TRAE .- And I walked if he were indeed a li Wi i WK ART ' - from the room wi py chet that - ell NWN i\ i l wail sill i | a& step as om a reminds me; let me WN I “Al \ i MW iF. wi _ aN, | AHH NATTA a Captin at the see—thirty and ji A a was Pe. : 4 i MMH head of an army. . thirty is and — UHUNIEI He " i! L reached; twenty is eighty- MY YOUNG HUSBAND. oon” tifhe
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I opened the door, cautiously, and I paused on the threshold, dismayed at the scene of confusion that errno. floor vas I 1 with y pamphlets, old he ittered with papers, p ts) books, boots hees, 4 “couple 8 Tae glaves, and su on; every Chair was ‘ove ed, and the contents tossed into a hopeless state of disorder; and from the closet a trunk had been drawn out, and down. into he depths my husband was plin , So busily hunt- for something that my prese was unhéeded, stood in silent dismay for one moment, How } this chaos ever be reduced to anything like ro) Then I gave vent to my feelings in the one word-- rather in the tone than in the word: * Augustus!" A startled exclamation came from the bottom of the trunk, and the next moment, my husband—his handsome face flushed, his wavy brown hair damp and matted om his fofehead, hig mustache sadly out of its usual irresistible curl, his breath:coming quick and hard from his undue exertions—looked up at me. “Did you call me?” he panted. “Yes, Ldid,.. And now, I'd like to know what all this means?” I added, severely, as I picked my way over tiie littered floor, ‘‘i thought you were,just go- ing for a cigar.’’ *Aud that’s all, Martha—that’s all,” he fairly . “ I've had a terrible time hunting for it, and haven't found it yet. I’m looking for it now. I’m determined to find it, or die!” And down he plunged into the trunk again. “You needn't tell: me, Augustus Ray, that you are looking for a cigar there,” I said, loftily. He looked up at me again, and panted: “T assure you, my dear Martha, I am. It's a choice one—a very choice one, and I putit away care- fully—in fact, so carefully that I cannot find it now. I have been saving it.for just sucha time as.I was promising myself this morning—a_ fefe-a-tele with you. ButI give it up,’”’ he added, sighing. “I'll have content myself with one of these,” and he tooka cigar from the stand on the center-table, note was lying there; he picked it up, twisted it leisurely, held it to the fire in the grate, and then ap- lied it to hia cigar; then he allowed it to fall to the oor. I looked in dismay about the room. * Never mind,'' he said, cheerily, * ll fix it all up, Never mind, I say,”’ he repeated, testily, as I stooped to pick up some of the scattered articles, *‘* Pll fix it all up myself,” I looked at him keenly. The excuse that he had been hunting fora cigar did not satisfy me; I didn't believe it, and I was determin- ed to try Lo — nearer to the truth than that, ‘* Now, Martha, whac’s the matter with you?’ he asked, ina provokingly cool tone, ‘Don't let such a very slight disturbance as this ruffle your amiability. I wouldn't have you tire yourself by arranging these things, for the world! You are too careful about me altogether; you must remember I’m @ man, and st , and capable of helping mysell, Now, if you would trouble yourself less about me, it would——"’ “Suit you, I've no doubt,” Linterru “Of course, L appreciate your a thoughtfulness," he went 47 not at. t out by my interruption. ‘ You don't liketo ha ¢ out late at night for fear that l'll get hurt; you don't me to go out alone for fear that I'll get lost. very good and kind of you, I'm sure, still——* __ It's inconvenient, | suppose. For instance, you don’t wish me to arrange this: . for fear that I'll discover something that you would like to keep from me.”’ * of “Why, Martha, what a ridiculous— will allow me to say ridiculous— n! Discovers ety A what, inthe name of all. that’s marvelous, what do you re I have secreted here?” 7 That's what I wish to find out,” Ir “My best love, you astonish me! I suspicion is on the list of your—ahem! lig ' dear little woman, can’t yo trunk’alone?” “No, Lean't, and what is more, I v nothing here, it cannot make ar here, and Fpaused and gaged at ere, . ani at fim 0 Belfi: d out what it is.” yr 1 ‘sto tooked into the nat ~ An ex ; to a card—the picture of ; ‘ i to look ¢ i“ ” as he held out his hard for it. ty and your "s for twenty-five cents; it was enough for a1 my tT. n- ‘ ‘ there iat ber 8. that ned up and facing Aumuatynabrupe |g aces “it before hi “Silene, ’ Voie oul; a litte, but I noticed even that: MY YOUNG HUSBAND. “It is so choice that its counterpart can befobtained at any book-store for a quarter of a dollar,”’ . “Indeed,”’ I sneered, for I had turned it over, and there on the back was written in a delicate hand: “To my darling.— Floy.”’ lheld it up n, as I asked; “Nothing extra for that inscription, Augustus?” “ I doclare, Martha, you're enough to exasperate a saint! it’s nothing, I’m sure——” “IT agree with you,” I interripted, as 1 put it into m et. “The face is very insignificant—very! Vl P it, thank you; it may prove of use fo me in the ure,” My husband turned angrily ‘aside, thrusting his hands deep down into his pockets. “Then you are somebody's darling,”’ I said, ina tone of suppressed wrath, ** Now, Martha, don’t be ridiculous! It isn’t at all becoming to a woman of your age.” He stopped short, realizing that he had made a Saux pas as he met the ae of my flashing eyes. My age—my vulnerable point; tie knew better than to attack me there. With the intention of conciliating me, I suppose, he stepped towards me, drawing one hand from his pocket. Oh, unfortunate movement! for with it came a packet of letters, the blue ribbon about which having become unfastened, they fell in a shower to,the floor, He came to a sudden haltypale with dismay, ‘‘ Some more cigars?” I asked, spitefully. “No,” he returned, flercely, “They're bills.” “Bills? Ha—ha! Bills tied with blue ribbon! They're sweet keepsakes, truly!" He was making all haste in picking them up. I made equal haste, and succeeded in gaining pos- session of one. The envelope was gone, and the sheet was so folded that I saw the heading: “My own Darling.’ I read it aloud. “My own Darling:’ A bill you said, Augustus. Please tell me—isn’t your creditor just a little senti- mental?” “Tl answer your question, Mrs. Ray, by asking another,’ he returned, with an assumption of dignit that became him very well. ‘‘Will you be good énough to give me that letter?” “Tthought you said it was a bill, Augustus?” “ Evidently, it is not. In some way it has_be- come mixed up with these—these old papers,” at which words he cast the letters he held into the fire, It is not mine, I can assure you,” “Tl keep it, Augustus,”’ I said, coolly. ‘The hand- writing—yes, the handwriting is the same as that on the back of the card. I'll keep it; italso may prove of use to me in the future.” “ Martha, it might be well if you would obey me in this instance; give me that letter.” For answer, I put it into my pocket. He turned, and walked proudly to the door. I loved my husband best when he was dignified, as now. I felt, at such times, that he was my master, and forgot the fact of his being my young husbana, Had he turned then and asked again for the letter and the picture, 1 should have given them to him without a word; but he did not. He left the room, looking back not once; and I remained behind, an- ery Ww mae because at odds with him. ; stood +4 © mantei, thinking, and idly tracing the figures in the carpet with one foot. It came in contact with what remained of that twist- ed note which Augustus had used to light his cigar. Mechanically I stooped and picked it up. Io ned it, and— * heavens!” I exclaimed, for, for the third time, that same delicate handwriting met m % aAze. The r portion had been consumed by the flames; scorched remnant bore the following words; "today ab a ve. hear bipken, wite. mn , a ? Pr ae CONFUSION BEGINS, Be mee - inclination was to scream, m: next to = Pg to go into hysterics; but I quickly p all that. ; ing my severest look into my face, I started door, determined to go to Augustus and con- with this proof of his u bromine to me. : I reached the door I thought better o} at, I turned, and walked slowly back into t gaid, to myself; “I will be calm and can- lgain nothing by storming the cit . 9 stratagem I shall soon know the who ‘ ] ?’ Lasked, as I looked over those words Rie ti GHAPTER IL. ; a ere so, it wo yes, it’s all clear airy f her name Ah, hs, Miss | ,” andl took the lear pocket and studied it intently. SE know you now if ever I meet you!” ean I looked from the picture to the reflection of myself in the glass, and I sighed; hard as it was, I was forc- t be that Augustus loves me no longer? | transform mi Oo a} se ed to admit thatthe contrast was not favorable to me. Still, Augustus was mine. It mattered little how fair ether women were, they could not win him from me. : There was a grim sort of satisfactionin that reflect- ion, and it dispelled the momentary depreciation I had had of myself. ‘ **To-day, at five—matinee,'’’ I muttered, as I slow- ly left the room, ** Where, l wonder? Ill find out.’ I descended to the sitting-room, I was considerably surprised see Augustus seated there, ind ae arn which he had placed about the back of a chair in front of him. I smiled upon him approvingly, .nd thenI com- menced the exercise of my strategic powers, Drawing the letter and the picture from my pocket, I said, gently: ** Augustus,” “Well, Martha dear?” and he looked anxiously, first at me, and then at the objects in my hand. “Do you see these?’ I asked. “ I do.”’ “Tf I should tell you that I have not read this let ter would you believe me?” “Could I doubt your word, Martha? A woman so exemplary in every respect as yourself.” “ There, that will do, Augustus. Don’t overdo the matter; keep within bounds, and I shall have a bet- ter epinion of your sincerity.” - My sincerity! Do you doubtme, Martha?” ~" “ How could Ll? And to prove my faith in you Ishall throw these into the fire. See?’ and I flung picture and letter into the grate. *You’re an angel,’ he murmured, gratefully. ‘““ At least, you are a very sensible woman, and I ad- mire you for it. Any other man’s wife would have made a mountain out of that molehill. I’m sure I love you, my dear, and you'll find that your faith has not been misplaced. Trust in me, Martha, and we will be happy always.”’ I stooped and kissed him lightly on the forehead, not because of any rush of tendemess, but because I wished to hide the satisfied smile that I could not re- ress. How easily I had stilled his anxious fears! ow he was off his guard, and entirely at my mercy. I took the yarn upon my hands, seated myself be- fore him, and our tete-a-tete began. “This is cozy—eb?” he remarked, cheerfully. “Pd like nothing better than to sit here all day and wind this yarn. What unfortunate creatures men are— they have so many calls upon their time——” + ‘“Have you any engagement for this afternoon?"’ I asked, quietly. “T regret to say that Ihave.” “And I regret to hear that you have, Augustus." ‘“Why, Martha?” “ Because | had decided to go to some matinee, and to have your company,” “[’m sorry—I'm really very sorry indeed. But busi- ness is business, youknuw, I have an engagement at just two o’clock, that cannot be put off on any account." "May I ask what it is, Augustus?” “Certainly—certainly, ft is—h’m—h’'m, it is— pt teed tangled my ideas get sometimes! To day, December 5th, at five—I mean at two o'clock, I am to meet a party of gentlemen at—I mean out of town, to talk over—Oh, yes; I remember it all now,” he added, laughingly. “One of these gentlemen— smart fellow he is, by the way—has invented a shoo for horses which is the best ges of the kind that I’ve ever seen. There’s money init! As Seller says: ‘There's millions in it!) Now, we want to forma company; we'll call it The Patent Horse-shoe Com- npn pa or.something of that sort. Allwe wantis ca i compressed my lips, and sniffed ominously, [ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘Yes. One man puts in experience, the other puts in fae neta” and I'm rt a a the money. [ you, Martha, it’sa grand thing o more horses slipping down on icy streets! Why, blessings will come to me from every horse—I mean, every horse owner in the land! I'll not only be a bene- factor of—of— of horses, but I will be gath- ering unto m: a harvest of riches that willsoon far above all the sordid cares of this world!" , indeed!” +. me nificent,”” he, went on, ed in asking zoahe ad- th at no late day I shall be with interest at seven per hat meant, and he went ake of my enthusiasm, r realize the inestimable in thisundertaking, you ut even a murmur, put yeme your blessing, and aeieays woe reiolcing,: Deeds qeteay. A ‘ve alw e on +h one better than the last——” 5 ” he interrupted. : ; this is the best of all, We'll onal are da ou puss Se oe ee these schenies of yours more cloosly i * I've always lent too willing an ear, I k. un- pleasant reflection steals over me at times that Iam % CST
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oe ee ee MY YOUNG HUSBAND. ness. Now, about these subscriptions this past week. Kighty dollars! Why, it’s preposterous!”’ “But it was given in a cause, Martha. We must do something for sweet Charity’s sake. The objects were most worthy.”’ “ Well, what were they? I’m sure 1 don't know where one dollar of it all went. You talked so fast and so persuasively, confusing me_ so, that I didn’t know what I was about. If | , I'm sure I should not have expended eighty dollars in one week on sub- scription lists. Let me see; there was thirty dollars on Tuesday; what was that for?" “On Tuesday—thirty dollars,” as he. rubbed his nose reflectively with one finger. ‘* Oh, yes, I have it! That, my dear Martha, was given toward the very cot usendaaa object of raising a fund to enable us to send warming-pans to the benighted heathens of Africa.” “ Indeed,” I said, looking at. him keenly. His serious face and earnest manner reassured me, and I went on: - “Then on Thursday I gave you thirty dollars more. Warming-pans again?” “Oh, no. Thursday—thirty dollars more,” he mused, ** That—— Oh, yes| that was given ina cause that enlisted all my sympathies at once; it was to furnish ice cream for the children of the Five Points Mission School. Think of the poor little ones——"’ “Td rather think, just now, of that other twenty dollars. What was that for?” “It was given to the support of the Society for the Suppression of Vice, There's a great deal of vice about, you know. I hope I have rendered a strict and satisfactory account, Martha. And now, will you allow your thoughts to dwell upon the matter of this Patent Com bination—I mean, this Horse-shoe Com- bination? But really, I must be stirring,’’ he added, as he glanced up at the clock. ‘“‘I have just time to t ready, and to take Junch, and then I must be off or the train.” “The train?"’ “ Yes. I'm going out of town, you know.” } I allowed him to leave the room without saying anything to him, sat deliberating fora few moments, then I arose and ascended to my dressing-room. . I heard him whistling gaily as he proceeded with his toilet. B I chuckled with satisfaction as I proceeded with mine. Black silk, velvet polonaise, rich lace, furs, a styl- ish bonnet, light gloves, formed my attire. The mitror gave me a very satisfactory reflection of my- self, and I should not now have sighed had I been contrasting myself with the pictured Floy. r Smiling ana pleased, I descended to the dining- room, and there I waited for Augustus, The luncheon bell rang, and soon after I heard him coming. He entered, faultlessly dressed as usual. He stopped short as he caught sight of me. * You will excuse me," I said, sweetly, “if I sit at — with my haton. I did not wish to keep you wa SP «Keep me waiting,” he exclaimed. “What do you mean?” “I'm ae as you see,” “ Yes ere?” “With you.” may ie es, with you. * Oh, nonsense, Martha, you can’t mean that.” “But I do mean it.” “Why, it’s ridiculous; = will allow me to say ridiculous, Martha. You'll be entirely out of place in a horse-shoe combination——”’ “Oh, 1 don't say that I'm going to the conference, but T'll see you off onthe train. The is at the door, and I'm sure it will be much more pleasant to go with me than to go alone.” “ Oh, certainly—certainly.” He didn't look as if he were overwhelmed with joy; in fact, he seemed quite annoyed, and that deepened my satisfaction. e ate ourluncheon in silence. I was thoroughly enjoying the situation, but Augus- tus became more and more gloomy as the moments ' He arose, and I did the same. I was determined not to allow him from my sight for a moment, for I fully believed that he would slip away and trust to fate to appease me with a plausible explanation afterwards. ing his pockets vigo' y. “ i declare, Martha,” he said, “I've forgotten my ye mh bibs» Ame pone? © wouldn’t,"’ I srureety tartly. “Oh, indeed. ‘Thanks all same."' Witha sigh he opened the door and led me down rie hel a me cast one despairing glance d e 7 an down ee and with ahotber Asapee he seated himself beside me. ‘ “ Augustus, where are we going?” L asked, actly. “To the evil—I beg your pardon, 1 mean to the P Would it not be wise to inform Thomas of that suppose it would,” he returned, gloomily. ingly, he gave the word to Thomas: «i iewea oonib 4 out of the window as discon- asif he were a prisoner the sat in momentary of him in- & — 4 — = _ ~ @ fool, and that you are presuming on my foolish- | vent some excuse for leaving me, or of giving up the idea of going. To my surprise he said nothing, and as we neared the depot his accustomed cheerfulness returned. I attended him into the waiting-room, stood by while he purchased his ticket for Rye, and saw him on board the train. Ithen began to think that I had wronged my hus- band. The words on that scorched slip of paper did not necessarily refer to him. As I argued to myself: if it had been a dillet-doux of his would he have put it to so ignominious a use as to light his cigar with it? I waited by till the train moved out of the depot; and, thinking of my husband's handsome face as it had looked from the car window—so smiling and pleased—I returned to my carriage. It was a bright, beautiful winter’s day, crisp and dry; and now that my mind was relieved from sus- picion and jealousy, I felt that I could enjoy a ride. Giving the’word to Thomas, he drove me up toward the park. I leaned back on the cushioned seat, quitecontent with myself, my husband, and all the world. I rode around for about half an hour, and then I gave the order for home. Rather pleasant were my reveries as I sat looking absently out upon the street; but I was suddenly sturtied from them as my eyes fell upon a form that seemed very familiar. But no—no, it could not be Augustus! Had I not seen him on board the train, bound for Rye, that was over an hour’s ride out? And too, this person was with a lady —a lady with golden hair, in elegant at- tire, whose daintily-gloved hand rested upon his arm. No—no, it could not be Augustus? I leaned breathlessly forward, and looked again. My heart began to beat furiously, my eyes seemed to be starting from their sockets, for as my carriage passed Sheet saw distinctly that my fears were true. I glared at them fiercely as they walked slowly on, in blissful unconsciousness of my proximity. It was the woman whose picture I Yaa seen, whose name I knew to be Floy; and her escort was my young husband! CHAPTER Hl. CONFUSION DEEPENS. IHALF opened the carriage door, with the intention of springing out and overtaking them, and then and thane visiting my indignation and just wrath upon them. But a moment’s reflection caused me to change a f mind. had no desire to create a scene in the streets; I would wait and watch for a better opportunity. But, oh! how hard it was to sit quietly and see them as they walked on, she with her beautiful face raised to his, and his eyes looking down into hers! I waited till I was in a measure calm, then I order- ed Thomas to oy I alighted, and expressed my intention of walk- ing home. : y this time, the couple—the ob: of my wrath —were quitea distance ahead, but | had no difficulty in keeping them in sight. I took no precautions. . If they turned they would have seen me, But they did not., Seemingly er Bees with each other, they walked on and on, and I followed, gnashing my teeth, and vowing terrible vengeance upon the head of my young and delinquent husband. I soon saw they were bound for Booth’s. They entered, and I hastened after, thinking to meet them at the box office. I was disappointed in that. I procured the most available seat to be had, and passed on. Yes, there they were. From my seat I could see her distinctly; a column hid him from my view. Howegyer,I knew that he was there, for | caught one glimpse of his face as he lean- ed toward her, All through the performance I sat there watch- ing them, the rage in my heart growing fiercer and flercer, till it seemed as if I could not remain quiet ay longer. did not know whether the audience was being re- galed with t y or comedy, drama or farce; I only knew that my husband was there, and that his companion was a woman, une and beautiful, — every movement, so full of grace, was torture ne, Yes, I envied her, and I hated her! The curtain fell at last, and the audience began to Teealtea keepi f ned val wa , ng my eyes faste u rival. How my heart throbbed asl saw Mowraotily her fur-lined cloak was placed about her shoulders—and as she looked up, smiling, and talking animatedly! She started on, and so did I. My calculation was that we would meet at the entrance, but she gained the lobby before me. How LI chafed and fretted at the crowd that debar- red me from springing to her! Not once did I remove my —_ from her as I slowly Mg my way along. er fair face, and golden , crowned with @ we hite: bonnet, made her so conspicuous, that I no difficulty imihneing her in sight. _ exclamation escaped me inyolunta as I saw her come toa signer in the lobby. She had met with some one; I saw her. smiling and ta a and once.a sweet, silvery strain of lavalibarmas wet a ward; I felt that several pairs of eyes were darting indignant glances at me, but I heeded it not. At last—at last, I was near them—the group of three —Floy, my husband and another gentleman. I was fairly panting by this time. My heart throb- bed exultantly as I contemplated the triumph that was before me. Ihad only to reach forth my hand, say one word, and I should stand victorions before a crest-fallen, humiliated trio! If my husband had looked up he would have seen me; if she had turned she would have seen me. I wondered that my burning gaze did not force them to turn to me, Istood for one moment enjoying the anticipation of my triumph, then I reach orth my hand, At the very same instant the three started off abruptly toward the entrance, It was some time before 1 quite comprehended my defeat; I looked blankly after them, then I started on also, but ere I had taken a half dozen steps 1 felta hand upon my arm, and I heard a gay voice say: “My dear Mrs. Ray, I’m so glad to see you!” I groaned in spirit. It was my very voluble friend, Mrs. Pemberton, from Mott Haven. I cast one despairing glance toward the entrance; I saw the golden hair and the dainty white bonnet, then I turned tomy friend and answered her greeting. A very pretty woman was this Mrs. Pemberton, and a very knowing one, too, She seemed to know every- thing about every body—always had some little sur- prise for every person she met—was always on the point of getting up some fete—was always smilin and talking; in short, she. was a very active an agreeable person, but the last one in the world that I wished to meet just now. “My dear Mrs. Ray, l am positively delighted to see you! As I said to your husband this afternoon ‘My husband!"’ I exclaimed, as I withdrew my glance from my rival who had just passed out into the dusk of the winter evening, and looked in surprise at my smiling friend. “Yes, your husband,”’ she laughed, “I knew I would surprise you. I met him this afternoon as I was coming to town. He boarded the train at— Let me see—at or about Eightieth street, and was my was agreeable companion for the remainder of my ride.” So! now I could understand how it was that Augus- tus was in the city while I was som a 4 in the fond belief that he was speeding towards Rye. Such an act of deceit had never occurred to me. Oh, foolish, trusting woman, how is your faith abused by deceitful man! In this interval I had lost sight of my rival. I moved quickly on, trying to follow Mrs, Pemberton’s volubility, and answering bap-hazard now and then. We reached the entrance. I looked up and down the street, and with difficulty I suppressed an ex- clamation of satisfaction as I saw Miss Floy standing in the light of the Jamp on the corner. AsI looked, she placed her hand upon the arm of her escort, and they movedon. **Oh! must I lose such an opportunity as this?” I felt as if I could throttle Mrs. Pemberton, and cast her into some dark corner, if I could not get rid of her in any other way. 1 knew that she was putting some question to me; Tcaught the words “Christmas” and “Company, and I said in reply: “Are you?” “ Yes, lam.” “ Oh, indeed.”’ “Yes, and it will be really grand,” she went o while 1 began to wonder what it was that es so well, ‘There will be the Sharps, and Viles, and the Drums——" “A brass band, eh?’ I asked absently, as I strained my eyes after the couple that were fast disappearing from my sight. geen Mrs, Ray, who said anything about a brass n “You, to be sure. Were you not talking of harps and viols, and drams——” ‘ * Oh, feet no, ne at ant x sic the Drums— rums a capital D, the family Drums, you know. And you'll come, Mrs, Ray?’ ““To the Drums?” “ Dear 7! How very absent-minded you are to- day, Mrs. Ray! Here l've been airing my choicest adjectives in eloquent description of the fete I'm ting up for the co’ holidays, and I don’t eve youre heard a word! Will you come? Your hus- d has y accepted my invitation, contingen of course, upon your pleasure, Now, say that you come. her company. Saoriy making why odleme Tatarted er . Has’ m 8 on ered the couple when ae onty dimly visible to me now, “a few more blocks, and I shail to them.” Then I was disappointed seeing, them stop at one of the mansions on the RMng only I could reach them now! ._. : But no; they parted hurriedly. Isaw-hergaze u into his face; im stoop and kiss h ; es i tte dae we wy atier him in hot pursls Petite icin oneftare him gave up in despair; I could not Then the aided me; a gust of , his I to had siesaat ee gre ie See
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@ kept pace with him for a,moment; then, grasping his arm meeeeyys I eried—and from excitement m voiece-was harsh, and high, and quavering: “Now, sir, you'll explain to me what all this’ ineans?” He turned n Syrome toward me, yaad with rage, I shook his arm roughly, as I added: “T’ve followed you, sir, and——”’ ‘* Madame!”’ I saw his face then, and oh, horror!—it was not my husband—it was a stranger! CHAPTER IV. THE LOST GLOVE, One glance sufficed to show me that I had over- taken, and spoken thus shrewishly to a stranger. The discovery—the humiliating discovery—over- whelmed me. fairly staggered to astoop at hand, and there, faint and breathless, I supported myself for a moment, I felt that this stranger was regarding me closely, curiously. Idared not look at him again. Ikept my face averted till I had conquered iny weakness ina measure; then, without heeding the words that he was address § to me, without looking at him, even, I started abruptly down the street. “Will he follow me?’ I whispered to myself. “Will h* try to learn who I am? Oh, no—no! that must not happen. He may be a friend to Augustus, and if he discovers that I am his wife, it would pub- lish all to the world. No--no! at any cost he must not learn wholam. But perhaps he knows already; his face was strange to me, but he may have seen me before, and may have recognized menow. Oh! if so — At this juncture, I looked timidly back to see if my fear was transpiring. 0, he was not following me. He stood in the light of the lamp, watching out not following me. I sighed with relief at that, and was about to turn to goon, when I saw him stoop and pick up some- thing from the street. I could not discern what it was, of course, but at the same instant 1 missed one of my gloves. “How unfortunate!’ I exclaimed. “And every button of that glove has my monogram upon it! But there is no help for it,’ 1 added, disconsolately, as1 started on. ‘I can’t go back and demand it of him. He'll have to keep it, and with it,discover my identity if he can,” ‘* How could I have made this mistake?’ I mused, as I hastened along. “Certainly it was Augustus whom I saw with her this afternoon; and it was Augustus who was with her in the theater. It was she whom I followed to-night, I know; I saw her face distinctly as they parted at the stoop. When did the change of escort take place? Isuppose I have to thank Mrs. Pemberton for this humiliation; it was to listen to her twaddle that I lost sight of Augustus. I wonder if yg Thad reached the corner, andI peered back again to see if I were being followed. No.. He was no longer, in sight, Still, I dared not go directly home; that I could not see him was no evidence that he was not in the vicinity, so T dared not go directly home. It was dark, and it was cold. How. longed to, be by my cheerful fireside! Instead, I felt forced to tread the streets, back and forth, so as to elude a pepbehs pursuer, And why? Because of my hus- ’ d’s misdemeanor. And he, the offending one, was enigiydheltered from cold and darkness, while 1, the injured party, bad the suffering to endure! he keenest sting of all to me was that unless I Poe ea my greens spit give Augus- the chance to triumph over me, I must say not OHS Word of all this to him. 1 must stem the tarrent pt RY wrath, with which I so longed to overwhelm At lat, Lventured to approach my home, Timidly I drew near, looking about me at every step, fering and half-expecting to feel a hand upon my arm, an to hear the stranger's voice in words of recognition. i es shivering from head to foot, my teeth were chatte , and my hands, esp: y the ungloved ‘Ong, F jenumbed with cold. in such a cause, and yet. I must keep silence. hy pas too much! ‘To have the power right in my d make. my husband bow before me, and vi must not use it because of the mistake that y ook About 4, and I ventured to ascend. So ex as iny i nation by this time, that I should "ei been at all surprised to see this ‘unknown enly before me, like the clown Jp a.pania and, flaunt that glove right in my e. orn Ramat and passe, a onc ft an : nd 0) n e hall Tb to feel eater” ean "TE eae Ye Rie SIE ose “a ona Bas pet “fividentiy he had sittered Vhy ‘ " Ten to one,,if I don’tget of soon, TA" 0 | ‘small paper parcel; from which protruded ae —— flow had it come there? ‘Who had ht it? or he g the call-bell furiously, angrily, while | 4 a anh maenits aire 6 | I knew not what, when Augustus laid before me the MY YOUNG HUSBAND. The rest of the sentence was drowned in the ring- | bination, I acceded to his wishes at once, and he went- ing of the bell. ‘Just in time,’’ I thought to myself) “ Five er more, and Augustus would not have been ,ere.” Lentered quietly, saying softly: : Ph 1 help you, Augustus? What. will you lave?’ “The deuce!’ he exclaimed, dropping his knife and fork with a clatter, and starting up like a rocket. Then, recovering himself, he added, as he sprang to me: “Why, Martha, dear, where have you been?” “ First let me ask you a question, Augustus: Where are you going? or, rather, where wee you going?” “ Going!” he exclaimed, in a tone of righteous in- dignation. _ * Going! My best beloved, can you ask me where I was going?’ “Tean. .And why?” “Why? Oh, Martha, do you think that I am de- void of feeling? Did you not send the carriage home as ¢ in the afternoon?” “IT did, But what——” He interrupted me by crying in a loud voice: “For three long hours I have been seated here with my fears——”’ **Good company, Augustus?’’ “Don’t jest. Ihave thought, and I have worried. That you should be away at this hour of the day was great cause for alarm. All sortsof reasons have been suggesting themselves to me, and Iwas just on the point of starting out in search of you. I should have gone everywhere, Martha, dear; the voice of the town-crier should have been heard in the land; the whole noble army ‘of martyrs—I mean the de- tevtives, should have been detailed to aidme. Dead or alive we should have found you, Martha. If dead, then would rejoicing have filled this house; if alive— ah, me—ah, nie, What weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teetth——”’ “L believe you, Augustus,’’ I interrupted, tartly. “Eh? What?’ he exciuimed, anxiously, evidently peda ‘oid to a sense of what he had been saying, by my 8 ~ tone, and severe looks, “Have [ spoken amiss? It is the fault of my enthusiasm, my dear— the fault of my enthusiasm,’ he repeated, absently, as he glanced despairingly at the clock. “I have really been very much alarmed about you, Martha, and_['m desperately gas foal “That I’ve returned,” I supplied, as he hesitated. “Now, Martha——” “Now, Augustus,’ I mocked. “* However,” I added, as Lremoved my bonnet, ‘‘ explanations are tedious; let us dispense with them. I am here, and there is no need for the town-crier, nor the.endeayors of the noble army and yourself. Let us dine.” Augustus reseated himself at the table, looking very much like a member of a Methodist conugrega- tion at the words: “let us i TM Imadc a remarkabout the Patent Horse-shoe Com- bination. Magic words! Augustus expanded into good-humor at once. “Yes; we had a very satisfactory meeting,” he said, heartily, “I bave a drawing of it,with me,”’ and he began to fumble about in his vest-pocket. “Of the meeting?” Lasked. “Of the meeting!” he exclaimed, disdainfully. “No; of the horse-shoe. There it is,’’ Andhe passed to mea card, I took it, looked at it, saw that it was the railroad ticket he had purchased that afternoon, and was about to wither him with a few words, when, happen- ing 4 turn the ticket over, I saw, written there in pencil: “Miss Florence Haverhill, “No. Fifth Avenue.” This unexpected information suggested to me a new way of revenging myself upon my rival. I said nothing, but gtudied the address attentively. ‘What do you thin aed it?” asked Augustus. “It’s just what Iw d,” Treplied, absently, * Just what you wanted!—you—a horse-shoe?” he exclaimed, in surprise. “Come—come, _ Martha, don't be aggravating, What do you think of it?” “Excellent,” I said, heartily, “In fact, 1 am so pleased’. Ladded, as. I arose. from the table, “ that shall go at once to my desk, and make some notes in reference to it.” “That is just what l expected of you; Martha,”’ he murmured, gratefully. ‘‘ You're a noble woman— an ornament to your sex.” I listened to his flatteries, ‘and then I ascended to my room to make my notes upon the horse-shoe, seated myself at my escritoire, took up a pen, and dipping it into the ink I made, a preparatory flou tothe writing, of such bitter, scathing words as should cause the fair Floy.to bow with shame and humiliation. P Aloft, my arm was arrested as. my eyes fell upon a of a glove—a glove, which, 1 soon was the one I had = All my vengeful purposes vanished as I looked upon 0 Did Augustus know of it? “ata pevien flashed thro fens uel ape ry sd e; an arose, an: paced m en o ro. as Wondered wine thi wokwown dould’| and as I rep ae ‘this was that, through fear of details of the requirements of ‘the Horse-shoe Com. PVGt ov ony Wei 2 ‘ort with ing so eo sor or Sone: care y ¥ ) AXIDE® ) Be" rely), anc Sate esis late hour, Saxpts I obligec o re on his way rejoicing. CHAPTER V. UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS, BREAKFAST-TIME, two weeks later. I was seated behind the silver coffee-urn, looking over the morving mai!, while waitieg for Augustus. With all my troubles, I felt quite content. Sunshine and fire-lighet glorified the room, and play- ed upon the array of cut glass, and silver, and snowy damask, with which the table was freighted. My negiige of black silk, tastily adorned with bows of cardinal red, seemed to suit me very well. Iwas more than satisfied with myself as I looked at my image in the glass over the side table. Ithought that my pretty little breakfast-cap of white swiss and luce was particularly becoming. All in all, it was a pleasing picture; tbe room, the table, and myself, and I feit justified in contemplat- ing it with pride and vanity. , At last Augustus entered; of course, in faultless at- tire, and as smiling as a May morning. “Augustus,” I said, gently, as I passed him a cup of fragrant coffee, “ what about Christmas?” “* Why, it’s coming, I believe, Martha, dear.” “Thank you. Perhaps you'll be as facetious in an- swering my next question; have zou made any ai- aa apace for the holidays?’ and I eyed him keen- y. “Have 1?’ he mused. ‘“ Havel? Isearcely think! have, my apne 2 : He spoke cautiously, as if he were feeling his way. “So far so good. Lhavea letter here from Mrs, Pemberton, Augustus,”’ and I took it up, and eyed him keenl ain, ‘She gives us a ny La bong invit- e ation for the holidays. Do you favor ea of ac- cepting it?” *‘Oandidly, Martha, I do not.” “No? And why?” ‘‘Tam sure a quiet time here with you would be: much more ee ou and I together——”’ “But by the time Christmas has come your ‘ you and I’ will have dwindled down to myself alone. I think, Augustus, we will go to Mrs. Pemberton’s,” “Will you allow me to veto your proposition, Martha?’ “No, sir,I will not. I wish to goto Mrs. Pember- ton’s, and I intend that you shall accompany me.”" He arose with a sigh. ; Nothing could have made me more anxious to go than this opposition on his part. Knowing that he had already assured Mrs: Pemberton of his presence, I felt that he had some reason for wishing to go alone, and I was determined to thwart him. “We will go,” I said, imperatively.' ‘And we will go either se Aa or to-morrow,”’ Augustus had screened himself behind the morning paper, and he now looked over it at me,and tony surprise, said, cheerily: / Yes, we will go. Now that I have thought over the'matter, Martha, it promises well. Yes, we will go, as rae say, either to-day or to-morrow,’’ tan His sudden acquiescence rather nonplussed me, I could not Say eT 6: but I determined to be on the watch so that he could not play me false again. : My thoughts were diverted from at subjectin the course of the day by the arrival of letter from my orphan niece, Inez Churchill. ; 'y Vhat an inopportune time she had ‘chosen to, pay mea visit! And she gave me no opportunity of tell- ing her that I should not be able to. devote myself to her, for her letter ran: “TDshall.come on at once, dear aunt.. Please meet me upon the arrival of the evening express.” Now it seemed to me that Boston was & much more suitable place for her than New York. had always thought. so, and had impressed her with that idea so strongly that she:had never, till now, offered to visit me To be sure, she was my.dead sister's child, but absence had made affection for her im es; I had seen her but a few times during her life. Sinee my marriage J I hed i comes to =a mars — vee young, an autiful, an —too y' » an tiful, and —— to = ee in daily contact — myself, when my young husband was, by as critic. Still, her letter was in: my hand, and: she was com- ings there was nothing to do but to let her come. | the afternoon wore away, and Augustus had not yet come. , ; I had spent several hours in making elaborate | arations for an-extendéd visit at Mrs. Pemberton's; was determined that my niece’s coming should not thwart me in intention of going. ~~ Git At four o’cl I said, a ; “It is very evident that wewill nob eo to-day. Well, Semeees pectin ar Ge Cae the train is ue a ve,”’ 7 ~ I made myself ready, and reluctantly, I: must con- (eMhilandor inet me at the door mith note, rR er me at the door : “Just come, ma'am,” he said. “ Ove of them Dis- trict Telegram bays it, ma’am. I took it, and opened it with avenomous air. _ I — aet was CO’ ' er - Yes—just-as [ had I 3 r4 “The fates are Ap rah Ihave been c a > on aT” to to verad , Coc of the company. Of cn i -obaisl Qaheed To nolieeqzs retmeutou ut tan I
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will have to be to-morrow. Let us be thankful that there isa to-morrow! .“* Don't delay dinner on my account, dear one, Eat, drink, and be merry—you have good genneny. your- self, so saith the good judge, myself—and think of me as sitting with my hands pressed tight to my throbbing head, poring over the huge columns of a ledger;or, perhaps it is the columns of a huge ledger. However it is, lam, as ever, | Your devoted ‘* AUGUSTUB.”’ “Those horseshoes!’’ I exclaimed, impatiently, as 1 tore the note into bits. ‘Iam to be neglected, set aside, imposed upon, and all in the interest of the lorseshoe! . To-morrow,” I added, threateningly, “the shall notleaye my sight—he shall not leave this house ‘itd. go with him,” . | had not the time to think longer upon the matter, for it was almost five o'clock. I hastened to the carriage, and was driven rapidly to the depot. i, There I alighted, hurried to the waiting-room, then through it, and out,upon the platform. Trains were coming and going, and people were ‘passing quickly to and fro. ; llooked about sharply for my niece. I fancied Isaw her, and darted forward. 4 Every other person, it seemed to me, contrived to getin my way. . I stumbled against first one, and then another. It was like going through numerous Bates, on a tortuous road, where “I beg gour ardon” was the password. “Ah, madame,” Lheard, as I collided with still an- other. “T beg your pardon,” I began, but the last word died away in a faint whisper, as I recognized the man before me. It was the unknown—he whom I had overtaken, cand who had found wy glove—the very glove that was pow upon my hand, , He evidently recognized me, for a smile fluttered over his face. I turned aside abruptly, confusedly, but he stayed me by saying: if We have met before, Mrs. Ray. Did you receive your glove? I——" , Yes, ’? id snapped. “You were very kind, Pray ac- cept my thanks.” é bowed profoundly, saying. . *T have long desired to meet the wife of Mr. Ray, with whom I have a slight acquaintance; but I never dared to hope.that it would come aboutin the exceed- ingly romantic way in which it did.” Earned upon him suddenly, and was about to give vent to the rage with which my heart was teeming at his cool insolence, oe to my amazement, I saw wy husband approaching, ¥ stood pits yet Met ee at him blankly. Smiling and pleased, he drew near; but at the sharp, rasping “ Ahem!” that I could not suppress, he started, and turned pale. : His eyes fell upon me then, and oh! how quickly his smiles vanished, , I thought at first that he was about to beat an in- glorious retreat; but no—as if a sudden, idea had en- tered his mind, he walked resolutely toward me with an ression of intensest severity upon his face. Placing his hand upon my arm, he said, in a freez- ing tone: “Martha, why are you here?” From annoyance at meeting this stranger, and sur- prise at pemae An tus, I was so bewildered that I -quite forgot why Lhad come. ““I—I—" I began, helplessly, “Tve Le dou , he interru roa, Oy. oo he drew my upon hi es ind eno! to come par pens at once, Martha.” I was as tractable as a lamb while d with my present emotions, and I accompanied him with- oor ndine to the carciegs. 2 e led me © carriage. “Home,” was his curt order to Thomas, as he help- pty: oie what does this. mean?” I. breath . . . j as he a lf beside me, and closed the door osha / “Hota word, if you please, Martha,” he said, stern- yl we reach home,” “Not a word, Isay. Pray have the goodness to re- a ne wish. r surprise, I obeyed him. | by eak again till ve stood face to face in te) 7 P e was) i, his eyes were fairly blazing, and in fine renzy ro! , “Now, Martha,” he began, in a tone of suppressed rage, “you went to that depot to meet that man— now conféss it!” “Why, Augustus——"’ “Don’t try to,equivocate, Isa. meet shim! you have met him you went there to fore! Am I pot right? “Yes,” I faltered, completely taken aback by this unusual nosh tion of anger. “Where? When? How? Tell me that!” he cried. Telbhim that? never! I compressed my lips at these words of his, and re- mained silent, “You will not tell me!” he cried. ‘Oh, Marth “such faith as I have had in you —such fond faith, aad now to have it shaken like sri gee “Don't be a fool, Augustus!”’ “A fool! Do you call me a fool because I thus re- t such meetings as I have witnessed this evening? id not love you, would I care? No! It is because Shorts you that I feel ic so keenly. Oh, Martha— how have I been deceived in you? But I will avenge my wrongs!” he cried, as he started suddenly from me. ‘“ That man’s blood shall pay for the in- | burning MY YOUNG HUSBAND. justice done me! He has pretended to be my friend, but like a thiefin the night, he has stolen,in and rob- bed me of.the.affections of my wife. Oh, Martha-— Martha, would to God I had never lived to see this— this night! Good-by—good-by,” and he sprang to the door. ‘I shallseek till I find him, and then either his life or mine shall atone for this wrong! If IL fall, —e you will be free to love whom you will!.Good One gesture of agony, and he was gone. Iwas stunned, dazed, literally speli-bound. I. did not recover from my stupor, nor fully realize what ped occurred, till l heard the street-door close with a ang. Then L[ started to the hall, crying: “My God, what willhe do? Can it be that he.is s0 Insanely jealous as this? Oh, Augustus—Augus- tus, come back!” Butonly the cruel words from Philander came in answer: ‘* He’s. gone, ma’am, he’s gone.”’ But where—where? That was now my painful query, I returned to the drawing-room, and there I paced wildly back and forth as.I tried to think what I could do—where I could go—how I could save Augustus from the terrible consequence of his jon. The address of Miss Florence Haverhill darted into my mind, ‘Ah!” Teried, “I will go there!” There is just a chauce that I may learn something from her. It is alll ean do, I will go; I cannot remain here in this suspense.”” In a few moments more L was speeding up the avenue, reached the house. Gulokiy, Lascended the stcop, yiparavaly Lrang the bell, and impatiently I waited for a reply. It came at length. “Ts Miss Haverhill in?’ I asked, pantingly. ‘“‘ Noyma’am, she’s out.”’ “Oh, dear—dear,’’ Imoaned, ‘‘ The rest of the fam- ily—are they--—”’ “She ain't got no family,.ma’am, Besides, every- body’s out—gone a Visiting, ma’am—went this even- ing.”’ ornd away in despair. “TE, it’s anything “9 hg ma’am, I could send word, Miss Florence has gone to Mott Haven, to iece of information from the knightof the door-bell scattered. the mists that had been envelop- ing me, as if by magic. saw through it all. I understood Augustus’ hesitation to. accompany me.to Mrs, Pemberton’s; I understood his presence at the depot; I understood his discomfiture on be- holding me, and I understood the subsequent sever- ity he had called to his face. It did not take me a moment todecide upon what I would do, It was not late, scarcely six o’clock, and Augustus had not a very great start of me. I would go at once to Mott Haven, meet him there, and teach hima les- son he would never forget. “ He is probably gloating over his successin having so skillfully eluded me," I muttered, as I boarded the train...‘ But Ill chang? his rejoicing to sorrow.” In due time I reached my destination—a large and stately house Situated on the Harlem river, My rage drowned all considerations that. might otherwise have disturbed me, Without hesitation, 1 entered the grounds, and was soon admitted to the lighted hall, I heard gay voices and merry laughter proceed- ing from a room on my right. signified my intention of entering unannounced, and L approached quietly, At the open door I paused, and this is what Isaw and heard: ? My husband was standing before his hostess, bow- ing profusely and talking glibly, while disposed about the room were the other guests who had come to par- ticipate in the fete, ' eyes were upon Augustus as he spoke: “Yes, it isto be lamented. She sent her most heart- felt regrets, and insisted that I should be their bearer. At th 7 moment she is speeding, at the rate of thirty miles an hour——"’ He looked up suddenly, probably attracted by my . A stup—a pause, an awful pause; a start, an n utmost confusion reigned, I lost sight of wn husband for a moment; but the next I discovered him making frantic exertions to extricate himself from tne wreck of a chair over which he had fallen in his surprise and dismay. CHAPTER VI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY! Tur, eyents of last evening. are still whirling. in my head to such an extent that I haye come up here to my room, away from the noisy, chattering com- pany, to be alone that I may think it over calmly, The snow-storm was fitting conclusion to m troubles; but all nature is as calm and smiling this morning as is my mind, Poor Inez! 1 forgot all about her in the confus- ion at the depot; but I presume she did not come, or I should have seen or heard of her before this, I had gotten thus far in my musings when Mrs. Pemberton entered, inher breezy way, with innuim- erable ribbons flying about her. , Why did that woman wear so many ribbons? Her salutation was: ‘ “My dear Mrs. Ray, why will you come up here by yourself, when everything is so gay down stairs? Can you understand why Floy Haverhill will persist 5 in wearing purple? It. is not, Seepaaing to her, ae sure. Between you and me, 1 shouldn't wonder if she used Bloom of Youth upon her face; though L would not speak of it, oreven hint sucha thing, for the world! Well, ere I am forgetting what I came for.” I ventured to ask her if she had come for anything in particular. P “We're getting up a sleigh-ride for this, evening, and we want to know what you think of it. Your husband seems charmed with the idea, You'll go, won’t you?, Of course you will. And now, tell me what 1 ought to wear. By-the-way, did you ever notice. Mr.. Filkin’s mustache?’ Not having paid much attention to Mr, Filkin’s mustache, I told Mrs. Pemberton so, and asked the reason for the question. ‘Of course, this is a secret,’ she replied, “but I have my reasons for thinking that itisdyed. Don’t mention such a thing as coming from me—will you? Then I may say that you are in favor of the ride. How good of you to agree so readily! We are going to New Rochelle for supper, dancing, and anything else that promises pleasure. If L were in your place, Mrs. Ray, I wouldn’t. allow my husband to sit by the sida of Floy Haverhill during the ride. Those two have altogether too much to whisper about; but it’s none of my business, of course. And now, you dear, de- lightful woman, I’m going to see how the others are passing their time.”’ She left the room in the same fluttering way in which she had entered, without even giving me time to accept or refuse her invitation. Of course, being away from home, the prepara- tions which I could make for the ridé were neces- sarily few, but Ihad commenced to. make these, for I was determined to look as wellin Augustus’ eyes as any one else, when my young husband eutered the room. His face was a perfect picture. of despair, and the manner in which he threw himself—I can't express itin different words—into a chair, told plainly that all was. not well with him, * Augustus, dear, what is the matter?’ : “‘My love, why should I trouble you withall. the vexations that make my life a turbulent one?” But, tell me; what has happened now? Perhaps I can help you. “You can, Martha, dear, indeed, you can help me. But_my manhood rebels—l cannot. tell you how— no, : cannot!’ ae ’T'said, sharply ‘* It’s money again, I suppose,” I sai arply. ‘“ Well, yes, it i. The whole story, in a few words, is, that my poor old nurse, who directed my infant i and cherished my infant. prattl lying, meer and uncared for, at the point of death, Poor soul! how well I remember. the dear old tunes with wisich she soothed my eyes to rest. Martha, that poor old nurse needs a little money before she dies.” “How much?” y, “T think. a hundred dollars would do the thing up in style. There’s the sleigh, and the supper—I mean the coffin and the rest—yes, with that, amount she could die easy.” I hesitated fora moment; I feared that he was not telling the truth; but finally | gave him the money, and thinking that his story might be true, I said, consolingly: . “I. hope, Augustus, that, your old nurse may really be soothed by youin her dying hour, ‘My dear Martha,”’ he replied, as he carelessly put the money in his pore , ‘Ihope she may be the means by which I shall get many more, ‘Aaltogs. out of you—I mean that. youmay have the | re of soothing herina pecuniary way, yet again. Now I will hasten to her relief.” . a4 But shall you be back in time for the sleigh- e?’ “ Martha, how can I think of sleigh-rides w: old nurses are passing away? I cannot think of ng. Shall you remain here to greet me when I rn from the bedside of pain, or shall youjoin the gay revellers?” “I shall remain here, of course, Augustus, if you are coming back."’ “* Ere Aurora gilds the reddening east,’ I shall be with my Martha again.” “ IT should hope so.” “ T mean I will return early this evening.” He went, or at least I believed he did, old nurse. And from my window I watched the me pany as they started in one large sleigh, @ little that I was with them. The party had been gone nearly two hours, when by the merest accident I entered the smoking-room, and there, to my surprise, I found Augustus’ morn-~ ing coat, -Whatcould he have worn when he went out? A horrible saspicion flashed across my mind, and I ran back to. my room, : pe glance in the wardrobe showed me that Augus- tus had worn his dress-coat! to visit. his not Now, when a man dons his dress-coat in visit a dying nurse, it looks queer, to say the t. I was angry, frantic, What could I do? I knew that the sleighing Eee had gone to New Rochelle, Mrs. Pemberton had said that Augustus appeared delighted when the ride was pro’ . He had come to me about his old nurse almost immediate- ly afterward. . Was it not. a ruse? Is he not with the arty? , , Resolved to. know, I went to the nearest stable, ordered a carriage, and started in hot pursuit, The moments seemed hours, and the horses, whieh were really going at a rapid rate, seemed hardly to move. , But we reached New Rochelle at last. lt was not difficult to learn what the destination of the sleighing-party had been. I followed the directions given me, entered the
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MY YOUNG HUSBAND, house unobserved, and found that the company were in one of the front rooms. I looked in; how can I describe what I saw! At one end of the room was my husband, standing the side of Florence Haverhill, who was dress- ed in white.’ A clergyman stood before them. Great Heavens! A marriage ceremony! My—— What took piece afterward, appeared to me as through a reddish mist. H Rap filled my ears; my breath failed me, and from head to foot I shivered as with a chill. I saw the bridal party; I saw consternation written on my husband's face. After that I saw nothing more, I felt that I was sitting rete ky on somebody, and that this somebody was forcing be- tween my teeth the neck of a flask of brandy. CHAPTER VII. CONJUGAL DISCIPLINE. “Yrs, A us.” Meek, Wiese was my tose and I was sitting in an attitude to match; my head was bowed upon my breast, my hands were Clasped together in my lap and [ was twirling my thumbs in a penitent sort of way, looking at them pensively the while. The fact is, I was on the stool of repentance, My husban.! stood by me, looking down upon me with a lordly air, and to all of his assertions I could only reply meekly: “Yes, Augustus,” For I was thoroughly humiliated—thoroughly ashamed of myself in consequence of the previous bh we adventure? Why had I not stopped to look and to understand affairs ere I burst so abruptly upon the pleasure party, and created such a scene as then transpired? When it was all explained to me—when I learned that the party had been indulging in the innocent and harmless amusement of enacting charades and tableaux, of an impromptu order, I was, to speak figuratively, bowed to the dust. realized that I had made myself an object of ridicule; Lalso realized that Ihad given my husband cause to blush for me, and I felt as if I could never —never smile again. husband's display of magnanimity wiped out all thought of the wrongs and injuries done me, and elevated him in my estimation considerably. He accounted for my strange and sudden appear- ance to the different members of the party, in differ- ent ways. I overheard him saying to one (who, by the way, was the Mr. Filkins, of whose mustache Mrs. Pemberton entertained such sorious and distressing doubts), that I was his mothor-in-law. I was too grateful for any endeavor on his part to extricate me from my embarrassing position, to say a word in dissent, or to take umbrage at the falsifica- tion. I submitted meekly to everything, which penitent and contrite spirit had not departed on the following morning, when I was seated in the room that had been ed to me at Mrs. Pemberton’s, and m husband stood by me, acting victor, conqueror, lord, = to perfection. “You admit that you have made a fool of your- self, Martha?” he said, in a firm, severe tone. on A tus,’’ was my meek reply. “I'm thankful for that!” he exclaimed, *‘To be adware of our short-comings is a good stride toward improvement. You must remember, Martha, that I’m a man, and that you are a woman; and that, as a@ man, ic is galling, humiliating to feel obliged to miap out to you, a woman, every move I make—every step I take. I, as a man, am privileged to go here pod there without first coming to you, a woman, and asking: ‘May I Fo? Can I go¥’ You, a woman, should not expect it of me,aman! And I,” and he raised his voice as if he were delivering an harangue, and had just reached the climax: “T, @ man, positively refuse to be tortured and commanded by you, a woman! Have you followed me, Martha?” : “Yes, Augustus,” and I twirled my thumbs peni- bac, 4 and sighed deeply. ¥ ese premises bein nade and wnderstood, Iwill ; ”* he continued, with a grand flourish of his ht arm, which resulted in sending the high tor- hell comb I wore into the furthermost corner of the room. He looked after it for a moment, then turning to me Eero’ prepeed. 06 prooséd—h'ity —h'm—by-th oO —h’m —h’m—by-the-way, Martha, where was 1?" ‘*Where were you?” I asked, absently, ‘‘ Where were you? Why, here, just where you are now, Augustus." “Oh, no—no! You don’t grasp my meaning at all, Martha. Pray exert yourself a little, and en- deavor to grasp my meaning. Let me see—where was I? Oh, yes! I believe I ventured the asser- tion that you had made a fool of yourself, and you were sensible enough to agree with me. Am I right, Martha?” “Yes, Augustus.” Another penitent twirl of my thumbs, and another aa Aon “Then we understand each other perfectly. Now, Martha, I will forgive and forget upon condition——’ ‘Ilooked up as he hesitated, and I'sniffed ominously, for expected to hear him demanca price for his magnanimity. e smiled sadly upon me, as if pitying me for har- boring so erroneous a supposition, and then he com- pleted his sentence: “Upon condition that you promise never to re- peat the offense.” am your husband—in other words, you are my wife; or, to express it more elegantly, you have tho honor of being ny wife—I should have said, I have the honor of being your husband. However, the length and breadth of the matter is this: Weare man and wife. {am the man—you, the wife. See?” “ Yes, J ‘as I held my head up at aver uncomfortable angle, and met the gaze of his dar brown eyes. “Well, that being the case, I should command, and you obey?” “ Yos, Augustus,” ** G@ood—ve od! Since you have been so sen- sible as to admit that you are a fool, I beg your pardon, I mean that ycu madéa fool of yourself last night, you will probably agree with me when I say that you are very jealous.” * Yes, Augustus.” **And suspicious.” “ Yes, Augustus.” “And unreasonable,” “Yes, Augustus."’ “And ungenerous.” ** Yes, Augustus,”’ “‘And often, somewhat uncharitable.” “Yes, Augustus.”’ * And at times, extremely penurious.” My eyes flashed then, warning him not to go too far. He wisely stopped there, aor ty pause, and then he added, impres- sively: F: How, I, your husband, command you, Martha, my wife, to put away all jealousy, suspicion, unrea- sonableness, ungenerousness, uncharitableness, and Liven rr A et pa Icommand you, and I expect to obeyed. Will you obey?” * Yes, Augustus.” “That's a dear, sensible woman! I may say, a very dear, and a very sensible woman! Now, let me enter @ little more into detail; if i% see meé looking at, or perhaps talking to, one of the feminine sex, don't allow yourself to harbor the ridiculous—you will allow me to say ridiculous—the ridiculous idea that I amin Jove with her, and thus unfaithful to you. Understand?” “ Yes, Augustus.”’ **And if I tell you that lam going down town, and you should happen to meet me up town, don't be so foolish—you willexcuse meift I say foolish—so foolish as to believe that 1 have wilfully deceived you. Understand f”” **Yes, Augustus.” “And if Isay that Iam going to the office, and you should happen to meet ine at the opera, will you bo so charitable—you will not object to my saying charitable—so charitable as to remember that I have only exercised a man’s privilege of changing his mind? Will you remember?” “Yes, Augustus.” He looked at me sharply for several seconds; then rubbing his hands together ina satisfied way, he said, heartily: “I think you'll do—I really think you will.” Evidently he was pleased at the result of his labor. For the first time he saw me submissive before him, and he was thoroughly enjoying the novelty. How long would it last? That was a question that had not yet suggested itself to him, but that had al- ready entered my mind. He turned away from me, and I felt at liberty to move my head from the uncomfortable angle at which J had been holding it. He stopped before the glass, and as he added a few finishing touches: to his toilet ere he should de- seeand into the presence of Mrs, Pemberton's guests, he spoke, porempeas tty : * You will go down, Martha, and deport yourself as if nothing had occurred. Thank Heaven! you did not speak last night—no words of yours can be brought up as witnesses against you; it was all pan- tomime, very pointed, and unmistakable in its drift, to be sure; but still you are saved—saved by your silenee, As I have said, deport yourself as if noth- ing had occurred, and tee ate in the general joy. And do—do, ‘Martha, dear, do allow me to look at others than yourself without considering it sufficient cause to create a scene. “You are aware, I suppose,” he added, lightly, ‘that to-night is the night of the ball. You will try to look your best, I hope?” “ Certainly,” I assented. ““And you, no doubt, have the same reasonable pride, and hope that L will look my best?” “To be sure I do.” “My Martha,” ho said, gladly, and he came to me, took :yy hands in his, and kissed me tenderly. ‘Now we are happy again. I tell you,’ he added, seriously, “your want of faith in me, Martha, will blast both our lives yot; you must—I say it poke nly you must make up your mind to trust me explicitly —I mean, implicitly. It is pms to me to know that you are suspicious—that you believe you have cause for jealousy! Yes, it is agony!—and rather than endure it, I will leave all civilization—all that I hold di 1, everything, and go to some desert isle and there pass my days, soli and alone, till death bids me come! T will, Martha, I will!” He looked really grand as he stood before me, his face slightly flushed, eyes sparkling, head erect, Ernestness was written on every handsome feature; and his hands, though white and shapely as a wo- man’s, clenched as they now were, seemed to tell of the will and the power to endure any bardship—any privation. How I loved him then! I arose, and ens m hands upon his shoulders, I looked fondly into h deep, dark eyes, and murmured proudly: My husband !"* A moment's sweet silence, and then I added: “JT will have faith in you, Augustus. I am, per- haps, too exacting; I should remember that I am old “That will do,” he interrupted, gently. ‘“ Never a word of that, if you please. You are my wife; I chose you before all others; whether you are old or young, beautiful or ugly, an houri or @ gorgon, you are just as I would have you. If you depreciate yourself, you disparage my taste—don't you see?” “ Yes," 1 assented, and th a gush of tenderness I threw my arms about his neck, and kissed him again aud again, The breakfast bell sounded through the halls. I started for the corner of the room where my comb was lying, my heart threbbing gladly as I rated myself as the happiest of women. Augustus started for the door; half way there he paused, saying, lightly: ** By-the-way, Martha, just fiil out a check for an- other hundred—will you?” Sentiment vanished like a flash at that? , indulged in a very unromantio sniff, as I mutter * H'm—money again?” *Yes,”’ he said, not at all abashed. “I'm going into town to-day, you see, toattend to old Margy— my nurse, you know.” aaeer changed your mind, last night,” I said, iron- ically. “Yes, man's privilege, you know, Martha. As I was saying, Iam going into town, and J feel as if I would like to make my tailor a Christmas offering.” ‘That is unnecessary, it seems to me,” I returned, in a tone of discouragement. “Not at all, Martua dear, The offering I intend to make will consist in offering to pay him that bill that is credited to me, See?”’ “Yes. It seemsto me, Augustus, thatyour tailor bills——”’ “Martha,” he interrupted, reproachfully, “how can you demur at tailors, and their bills, when your heart———"’ “They have nothing to do with the heart, Augustus; they affect tiie purse.” ‘Where true love reigns, Martha, neither heart- strings nor purse-strings are drawn tightly. How- ever,” with a magnificent gesture of indifference, ‘shut both heart and purse against me, if you will, and let me go to—— “Breakfast, Martha,’’ he added, as the second ring- ing of the bell warned us to hasten, : e hurried from the room, and I stooped to pick up my comb. n. doing so, my eyes fell upon my husband's dress coat, that was hanging on @ chair in the corner, A handkerchief was protrading from the pocket, a fine, hem-stitehed handkerehief, unmistakably t property of a lady. Angrily, I gained possession of it. All my penitence and submission vanished ; I fo my promise to have faith, es lsaw in one corner t name, delicately worked—*' Inez,” —— CHAPTER VUL MY RIVALS. “ py Fae Ses escaped my lips, sounding like a prolong» ed h The presence of that handkerchief in my husband’ coat was positive proof to me that another rival had appeared upon the scene, ; to. two were pitted against me—Inez and Floy. How could I, Martha—unromantic, unpoetical Martha— hope to vanquish them? ? stood in a highly tragic attitude, holding that square of linen at arm’s length, and ooking at the name with horrified gaze. **Inez!”’ I hissed again. “*Whoean she be? Ah!” That exclamation escaped me suddenly,as thoughts of my niece darted into my mind. “'Tis she—I'm sure ’tis ‘she! I orton, Savarphant. ly. ‘ But stay—they have never met. t how do? know that? They may be old frien Well—well!” and I straightened myse ; ed forward like a soldier armed for the . **Well!’* That one word, to me, exp’ di my course of act. ion in the campaign that was about to begin. Strat- ee that was to be my watchwor¢ replaced the handkerchief im the pocket of the coat, and determined to say nothing about it. Then I descended to breakfast. This little episode banished from my mind all re- membrance of the previous evening’s occurrence, and I was thus saatiel 4a meet Mrs. Pemberton's guests with the utmost sang froid. Curious looks, amused looks, and scornful looks may have been leveled et me; if so, I was bliss- fully ignorant of it; for of all the company only two did I heed—they were my husband and Floy, What a beauty she was! Let me describe her; was slightly above medium hight, with a round well-proportioned figure; her face was a long oval, with regular fedtures, and a complexion ect in pearly fairness; masses of golden hair waved back rom the low, broad forehead; large, dreamy, blue exes, and a mouth rosy red, with great possibilities. of passion and power in its soft curves, completed. the picture. 1 looked. at her, then at my husband, and I sighed —yes, 1 sighed andibly, How well they suited each. for alll know. f up, and start- she and
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MY YOUNG HUSBAND. v other! I tortured myself by thinking of the ee with which he would announce her as his wife; so different from the apologetic air with which he al- ways presented me to any one. was perfect freedom—a delicious absence of restraint in these gatherings at Mrs. Pemberton’s, The ts did very much as they pleased at all times. One by one they now left the breakfast table, till I found myself quite alone. Isat sip ping my coffee absently and sadly, when I heard a flutter of garments, and Mrs, Pemberton, like a perfume-laden reeze, was wafced towards me. ‘Isn’t shea beauty, Mrs. Ray?’’ she whispered, as she floated into a chair beside me. ‘*Floy Haverhill, you know, I mean.” -*Yes,’ I replied, curtly. ‘ Tell me something about her, Mrs. Pemberton,” I added. ‘Of course you know something.” ’ “Of course Ido. Well, to begin with, she is an heir- ess—an heiress and a beauty, and as all such are, the rey of fortune-hunters. She has lately returned rom Europe; she was sen¢ here by her ‘stern par- ient,’ who was forced to remain abroad with his in- valid wife, her mother.”’ “Sent here, you say—and why!” — “To separate her from an admirer, from a man whom she favored, but whom her father could not tol- erate. She came on with some friends; said friends are friends of mive--that explains how Floy happens to be hereat present. They have been vested with authority over her, so that, in her pretty willfulness, she cannot throw herself away upon one unworthy. ‘A spoiled darling,’ I fancy she is.’ + ithout doubt,” Lassented. ‘‘ But this lover of hers? “Oh, he is in Europe. She was sent away unbe- known to him—‘torn ruthlessly from his arms,’ as novelists would put it. He, poor fellow, is likely tear- ing his hair ani beating his breast on the other conti- nent; while she is flirting and laughing on this, Ah, well, 80 the world—so goes the world, Mrs, Ray— and whata delightful ome net have forthe Me *She’s fickle,’’ I mused, absently, my mind still in- tent upon Floy. ‘ta —— did you say?"’ asked Mrs, Pemberton. I waived the question of pickles, and arose from the table. Early in the forenoon, Augustus, the happy posses- sor of the other hundred—his Christmas present to his tailor—left Mott Haven. “I'll be back in time to dress for the ball, Martha dear,” were his last words to me. I believe I would have followed him, to see how much truth there was in the story about old Margy, his nurse, if it had not been that I hesitated about deserting my present field, from which the enemy was in view. I allowed him to depart in peace, while I remained behind to watch well for any move that would be the signal for the skirmish to b y The day , uneventful, save that when the time came to commence preparations for the even- ing’s event, my husband was not on hand. Loweves, I arra myself for the ball, putting forth my best endeavors to appear to advantage. Maize-colored silk, flounces and frills of rich black lace, diamonds at neck, and ears and arms, and a littering arrow fastened in the braids of my glossy | aner hair, formed an elegant toilet; but, with the image of Floy in my mind, [ could not contemplate myself with any satisfaction. The mirror, which I consulted with a savage look, ‘Too short, too stout, too florid, too awkward.” I turned away impatiently, and consulted the clock on the mantel. After nine o'clock! and Augustus not returned xt and he so particular and fastidious about his toilet! Could ye | have happened to him? My heart stood still, and [felt myself growing pale, as that thought occurred tome. Had he met with some ac- Had it not been for the presence of Floy in the house, I sh have thought this was only another ruse to escape me for the evening; but as it was, I felt that he would return—‘ unless,” I added, as tke remembrance of the other one, Inez, came to me, "Whns chould d dot lly parplesity waseroat, Whoth u o! My ty was great. eth- er to rail at my husband, or to feel anxiety for him, was a question with me just then. I did neither; I quietly endured the moments, hop- ing that each one, as it came, would bring him, , no; the clock struck ten, and still he had not ”” . appeared. trange qualms of mingled fear and anger de- me, Ithrew myself upon a couch,determined that I would not enter the parlors without Augustus, In that despondent mood, Mrs. Pemberton found me. “Pshaw!” she exclaimed, as I stated to her one side of the matter—my anxiety for my husband's welfare. ‘Don't fret about him. And you must come down now--I insist upon it! Now do, dear Mrs, Ra I mean, don’t disappoint me, too! If I know that half a dozen of you are moping and fretting up stairs, how can I énjoy the evening? There’s Floy, now—I'm 80 provoked about her that I could just ery,” and there was a fluttering of ribbons and laces as she sank disconsolately into a chair. ‘*What about her?” I ed, ““Why, she—she on whom I have counted so much, she who would have been the beauty and the belle of the evening, she, at the very last moment, is pos- itively taken ill, and cannot seneee. Did you ever hear of anything so aggravating?” “Til, eh?’ I mused, absently, * Yes, ill!’ she snapped, as if she had been done a personal injury. “ An the ball will fall flat, I know. She would have been such an attraction; rea see, just from Europe, and so on. Why I shoul ave received notices in the papers but for this. It’s too bad—really, too bad, and I'm all out of sorts about it. Now, if yourefuse to appear, too,Mrs. Ray,I’ll just turn every ove out of doors, lock myself in my room, and have a good ak AMF Her distress touched. my heart, and I arose, say- ing that I would not disappoint her. *That’s 4 darling creature,” she murmured, grate- fully. ‘Now, just one moment, and I'll provide you with an escort, He's very nice—Mr. Filkins,you know. Between you and me,’’ she added, confidentially “I believe his mustache is—— But I’ve spoken of that before; haven't 1?” And seeming to read an answer in the affirmative in my face, she floated away. In another moment she had reappeared, and hur- riedly, incoherently, she presented me to Mr, Filkins, who offered me his arm, and led me down to the par- lors. The Hights, and the music, and the moving guests, and the laughter, was all a confused whirl to me. I neither saw nor enjoyed; my thoughts were far away, traveling in the realm of speculation and con- jecture, with tie hope of finding some excuse for nig Haemand § non-ap ce. r. Filkins did his best. to entertain me, but I was in_no mood to be entertained. He spoke of the occasion, the assemblage, but to no avail; he failed to awaken respousive interest in ar breast. hen he attempted grave subjects—speaking of the death of this and that notability; still he was unsuccessful. At last, he descended to gossip, and then his efforts were rewarded, for his first remark engaged all my wandering senses. “Mr, Ray received rather an unpleasant surprise from his mother-in-law last evening. What a dis- agreeable old woman she must be!”’ I was dumb, He mame had not recognized me, neither could he have heard my name at his introduction to me. He saw that I was attentive, and he went on: “T’ve heard something about infelicity in his do- mestic relations, and I don’t wonder at it now. If that mother-in-law of his 1s around, I should think there would be perpetual war. You saw her, I suppose?” “Yes, T said, faintly. e “She has the face of a shrew—hasshe not? Ugh! how ugly and venomous she looked as she burst in up- on us! ielding a broomstick, it strikes me, would be the most fitting attitude for her. Don't you think so , ” **I—I—can scarcely—hardly tell,’’ I stammered, as I looked wildly around for some way of escape from this unpleasant portrayal of myself. ‘He told me in confidence,’’ pursued Mr. Filkins, “that she was the torment of his life, making his days one series of miseries, And, egad! she looks like one well calculated todo that. By-the-way, Mr, Ray is not here this evening. I saw him to-day——” ** Indeed!" I said, erly, anxious to hear more, re ~ Yes. I wonder if that was his wife who was with im? “A lady !’’ lL exclaimed, faintly. * To be sure—his wife wouldn't be a man! She was a charming creature——” My heart sank like lead. 3 uy you say?’ I managed to articulate. “Beautiful! She was a small person, very dark, very slender, with an elegant figure, bright black eyes, and such a proud, patrician face! ad! since seeing her, my heart hasn't felt just right, LIhada good opportunity for observing her, for they were seated opposite to me in the horse-cars in the city.” * The other one,’’ 1 moaned to myself. ‘It is the other one—Inez.”’ ng that I felt faint, | turned abruptly from Mr. Filkins, and hurried toward one of the many doors that gave egress. to the balcony surro tho house. I felt that I must have air, or I would die! I looked up as I neared the door, and I canes just one glimpse of a dark-robed, heavily cloaked figure flitting through it. For vary j one instant was it visible to me, but in that instant [had seen and recognized the golden hair of Floy Haverhill, She had given out that she was ill—here she was stealing out of the house! Ah, ah!—this was the move that for me was thesignal for the skirmish to begin! Suspicion, jealousy were rampant again; and quick- ly catching up a cloak from a stand near me, I Ww it over head and shoulders, and out into the winter night I went, and over the crisp, hard snow I follow- ed that dark-robed, fleeing figure. CHAPTER IX. A LITTLE STRATAGEM. Waar my emotions were as I followed Floy it is im- possible to describe. It was with almost superhuman effort that I re- strained myself from calling after her, and giving vent to my indignation. The snow gave forth a crunching sound as I sped along over it; the moon, a slender crescent, peered down througir:the naked trees, giving only just suf- ficient light to enable me to make out the outlines of the figure ahead of me, Where was she going? What was her errand? That it was in some way connected with my hus- band I felt sure—his absence confirmed that idea. But what could it be? And hew was I to learn? Though I knew not how it would advantage me, I still kept on behind her, keeping as much as le a new face, | sides of the avenue-like drive that led down to the end of the fog merey Would I gain anything by this chase? I asked my; self that bag Se serio’ asI to be sensi of the cold, from which the cloak [ had donned pro- tected me insufficiently. But I dismissed it as I saw dimly an object ahead, that told me that Floy’s secret departure from the house meant something, though whether it affected me in any way or not I could not then determine. The object was a carriage—a coach standing just without the grounds. ' I knew that it did not belong to any fi the guests, from its situation, I half-crouched behind the trunk of a tree as I peered fiercely forth at the masculine form that I had discovered by the carriage door, Was it—I stretched my neck to its t length, at the risk of breaking it, and also of being seen by him—was it? Ab, yes, it was! He t as Floy reached him, and the light from the car: lantern flashed upon his face, and I saw it distinetly. Yes, it was my husband! Oh, how 1 then battled with ry gee to keep my wrath in abeyance! l realized that 1 would noth- ing by stepping forth and proclaiming my presence. I remembered my watchword: ‘*Stratagem!” and I resolved not to forget it fora moment, He took her hands in his, and looked down into her upturned face. ' Oh, I could have felled them both to the earth as they stood there thus! utiously, stealthily I approached, till I reached the hedge that skirted the grounds. “Let us hasten, Floy,” he was saying. “The mo- ments are precious,” “Oh, I tremble so,” she’ returned. “ Augustus, I feel —I fear that I cannot go on.” f ‘My dear girl, 1 would not urge you, did I not know that it is for Ease happiness, You are miserable now —happiness is within your reach—grasp it! Life is not so long that we can stop to consider the world— that we can turn from what we know will yield us —_ because others will not sanction it. me, be rave, and do not hesitate. . You know I have only your interest at heart. Come! if we dally here, we may be discovered.” “ ee] * But wha “Suppose | should live to é ; “You never will. He who loves you 80 will never fail you. Believe me, Floy.” “I will,” she returned, resolutely. “I will bélieye you, Augustus, You have seen him as you expected?” i te derstands all the arrangements so that “* And he unders Ss e so sis will be Ro Rd pe “ es, ‘ec : c a ore Fan he tack ns few Lee? hatte danas” es; in two hours, Floy, you ere She Javabed, a low, sweet, clear laugh. “How nicely I have deluded them,” she said, glee- fully. ‘Poor Mrs, Pemberton is so distressed abou t ~ a illness, ble ry ——o that doy en a sleeping potion, an t I have eae 80 as not to be disturbed, We could not havé chosen a better opportunity—could we, Augustus?” : “No, indeed. Are you sure that no one saw you eave?”’ = “Oh, yes; sure—positive. I made*my exit by the side door, and no one was in sight.” Phat: “T say, Floy, what about Mrs. Ray?’ © “ She still lives, sir. I caught a glimpse of her just not he the door, Mr. Filkins was playing the evo “Poor Martha! She is reposing in the fond belief, I sup’ , that. 1 am bending over the death-bed of my old nurse, wae pee epee ds vast creucline caeenaiel 8 up from my crouch ture, ne would have heard my toled in no Sduitle t004, | bot Floy interrupted me. y S- ‘Oh, Augustus,” she cried, in sudden alarm. ‘The key—the key of ay room! I left it in the door! What shall | do—what shallI do?’ ~ aap “ Botheration!” was my husband's rather inelegant exclamation. 3 * And I say the same,” she returned. ‘‘What Ido? I cannot leave it there, for my absence then be discovered Oh, how could I have been so stupid!—so very 7. stupid! I was in such anxious haste, you sée, that I— py Br el “Yes,” interrupted Augustus. ‘“T understand alt that. But without wasting any more time in discus- sion, let us try to determine upon what can be done. Plainly, there is nothing to do but to go back for it.’ ** But the risk,” she wailed. ; “ek “Of course, it’s risky, very risky; but to leave the key in the door is riskier still, Is it not?’ _“Oh, yes—yes."’ : Floy ?”’ ‘ t this rash a “Well, will you return for it, or shell Igo?" “Oh, you cannot go! Think, if your wife should see you! No, I must go, but oh, I fear, I tremble!” I “Fear and trembl won't. he u_ now, Foy, Come, be brave, be bold, and go. eee tinkee-t of you, make haste, for if we are late we may not fi him there.” With alow cry of d she turned, and darted quickly back toward the house. . ; T remained in my hiding eon for a moment, while I tried to think whatI w: do, A sudden idea electrified me! I Ley through the hedge, and saw that. my husband was pacing rest- 1 to and fro; then I started up and stealthily fol- or etane the steps of Tog. neki lt tis jess, from my e rs, m fear that I would fail’ in the. execution of my plan, 1 reached the house and entered. ; possib Casting off the cloak I had borrowed, and paar} in the shadow of the huge tree-trunks that lined both | one meiment to compose myself in a I
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3° my way to the parlors. and looked about anxiously, erly, for Mrs, Pemberton, ' J saw.her, and.in less time than it takes to record it, J ached her Side. y rate did not seem amiss, as I said, breath- I legal: ride “At. once—go, at once to Floy Haverhill’s room! I came by ita moment since, and I heard such moaning and groaning. She must be worse--.-"’ Mrs..Pemberton, did not wait, to hear more; she sped from me like an arrow, and I walked slowly after, jubilant. I reached the hall, and then I quickened my gait. I ran up the, staircase, gained my room, and there I donnec py fur-lined cloak, drawing the hood over my head as Floy had worn hers. Cautiously,..made my exit. I passed the hall as T heard. the soup! of voices coming from the room that Floy occupied; then, chuckling with satisfaction at my,suecess, so..far, 1,hastily descended, and Jeft the house, by the same side door. Down the avenue I hurried, trembling in every limb, Would, L, suceeed in my plan? If so, what triumph w. uid Ge sale! reached the entrance-gate. Withonehand I Ree the hood ak my cloak.over my face, the other I held up warningly as Augustus sprang to me. ‘oi thought you would never come,” he began, made a frantic gesture, warning him fo be silent, -and then, L,leaped into the c ivi him no and b leap prriage, giving nce of scanning either form or face, He gave word to drive with all possible speed, and then he entered and closed the door, I,,croueched, over in one corner, strenuously en- deavoring to compose myself. We.fairly flew over ,.the.ground, and the few re- marks that Augustus ventured were drowned. by the noise of the wheels upon the hard snow. no effort. to héar, no attempt to answer; I much engrosse with my own queries, which, Ww. é cumin dd. up, amounted to—how will this adventure eng? ; , , CHAPTER X. MY DEFEAT Dark and lonely was the way. What wasto. beour destination, I could not conject- ure., I knew. that it could not be at a very great dis- tance from Mott yee glucs only. wo nents were to wou ave been at home again, *Wehad bent riding surély for half au hour, and I felt that the end’ must be at hand. With each.rod.of the ride, my trembling lessened and my secret exultation increased, _Soon—soon would know what all this meant, and I would stand victorious before my ypung husband! At last, lights appeared in the distance, We were evidently nearing, 8¢ me liane, L crouched, fu her kk into the corner of the car- riage, and drew the hood more closely over my face, so.that my indentity would not be betrayed until the very last. moment, _Augustus gave vent to an exclamation of satisfac- tion as we emerged from the darkness. ge 4ipost there, Floy,”’ he said, gladly, “TI hope we are me.” He took out his watch, then putting his head out of the window, he ordered the driver to drive over to the nearest lamp. heart TSood still as we came into the bright for if he should discover me now, T would not on ‘my contemplated hg! but T would still Her ignorance of the meaning o all thissecrecy and eyed him furtively as he consulted bis watch. * Half-past ten |’ he exclaimed, as he looked up at why, Fioy, why do you wear—" A sudden sto a tomieb Rs & Silence, aud then, “Powers of Heaven t held. my hood in place! ‘the ring upon it? T had not thought of beck Wf : Lily He - for a moment in blank dismay, ihe reg ze me,” usta to myse ie, and ton the point of throwing back m ‘stayed me y hood Mg bei Ny y exclaiming again, as he looked watch: ‘owers of Heaven! Half-past ten! I fear we are a p Baas ‘Then excitedly he man the word to drive like the wit and to yy eg ai ma n tim oy.” Rhd On a ae agais. Then he had not recogrized me, after all! Iwas grateful for that; and I crouched into my corner and perfectly assured that triumph wo Be We tuch lfrom the lighted street into.a dat by-way. @ rode on fora few mo- its, and Augustus ordered the driver to stop. Twas tre ng again by this time—trembling with . aes pon the theshold of what discovery was standing ug? iat tus alighted, TI began to make preparations $a fo aye when he half-closed the door, as he said, u a éd “One moment, Floy—just one moment. T'll go and see t} he is here, and t, save you both the trouble and Oy) e rassmeént in case he has gone.” Ee id not suit me Hy all. How did I know that he would return? I did vot fancy waiving in the lonely t, and probably giving tk m the opportunt ty ig: for it ey a oie to me he had resognt Lap mo 8AS Fe ‘a ruse of his by which to nv . , T started forward, calling: MY YOUNG HUSBAND. Angustus—Augustus |!” han But the closing ot the door drowned my voice, and by the time I had succeeded in lowering the window, he was out of sight. There was nothing to do but to wait, of course. My exultation had received a severe shock by this, and I felt less assured of triumph. To tell the truth, the time, the place, the darkness, intimidated me so that triumph seemed of very little account. I felt that I would give it up willingly, ifmy husband would only return to me. “Suppose he does not come—what shall I do then?” was a question that was ogee ah me sorely, when, to my great relief, I beard the sound of approaching footsteps. I was so positive that it was my husband, that as the perso.) reached the carriage, and opened the door, I, without stopping to look at him, stretched forth my hands in glad welcome. ‘a He leaped in, closed the door, we started on the re- turn, and then he turned to me and took my extend: ed hands in his, We had emerged into the light again, and then I saw his face. And, oh-oh—how can I tell it?—how can. I describe the emotions that ran riot within me as Tsaw his face—saw that it was not my husband but that very same stranger whom TI had confronte before ina way se ya similar to this. {drew my hands from his, pulled the hood over my face, and crouched back into my corner, : Oh, this was terrible! What could f do—what could do? Wild ideas of leaping from the swiftly speeding vehicle--of thrusting him out so quickly and forcibly that .he would have no power to resist, flashed through my mind. It is possible that I would have put’one or the other into instant execution, had 1 not made the discovery that my companion was 1 peeiabl unconscious of my agitation, for he sat smiling serenely as he drew on his gloves. That gave me hope! , It was evidénc that he was the person to whom Floy and Augustus had referred in their conversation; it was also evident that the night’s adventure was to re- sult’ ina meeting between him and Floy. From_ his demeanor I judged that he believed me to be Floy; now, if I could keep him in that belief till we reached Mrs, Pemberton’s, { might then escape, and save my- self from recognition. To the accomplishment of that idea T bent all my energies. “There!” he said, in a satisfied tone, as the last glovewas fastened. “Now I can proceed to business,” and he turned to me, By this time we were out of the lighted street, roll- ing along the dark and lonely road again. “To proceed to business,”’ he repeated, in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. ‘In the first place, Miss Ploy, I have to thank you for the-unlimited confidence you seem to repose inme. Were I an old friend you could not trust me more than you have done,. I feel pipet honored, and hope to merit your favor.” bowed, not thinking that, in the darkness, the gest- ure was lost. “It isto be regretted,”’ he continued, “that friends and busybodies keep such strict vigil over you and your actions, that you are forced to have recourse to such artifice as enables you tosee me to-night, when you desire to carry out any little plan of your own. It is to be regretted, I say—but all this is neither here nor there—is it?” I shook my head for reply, again forgetful that it could not be seen, ‘Now, Miss Floy,’’ he wenton, in a slow, musing tone, “ while I esteem you for your philanthropic ideas ~your desire to do good—to devote your life and your wealth to the advancement of public charities ‘Oh, what a fool I've been!" I groaned, in the pri- vacy of my hood, as I began to understand how need- lessly [had placed myself in 80 embarrassing a posi- tion, “You made a remark, Miss he didn’t quite catch it. May Ilaskyou to repeat ic?” I depended upon the noise of the carria to hide any difference in voice, so I ventu “T simply said thatl agreed with acs “Agreed with me, Miss Floy! in what, if you please?’ “Why, in that which you have been saying.” “ But [ have said nothing—at least, Ihave made no assertion, I fear you have not heard me, Miss Floy. Shall 1 begin all over again?” “Oh, no—no!”’ “Very well. To goon: I believe I stopped at the word charities—now, Miss Floy, have you ever con- sidered that word in the fullest, broadest meaning? Have you ever——”’ “No, Ihaven't!” Leried, impatiently, feeling that I could put either of my wild ideas into execution rather than endure this longer. “Very well. We will discuss that point to-night then. In order to do that crt gos we-will go back to the beginning of language, and step by step we will proceed tili we come to——” “Mrs, Pemberton's at. last!” I cried, gladly, as I e wheels to reply: caught a glimpse of the lighted mansion in the dis- tance. “Thank God!” I thought of nothing beyond pecaping from my pre- sent position; that discovery of the truth might come about afterward, did not occur to me; to get away now without being recognized was all my desire. “Now, Miss Floy, if you will tell me what you think “T think,” I said, hurriedly, “that you had better leave me here, and allow mé to go the rest of the way one.”’ 1 3 . Ns no, madame—I mean, miss, I could not think of it.” “But, T insist.” “Tam inflexible. I will not leave you till I have seen you safely into the house.” : ‘* But, consider——”’ ‘*T have considered, and I repeat, I am inflexible. In the discharge of my duties, I amt inflexible.” I could have throttled him then, in my inrpatience and vexation. Every moment we were nearing the house; and if he remained to assist me from the carriage, I was from him? lost! ; But how could I esca Should I leap out?—or should I eject him? I realized that the former would be'the more effica- cious, and I determined to do it, although 1 knew that, at the rapid rate we were’ going, it might endanger life and limb. I half arose to act on my intention; Ireached forth et hand to open the door, when—— he carriage came to a sudden stop, and I was thrown forward upon the front seat. Before I could extricate myself from my awkward position, my companion had leaped out and was en- deavoring to assist me. Between my desire to keep my cloak about my form,my hood over my face, and to ward off his as- sistance, I was perfectly powerless to help myself. The consequence was that I was fairly dragged from the carriage; and when at last, after much panting and many frantic exertions, I was once more upon terra firma, I found myself face to face with the stranger. ‘1 T saw that he spews not at all surprised; then, before a word could be said, I turned from him an hurried into the grounds. I heard a quiet laugh behind me: that, and the ab- sence of surprise upon seeing me, suggested that he had known my ree s all during the ride, and that in this way he had aided Augustus in escaping from me. Ah, how differently did I return tothe house from the manner in which I had left it? Then, triumph had seemed within my reach; now, defeat, ignominious defeat stared me in the face! Reluctantly. 1 approached the house. If it had been possible I should have remained in the grounds all nightband gone to my Own home in the morning; but of course that was out of the question. I entered—or rather I stole in, The coast was clear before me, for which I was heartily, thankful. I darted to the staircase, and in a few moments had gained u.y room. ; Once there, Llocked myself in and indu in the luxury of givasa-irext to my feelings, which I did by flinging my cloak upon the floor, planting myself be- fore the mirror, and glaring at my image savagely, as Lexclaimed: ” “Martha Ray, you've been a fool!—-a perfect fool! What next? Iasked the question despairingly, Lowe Iremain in my own roon:? o. ony I descend to the parlors? es. Perhaps my absence had not been noticed. With that hope in my heart, I smoothed my ruffled toilet and went down, The first person I met was Mrs. Pemberton, bright ante ball "she whispered, leefull “The is a success,’ she w: gleetully— ‘a decided success! And I shall have notices in at least three of the papers! I’m so delighted, that L scarcely know where lam, That dear, darling Fio consented to get better, and—— There she is! rad at her. Did you ever see anything so lovely?” llooked over to Floy, Ah, yes, lovely, ve lovely she was, I saw her laughing and talking gaily, I muttered, bitterly: ’ * Public charities, indeed! She looks like one who would devote life and wealth to public charities! Bah; what a fool I have been!”’ Mrs. Pemberton away, and mentally I blessed her enthusiasm,that had saved me from being questioned about my absence. Then, for the first time, the thought occurred to me! Where is Wy re om ; Scarcely had it found expression, when, lifting my eyes, 1 beheld my husband approaching. Faultlessly dressed; handsome and smiling, L saw him; not the shadow of anxiety—not a shade of em- barrassment, was visible ym his face. And I—what had I not endured, and all for him! ty ' He came to me, and eying me almost pityingly, he asked: : bo tail) ‘Martha, where have you been?” Ke 7 oe “Where have you been?” I retorted, fiercely. Bending to me, he whispered: . “ ~~ one question cancel the other, Martha. Better so! eh?’ I realized to the full that an explanation would R only result in my own humiliation, so I placed my hand in his, and we were quits. CHAPTER XI. ON THE RIVER, Iv was the day after the ball, and a skating-party was on the wine I was standing before the glass, making strenuous epteree’ to fix my seal-skin cap at a jaunty angle— ut in vain. Rither the cap was too small, or my head was too uld not look like Floy’s, try as I would, __ large; it wor I became very red in the face from ro eee which did not tend to enhance. my uty in the least; oe tere at that, together with the remem- branee of the previous evening’s adventure, made me uncomfortably irritable,
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Licoked over at Augustus, whe was dutifully wait- for me. was seated by a window, rocking to and fro on his chair; his thumbs were thrust_in his vest pockets, and he was twisting an unlighted cigar between his teeth, and humming lightly a gay tune; the very pic- ture of contentment and peace. Somehow the sight irritated me more, and I broke out, sharply: br Augustus, you'll go with me to-day.” “My dear,” he returned, stavely, ‘such has been, and ad my firm intention.” That was all I could say, for I was rather taken aback at his ready acquiescence: “ Are you ready, dear?” he asked, gently, “Yes, love,” I snapped, as I gave a final jerk to my rebellious cap. ; “Then come.”” And we descended tothedrawing-room, where the skaters were to assemble. There was Floy, looking unusually lovely in her short skirt and pelisse of black velvet teimmed with dark fur, a fur cap on her golden hair, and her face s0 bright, so radiant, as she participated in the gay chatter that was bandied from one to another. I looked at her, and then I fixed my eyes upon Au- gustus, determined that he should not only attend me, but that he should not leave my side for a mo- ment, He went over to one of the large windows that faced the street in front of the house. I followed and stood ata little distance from him, and gazed out upon the snow-covered ground. “Ye Gods! There she is)’ That enthusiastic exclamation caused me to look ahs from the slowly approaching sleigh that I had been watching, and to turn toward the speaker; it was Mr. Filkins, who was standing by Augustus at the window. Isaw that both were intently gazing at that very sleigh. It was now passing by the house, and the occupants could be distinctly bas beret Isaw that one was young, and darkly beautiful; the otherrather old and lean,and prim. I can de- scribe the difference between them in no better way than by saying that the. former was allcurves, and grace motions, while the lacter wasal! angles, and stiff, awkward motions, “T saw you yesterday, you know, Ray—thought then she might be your wife. Who is she?” Ah, ha! That remark of Mr, Filkins gave me an idea who this dusky beauty was; my other rival, Inez. But my attention was diverted from her, as I heard my husband Leh a nt. ‘+ Hush! for heaven's sake, hush!” I looked. at him, and saw that he was nudging Mr. Filkins in the vibs, and casting warning glances over one shoulder toward me. ‘* What is it?’ asked Filkins, innocently. “Don't speak so loud; it isn’t always safe, you know.” “Oh,” and looking slowly about him, his eyes rest- ed upon me. A gleam of mirth lit up his rather fine face as he bent toward Augustus, and whispered, but not cau- tiously enough: “Oh, I see! it’s the mother-in-law, eh?” “No,” growled Augustus, “it’s my wife.” “Gracious powers! Your wife! Why, Ray—why, man,”.as-he darted quick, uneasy glances at: me; “you said that ityhwas ——” ; ‘I’m not responsible for what L have said, Filkins. Vm subject) to momentary aberration of the mind, nan” , “*But—but, my dear fellow,’ stammered Mr. Filk- ins, in‘a tone of distress; ‘ve iusulted her! . Lspoke to her last night about your mother-in-law; I did not recognize her then, and I didn’t know she was your wife.. What-a terrible mistake:I- have made! Let me run—let-mehide! It Ll werea woman, Lbelieve I would faint at, this very critical moment.” *There-there,” said, Augustus, calmly; ‘ don’t fret. My wife is the soul of amiability, and she will forgive you. Come, let-.me-present you.” “Oh, no, not for the world!” : : “Come—come,”* insisted Augustus, taking him by the arm, and forcing him forward. ‘‘Martha,’’ he said to me, and) of: course; there’ was no retreat for Filkins thee With @sickly smile upon his pale. face, he. began bowing and muttering something about the felicity of mée ne me, before Augustus. had had time to utter a@ word, “ Now,” my husband whispered, ashe slapped him reassuripgly on thé back, “now is your time. She'll forgive you.” He stepped to one side, and. Mr. Filkins began mak- ing profuse apologies, the nature of which I could on ine tees Fe Fe words, trom Probarrasament and rapidity o1 uv nce, Wer comprehensible. éry well, so far; but Mr, itkins ed deter- mined to make amends for his faux Ba y devoting himself assiduously to me, He would \not leave me, and I, without being sage cours not nye him, ‘i I tried. to. eatch my husband's eye, to. warm him Ny Vn 4 blissfully. unconscious of looking sarenety Out of the window. i and with his wil , “Youw £ T looked. despairingly toward a leased. skates—Inez, my probable niece, was lost, to sight, Augustus s finger at ina th playful re-| With a deep sigh, I slowly, sadly made — way monstrance as I looked back at him, The next mo-| back to.the bench; and there :1 sat, entirely; oub of ment I saw him walking gaily along with Floy on-his | conceit with myself, aud waited patiently for Augus- |~ arm, ' tus to appear. - ul | 5 a —— < rs ow | / Sg fit MY YOUNG HUSBAND. Of course, Icould not blame my husband for thi but all the same it angered me towards him, for felt that he was mentally blessing Mr. Filkins for re- lieving him of my company. A brisk walk sibel fae us to the river. Many were there before us—people from tbe surrounding houses. By that time I had become quite resigned to my fate; I realized that it was useless to rebel, and I pas- sively submitted to Mr. Filkins’ attentions, He fastened on my skates, he started out with me, and he fell down with me; for, to speak frankly, I was less steady on my skates than on anything else, and he, being buta feather weight in comparison ran was very naturally compelled to fall when te I think that rather dampened his chivalric desire to make amends for his mistake; for, shortly after, he left me, He had conducted me to one of the impromptu seats that had been set in among the tree-trunks along the shore, and there I sat, panting from my ex- ertions, and looking about for Augustus, I saw him at a little distance from me, but I heard his voice quite plainly, for the wind favored me, I turned quickly aside, as I heard the following: “Why will old and clumsy women venture on skates? None but the most graceful can succeed in making any sort of an appearance on the ice, That rather old party, yonder, on the bench, has cut the most ridiculous figure I’ve seen in many a day.”’ “Do you think so?” “IT do. Did you see her fall? And that unlucky fellow who went down with her? He deserved. his fate for venturing out With one so clumsy and awk- "te eh?” “You're a little sharp, ain’t you?” “What will you wager, now, that she doesn’t think she's the most graceful person present? Come, now,”’ “No, thanks, . You see, L.know.her.”’ “ Ah, indeed!” é im Yes. By-the-way, don’t you want me to present ou?’ ““ Who is she?” ** My wife,” “ Jupiter! fun of her!” I dared to look then, and I saw a anasculine form darting like an arrow from Augustus, who was stand- ing still, laughing heartily. as that pores L put the question to all who may read these lines: Was that proper? Should he not have annihilated him on the spot? I started up to go to him; at the same instant, a wo- man shot swiftly, gracefully by me, and before Lhad succeeded in moving an inch she had reached Augus- tus. I had seen her face—it was the dusky beauty, Inez. Just then it oceurred to me: “Ts she my niece?’ . I saw, them greet each other gladly, ,d drew neer, and soon I was able to hear their words. Your wife! And I have been makirg “Who is that golden-haired beauty yonder, in vel- vet and furs?” she Was asking, eagerly. “Miss Florence Haverhill. eWhy or a nothing in .particular,, And whois. her cava- lier, who, is so devoted that hé cannot leave he side fora moment?” I glanced over toward Floy, and I recognized her \ cavalier at once, spite of,his evidentdesire to conceal his face, by causing cap and coat-collar to meet; it was that stranger, “| wonder if they. are discussing ‘ public eharities,’ | now ?’’ L queried. Augustus replied hesitatingly to Inez’ question: ““He—oh, he Is a stranger.’ “That may be; but you know his name,” ‘“Aré you sure?” “Yes. Why will you not tell me?. Is. there any rea- son for this caution? . Howeyer, if you won't. tellane, I'll tell you,” and she whispered in his ear. Augustus started, as he asked: “ You know him!” She laughed, a bitter, scornful laugh if seemed to me; then gaily she replied: ‘Tl answer you by using your own words;:, ‘Are you sure?” ) Then shé turned away. Isaw her face, so darkly- beantiful, now pale and disturbed .as from.some vio: lent emotion, She passed meslowly, withhead bowed,andI heard her mutter: ‘*Ts it for this that I have waited so long?—to find that he is another's! Ah, no! Iam. no patient ¢reat- ure, to endure passively. Lsay it shall not.continue! —it shall not———”’ She passed away from my hearing,and I stood Jook- ing after her. Did her words refer to, Augustus?, Was shean-old love of his? Was1 inany dangerfrom her? These queries flashed through my mind; then I turned to go to Augustus; but he had disappeared. I could not see him anywhere, but Lsaw non. Jook- ing so piquant and natty in-her skirts.of red black and.her velvet.cap with a scarlet wing in it, *T wonder. if, she. is. my, niece?” Lasked myself. “Happy thought-—I'I s) to her.” I started out boldly,-but, alas, for the uncertaint of skates!—the next moment 1 was. precipitated full length upon the ice, Iscrambled to my feet,but after several very frantic endeavors to regain my equilib- rium, I was down again; and down I remained, while I wiped the snow from my. face,jand adjusted the cap that had lurched forwecdos to my nose, When Lat last wasmpon,.my feet—toaccomplish which feat I had been, obliged to divest myself of my A feeling of lassitude came over me; my eyes were closing; objects became dim and shadowy, and I had fallen aslee I awoke vith a sudden start, and, looked. wildly about me. Where was 1? IT soon comprehended; on the bench by the river, and all alone! The early dusk had come,and not a person in sight! CHAPTER XII. IN THE SNOW. I wasvshivering from. head to foot, but the chill of desolation that settled upon. my heart as I looked about upon the scene of ice and snow, and naked trees, so dreary now that sunlight, and gay toiléts, and merry skaters were gone, Was greater still. How had this come about? What did this desertion mean? Had I been so screened by thé trees that Augus- tus could not see me? ‘“* What matters it to him,’’ I cried, bitterly, “that Iam left alone—out in the cold? No doub has seen me here asleep, and he allowed me to remain, glad to be from me a while longer. _Ah, Augustus— Augustus, there'll be a ge: terrible account for you to answer some day. ThenI will——” But I came to a sudden stop, as loud, impatient voices fell on my ear. ‘“*T tell you, Filkins, it’s all your fault! You started i as her escort, and it was your duty to see her nome. “‘I’m sure I never thought of her, Ray. Of course, I —— that you, her husband, would be suffi- ciently interested to look after her.” ‘‘But Lhad such unlimited confidence in you, Fil- kins. I didn’t suppose you would desert her like this.”’ “See here, Augustus Ray, please understand this: I offered to conduct your wife to the river;1 didn’t make any agreement to burden myself with her for the rest._of my natural life,. She’s big enough. to take a nf herself, isn’t she? Doesn't know the way ome?” ’ “But that isn’t, the point, Filkins—it.isn’t the point at all! It isn’t showing her proper respect, to.allow her to go. Ses " rn ba “We *m not ‘to, blame,.., T° ou.in your search for her, but I don’t.care to MY Dail are sponsibility of nepcoerpRoel a an put upo: joul- ders. , But why,.in the name. of, reason, why did ‘you not enlist the whole household. in the hunt?” fiz “T'll tell you, Filkins, bat never repeat it; my, wife sleeps! Of course, that's nothing remarkable, but I mean that she often sleeps when ahé shouldn’t..; It has occurred to me that her non-appearance might be due to the indulgence of, this geno We such a case, I would rather not. apprize the w world of the fact.. It will sound better,.you ae, to say that,we found her. half-drowned, or altogether drowned, or anything thrilling or startling, n, to. have allmat the house diseoyer her snoring upon the,ice,’’ , I didn’t wait.to hear mere, uld L remain.and allow them to find me, and, to to. acknowl- edge the humiliating factthatL/ i had t len on ae agreed with Augustus 0) t point; 1 would far rathér they would find mehalt -drowned than snoring. Why, were it known, ib would be a standing jest for years to come! Oh, ne—no, I must-evade them! L peered cautio around, the tree-trunk in)the di- réction from'which the voices had pr { looked they came insight, One moment's le suspense ing sta waited for their méxt, move; to my great relief, to my joy, they turned’ their backs to me, and walked quickly on, 7. re That was my opportunity. I Seized it rlyveI ran_with all possible speedan the opposite direetion, careless where I went so that I got away from them. Idared not look back for fear that; I ahapit ets that they. had spied.me, .» Qnon, I ran, and breathless, till I was forced to stop, oe er ex - -haustion. sveiled Taaet)* Then, supporting myself against.a tree, I, looked around about me, with the hope of seeingssome - mark:that. would give mean,idea.asito,where.I. was. Ah! T started gladly as, in't distance, I deseried the, Sapole Meet Sop eRe Powe Pelee dt ene and ju rom ection.in which, Hosite, ‘concluded oes must weer ta jefe or in front. of the house., } Now I dared to..advance,.and_ on the way. 1.pond- ered deeply, trying to think what excuse Leould.offer for my absence; for never—never would Ladmit that | pad tedlen ot ete: hotght I walked slow! along nD Pp Serious tho tT wal wiy : . No ible excuse sreenatad itself on af and, in despair, I, at last, 1 up, and about, me, as the ones fell from, my lips: fw : :1 ay hat shall I ot Lad. dasted _— 1 yale ©next.moment .a.tree,where I stood trembling, and holding my § ts losely about me as ies had seen poner " ae not far, woforms—Floy and the secgee o hed ‘* Oh, if, they should see me now!" 1 groaned to m self. 5 aney See bee w fa have been if had allowed. Augustus: to me, ter to have con- fessed to, that. unromantic sleep, than, to stand, hu- miliated, pafore that. stranger ! oitjede I could hear the murmur of their-voices, but,their words were not distinguishable. 2 i A L not around at them, forfear of. detec- tion ;,so, I there, wembling and sing t tev yom gg mo the or & 1e! We :4 pins? esl ¢ si pitthael The murmur of voices ceased... “planned ieanh Gers tie to look, “ipioig ane n : j N JZ Bb I eacagod , Poel nat eee ae PY aes aan J cena ot in the direction of the house. posses Yu Baleol
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10 =" stepped out from my hiding plac vey david back ‘again, a8 the small, syl _, Anez appeared in the path, and hurri i \ direction of thé house. She had appeared as suddenly as @ harlequin * ‘through a stage trap. Where had she been? Had she seen me?’ Where ‘was she going? These queries disturbed me so that I stood behind the tree for full fifteen minutes, lost in thought. At last the deepening dusk warned me to go on, which I did, slowly, keeping my eyes fixed upon the footprints in the snow, as 1, tried again to fabricate some excuse for my absence, ' Was it a Shadow that fell across my way? ‘‘Laroused myself from my abstraction, and looked , but instantly h-like form of on also in the again. “A shadow?’ No} it was’a form. I ene and peered excitedly, timidly at it. Great Heavens! It was Floy. She was lying motionless, a skate tightly clasped in one littlé hand, a ‘cruel wound on her white fore- head, from which the blood slowly trickled and drip- : Naor taxes upon the snow. y She looked as if shé were dead; the white of her éyes shone between ‘hér eyelids; her fips, pale and drawn, disclosed the brilliant enamel of her teeth. T laid my hand upomher heart; the pulsations were searcely hy tible. } ’ What should f do? I pose Up wildly. as I knelt beside her. ' "Than ’ J exclaimed, as I'saw formis appear- rf ‘ingjfrom a distance. CHAPTER XIIi A TERRIBLE MISTAKE, ‘THe moments were full of solemnity to me, as I | 4ooked wpon the ghastly, upturned face of Floy, and waited anxiously for the coming of the distant forins. } ‘»T forgot, for the time, that she was my rival; I only |j 3 Uthought of her as I saw her—a woman wounded, per- mare to the death. “T had no op y to conjecture how this had cesses o dagntl it anal a er one WAtsy reect’ as the so y grasped, seem sugges ‘or if it were a blow from another’s hand, form came dashing toward me, ' Tlooked was my husband! short as he caught sight of the figure in the snow, aad @ sharp, tense ex ation escaped words T had been about to utter froze upon my saw his face full of horror, as he gazed, not upon Floy, but upon me, Not a word, only t that look of horror, anc beneath it I shrank, appalled, for it ted to me terrible things, the substance of which was as follows: Would it not seem as if I had been Floy’s assailant? Sho evidently had not gone home with the party, neither had I; would it not seem as if I had followed her, now that I was found beside her? Would I not | husband's heart, of having ” Martha!” parse like a groan from his lips. think it is dangerous,” I said, timidly. “But she should Semana y? the others, We were searching thought I never to find you like $ There's IO p pererny with me, Augustus,’’ I “So Tee.” But she—she is hurt, How did this hap- Pen, Martha?” oo DT do not know.” + ue do not know?” in areproving tone. - So Thave said. gia oat believe you, Martha?” he asked, solemnly. ” ig no time for conundrums, Augustus,"’ I said, oon ‘words were prevented by the arrival of the i others upon the scene. ; ea ed’ with horror upon beholding the unex- pected sight and eymapatty f for the beautiful Floy I was plied with eations, of course; answers ¥ ably were: the monowanous T fear, for ey invari- . patel to any attempt at explanation; 1 ~ enter in attempt a’ § would not Sontese to thou all how T had hap ‘come that way; [ could only soy “Ido not know,” and that not very heartily, for I stood by, trembling and timid as a whipped child, as I met my husband’s “7 was bri: and Seah pied were many, mg hend was: pw ie ground, and borne along e arms husband and Mr. Filkins, The rest of the gentlemen fell in train, and I brought anathematizing myself for hav- wre wer me, and also for hav- 4 hen if I had met him brave- ve stumbled into so prominent a not in this desidedly unpleasant and embarras- et state of affairs. sentir we berton mi My YOUNG HUSBAND, room, and Ait Hp Reet Opsdetwemhy, Peacabod to ti ope of get at there I paced wildly to and fro, with the ~ rid of some of my surplus emotion, hata day that had been! Vexations—nothing but vexations from the start! And Augustus was the root of all—and to think that now he should look and act so strangely toward me, as if Iwere a culprit! My indignation at that ran high; it actually forced me to sputter, as if I were choking. I fotind that I was only lashing myself into a more furious state by my meditations, so I left the solitude of my room and sought the company of the guests, where I could better put a check upon my feelings. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom. Festivities were postponed while the fate of the favorite; Floy, was trembling in the balance. There was no more “sound of revelry by night;”’ we sat together in hushed and solemn conclave as we discussed the probabilities of the catastrophe. Word from the sick-room Was eagerly seized and distributed. ~ Floy was hot in any danger, though still uncon- scious,” was thé unvarying report during the evening. Augustus wandered about like an uneasy spirit; he, who was always the life of the assemblage, was now silent and stern. His demeanor—eyery look that he levelled upon me, was & reproach to me, I endured it till endurance was no longer possible, then I arose and followed him as he ascended the staircase, determined, to havea plain talk with him. Isaw him enter our room, but when I reached it and opened the door he was’ not visible. “ Augustus, where are you?” I called. “Lost in the mazy windings -of thought—in the labyrinth of conjecture,” came in a lazy drawl from the déep hollow of the easy-chair that was drawn up before the fire, “Do you_ find it profitable employment?” I asked, quietly, as I advanced to him. “No. It’s a dead waste of—of, may I say brains?’ * You may say what you choose. I suppose the ob- ect of your search was——”’ “Yes, it was,” as I hesitated; then, nodding in the direction of Floy’s room, he added: * The solution of this mystery.” A’ moment’s silence; then he started up abruptly thrust his hands deep down into his pockets, and stationed himself right before me, as one who had made up his trind to a great undertaking. “Martha,” he began, sternly, “* where were you this afternoon?” “Out,” Lreplied, grimly. “ Where were you, I asked. ‘Out’ is a very com- prehensive term.” “ Just so, It gives you a wide range from which to choose; for Lintend that you shall settle the matter for yourself without any aid or information from me. “Why, Martha!” he exclaimed, evidently much taken aback—he had probably expected a repetition of the other morning’s submission from me, “ y —why, Martha! Do you mean that—that you refuse te—to——” “Exactly,” Isaid, tartly, moving closer to him, and as he stepped back, I stepped with him, till I had, not literally, but actually driven him into a corner, while Ispoke: ee Exactly, Ido refuse! You neglect meas you do —leave me to get home as best I can—and then you expect me to render to you an account of my com- ings and goings! No, sir—never, sir!” I’m sure it was by the purest accident that I~ that you—I mean, that we overlooked you this after- noon, LIthought——” “You had no business to think, Augustus Ray! The trouble ou were too willing to think——”’ * Now, rtha!” “Yes, you were too willing to think that I was dis- posed of in some——” “Oh, Martha!” “So that you could play the gallant to some fair damsel——” ** Martha—Martha, have a care!” : ‘‘And now you stand up before me, as if you were my judge, and demand of me: ‘ Where have you n *“A terrible fear caused me to ask you that ques- tion, Martha.” “7 understand you, Augustus. And I suppose it is that same terrible fear that has caused you to—to “Yes, it is—to ~ sey: frankly, itis. It looked bad- ly, you see, Mart’ You were missing—Floy was absent—I found you together. What could I think?” **] refuse to answer riddles, Augustus.” “If I have wrongéd you, Martha——” “Tf you have wronged me!” I cried, hotly, “Jf you have! Augustus Ray, if there is one lingering doubt ‘in your mind—if the faintest suspicion lurks there that Ihave raised my hand against another, let us rt now and forever! If you can do me so foul an injustice as to think—to think——” broke down utterly then, frightened at my own ig If ag eyo ort me, how fats I vk ? ane are thought o ng was agony to me. nable to proceed. I Stood trembling before him. “It puzzles me, Martha,” he said, calmly, “ how my thinking can be doing you a foul injustice. Would you nave mn go through life with never a t in my m p _— the Pem I caught “You know what I mean, Augustus.” of: es faces at the window—t were “No, I can’t say that I do.” ‘ on —_ ae “e am tly bard are —— obtuse.” * hein 2} way m r, [fear you are deaf, terrupt- engpicture. © as 0 @ far differ-|ed. “§ me one is kn at the door. Doyou not course I was supposed to Know and No, had heard. T toanswer it. Mrs. ; ‘I was catechized till ftoltes it were Pemberton there, Bey cern he to see me, “for ; Josing my senses. just one moment,” to show me the notives she had received in the papers, Would I go with her to her room? I went, and listened patiently to her volubility for as much as half an hour, then] made my way back to my room, wondering how I should find Augustus, To my surprise, I found him reclining in the large chair before the fire, and sleeping sweetly. How handsome he looked—his artitude all ce, his proud head resting against the rich, red velvet of the chair, his white and shapely hands clasped above it. Igazed upon him fora moment, thinking deeply the while; then a tide of tenderness swept over my heart, obliterating all bitterness, and I stooped to kiss him, when a sharp rap on the door startled me, I answered it. " a time Harrison confronted me, & note in one and. ; I offered to take it, but he looked beyond me into the room, saying: **Tt’s for Mr. Ray, ma’am—for Mr. Ray, “ You see that he is asleep,” I said, as the'chair. “I will take it.’ He scratched his head reflectively, then hesitating- ly he spoke: “The order was, ma’am, by the man who just brought tp that it was to be given to nobody but Mr. articular.”’ pointed to o' hisse hat was enough to arouse all ot A suspicions. Lowering my voice, as I nowdesired not to disturb husband’s slumbers, I said, emphatically: “Yon can do nothing but give it to me. I will awaken Mr, Ray.”’ I held out my hand for it. Reluctantly it was given to me, “ There’s an answer wanted, ma’am.” ‘*Very well. Wait here, and 1'll os ‘ id not finish my sentence, but closed the door in his face. On tiptoe I stole to the center-table, and by the light from the chandelier above it, I examined the missive—it was addressed to Augustus, in pencil; the handwriting seemed rather masculine than feminine, and it bore evidence of haste, Casting afurtive glance at my husband, and seeing that he was still fast locked in slumber, I took up a pair of scissors and cautiously cut the by hag ox'e'd one end, If it had not been for my anxious fears that Au- gustus would awaken, I might have seen thatI had cut two envelopes instead of one, and then I should have known that which llearned some time after— that theenvelope addressed to Au s was only a cover to one addressed to Florence Haverhill. But, all unconscious, I drew out the slip of paper therein contained,and read the hastily penciled words: “Dariinc: What means thisdelay? Iam _ beset with torturing fears. Is all known?—or, is it only that you cannot succeed in escaping from the house? Write a few words, if possible, to “One Wuo Loves You DEARLY.” My resolution was formed in an instant. Passing my husband awittty, and silently, I consigned the note and envelopes—as [ believed, envelo ee the flames, Fairly panting with su town indignation, I then poaren > at the table, and dashed off the follow- ug words: “All ig known—your ‘ darling’ will see you no more, One Havine AUTHORITY.” Hastily sealing it, I tip-toed to the door, and open- ing it just enough to give passage to my hand, I gave the note to Harrison. He hurried down to the hall, and I leaned over ™ the baluster and saw him hand missive to a man in waiting there. J Then I returned to the room, and seated myself a to my sleeping husband, smiling with satis- action. tales tnot'L hed by this act, prompted by jealousy and 2; , promp' jousy an suspicion,not only marred the happiness of o' but had also sown the seeds of much misery tom CHAPTER XIV. THE BOOK AGENT. Ir was the forenoon of the following day. I was ng through the hall, meditating deeply upon a fact that to me seemed surprising; it was: when Augustus had awakened on the not a sign had he made as would be expected froma nian who had failed to keep tryst with a fair one, [had been fully prepared for any exhibition of dis- may, for any excuse of his toleave me ita | at that hour; and I was rather disappointed that he said be able to keep his her wonde ' neu" T oxclaimed falteringly, “Yes, it is J, Mrs. mberton.. And ft mae Yeon BP obra it Floy, and you have: me ithe incomprehensible way.” * Have I?’ I asked, confusedly. “y have.” * Yes, Ym sure——"
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** And she raves?” ae Yes.”’ * About what?” ; “Love. She calls Heaven to witness her dying devotion, and so on,”’ “To whom—devotion to whom?” I demanded. ** Ah, that’s the question, But don’t allow this to affect your spirits, Mrs. my b I’m doing my best to be cheerful, and to cheer the rest. Of course Floy is ill—very ill, but not dangerously so, and we need not suspend pleasure altogether, I have been in despair this morning; everybody seems so gloomy, so glum— half-a-dozen spoke of going home,andI have racked my brains in vain trying to think of some diversion that would not be outre under the circumstances. Then the door-bell rang, and Harrison admitted a female—and such a female!” “Indeed?” I said, interrogatively, trying hard to appear interested, “Yes. She’s an antediluvian relic—nothing less antique than that,” a“ ndeed!”* I varied my remark by uttering it ina falling in- flection. “Yes. She has come in the modern capacity of a book-agent, however. The instant I saw her I felt that my prayer was answered; here was amusement for the forenoon at least, So, with the greatest em- , Lushered her into the drawing-room,and I am now on my way to report her arrival. She’s a gen- ius, I'd be willing to wager my head. Goand see her.” Mrs. Pemberton d on, and I proceeded to the sitting-room, which was immediately back of the ng-room, I was not in any mood to be amused, so without troubling myself to even take one peep at this eccen- trie female, I drew a chair before the and seated myself there. , My husband's voice, coming from the adjoining reom, aroused me. If he were there, it might be worth my while to look; so I arose, and ste softly to the heavy green curtains which hung before the long windows that served fora way between the rooms. 1 parted them slightly, and peered in. By the table stood Augustus and the book agent, who certainly tallied with Mrs. Pemberton's descrip- tion; for her short skirt, long, full cloak, green poke bonnet, large victorine and muff of light fur, gave her a most antiquated appearance, She was hurriedly, tremblingly turning over the leaves of a large book that had been pl upon the table, extolling its merits the while, and ever and anon loo up keenly, it seemed tome wistfully, into my h nd’s face, He was evidently bo and anxious to escape om, the quavering voice of the odd little woman be- 6 him, Someth nanda of the publication nt of asking some hesitated to do it, for eac book again, and continued her stream of rapid talk as Wer trembling hands moved among the leaves, At jeagth Augustus turned abruptly from her, say- would see her again, and in the meantime would send some one to her. ped toward the door, she started after ’ one hand extended, as if she would stay ne before she could reach him. “ Rather si , that, for &@ book-agent,”’ was my mental observation. t t on the subject was prevented as I ONE Tid Toone genus, and heard her murmur: aa did I come? dare not speak now that lam here; and x 1 must know—I must know, how—how it ended! I must know if my worst fears have come to y”’ Her voice was no longer quavering and high, but low, and musical, and full of n. “Ivsad , of course!’ I muttered, contemp- tuously. “I suspected as much—and now I suspect a t deal more.” cast one glance back into the room to see if I were, still alone; finding that I was, I applied my to the riftin the curtains again. “** Oh, what a night [have endured!” she moaned, us she moved swiftly to and fro, the while looking anx- jously about her as if to guard against surprise. “What a night of torture—of remorse! If I only knew—if only I could learn—if this suspense were only lifted from me, I believe I could endure the rest prompted me to wait and watch, gain she stopped short in her eulogiums under her hand, and seemed on uestion; it was as if she time she turned to the ‘I was. mad—yes, mad, to be sorash—to allow pas- sion tosway meso. I did not stop to think; when I heard that his love was all another’s—when I learn- ed that my weary years of wai : in vain, then I became mad, and I—I—. The rest I could not hear, for it_ was smothered in her bonnet as she sank into a chair by the table, and her head upon it. She had evidently forgotten that the greater. por- tion of her bonnet extended in front of her f and in bowing her head upon the table it was pushed k with such force that He fell upon her shoulders, taking with it the snug, smooth swiss cap, and the dark blue wore, And the face of Inez was beforeme. ‘Then I understood it ali—why she was in disguise, her sppealing looks to Augustus, her endeavor to stay him—her words, her agony. I understood it all; she had received my note, or, MY YOUNG HUSBAND. rather, the few words Lhad written; but, not-satisfied with that, she had come to learn the truth for herself. 1 stood, there, glaring at her, as she . hastily and tremblingly resumed her disguise, and then peered timidly around, as if to convince herself that she had not been seen. “TI had better go,” she whispered. come? I might have known that fear of discovery would make me timid, Yes, 1 will go—go, before any one else sees me—go, before anyone penetrates gs disguise.” She darted tothe table and took up the book, but she ta ap it instantly as she wailed: “Can I endure this suspense? No—no!_I must learn the truth. I must see him again. I will be brave. I will wait,and when he returnsI willspeak tohim. Yes, I will wait.” And she clasped her hands resolutely, and walked to tbe, p re, before which she remained, gazing steadily upon it, “* Not 80, my finelady,’’ I muttered. ‘‘ You willnot wait and see him, and tell him of the note.. No—no notat all! You will not see him, but you willsee me.’ Cautiously I parted the curtains, and stepped into the room. Noiselessly I approached her. She did not stir, nor evince any consciousness of my presence. I placed my hand upon her shoulder, With asudden start, she turned to me, and instant- ly she was aroused to a sense of her position. Darting to the table, she opened her book, and be- gan turning over leaf after leaf, as in her high, quavering voice she spoke: “A household volume, madame; no house. is com- plete without it, It affords amusement for the young, diversion for the old; and—and it entertains the mid- dle-aged. . It would just suit you, madame. See, here * an illustration that gives you an excellent idea of e A | She stopped short, as she became aware that I was looking, not at the book, but at her, I could not see her eyes, for her glasses screened them entirely, but I knew that she was disturbed; for her whole frame quivered as she bent over her book, and began her lines again. I ‘er haptima her, saying, simply: “ nez.”’ She started e-em & Smiling scornfully, I went on: advise you to go atonce. My ice is—’’ ore I had completed my sentence she had from the room; and in another moment I heard the front door close behind her. In an- CHAPTER XV. FROM MOTT HAVEN TO NEW YORK. ‘“* HomMEwARD bound!" said Augustus, cheerily, as he assisted me from the sleigh that had conveyed us from Mrs, Pemberton's to the. depot, There’s no place like home after all—eh, Martha?”’ he added, ag he drew my hand upon his arm and led me to the waiting-room, which was uncomfortably crowded, I managed to edge my way into one corner, and there I meekly waited while A) tus went. to pur- chase tickets, Waited meekly, did I say? Yes, for about five minutes, then I began to grow impatient, If it had been possible I should have started after him, to see if there were any necessity for this delay; but I was literally pinned into the corner by elbows, feet, and one huge market basket. I was forced to endure quietly till the sound of the approaching train caused the usual stir; then I made a move towards finding Augustus. But he spared me the trouble; at the Jast moment he came hurrying to me panting: “Such a jam! Between my endeavors to get to the ticket-office, and then to get back again to you, I'm crushed almost to a jelly.. Come, we haven't a mo- ment to spare.” He hurried me out to the train and. helped me on oard. I seated myself end was making room for him beside me, when, mingled with the clan ° the bell, the snorting and puffing of the engine,and the stentorian cries of ** All aboard!” I heard his voice: “There! In my hurry 1 left my note-book at the “Why did. I | | wrath, ‘orm, an f | my fears—by the hurrying to and fro, by ticket-office! It won't do to allow it to remain there, for I have important memoranda in it. I'll catch the train before it starts.” : of 4 He was off like a flash. I saw him léap from the car, rush into the waiting-room, and then, as I had expected, the train moved on. very drop of blood in my véins tingled with my Was it not possiblefor me to have my hus- band’s company for even so short a time as the ride to New York would take? Was I to be thwarted like this by him at every turn? I started up with the intention of springing from the train; bat realizing that that was too hazardous, I sank back into the seat. Just then, I happened to glance out of the window ahead of me, and I caught a glim of a face at’ the waiting-room window—I knew it at once—it was the face of Inez! And then I saw Augustus standin on the platform, looking, in a satisfied way, it see to me, after the departing train. ~ The sight fairly puzzled me. had felt so confident that [ had effectually disposed of that rival, at least; and now she was there, and he was there, and, of course, that was why he had maneuvered so to be left behind, — I set. my teeth hard together, and vowed to have vengeance, Ter ‘ “ He thinks I'll go meekly home,” I muttered, fierce- ly, “ believing thet he will follow on the next train, e’ll probably be away all the evening, and then he'll relate to me a list.of mishaps that prevented him from coming sooner. No—no, my fine sir, I'll not go meekly home! You'll see me ‘again when you least expect it! I'll confront you suddenly, and startle you both! This time I tnotfaill” . , J With impatience I waited for the train to reach the. next station. In ten minutes we were there, j In pursuance of the plan I had formed, I arose and aligh and without losing a moment's time I re- paired the waiting-room. to ure a ticket for ott Haven; for l was going at.once. I found the ticket office closed, and, upon inquiring I learned that the next train for Mott Wane was } in fifty minutes, ‘ That was a rebuff that had not entered into pond calculations, Fifty minutes! No—no—no, I could wait so long! Why, fifty. minutes, under the_cir- cumstances, would seem like as many years! No, TI. must on at. once! ot auth ; I started try to procure a vehicle of some out to kind. The distance was only a little more than two. miles, and it could be accomplished, by a gi swift horse, in a very short time. E But, alas! my endeavors were Loge on see orse nor conyeyance was procurable, for —— from the last train had monopolized the few of which the place boasted. . After fifteen minutes’ fruitless searching I found myself back at the depot, despairing, yet more than ever determined to follow Augustus.. “What can I do?” I asked mnyself, . The answer came like an inspiration: “ Walk.” ; : Without hesitating, I started to walk to Mott Haven, and oh! what a walk that was! « fio an not aotewe — we heen — my way, and it was ost impossib! main~ tain one footing upon the hard, smooth snow. ‘ I slipped and fell again and again, and of course made very slow progress. I became benumbed with the cold; still I = bravely on, and on, straining my eyes to catch s first glimpse of my goal—the depot at Mott Haven. | To add to my discomfort, it began to snow, and: then dusk came a upheld by me, the prospect of the not.’ Av tast—ot last, lights in the distance told. me that 7 end was _— : - i pas uickened my steps, and soon 1 was depot.. AsI Soe, ERP SOUNP SS train came a} sto ped, receiv passen: and then contin . on is way to New York, | a" oer Eage ° the door and entered, prepared tosmnihilate them both with a glance, : lis I started back with dismay as I found the empty. They were not there. sad tos entered into on solved to go home. iv The ’ of that train flashed into my mind. I had just missed it, of course, and I found’ o- thirty minutes must elapse ere another one was ue. ptt I was in despair. , ~ ‘ To wait there was dang , for I might seen by someone who would know me} but ' y done, for I was not willing to wander about in the cold for half an hour longer. ; ; ; I pinned a thick veil over hat and fate , and then I remained looking anxiously out of thi , Watch- ing the snow-flakes, thinking how dark it was ee to be, and wishiag that 1 had not started on chase after Augustus. . ; ; When I heard the rumble of the train, I nadie with joy, for it was like the approach of deliv to me. “ It came nearer and nearer. a *"Tstarted up gladly, purchased my ticket, hastened’ out upon the platf d completely bewildered ay n and the snow—I boarded the pad without once direction it was bound, loo to see in which ' ae It moved on, and I sat picturing my return to my 4 = Ph es
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home, and wondering if Augustus would be there. ould he be waiting for me? Would he be anxious—— “Ticket, madame.” I passed my ticket to the conductor, and relapsed into my reverie again. A L was aroused from it by hearing somebody yelling 80 puhing about “wrong train.” look up innocently, and I discovered that the conductor was addressing, me, “Your ticket is for New York, he cried. “ Of course it is,” I replied. “ Bat this is the express for Boston, madamé.” “What!” I screamed, starting to my feet, “The express for Boston,” he shouted, for at the rate the train was going the din was terrible, I dropped upon the seat as if { had been shot. oar oston! Oh, mercy; wasit notenough without ut what should I do? Wait? No! I had had nome of potting. ’ sprang up with I know not what wild idea in my mnind, Py ease fell upon the gentleman passenger in Ge seat directly behind me, and I came to a sudden F} dy Great heavens! Could I believe my eyes? Could it be? I stooped and peered into his face, for the lights. were dim and my veil was thick, and I could not ‘distinctly ; and thus I convinced myself that it was indeéd—aimy husband! CHAPTER XVI. CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP. ©“ AvGustes Ray¥!” was all that I could say. The name escaped ‘lips in a sibilaiit whisper, and what a change it brou ht to the face of the man’ béfore me! ‘He had been glaring at mé, as if resenting my im- i ce in ig at him so, butwhen he heard my , the truth sedémed to flash ovef him, for he turned pale; discomfituré was written on every fea- ture, and finally he gasped: By all thats dnrOrvcnate, it's Martha!” He sat still, completely, overwhelméd, and T stood ng mysélf by the back of the seat, yét sway- 1 )and fro with the motion of the car, as I tried SO d voice to‘express my astonishment and my in- tion. But before I could say a word, he, evi- dent! erie peseree the situation, arose, and with Pye nd oO ; reed mie to bé séated, and then he took se ce beside me. | . é one attempt to Speak, but he silenced me by saying, sternly: ; Moa Wait, - don" Gare to have you entertaining all fe Seapets ' We will leave the train at the 5 beeee be “— ga i settle accounts * a “ the time in nursing my Wrath; and when the-train AS / and wé ‘arose to alight, my indig- nation was so‘high, that [fairly trembled from head to foot; between that, and the obscurity of ‘vision caused by the thiek’veil I' wore, my exit from the car was made tinder difficulties. But it was made, and no sooner made than f turn- ed» upon my husband,;and demanded, in a tone of smothered rage: esl tulo DttNew, sir; what does this mean? Why do I find ow here? What were you, doing on express rain to Boston? What is your object in going ere? Why did youdeave me this afternoon? as it fora notebook; or, was it for a lady+, Have,you no consid- bes aoe for me:at all? Am Ito beslighted and imposed by yowalways? Can you expect me to endure vely? Willyou answer me? where were you go- % why were pee oe when were you going——"" DL had ithe length of my tethers n other words, Lwas , and L was forced to stop. “Thank Heaven!"’ exclaimed Augustus, earnestly. “A few more questions, and I should have, given up in ‘Now, will you be good enough to begin Martha? but, only one at a time, if you please, & Augustus Ray,” t interrupted, wrathtully. PB a you explain now, ab once, this very moment, what ai thie nieans? -Wiay.do 1 aindiyos here?” oLanight. with more justice, put that very question to you, he-returned, with an, mption of severity, as he me by the arm, and me down the potions 0 ' rm you here? hat mere you. gon here were you go My -“ Where?” L. ejaculated, indignantly...‘ Where? Why, home, obeaureet'! Very gat - Augustus @ low, scornfu " 9 What tery CD “Were you mot, taki ipasien. a soppeobent way to. get: home?” be. asked iro ly.. “To go from Mott Haven to. New York via Boston is, something I wasdumbfounded. I had not thoneht. of rer f. fia n's frieis. Could Ladmit all that De nscHay of uld I ois hg 6 myself to his O-— Ouse . X 7 T stood before ‘him, stonced, “You can do‘a’ you please about it,” I'snapped. 7 But we are Parte from a prizipal sy ect; e qu was nob whe Ww oing, but where see orga ag ‘Wag is your Ata sir? why were rn : . a9 re there.” Banded, as at 6 possibil- ; could it be t he knew a on { afternoon? I faltered, feéling that’ ere | MY YOUNG HUSBAND. “Yes, Mrs. Ray, because you were there.” “But how—how did you know that—that——” <7 ——__— —— —_ “What!’’ I screamed, fairly beside myself with rage. ‘* What! am I unreasonable because I demand “How did I know that you were there?” he cried, | an explanation of this? You tell me that you have exultantly. “*‘How—how, you ask?” “Yes, how?’ I assented, py ween & ‘“*T will tell you, Mrs. Ray; by following you.” “You—have—followed—me?” I gasped. “Yes, madame, I have followed you. When you boarded the train, I boarded it also, determined to know what was the purpose of your journey. Now, Mrs. Ray, will you explain —"’ “There, we’ve said enough,” I interrupted, impa- tiently.. ‘‘If you have been expecting any startling denouement to my soutner you would have been sadly disappointed, that’s all. So you have been fol- lowing me all the afternoon?” * Yes, all the afternoon.” “T hope you have enjoyed it,” T laughed. “ Martha—Martha, how can you treat the matter lightl 7? Whena fond and trusting husband finds—”’ ‘Tf that fond and trusting husband would find some way of getting home, he would make his wife comparatively happy, for she is very tired, and it islate, atid cold. Come, Augustus, anything is better than waiting here; go and get a conveyance of some kind, if it’s only a wheelbarrow. I want to go home. Heaven knows I’ve been a long time trying to get there!’’ I added, sotto voce. He turned from nie with a light laugh; it was more like a chuckle, as if he were exulting over his success in having extricated himself from an embar- rassing position. To my great relief and delight, we were spared a long and tedious ride home, for a train came puffing along, and when it started on again, we were among the passengers. In due course of time we reached New York, and soon we were rolling along the city streets towards home, Home! what inntimerable blessings and comforts were embodied in that word to me now, Home, aftersuch a chase as I had had that afternoon! Why, it was 4 haven of rest and peace. So delighted’ was I at the prospect of my return —at the thought of being where 1 could gain warmth for my half-frozen limbs, and rest for my wearied frame, that I forgot everything unpleasant, and chat- ted and laughed with Augustus with unnatural fever- ish gaiety.. In perfect good-humor we.entered our home, heartier ‘“thank God!” never escaped my lips than did then as I stood once more in our luxur- ious sitting-room. 1 laid aside my fursand my bonnet, and then I seat- ed myself before the fire to. bask in its genial warmth. Witha lone ees sigh of satisfaction, I placedm feet upon the fender, and leaned my head bac upon the chair. Ilifted my eyes and looked about me. Augustus stood beneath the chandelier, absent- ly twirling his mustache. “How handsome hé is!—how manly!—how grace- full’? I murmured Mente “And he is mine}—my husband! Should I nos happy? And why am I not? Becausé I doubt his love. But I will do so no more; I will believe him. I am needlessly suspic- ious, as this day’s eyents have proven, I will not wrong him again.” So he followed me,” I mused, as T looked toward the fire again. ‘TI wonder-—” But,I came toa sudden stop, as my eyes fell upon ah envelope on the mantel. Mechanically I gained possession of it. It was addressed to me inmy hus- band’s handwriting; that made me eager. . Ltore it open ‘hurriedly, unfolded the sheet and “Sweet One:—How unfortunate it was that I did net succeed in catching the train after regaining my note-book. After a weary, dreary time of waiting and a wearier, drearier ride, I reached home. i cannet understand ‘your absence. In the natural order of things: you should have been here before me; but, since you are not, I am forced to write that which ) would-rather tell you by word of mouth. An imperative business call compels me to leave at once for Philadelphia. Could I postpone it, dearest, I would; but it is im ible,I-will explain particulars when I return, which will be to-morrow. Do not per during my absence, darling; com- fort yourself by thinking of my utter misery while away from you. Till to-morrow, adieu. ’ ** Your devoted husband ** Gussie.” I wondered that my gaze did not consume the sheet of paper in my hand. What a contradiction was this! Following me—following me, indeed! Base —base fabricator, to tell me that he had been follow- ing me, when he had been in New York to his home, had left word that he had gone to Philadelphia, and | had found him on the way to Boston! Oh, base—base fabricator! And I had accused myself of having wronged him, Again I was trembling with indigna- tion, trembling so that the paper in my hand rustled. 1 sprang from my chair, and reaching Augustus, I flaunted the note right in his face, as I panted: ‘ Wretch—deceiver—-prevaricator—equivocator! how could you dare—how did you dare—" Anger choked me, I could not go on. T saw that Augustus wasdumbfounded. He stood twirling his mustache savagely, as he glared at the missive in my hand—the trap he had set for me, into which he had fallen himself. I heard him mutter: “The devil!’ That infernal note—I forgot all about '“ What have you't6 say for yourself now?’ I man- aged to articulate at length. “ Martha, do be reasonable,” he began. “Reasonable!” I cried. ‘“*Do you mean to insinu- ate that Iam not reasonable?” : “7 don’t insinuate it, I say it right out.” been following me——” “Never mind what I have said, Martha; direct your attention to that which you are sa now, and take care that you do not step beyond the bounds of toleration.” ** You threaten me, Augustus Ray?” “This is absurd, Martha—you will allow mé to say absurd.” Istamped one foot inthe excess of iny fury, as a eee D ‘*Explain—explain at once! Do not parry my ques- tions again—what does this mean? Following Het ing to Philadelphia—on the way to Boston!” I broke off thus recounting the injuries that had been dene me. “Oh, misery! how can [ endure all this—how can I endure all this?" “If you were calm, Martha, 1 shonld explain it to you-——” “Of course you would ig it!’ I cried, hotly. “You always do explain! ut what are your ex- planations worth?” ‘“Then you doubt my word?" “Doubt! Ha—ha! Doubt your word! How can I do else?” * Then I shall not attempt to say a word in my de- fense,”’ and he foided his arms across his breast, and drew himself up proudly. — ‘“Misjudge me as you will—put whatever construction you choose tpon that note, And since itis happiness for you to doubt me, then in Heaven's name, indulge yourself to the utmost."? 4 ; He turned and walked slowly, pr to the door. Istarted after him, but he stayed me by an imperi- ous wave of the hand, I saw that, and i homan his voice, stern and cold, saying: “Tam going, Martha; do not follow me, tn al Then it seemed ‘to me that the room was whirling around and around, and I with it. Darkness was, closing about me; and a confusion of sounds madea terrible din in my ears. tity The day’s trials had been more than I could endure, I remember making one frantic-endeavor to, reach Augustus, who seemed to be floating away into a bright and dazzling realm ;-then I seemed to be sink- ing down—down into the deep and awful darkness of some trackless void. ; © CHAPTER XVII, MY NURSE. My first sensation upon the recovery oh otnaeeund ness was a strange feeling of weariness, as if I had been toiling along for countless ages, : v4 I awed my eyes, and looked about me.) Where was xo ; I saw the reflection of the room in the nfirror.op- posite—a room gorgeous with the glitter of cut glass and ornaments, upholstery of walnut and dark green velvet, a large, lace draped bed, with flying cupids hovering near, hung oy invisible wires, brackets) at, every angle, with lovely little statuettes on them, flowers in right bloom, books in handsome bindings. Where was I? And f had almost asked, who was I? when I became conscious that some one was over me, oie tine Who was it? A stranger fo me, surely, and {that ne my perplexity as to my whereabouts an my identity. te was a woman. I looked her over pleely, and. keenly. The face seemed bamenne familiar. Tah and beautiful and proud, wi fegrge hind li bright black eyes; but. the hair of d : deep red blotch on one cheek, dispelled the idea L had seea her before. , She had a coquettish cap of black lace on her head, and her attire was plain and neat, consis of a short skirt of dark brown, full waist and sleeves, a long white apron, and & white neckerchi about her shoulders, P33 Who. was she? ‘ She broke the silence, and as she spoke her yoice seemed like. some, sweet, half-forgotten. st of music—some strain that I had heard before I had started on this long and toilsome journey that I had just completed. “Madame, you are better.” ‘“Am I?” L asked, absently, “Yes, Shall l call your husband?” 2 My husband! Ah! That enabled me to establish my own identity. ‘A thrill of gladness, such as a wanderer might f upon returning home after a long absence, over me. / “Shall T call him, madame?” “ “You mean te ee ht T asked. ; “Yes, He will be delighted to know that you are” better,’’ and she turned to go, : “Stay!’’ I cried, faintly, as I reached out my hand to detain her. “ Whoam 1?” “Who are you?” she exclaimed, in amazement. “I mean where have I'been?” , “You have been very ill, madame.” How long have I been here?’ **Over a week,” ? “Only a week! It has seemed like years. And this is home?” ey A Ye,” i “ And you are—you are—who are you?” “Your nurse, madame. “My nurse! Indeed!” “Yes, You were taken suddenly ill, and your hus’ band, he sent—or rather, he came—I meant to say, he heard of me, and procured my services.”’ “Indeed!” Iwas rapidly coming to myself, for a twinge of jealousy racked me as I looked at her, as: she stood in a flood of sunlight, that glorified and in
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MY YOUNG HUSBAND. 13 till she seemed a, fit subject for tensified her beauty some master-artist’s pencil; and almost unwittingly I gave expression to my thoughts by saying: “Are you not rather too pretty to be a nurse?” _An-amused smile flitted over her face; she said, quickly: ‘*T will call your husband,” and she was gone, Augustus came in, and the sight of his handsome, smiling face brought me to a full sense of all that was, and all that had been. Surely, the glad ting he gave me was not simulation, nor the kiss, the tender words, his joy at my recovery. . I felt then that my husband loved me, that though volatile, at heart he was true. ‘* Who is she, Augustus?’’ I asked, abruptly. **She—whom?” “The nurse.” “The nurse—the nurse?’’ he mused. ‘“* Yes, the nurse,’’ I said, almost sharply, forI did not like this apparent forgetfuiness of his. It was an assumption, I felt; and would he assume if there was no reason for it? “Ob, yes, the nurse!” he exclaimed, laughingly. “§ Your nurse, you mean.’’ “You've forgotten the existence of such a person, I ” Tsn 2 * Weil, ves, I rt Who is she, you asked?’ “Ye assented, impatiently. ** Well, I am not pre to go into any details about her. She is call 1 Mary, I believe—— and looking askance at me. “Yes, and she’s altogether too pretty to be a nurse.” “Martha, you're getting better,” and he arose, thrust his hands into his pockets, and looked smiliug- ly upon me. ‘Theré’s no doubt of it, you're getting better; in fact, Lmight say, youare we Go on, my love+go on; that sounds natural, and it rids me of fear that you will have toendure a tedious con- valescence,”’ \ Nothing would have conduced to my recovery with such effect as the presence of that pretty nurse in the family. “That very afternoon I arose from my bed, and with the assistance of Mary—how my blood tingled as I pronounced het name—tI began to make my toilet. Enveloping myself in a dressing-wrap of white cashmere, I sat down before the mirror, and Mary staponed, herself. behind my chair, comb and brush in on : ; “ Whatspl hair you. have, madame,” she said, as the process of combing had proceeded for several moments. in silence, ‘I was so busily thinking of the satisfaction with ein I would tell heron the morrow that I could nsé With her services, that though I, heard her be I made no Py ~* Tt is so long, and such a beautiful color,” she went on, like one determined to talk. ‘‘I don’t fancy light nie SEB toon badata: thet di ooked up q : t image in the glass, an saw that she was edhitised. “Do you know what you are saying?” I asked, ‘rtainly, ma’am. I said that if I had light hair like, folks : aie ‘t say anything of the kind." “T meant it, at any rate, madame. What. I was 5 ae was, that I have combed hair for some ht hair, you know—but it couldn’t be com- wd he's 3 ow, there’s Miss Haverhill——"’ “Florence Haverhill?" I asked, eagerly—interested at sel Yes ™ma’am,” and from nervo e ion, tiie hn = oon, oe brus « ‘s r, you know,” Ove but don’ i ess, or some unmercifully. t pull mine so, if she has. Do you. know liste. She.is “ A little... She is very nice—”’ “Ts that any iéabon why you should be so rough with your Me how, and by whom, isramystery, Oh—oh! my hair! ied eet andtal | She could n tel} enyehing about it 'w she became conscious; ‘theory is he + Pog some way, she inflicted the “Do you believe that, madame?” _ P “Dot believe tf yA gg a ‘t I? ‘I'm sure lI on’t know anything ie ‘ou’ve heard that I found her in thé road, an Heveve y- else, you think I must know all about it! Well, Idon’t! Whether she was attacked by or or brigands, or Indians, or wild beasts, is’ as mich ofa m to me as to any one.” “Thank God! en Tam safe!” the nurse exclaim- ed, accompan ‘her words with such a vigorous pan omy | r that my head was forced back rude- y “ Will you stop?” I cried, angrily, as I turned on her abruptly—so abruptly that she started, and drop- 4 the brush from her hand. the stooped to pick itup. In doing so, her head » in contact with the back of the chair. Was it imagination, or did I relly, see the yellow hair slip b k and disclose jet-black hair beneath? —. ¥ ad 10 opportunity to ascertain, for raising her hands to her head, and moaning as if with pain, she darted from the room. : “She shall go this very night,” I muttered, angri- ly. ‘* There is something very strange about her.” Anger gave me strength, and enabled me to com- plete my toilet alone, which I did with an eye to effect. I donned a house-robe of mauve silk, elabor- ately trimmed with velvet of a darker shade, and fastened with delicate white lace bows, in which were e bedded ornaments of coralat my throat and on my ,air. The week’sillness had reduced. my color consider- ably; I flattered myself that I looked pale and in- teresting, and with intense satisfaction I left the room, to descend and surprise Augustus. Slowly I made my way along till l reached the stair- case; there I was fairly rooted to the spot, as down in the hall below I saw my husband and the nurse— he, looking smilingly down into her upturned face, she with one hand resting on his arm, talking glibly and gladly, ever and anon interspersing her words with a low, musical laugh, Before recovered from. my astonishment, my in- dignation, my horror, they had parted, ‘The minx! The impudent hussy!” I muttered be- tween my shut teeth, ‘‘ I shall dismiss her at once,” And then I descended to have an interview with Augustus, CHAPTER XVHI. DECEIVED. I ReAcHen the sitting-room door, which was ajar. I paused there asl saw Augustus within, pacin moocily to and fro, his thumbs thrust in his ves' kets, his head bent forward upon his breast, his w knitted—the very picture of perplexity. Once, as he neared me, I heard him mutter: “Heaven grant itmaycomeintime! If not, how am I to get away!”’ I attached no importance to his words; I heard them, but I forgot. them at once, forsomething in his looks quelled the ire in my heart, and awakened all my Sympathy. yas he in trouble! Surely, his appéarance’ in- dicated that; and ifso—if real trouble were his, then he would have no truer friend, no readier helper, than his wife. His back was toward me as I entered. ' Slow steps and slippered feet made my movements noiseless. I had my hand upon his arm before he was aware of my presence. 6 turned quietly, and the start, the gasp that fol- lowed, suggested to me that he had expected to be- hold the nurse. Anger flamed up again, but he dispelled it as he caught my hands in his, and with a look of rare de- light upon his face, said, gladly: ““My dear Martha, this 7s a surprise! Of course you are pale, and a little thin; but, bless me! I never saw you look so well—never!”’ , His praise quae me, and I could but show it. He touched my dress, my laces and corals, in a way that was in itself acompliment, and I felt fully repaid for the pains I had taken with my toilet. He helped me to a chair before the fire, fixed an ottoman under my feet, insisted on’ my having the lace-eovered sofa-cushion for a support to my hand; and then he seated himself opposite to me, and look- ed and nodded approvingly. I glanced over to the mirror, and indeed it was no unpleasing picture; the deep red velvet of the chair formed an effective background for my mauve silk and laces, and my pale face and dark hair were brought into equally effective relief by the lace-cover- ed cushion. I looked upon myself, then around on the’ luxur- iously furnished room, and then upon my han husband, and for 4 noment 1 seémed to be in Para- dise; but fora moment, for like the serpent of old, the thought of the meeting in the hall that I had sa witnessed came trailing into my mind. Paradise aded, and I was in Tophet again. Augustus,” I began, sharply. A loud peal of the door-bell interrupted me. ry ew started to his feet, with a glad cry of: “Heaven be praised! That must be it!" “* Must be what?” I asked, tartly. A moment's confusion, but he recovered himself, and replied: “ Why, eet the Cannibal Islands, at the very lowest venture, It can be no less a personage than that, to judge from the ring.” A knock at the door. Augustus answered it with unwonted elasticity, it seemed to me. A telegram was passed to him. He took it T- ly, tore it open, and read it;then he sank into a chair with a low exclamation of: “Great Heavens! Can this be?” And there he sat, holding the telegram at arm's length and staring at it, looking like one who had been the recipient of most distressing news. * What is it?’ I asked, softly; ‘Oh, Martha,” he groaned. “‘Itis so sad. But read for yourself,” he added, as he arose and came to me. I took the telegram, and read: “Avaustus: Come at once. Lamdying. Wife and children are at the mercy of hard-hearted creditors, I appeal to you in my extremity. In God’s, name, I beg of you to Come at once. Harry,” “The friend of my youth,” Angustus explained, as I looked up inquiringly. ‘‘We were boys together, Martha; we went to the same school, sat on the same seat, used the same slate, eat from the same plate.” Then, overcome by emotion evidently, he buried his face in his snowy handkerchief. After a moment, he looked up, and added: ‘Can I refuse his appeal? No—decidedly no. Mar- tha, I must go.” ** Where?” I asked. “Where? Why, Philadelphia, isn’t it?” Z “Isn't it?’ I mocked. * Ishould think you would now. “And sol do. Of course it is Philadelphia," as he took the message from my hands. ‘“*Philadelphia,’’ I mused. “If I remember right, important business once called you there, and I found you on the way to Boston. Perhaps this is also aruse “Martha,” he interrupted, ““you must not state anything for a fact that occurred on the day on which you were taken ill. Remémber, you were then on the verge of delirium, and don’t assail me now with any chimera of yours that then had birth. Inmy distress,” he added, brokenly, “can you have the heart to doubt, and question? Lam going, and at once, It is now two o'clock. I shall just have time to make a few paynereures, go to the bank——” “To the bank?’ I exclaimed. “Yes, tothe bank. Surely, you will not allow me to go to my dying friend without, the wherewithal to relieve his terrible anxiety about his wife and chil- dren! Give with a willing hand, my love, and great, willbe your reward. There’s a train at three; I must tuke that... Come, Martha, I haven’t a moment to spare. There’s table, pen and ink; I'll get. your check-book, and pack my valise. My g ” as he stooped and kissed me, “what should I do without you?” ei And be hurried from the room, giving me. no time to Say a word, aa) ; Of course, he had his way. The pen was in my hand, and I was making out a check for three thou- sand dollars before I knew what | was doing...Then my husband whisked it into his note-book, embraced me tenderly, kissed me good-by, left the room and the house, while I stood breathlessly asking myself: what has happened? . ; = Slowly the realization came tome. I could not doubt Augustus now, for there was the telegram, dated from Philadelphia; that proved him true, I sat musing sadly for over an hour. ; Then .bethought myself of the nurse, and I arose to go and dismiss her. , 1 I sought her in my room; she was not there. [then proceeded to hér room; neither was she ere, Lwas about to turn away, when my oyes fell upon an ob- ay on the table that sent all the blood coursing o a Van my veins. It wasa wig—a wig of reddish- gold hair ~ I sprang out info the hall, and pulled the bell-rope furiously.. My breath was coming short; ck, { was trembling from head to foot, and more fr su p- port than from, intention, 1 kept pulling on the ro till the house resounded with the clanging of the bell. A mad patter of feet, a wild rush as of the ap) : of an army, a perfect babel of voices and cries arose to my DeaEing. - “Ts it fire, do you think?’ “* Maybe it's murder!” “She's fainted, I’m thinking.” “P’rapsit’s thieves,”’ “ Better call the police.” BO “* Mebbe it’s the doctor that’s wanted,” And thé», first one seared face, and’ asbtli¢e, and another @ red on the beapetmapicthy soon I was surroun my corps of domestics; all p : breathless and excited, whose commmniagattvotes respect to noisé, Would have done justice to an infuri- ated mob. : ert ry I raised both hands, and with frantie gestures warn- ed them to silence. , ae ~ “The nurse,” I gasped, asa lull came. “Where is . she?” **Gone,” was thereply. “She went this a Gone! I knew now who she was; sin¢e the yellow hair was false,I knew why her face had seemed amil- iar. It wasInez. And she was gone—and was gone! ; Horrible fears assailed me. With oné frantic ey l ordered the servants back to , hey trooped down the stpirs, sending back @ murmur of disappointment to me; an bare < bg tomy room to try to realize this bitter—bitter blow. aes & {Ta —_—— wy aeC CHAPTER, XIX, IN PURSUIT. ; " Wovtp Inez have entered my house if there not some reason for it? her reason seemed pal- pon enough to me; it was to reinstate herself in my usband's affections! The resemblance of that note that had come to Au- gustus when he had failed to keep his:a with her, (of course, it was with her; was as clear to my mind as the knowledge of my own name) and of the answer I had sent her; of her agitation on the following day, when she had come im the capacity e on proved to me that she loved my -hus- and. ln v/ Was he indifferent to her? i I thought of bis attempt to appear forgetful of the nurse’s presence, of the meeting in the hali that I had witnessed, of his subsequent moodiness, and of his departure at, or about the time that she. gone, and Lanswered my question with the vehem- ence born of despair. **No—no, he is not indifferent! He has left me— and for her!"’ f But could it be possible? I loved my husband well enough to give him the benefit of a doubt. Could it be possible that he was so false to me as this last act would prove him to be? 1o08 Jon I retraced my way to the sitting-room, and picked up that telegram.
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| 5. ¥ 4 14 a MY YOUNG HUSBAND. |SCOTOTO_ECEFHFHOHEECFHFOHe HOaHHOO_N|ujRDnNNnrjlleeeeeeee_—e_ 8 8 8 0 00000 There it was, a dona-fide telegram, dated from Philadelphia. Oh, it could not bea ruse! And yet— I shook my head sadly, and sighed deeply, as Ire- membered the very signficant departure of the nurse —significant, because her presence in my family in disguise was so significant; a disguise which Augus- tus had evidently fathomed. What should I do? Passively wait till time proved my fears true, or showed to me that 1 had wronged my husband? 3 o—no--anything but suspense! But what could oF Ah, his office! The thought came to me like an in- spiration. His office! Why not go there, and see what I could discover? I looked at the clock—the hour was four. “Tf he has gone to Philadelphia,’’ I mnttered, “he is now well on his way. If he has not gone, then I peo find him at his office. But that is not likely,” I added, disconsolately. ‘‘I suppose he has left town altogether. He may now be taking his once inter- er journey to Boston, Who knows? Alas, not ' It will be remembered that this was the first day of my ‘convalescence; in consequence, I could not endure this bitter—bitter blow with any degree of fortitude. “lL had not strength enough to get angry; if rage, that had never yet failed to sustain me, could have sustained me now, I should not have been so utterly wretched. I wept—wonderful thing for me, I wept— yes, and bitterly. Again and again I resolved to goto his office, but each time I gave it up as a uselessendeavor. Still, it was all I could do, and even in its hopelessness it was better than suspense and passive endurance. ‘At last, I arose to make myself ready to go. -] looked at the elegant mauve robe I wore, and wondered if it would not be a wise and a sensible thing to change it for one less likely to suffer from contact with the bare boards and dusty surroundings of such an office as Augustus had repeatedly assured me his was. “Up three flights of dirty, rickety stairs, a dirty, poorly tented: ill-ventilated room, minus carpet, ished with a couple of three-legged stools, a one- armed arm-chair, a king-box for a book-case, and an old ironiag table for a writing-desk. The dust on the window panes answers for shades. We keep a stock of cobwebs constantly on hand, in case of cuts, or bruises; besides, they help to ornament the room. It’s no place for you, Martha. A crowd of gapers and loungers is always to be found at the entrance, and I do not wish my wife to run the gauntlet of their i inent looks. It is no con for you at-all.”’ was his description of the sanctu m in which he pursued his daily labors in the interest of the Patent Horse-shoe Combination; and I, like a duti- ful and be yrs wife, heeded him, and had never there. In fact, so unsuspicious and trusting was I that I did not know the precise location of this sanctum. Somewhere down town, was the rather indefinite knowledge I had of its situation. “ I finally came to a decision upon my course of ac- on. I the bell, and ordered the carriage to be b's around at once; then, allowing the mauve and corals to remain, I donned my fur-lined cl @ dark hat, and a dark veil. 5 tating steps I descended, for truth to tell, I shrank from the idea of “running the gauntlet,” as Augustus had expressed it, of the im- rtinent looks of the loungers, and mounting stairs to a still dirtier room. And, what then? Might I not be met by the ques- Honig looks and meaning smiles of the other mem- best the firm of the Patent, Horse-shoe Combina- tion? If so, what should 1 say? ask for my husband? Such reflections caused me to hesitate at every step I took. Still, I reached the carriage, gave the word to Thomas, who, I knew, had many a time b t. stus to his sanctum, “Mr, Re office.” g thestare—the smile with which the order ; , Lentered, and was driven off. Then it was too late to go back; there was nothing ae but go on, and on I went till the carriage stop- Thomas descended, and opened the door, saying: ‘*Mr. Ray’s office, ma’am,”’ I sat staring blankly at the building before me—a handsome structure of light brown stone, the wide in front leading to doors of the —— bank, those at the side to a stately entrance, on one side of which was suspended asign bearing the legend: “ Offices to let. Where wasthe dirt? where the crowd of gapersand loungers? where the rickety stairs? 1 looked away from the building to Thomas, and anemones, doubtin a 8 ly: This— this Mr. Ray’s office ?”’ 3 want ~ !” I exclaimed. Then putting my head out of the carriage door, I looked around again for the dirt, the rickety stairs, and the gaping crowd; but in vain. — turned to Thomas: “ Are you sure that Mr. Ray’s office is here?’’ “Yes’m, sure. I’ve driven him here many times.” “Well!” I exclaimed again. Then a —— idea dawned upon me that it would be well toalight. I gathered my long cloak about me, and from the carriage; and on the street I st st oubting. Could it be that Augustus had so deceived me? Was it not more likely that Thomas was at fault? For the third time I turned te him: ‘Thomas, are you quite positive that Mr, Ray’s office is here?’ ‘“Yes’m,” he patiently replied. “You'll find it on the first floor, front, ma’am.” First floor, front. And he had told me: ‘Up three flights of rickety stairs.” I hesitated nolonger. Rage came then to sustain me. Curtly, I ordered Thomas to go home, as I wished to have no witness to my emotions, whatever they — be, after I had made my visit to my husband’s onice, I ascended the stoop, entered the wide hall, and slowly made my way u the broad staircase. ‘* First floor, front,’’ Thomas had said. T peered forward, and saw that the door to that room was partly open. Open! Then Augustus had not gone to Philadelphia! He was here. I compressed my lips, and started angrily forward. The remembrance of the other members of the tirm brought me toa sudden standstill. Possibly, they were there, and Augustus was away, after all. That reflection made me cautious. On tiptoe I now advanced. I reached the door, and paused there in a listening attitude. Not a sound broke the stillness. I knocked timidly. No reply. I knocked again, with less timidity. Still no bmg Yet again I knocked, with no'timidity at all, but sharply, angrily, for my ire was fast deepening. No eg = | even then. Then I ventured to openthe door. I did it slowly, cautiously, so that in case Augustus was not there, but others were, I could beat a retreat unperceived. Inch by inch it moved, till I, at length, mustered up eee courage to peer in. I peered in, and beheld —nobody. CHAPTER XX. ANOTHER DEFEAT. “Ban!” I cried, disdainfully, as I flung the door wide open, and entered, angrily: Iwasangry at myself for having exercised so much timidity and cautiousness for nothing; but anger gave way to amazement asI surveyed the room—not the room of my husband's description, dirty, poorly- lighted, ill-ventilated, with three-legged stools, and one-armed chairs, but a room faultlessly splendid in its elegant Lg ape I_ stood in center, mouth and eyes wide open, asI wheeled around and took note of one article after another—velvet carpet, in the soft pile of which my feet fairly sank, gold leaf and drab on the walls, pictures of rare beauty, upholstering of drab with rich red cords and tassels, a mosaic table, an escriiv.re of inlaid ebony, a mirror, cosily bric-a-brac everywhere; and in an arclat the end of the room were three exquisite statues—Faith, Hope, and Charity, which bad for a background the heavy hangings of rich red velvet. “Dust and dirt! Cobwebs! Ironing-tables! Pack- ing: box!”’ I ejaculated, wrathfully, “Oh, Augustus-— Augustus! ow IL begin to understand where so much money goes And again I wheeled around, and noted each elegant bit the room contained, I came to the escritoire; it was open, and upon it were papers, envelopes, etc., scattered, I stepped to it. A letter, the seal unbroken, caught my eye. {snatched it up with an exclamation rage, as I yecapsines the hand that had addressed it to my hus- band. It was from Floy. Theld it fora moment as I deliberated: Should I open it, and learn its contents? I dro it as if it had been a live coal, as I heard a footfall on the stair-case. Who could it be? Possibly, one of the other mem- bers of the firm, What excuse could I give for be- ing there? ; looked wildly about for some way of escape, when the comforting reflection came: “It may be the occupant of another office than Just then the footfall was accompanied by an- other sound—a whistle. Ah, I knew itwas my hus- band’s! , : Then he had not gone to Philadelphia! A glow of fierce delight thrilled every fiber of my being! Oh, the triumph that would be mine when he beheld me there! How discomfited he would be! How humiliated! But stay—had lever yettriumphed? Had victory ever yet been mine? No. I wastforced to admit that; and might it not be so now? Perhaps his departure had been delayed by the missing of a train; perhaps this was not his office, after all; perhaps——oh, forty such reflections came crowding into my mind, and I felt that to face Au- gustus then would be to my own humiliation. ‘Tf I could secrete myself,’ I murmured, as I look- ed quickly around, ‘till some wordsof his convict himself, then triumph would be mine, The very thing!’’ I added, joyfully, as my eyes rested upon the heavy velvet hangings behind the three statues; and in another moment I had darted behind thea, find- ing plenty of room in their ample folds. Whistling gaily, Augustus entered. I dared not move the curtains so that I could see him; I scarcely dared to breathe. I had to be con- tent with hearing, till the proper moment came for me to appear to him. I neand hint sigh, and then came a sound as of pac- ing to and fro; then an exclamation. Ah, a letter! Andfrom-Floy! Poor—poor Floy,” he added, pityingly. He was tearing it open. _Oh, with what breathless eagerness I waited. ould he read it aloud? Theard low, indistinct muttering. I strained my ears, but all f could make out was a continued um— um—um—um. T bit my lips, and clenched my hands with disap- ointment and vexation; then I determined to step orth, for I began to feel that I stood in danger of suffocation behind that heavy, clinging screen, when, to my great joy,iI heard his voice. ‘““T will be at the opera to-night at theacademy. I go with the hope that you will heed my prayer, and come, I must see you—I must!” Then followed another interval of um-um-um- um, and then, after a rustling of the no if he were turning back to the beginning, he read aloud again, or the reader's benefit I will give the letter in full, The words italicized are those which I heard. “My Dear Frienp.--To you, my only confidante, Icomein my distress: Pique has given way to de- spair; I cannot endure this longer. Against my fath- er’s wishes, against reason, I sometimes think, I love Edgar Wells, the friend of your youth. To be his wife is the only happiness life holds for me. “ On the night of Mrs. Pemberton’s ball, we were to be married, Our scheme was frustrated, asyou know, and subterfuge was resorted to so that no knowled or suspicion. of Edgar's —— in America could accrue—a fact which, if discovered, would result in m captivity till I could be transported back to my hard- hearted papa. “I met Edgar again on the dayon which we all went skating on the river. I promised again to become his wife, "That very night I was to leave the house to meet him; you know how was prevented from k ing the appointment; by unconsciousness, the result of the blow that had been dealt me by some one. ‘* Since then I have neither heard from nor seen KRa- gar. What can his silence mean? it not st that he has not even sought to learn why I failed meet him? At first I resented it; but now—Oh, T cannot feel anger longer! My d@ ir, my agony, I cannot describe te you. I ap to you for help. You alone know of Edgar's presence here; you alone On aie tbo at the optee tonight atthe academy. I “Twi a € opera ight a ‘ go with the hope that you will heed my prayer and come, Imust see you—I must! You may have some word of comfort. for me; perhaps you have some knowledge of Edgar’s whereabouts. J must what this silence means. I beg of you, come. “Yours in friendship, “ce Floy.” “Poor girl!” sighed Augustus. ‘Ah, love—love with what torments you visit us! How will this end —how will thisend? Of course I will-see her to-night; I cannot refuse her. Poor—poor Floy!”’ A period of silence. That was my moment, I Lard but I was trembling so—J was so overpowered b : which I had heard, and from the want of air, I was forced to cling to the curtains for “One moment,’ I said to myself, “I must wait a moment longer and bf to compose myself.” “That telegram will do me en service,"’ was the next Iheard. ‘Poor Martha, how I am forced to de- lude her! What would she say if she knew that a friend of mine in Lyme py sent the m to me at my request? A deception it was, I know; but what else could I do? Those ments had to be made, and how else could I ob the money from her than by artifice? Poor Martha—poor, deluded Martha! She is fancying now, I suppose, that I have almost reached ‘the city of brotherly love.’ She think of me to-night as bending over the bedside a @ying friend, or comforting his bereaved wife and children. What would she say if she knew-~.” “What would she say?” It was my intention to shriek out the Le? aon , — rage and faintness, my voice died away in a aint hiss. I flung the curtains aside, and sprang forward, cry- ng: } B augustus!” But the word was drowned by the bang with which the door was closed. A key grated in the lock, and retreating footsteps” sounded without. I stood spell-bound, dimly realizing that I had been locked in. CHAPTER XXL DESPAIR— JOY. Ap he seen me? No; clearly he had not. exit from behind the hangings, and his exit from - room had transpired at one and the same instant. He went on, blissfully unconscious of my presence in his sanctum; and ri remained behind—a prisoner. What shouldIdo? EreI had come toa full realiza- tion of my position, the sound of my husband's foot- steps had died away entirely; so I was stayed from my first impulse—to call after him, hould I knock on the door, or in some other try to attract the attention of some one else? Thank Heaven, reflection came in time to deter me from that! 1f some one should have heard me, and bad come to my rescue—say the janitor, for instance— what excuse could I give for my presence there? Could Tadmit that I was Mrs. Ray? No; for the fact of my being locked in, would at once proclaim the whole truth. I could not call for anyone; [ could not force the lock—I dared not even try; T could leap from the windows; in short, I could do nothing. re was my triumph now? Had I ever so ignominious @ defeat as this? How was I going te
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MY YOUNG HUSBAND. 16 out ef that room, and save myself from the humi- ion of discovery? “Oh, what evil spirit tempted me to come?” I groan- ed, as I stepped softly to and fro. . Every consolation was denied me. I dared not rave; for fear I would be heard; I scarcely dared to -move—I stepped about as carefully as if I were tread- ing on eggs; and, worst of all, I was in total darkness. The winter evening had come, and through the win- dow I could see the keenly glittering Stars, but. no moon cast its welcome rays about me. I dared not light the gas, for of course that would attract at- tention; the janitor, in all probability, knew that Au- gustus had left the building, and a light in his room would lead to inquiry and discovery of my presence; I dared not run the risk, sol remainedin the dark- ness, with not even the light of a fire to cheer me. Oh, what moments endured!—each moment seeming an age! At every sound on the staircase, or in the hall, I ould start, and stand peg tremblingly, ready to art behind those hangings # any one should’ ap- ‘proach my prison. upRose one. of the other members of the firm should come,” I wailed, “what would I do then? Oh, misery—misery, why did Lever seek this place?” I a of Augustus at the opera; I pictured him as seated by the beautiful Floy, doing his best to al- Jeviate her misery. Then I, thought of iapsscssety he had not left with her as [had expected; if he had, would he have gone to the opera to see Floy? “No; it was evident I had wronged him there; but that could give me no consolation now that I knew he was with the other one, If it were uot Inez, it was Floy; first one, and then the other, and between ‘them both 1 was kept in Tophet all the time, “T wish they would meet,” I muttered, fiercely, “and from jealousy and riv scratch each other's “eyes out, or tear each other's hearts out! It is cer- hy that their annihilation is the only hope of peace for me.’ There, I had forgotten myself! I had stepped heavily, and I had spoken quite audibly. I tip-toed to a chair, and there I sat shivering and trembling, and listening meres to catch the first sound of an approaching footfal t all remained as quiet as the grave—astillness that soon began to oppress me, to fill me with vague fears. I crouched back in the large chair, and tried toshuteyes and mind to my situation; but in vain. Fear kept me on the qui vive ; voices seemed hissing in my ears, shadowy forms seemed flitting before me. Oh, what a night that was! At last I fell aslee ; but sleep was only a continua- tion of the horrors I had endured. When Lawoke, it was morning. I started up, unrest- Bnd unrefreshed, keenly alive to a sense of my posi- on, I hastened to the glass, fully expecting to see that my “hair had turned white ina single night.” _ No, it was as dark and glossy as ever, but my face how pale, and h rd, and worn it was! morning brought no relief; instead, it brought additional fears. Now surely some one would come, and still escape was impossible. , I felt as if | were going mad; with my hands lock- éd tightly together, I paced back and forth, moaning over and over: ~ “Why did I ever come—why did I ever come?” At length, the dreaded sonnd fell on my ear— some one was 14 jhowgume 4 ~ [stood listening, my teeth fairly chattering. Nearer —nearer, the footsteps came. For one moment I ‘was buoyed up with the hope that it was Augustus; 4f so, I would at least gain release from my misery, even if it were at the cost of my ity. But no, it was not he; I knew the firm, brisk tread $0 well. I waited no longer, but darted in behind the hangings, and there I stood, quaking with fear, as the door was unlocked and some one entered. Oh, that I dared to look! ButI knew that the least Movement of the curtains pier lead to my dis- Giec ea Cats cn pec ak antes suspense; then, to ny joy, room, regcme he door, and eissed Gown the hall. en I ventured forth. Who had it been? I peered around to see if there were any evidence about that could help me to answer my question. A hotell gd on the escritoire su ted that it ‘had been the janitor. I was than that he had not disco me, though I knew that discovery must come sooner or later, for, of course, I could not remain there in hiding always. me stood ain tae > rae the Herald One of @ person. m ty, attrac my gaze. 1 took up the paper, and looked snore closely at ft. It wasas follows: Hoot 1? 1 Pt. Bi nme tow A = of. 1°34. I put down the paper without making any com- ‘ment upon the puzzle, and turned all my thoughts to the solution A Suonyet, puzzle; how would my in- ie en attempt was useless; the more I thought, the ‘ore distracted I became. I sank wearily into the chair before the escritoire, and almost unwittingly I began to look over the papers that were scattered there. I took up what seemed to be a part of an old, well-fingered letter, At my first glance at it my ete i CONT ess changed to eagerness, for I saw therea key that would explait the mysterious nal_in the Herald, and heading it were the words: - “Tn case of an emergency, the prgede | alphabet of signe will ble us in safety. Efote sar dae peeeine oF ie oy on bie prov: ite te refer = , Et it had been put to recentuse. But who ‘the other party? Ah, the handwriting! It was not unfamiliar. Where had I seen it before? Where—where? T eet my elbows on the desk, buried my face in my hands, and tried to think where? f 1 had only read on, I should have seen that the name, Edgar Wells,,was at the end of the letter; but I did not. Isat and pondered, till I remembered. With a fierce exclamation of . delight, 1 cried, soft- “‘T know now! . This letter was written by Inez! it is her handwriting! the same as that.in which that note was written that was sent to Augustus on the night before he slept and failed to keep his appoint- ment. So, it is between those two—Augustus and Inez—that this secret writing is used! Ab, thank Heaven I am here! thank Heaven I came!” The horrors of the past night--all present anxiety —faded into nothingness now that I had made this discovery. Eagerly IL went to work to decipher that personal, With the key before me, it was not a difficult task, and before long 1 had mastered it. Translated, the personal read as follows: “As soon as you see this, telegraph to me where I can meet you. Avaeustus.”’ Iecould have danced with delight as I deciphered hisname. To be sure it was addressed to no one, but that was nothing, forthe handwriting in that let- ter told me for whom it was intended, I arose, and stood viewing my work in triumph, and again thanking the fates that I had come. “Les mesee,’’ | mused. “By this time she has seen this personal if she will see it atall. She can’t be far away, as she left home onl aig If she telegraphs, 1t won't be long ore it will be here. Of course, it will come here, not tothe house. I will wait.”’ 1 said that as if it were a voluntary act with me,‘ Yes, I will wait; 2 will receive the tele- gram, and J will go to the place of meeting instead of Augustus.” It did not occur to me that my intention might be frustrated by the arrival of my husband, or the other horse-shoes—I mean the other fhembers of the firm, I forgot much in my joy; I trembled no longer, But. the sound of ap poaob lng footsteps reawaken- ed all my fears. AgainI darted in behind the curtains, and again I waited in terrible suspense. This time the door was not opened. I heard a slight rustling, then followed silence, and I ventured to peep out. I seca forth with a low exclamation of) joy, as I beheld a yellow envelope lying upon the floor, just wititne telegram” I cried, gladly, as I picked i “The telegram cried, y, as Ip it up. “Thank Heaven, it is the A toys 7 With eager, tremulous fingers, I opened it and read: “ Aveustus: Am very ill. Come at once to Rye; to the Beach House.” No name was signed to it, but, as before, that was nothing, for I knew so well it was from Inez. I waved the message victoriously above my head, as I murmured: “ Now—now Lam oma trail that promises success! At last—at last, I shall confront one of my rivals! joy? — Me her, and then I'll turn my attention to Floy!’ “ Let no vestige of this remain,” I added, as I tore the telegram into bits, and consigned them to the me rg iT 7 the vee yet are Oaueh **So, she m mu sneeringly. ught cold without her wig, likely.” ¥'leure-her, Now I will go,” and I started firmly for the door. Not till I reached it did I remember that I was a 7 risoner. It overpowered me for a moment, for I d forgotten it so entirely; then, with a low wail of disappointment, I leaned my head against the door, and sobbed. There I remained in despair, till for the third time I heard footsteps without; for the third time I darted into the friendly retreat of the velvet hangings, and for the third time I waited in terrible q This time the door opened. Oh, how I trembled! I heard asound as oe pe slippers flapping on the floor, and then a sound as from a broom and dustpan. I drew a long breath of relief. “Tt is the janitress,” I murmured. “ Perhaps I can make my escape now.” I heard the — flapping about the room, then an exclamation of: That was rtunity! Without soakag & mommont I emerged from my re- treat. 1 might meet this janitress in the hall, but I had to risk that; I dared not wait for a better chance to escape. I reached the door, and there I paused to recon- noiter, The porerl _ clear. me an tae Summonin i my courage m w my- self up proudly, gathered my log chunk about me, and stepped out into the hall. On the stairs I met the janitress. heart sank then, but I forced myself on, determined to carry the da. by storm if necessary, t she did not address me; she stopped short and stared, and 1 swept proudly by ;her down to the en- As the first breath of fresh air fanned heated tas, I forgot all discomfort inthe joy at my release “Free— st!” “ wnibe sce gt last! Imurmured, joyfully. ““Heav- I hurried down the steps, and along the street. First I wished to satisfy the cravings of hunger. and then I would hie to Rye to meet my rival. CHAPTER XXII. HOW IT ENDED. “Trax for Rye?—10:30, madame,” was the reply Ireceived to my question as I purchased a ticket, glanced at the clock, saw that it lacked just ten minutes of that, and I hurried out upon the platform. I have ahorror of boarding a train at the last. mo- ment, of passing through car after car in search of a seat, and endeavoring to maintain my equilibrium, which is something very difficult for me to keep under any circumstances, and if once lost, very—very hard for me to regain, On this morning I was particularly anxious to be in ample time, for I felt faint and weak from my undue exertions so soon after illmess, and from. the trying ordeal I had endured the past night. So I hurried on, looking neither to the right nor to the left, when, to my infinite disgust, Mrs. Pember- ten appeared before me as, suddenly as a jack-in-a- box. ““Mrs. Ray! As I live!” she exclaimed. I could not entirely suppress my irritation; and al- most sharply f[ returned: ** Yes, it is,I.”’ - **So [see. And were you going to Mott Haven?” ‘ Yes—yes,"’ lassented, catching eagerly at the ex- cuse her words offered. ‘‘ Yes, I am going to see you. And really I must hasten. The train starts——" **But I am not at home, Mrs, Ray, as you per- ceive; and I must be so inhospitable——”’ ; “Oh, don’t apolégize,” I interrupted, quickly. “Of course, it cannot be helped. Don’t turn back for the, world.”’ “T would if I could, but Ican’t. Between I, Mrs. Ray,’’ she added, confidentially, “I am intent Kis 2 on] disagreeable and extraordinary errand.” tay n r - “Yes, Now don't go,” as she detained me by plac- ingherhand upon my arm. “Since 1 am not at home, there cannot be any cause for haste.” “Oh, but there is. I must catch this train.’’ “Rather singular, upon my word! owever, you must hear me now. I feel that I must tell you: it’s all about Floy—Floy Haverhill, you know.” “Well?’ I asked, timidly, anxious, yet fearful, to hear what she had to say. “Oh, you never could guess it, Mrs, Ray—never! Who would have thought it of her?—the sly puss!” “Well, what is it?’ I asked, now impatient. “See here,” and she produced a letter. “It came this morning; it tells about secret love, clandestine meetings, and all that; and I must, I really must, give it to her friends, for it is not right that Floy should so compromise herself. It is signed, ‘Anony- mous,’ but I cannot discredit its contents, when I think of the night of our ball; you told me she was groaning. you know, andI found her attired for the street. She satisfied me then with some very Jame explanation; but now, I'd be willing to wager my head that she was going to keep an appointment! This note was sent to me because the person—he, or she, [don’t know which, though judging from the handwriting I should say it was a he—because the person knew that she had been visiting me, but glans know yhere: ar “yo And so, I received. it, and I’m sorry, , for ves me a unplea- sant duty to perform. Of course, ‘papa’ wil be tele- graphed for, and likely he'll come on at once, and ey his naughty child under his supervision again, She had been rattling on as if she were to get as many words as possible into a short space of you and time; she s to take breath, and I, referring to her last rémark, said, grimly: “T hope he will.” we you understand to whom this note refers?” The meaning look that accompanied her words — startled me. Could it be possible that it re- erred to Augustus? My fears took alarm, and I felt that I could not listen to another word, and run the risk of hearing that which I dreaded. ‘Of course—of course,” I assented, f. attempted to move on. “T must go, Mrs. Pem You see, the train is about to start.” eines see. But, Mrs. Ray, how did you know “I can’t stop to explain now,” I interrupted. “I ust go. -by. “Let her think what she will, let her wonder, let her surmise,” I murmured, as I hastened on. “I can endure anything better than to hear of him from other lips.’ How wise I was in my own conceit! If Thad only Heteney to her then, how much I would have been say The iron team was Feel en Bo fretting as ifim- patient to start. A few belated passengers were stepping on board, Oblivious to eth” borg but the fear being left behind, I hurri on. A sbrill shriek, and a cry of: “Bless my soul! My corns!’ brought me to a sud- den standstill. , ast nD, male rch- steeple, for her hat topped off into a perfect peak. Ta was placed ® bow with ends that waved. in the Passing breeze. I muttered an apology, and turned from the da vicinity of corns, only to collide with Siig te ierirmate teat e e em ex then heard, in tones that made my Seed
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, Was it Angnatust If he should see me now my plan would fail. But no, it could not be he. I cast one glance at the bandbox, saw that it was balanced by a checked gingham bundle, saw that the bearer was a fastidious young man, but ere I had reached his face, the last. bell sounded out, and I darted wildly forthe car. With the united effortsof three others and myself the ascent was made, and soon! had found a seat, near the stove, of course; the train moved on, and I sat panting and trembling, and wondering if that had been Augustus. : I vhowgtt of the bandbox, and the bundle, and I scouted the idea as being too ridiculous to be harbor- ed for an instant. Augustus, my fastidious husband, carrying a bandbox, and a huge bundle, and acting as escort to atall female with corns! Oh, no, it was absurd—simply absurd! Then I turned my thoughts to the errand upon which I was bound. How would it end? I did not feel quite satisfied with the start I had made,and I queried rather anxiously: ** How will it end?” The train reached Mott Haven, and with a sort of on curiosity I watched the passengers as they alight- My gaze was attracted by the appearance of a bandbox out of the corner of the car, near whichI was seated; then followed a gingham bundle, and thena man’s legs. Now I should know if my fear had been true. No, it had not, for, as he alighted, I saw that it was Mr. Filkins; who very gently assisted the steeple- like female with corns to alight, tucked her hand under his arm, and with her on one side, bandbox and bundle on the other, he walked boldly down the platform. “Brave man!” I murmured, approvingly. “ Au- uistus would have fainted under such an ordeal. Bow could I have thought that it was he?” And I completed my journey undisturbed by fears of my husband’s proximity. Arrived at Rye, I, after considerable delay, obtain- ed a@ vehicle to taxa me to the Beach House, Ispent the timein trying to map out my plan of .ac- tion. Should I be dignified and calm, or irate and passionate? Should | overwhelm her with my fury, or awe her with my hauteur? The carriage stopped before I had come to any decision, Alighting, I asked the driver to wait. **Gouldn t, ma’am; I could call for you, but Tean’t wait. I've another orderimmediately, ma'am, a gen- tleman that come.on the same train with you, and that’s waiting for me now.”’ I ordered him to call for meas soon as possible, and then, after hastily surveying the long, low wooden structure that, in this wintry weather, looked, and evidently was, almost,deserted, I ascended to the en- trance, Where I was greeted by a very short and stout female, who was rubbing her. apron between her haads vigorously,as if with the anticipation of brisk business, and arun upon the establishment, - $he settled my debate as to how I should broach the subject of my ercand, by saying, cheerfully: “Been expecting you—thought you'd come. Walk right in. Cold day, ma’am, very cold,” Her voice was full and hearty, but she jerked out her words, stopping at every two or three, as if her breath could only do service by spasms, Another eculiarity In her speech was, 4s I soon noticed, the utter abolition of pronouns, I followed her into a room, evidently the parlor, that boasted neither of present nor past grandeur, “Been expecting me?” I asked, in surprise, as I obeyed the wave of her hand, and seated myself. “Yas. Thought it would be a gentleman—said it might be, a ledy—pechane *twould be both, Pretty ill, ma’am, pretty ill.” *Too ill to. bé seen?’ I asked, quickly. “Oh, no! 'Bless your dear soul, no!—not at all! Anxious for you—waiting for you—ain’t so ill now— had good care, you see—he-he-he!” and as she laugh- ed, ahve shook like a huge mould of jelly. “‘ Yes, very ood care—is up now—able to go about a little—arm ad, very bad. It was a fall, ma’am—a fall froma buggy. And she sank into a chair, puffing and panting from her rapid articulation, spread her fat hands ,out on herJap, and looked benignly upon me, “ Mother?” she gaeped interrogatively, “Ma’am!”* I exclaimed. . ** Are—you—mother?” “Whose mother?” I asked. She pointed to the floor above. I concluded that she had reference to the patient, ond replied, indignantly: se 0. Aunt” she then questioned. “ a” “ Ser £2 ad oO. , “Not grandmother?” she ventured, falteringly, lL arose, looking daggers at her, and thus quelled her inquisitiveness. “Down,” she gasped, as she started to her feet. Pred Ro and call—right away—wait here—will come 0 wn. “Tll go up,” I said, majestically, She teed her hands as if ich horror, then she waddled out of the room, There was a cheerful fire crackling in the grate, that appealed to my senses pier gah and drawing ac up before it I seated myself there. ' My Bok was turned tothe door. My cloak conceal- ed form, and my dark veil covered my hat and fats t_my face as I leaned forward and held my ds to the grateful blaze. heard someone enter, with’ slow and. ‘hieasured MY YOUNG HUSBAND, “It is she—Inez,”’ I thought. ‘‘ Now, let me be firm; and calm, and proud.” I drew back from ths fire, and was about to start up, when an arm encircled my Waist, I was drawn close to a manly form, and I heard a low, passionate voice murmur: “My darling—my darling, I had not dared to hope for this!”’ With a faint shriek I threw back my veil and look- ed up in blank, bewildered terror; and I saw—oh, how my senses reeled as l saw that I was clasped in the embrace of that stranger!—he whom I had met so many times before! I did not stop to look at him again; like a flash I started from him, and turned to the door, and there, erect and stern, his face of an ashen hue, there stood we § husband! recoiled as if a hand had struck me. : Had I seenaright? Was this not some horrible de- usion. I looked back, quickly — despairing] Wy; there stood that stranger, the — of dismay; I turned to the ea stood Augustus, the picture of consterna- ion, I made one effort to reach him, then my reeling senses succumbed, and I sank into oblivion. os CHAPTER XXIII, A NEW STATH OF AFFAIRS. I srEmen to be in a sort of a trance; total darkness surrounded me, I was as if bound hand and foot, and yet I heard distinctly the voices of Augustus and that stranger; I heard so distinctly, that I am able to re- cord their hot, passionate words from memory. “Let me try to explain, Augustus.’ “No! Not aword! What I have seen, and what I have heard, is quite enough for me! I'll heed no more of your duplicity!” “ Duplicity ! This from you, Augustus, my old friend?” . ~ : “Friend no longer, You are not worthy the title “Take care—take care! Even you can say too much. Your anger is simply ridiculous, Augustus, It was all a mistake——"* “It was not! I have been fool enough to believe that before, but now my bi are open! Mistake! Bah! Mistakes of this kind don't oceur quite so often “But I assure you——”’ “What are your assurances worth? Tell me that! Nothing—absolutely nothing! Know this, Edgar Wells, my honor is as dear to me as to anyone! You have wounded mine through my wife!’’ “Your wife! Great Heavens, Ray, can you, for a moment, be so insane as to think that I—that I fancy, or favor, or—or—or—I vow, I can’t think of a suit- able word! that I—in short, that your wife’came here to meet me?”’ *“ What else can I think?” ‘ “What else?’ Anything—everything! could be so ridiculous as that.” * Ridiculous—why ?” “Why? Because, in the first place, she is old enough to be my mother; in the second place, she is “Hush! Noridicule, if you please. Remember, sir, that; whether old or young, she is my wife——”’ ‘*] beg your pardon, Itis the first time that have so proudly aded your possession of her,’ “And it sh not be the last. Not till danger threatens do we awaken to a full knowledge of the worth of ourtreasgures. Now, sir, what Lhavetosay to you is this: we are friends no longer.) I have sought to serve you, and dep reward me in this way—by 7 aree y in, like a thief in the night, and robbing me °o alas ae “Bah! What nonsense! with you. You know that Llove Floy—— “You don’t! That is hypocrisy—all hypocrisy! Thank God, I can, warn her before it is too late! Love her? when she has been at death's door, and pen have not once inquired for her—when she has not eard from you in weeks? Is this willful silence a panel of yourloye? Is it love that has caused you to ury yourself in this out-of-the-way place, away from the knowledge of every one but my wife? And then you say she did not come to meet you! Did she guess that you were here? Did she come just to fol- low outa whim of hers? Perhaps you expect me to believe that, by the merest. chance, you accidentally met my wife here, and that, by some strange fortuity, you were surprised into greeting her with something that looked very much: like an embrace, and by the utterance of words that sounded very much like a loyer’s address! Bah! I’m not a fool, Edgar!” “You are beside yourself, just at present, Augus- tus. Ican’t think that you are in earnest, and yet I fee] that youare not jesting. You don’t know what you are saying, and it is useless to talk with you, I will leave you; when you are calmerI will see you Nothing ou Ray, I've no patience ? again,” Don't -tate my advice, and don’t attempt to see mé, Edgar Wells! TI have been a stanch friend, but now Lama bitter enemy! It will be as well if we do not meet again,” I heard no more, Sconl awakened as from a deep sleep, and those words lingered in my mind like part of a dream, I started up, and looked anxiously about me, Augustus and I were alone; he was standing in the center of the room, his eyes fixed upon me with an angry expression, which was new to thém—an ex- pression which quite awed me. : “Where is he?’ I faltered, the fear of beholding that stranger coming, to me. “Ts it well, Martha, to show that your first thought is for him?” I looked at him in blank amazement. How coldly he spoke! How stern he looked! What had happen- ed? It neyer occurred to me to connect the words that I had heard in if trance with anything that had actually transpired. I drew back on the lounge till my head rested against the wall, and met his gaze, timidly. “ Well?” he said, coldly. I was utterly at a loss for words. A vague idea was. present with me, that I had come to this place with the ena of realizing a grand triumph, and that I had been sadly disappointed; with that exception thought was chaos, my mind was all confusion. “Martha, why are you here?” That question suddenly and spray put, caused me to beh hays gasp as if a piece of ice had slipped down my back. hy had I come? That aroused all my dormant en- ergies, and memory reasserted her sway. Why had I come? It had proved to be a fool’s errand. ow,. without making a confession of that, was I to satisfy "y husband? took refuge in silence. I straightened myself up, Mary eee my lips, and looked defiance at him. “Martha, why are you here?”’ he asked again. “Don’t waste your breath, Augustus,"’ I said, cool- ly. “But, Martha, Iinsistupon knowing. You must answer me.”” “ Well, if you insist, I shall——”” He began to smile approvingly, as if commensing me for my ready obedience; but I disappointed him, by adding: ‘“*E shallinsist, also. You askme why tam here, and in- sist upon an answer; I ask you why you are here, and I also insist upon an answer.” “T came here because you came,” “And I came because I wanted to. Are you satis- fled?” ‘**No,.”” He stepped to me, and placing a hand firmly upon my shoul er, said, slowly: * ‘Martha, you came here to meet that man.” “Great Heavens!” I exclaimed, really startled by his fierce earnestness. “So you both say. I puta similar question to him, and he starts from me, and cries: ‘Great Heavens! I put it to you, and you start, and cry: ‘Great Heavens!’ Is that all the satisfaction I can get? Mar- tha, will you explain this?” **No, Augustus, I will not,” “ And why not?” “For certain reasons.” “What are they?” ‘* Good ones—that is all I choose to say.” * You will not tell me, then?” Ishrank from the peculiar gleam in his eye, and heart sank as I faintly replied: ‘No, T will not,” ** Martha, I will ask you once. again, It will be for the last time, so consider before you reply. How did you know that he was here, and why did you come?” “*T didn’t know that he was here, ” I snapped. “Oh, Martha!” . ma, the truth,” I half sobbed, “it was all a mis- take.” : “ His very words!’ he cried, bitterly. ‘“* All a mis- take! I cannot belicve it.” “Well,” I said; with an expressive shrug of the shoulders, that implied that he could do as he pleased about believing. He turned from me soa and walked to the win- dow, where he stood with nis head bowed against a. pane. This was a new phase altogether, and it astonish- me. Could I have believed his emotion to be enuine, I might have explained all to him; but, i ag, Seb past experience, I feit that it was more: ikely that it was only a ruse of his, intended. to pave: the way for some new scheme, I was, therefore, not willing to humiliate myself by telling him of that which I would scarcely acknowledge to myself; that I had suffered another most inglorious defeat. I endured the silence that had fallen between us, for a few moments; then I spoke up, sharply: “T thought you were going to Philadelphia, Augus- tus?.. Do you remember telling mé, about twenty- four hours. 2go—but paras 8 your memory cannot reach into that dim and fabulous antiquity-——” He faced me suddenly, thus interrupting me. His face was pale, his eyes blazing, his hands clenched ti buy: his voice was full of passion and pain, as he cried: “If I have deceived you, you have deceived me! Let not one false one taunt the other! I, at Teast, am willing to acknowledge my deception! But you —you+bah! Why waste words? We are quits—qui and strangers henceforth! You can go your way, will go nrine. “Not a word,” as I started up to go to him, really alarmed. “Not a word!, You have refused to ex- plain; 1t is now too late.” Then, lowering his voice, he added, quietly: “The carriage is waiting. .We will go. me,” Speechless from amazement and fear, I submitted meekly to his imperiousness, and followed him down tothe carriage. m CHAPTER XXIV, ESTRANGED, Estranaep! That. word had as much of bitterness for me as #& ae ere for ik one, 0 ugustus an were estranged. e same roof sheltered us, yet We were as far apart as If the ocean rolled between. “b This new phase of my husband’s character—so cold, ;
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extravagant demand ,upon m a so ‘stern—awed mé and angered me. Tt awed me, as ifearoused all my-loye, and filled, me with longings to he all in all to him; it angered me, as I felt how un- just was his silent condemnation, and as I feared that it was only aruse. ‘So,day after day, I endured his coldness, his si- lence, his absence, without a murmur, and waited for the end, which now I fully believed would be some purse and my pa- tience; and now I hoped would be some proof that he really and truly loyed me. "Oh, has it not heen so from the beginning of time? How women, weak mortals that we are, hang on the favor of our lords, be they deserving or not. We kiss the lips that open but to deceive us, We caress the nape that has m raised in cruelty! ‘is as the poet says: _. “May slighted woman turn : ‘And, as the vine, the oak hath shaken off, Bend lightly to her tendencies again? ‘Oh, no! by all her loveliness, by all That. makes life poetry and beauty, no! “Make her a slave; steal from her rosy cheek, By needless jealousies; let the last star “Leave her a watcher by your couch of pain; Wrong her by petulance, suspicion, all That makes her cup a bitterness—yet give One evidenee of love, and earth hath not An emblem of devotedness like hers.” Des weeks of ied gt had gone by, and there seemed no prospect of a change. it my faith had kept pace with my love, I should lon Faia have bowed before my husband, and made the humiliating confession of my defeat; but faith lagged far behind, “Tt was a bright February morning. I was seated in my dressing-room, alone. I had been reading a note that had just come from Mrs, Pemberton. I liad stopped as I heard my husband’s footsteps in the room above; and, as L listened, a long- ing, that in its intensity was a pain, crept {nto my heart for a return of the days of a month a Yes, happier far were those days of suspicion, and jealousy his misre; ntations, than this weary, dreary time of heartache and longing! “Oh, if he but loved .me!” I sighed, and then I arose and walked to the mirror, and calmly, critically sur- veyed myself, hree weeks had done much to improve me, I was thinner and paler, which was greatly to my ad- vantage. Surely, it was a pleasing reflection that I Saw. dark hair was combed smoothly back be- neath’ a fanchon of white Swiss and black lace, brightened with a few moss rose buds. A long robe ‘of dark blue swept gracefully about me; delicate lace, and moss rose buds were fastened at my throat, I turned away satisfied, and re-seating myself, I re- read the note I had received: “Dear Mrs, Ray: Didn't I tell you that ‘papa’ would be celegraphed for? 1 was no false prophet. He has not only been telegraphed for, but he is, even now, in the city, And the sly Floy has behaved, and still behaves, admirably. She smiles most dutifully upon the tall,sallow specimen of humanity whom her father fogs over with him, and who is destin- ed to be her husband, They are to be married in a week, and then they start off on an extended tour. + has evidently outlived her love for—yon know who. She actually blesses me, telling me that 1_ have been the means of saving her from a lifetime of misery--from making the greatest error of her life, and 80 on. , “But to my purpose: They are all visiting with me, you know—or rather, you don't know, By *they ’ Im Floy’s paps oy’s intended, Floy‘s friends, and Floy herself. I have been doing my best to rtain them, and now T call upon you to aid me @ little, We are going to the ball at the reef to-morrow ight ane I would be so delighted to adc ourself aud ‘usband to our little party. There will ¥e enty of room in our box, and your husband js such good company. Now, let me see you there, and oblige Yours, ANNETTE PEMBERTON, Twas 4s much mystified at the second reading as I had been at the first. Surely that anonymous note could not have referred to Augustus, since she now desired to bring him into Floy’s presence. ell, it Was useless to conjecture; I could fathom nothing; it-was a confusion that I could not make straight, LIhad proofs, positive they seemed to me, that both Floy and Inez were my rivals, and yet there were so many conflicting circumstances attend- ing them that I felt, as was the truth, thatI knew nothing at all. In the midstof my ruminations,I heard my_hus- band’s step on the stairs. A hope—a wish—a long- ing leaped into my heart. Will he come in?’’- I murmured; “or will he, as usual, pass on aud out, without a word to me?” He halted outside of the door. Had I been a maiden of sixteen waiting for her lover, my heart could not have thumped more furiously. In the moment pet suspense that followed I could almost hear its ating. A fluttering sigh of thankfulness escaped me as the door was Opened, and he entered. I could not look up at him; timidity and fear seemed to chain down my eyelids; the timidity of love, and the fear of showing it and thus exposing myself to his ridiculé. “Martha,” he said, quietly. Sucely, there was an intonation of tenderness in h . Iknow that the name had never sounded #O iret to me; never had it vibrated so pleasantly on my ear, Witi: a great effort, I looked up, and oh! how MY YOUNG HUSBAND. my heart went out to him as he stood theré so erect and proud, so handsome! ss Why—why did doubt intrude? Why did I heed its hateful whispering? ’ “Show your feelings—betray your tenderness, and give him _ the opportunity for which he has been waiting. He will condescend to listen to your words of love, but.dearly will you, have to pay for his mag- nanimity,”’ Isaw that he was about to speak. I checked him by holding out.that note I. had. received, and saying calmly: “Read it.” He bit his lips, his face hardened, and bowirg slightly, he advanced, and took the note. As he read, I watched him, No.change came to his abana At theend he looked up, saying quietly: “We will po, Martha, We had better go, or Dame Rumor will begin to wag her tongue.” I was amazed. Had I heard aright? Whatever I had. expected, it had. not been this. I suppose I looked the os? ned I felt, for he smiled, as he added: “Yes, we will go, and together. Be good enough to send Mrs. Pemberton word at once. And Martha, you will please me by weariug your cream-colored silk, and corals, I want you to look your best.” I was completely taken aback, Gratification, was the predominant feeling; but it was so tempered with prudence, and the fear that he was only ridiculing me, that I kept silence. ‘*{ will let this be a test,’ I said to myself. »“ If he is'in earnest’ now—if this does not prove to’ be a ruse, adopted to further ‘some pu eof his; I will believe in him, and I will seek to effect: a reconcilia- tion,” On this little matter I now staked my future, my fate, my happiness. It seemed asif I had come to the turning-point in my existence, and anxiously, and in great suspense, I waited for the hour that would tell me what was in store for me Would it be life-long estrangement, or would it be perfect reconciliation? ——_— CHAPTER XXV. WILL HE STAND THE TEST? It was the morning of the eventful day— eventful, because it was to decide my future weal or woe. Isat at the breakfast-table, with Augustus as my vis-a-vis. My hands trembled as they fluttered among the cups and saucers. I was all eagerness and anxiety, hopeand fear, I was eayer for the hours to pass, so that I would know my fate; I was anxious, as faith in my husband faltered, and I felt quite sure that my fate would be woe. Fear sickened me, as I wait- ed in momentary enpecietion of hearing words that would prove that all this sternness, tempered with unspoken tenderness, was but hypocrisy; hope thrilled me as the words were not uttered, and there seeme | every. prospect that. he would stand the test with which I had determined to try him. Oh, if he did not fail me now, I would trust him always! I would believe him fully, and we would be so happy! My A onaghite strayed far away from my surround- ings—far away toa realm of bliss, where Augustus and I were treading flower-strewn paths, walking side by side and hand in hand, with not a shadow of saspicion between us. es, even I, 80 unpoetically named, and with the seal of By, shirts Ave years stamped on face and form, could indulge in such romantic imaginings! And they overwhelmed me; between hope that they would be realized and fear that they would not, they overwhelmed me, and unconsciously I buried my face in my hands, with a low, soft sob. Augustus’ voice brought me to myself. “Martha, what troubles you?” Strongly wasI tempted to tell him the truth—to tellof my hopes and fears; but prudence restrained me, whispering in my heart: “Wait. Wait till the night is past—wait,and test him to the full--wait.” And I waited. : I Bes his look of solicitude coldly, as I asked, care- essly: “Did you speak, Augustus?" A loo of pain flitted over his face, and I almost forgot the Wuraper nes of prudence, till doubt sug- gested; it may be more of his hypocrisy—don’t trust him yet, Then I gave ear to prudence again. He ace sighing wearily, as he said: Why will you resist. every effort | make toward a happ er state of affairs, Martha? Is this so plea- sant that you desire it to continue?” ; “Whatever ‘this *is, you must remember, Augus- tus, it is of your own doing.” “Mine?” “Yes, yours,” “Why, Martha, what have I said, or done, to cause you to affirm that?” “Ts yourmemory failing you at your time of life? I, with my additional years, cannot forget what you said. “Well, what did Tsay?” “Don’t be abgurd,”’ I snapped, “T don’t mean to be absurd, Martha. I am really in earnest, and desirous of bettering matters here; if thatis impossible, then I intend to—-—” He stopped ebruptly there, and clasping his hands behind his back, stood looking sadly into the fire. My heart thumped furiously as I half-civined what he had been going to say, It was some few moments before I could control myself sufficiently to speak ealinly. ms Weil, if that is impossible, what then?” “What then? Tintend to go away, Martha.” Thad anticipa his werds, still they shocked me as if they had fallen unexpectedly on my ears, With a bogs rab effort I steadied my voice, and asked: ** Where?”’ . “To Ultima Thule, or to——” “To Ultima Thule?” I interrupted, laughing mock- ingly. fie looked at me quickly, keenly, sadly. I looked back Scornfully, as I sneered: P “That sounds about as romantic and im able as if you had said that you were going to Heaven.” He turned toward the fire again, and I arose and walked to the window, to conceal the tears that had welled to my eyes. ; What if he should go away? What if he shouid go that day? Was it safe to wait till night ere I dropped my mask of coldness? Might he not think that’ re- conciliation was impossible, and, in despair, leave me at once? Oh, no—no, I dared not wait—it was too great a tisk—I would speak at once. I started to him, and in atone that told of all the longing in my heart, I began: ; *Aupustus —”’ He turned to me like a flash, and just the ghost of a smile flitted over his face. That was enough; or rather, it was too much, Was it joy or was it triumph? Was I, after all, pl 4 right into his hands by confessing my tenderness Beware of hypocrisy, prudence whispered, doubt after doubt came trooping into my mind, till love was altogether excluded, I said no more, and resumed my mask of coldness, — The lghe died from his face, and pale and stern he stood, igoring wonderirigly at me, “You spoke to me, Martha?’ he said, intérroga- tively, Yes, I did; but——” “But what?’’ “T’ve changed my mind.”’ “Martha, what were you going to say?" he asked, firmly. “For a moment, Gee face, your voice, seem- ed to imply that reconciliation was not impossible. What were you pols to say?” I replied, carelessly: ~ “I was not thinking of reconciliation, I assure you, I had a farmore interesting subject in my mind; I was thinking of my diamond necklace, and was on the point of asking you to stop at Tiffany’s and get it for me, The clasp was not quite-safe, and Lsent it to be fixed, as I may decide to wear diamonds to-night. But I will not trouble you; I will go for it myself.” - “As you please, Martha. Get the diamonds, by all means; but will you not gratify me by wearing your corals to-night?” It was hard to resist the tone in which he spoke, but I did. ' Lturned colily aside, saying, disdainfully: “Tt is useless to waste much breath about m toilet, Augustus, The chances are ten to one that do not go.” ‘Not go, Martha?” ““Yes, not. go.” “And why—why this uncertainty?” For a moment the remembrance of _ past. indig- nities fired me, and in epee tones, I cried: “Why? bay have I not gone before when it beep my firm intention to do so? Have I not the same uncertain, not-to-be-depended-upon escort now as eyer? Has not some urgent business, or a dyin friend, or .a call to Philadelphia, or something o: that ki d, Apel cropped up just at the last moment? And ny not that which has happeried before pep pen srt ow do- you understand why I may n go to-night?” ; “T can’t blame you for your want of faith, Martha _ ” —_— “No, L should think not,” I al rw imly. “But will you not believe me when {say that it will not werd again?’ | popctetm ’ “IT require stronger and more convineiig proof than mere words, Augustus.”* , “You shall have it! To-night will be a beginning; we will go to-night, and together; nothing can pre-~ vent that, unless—— Of course, we m’ make al- lowance for the contingencies of fate—but, unless I fall down stairs and break my neck, or some unruly horse tramples upon.me, or some little trifle of that oort transpires, I shall escort you to the Academy to- night.” ~ “ And leave me as soon as we.get there, Tsup i Isnapped. ‘“ Even then it will not be two la to re- mem ber suddenly some forgotten en, ment. ‘Perish the thought!” he exclaimed, nly. “Have faith, Martha—have a little faith, and lieve now what time will prove: that you will never have ei to complain in siti was very busy just then hunting for er- chief under the ts le, though I pe Pa that it was in my pocket; but I wished to hide my face from Au- gustus, for I felt that upon it was reflected the joy that his words had brought to my heart, “Ttis in your pocket, Martha,” he said, laughing- ly, and I knew that he had fathomed my little ruse. “Oh, is it?’ I faltered, confusedly, straizhtenin, myself up so unguardedly that there followed a col- lision between my head and the table; my head got the worst of it, from all indications. That deepened my confusion, of course, and I could not even resent Augustus’ evident enjoyment of the scene. . The next. moment he had mé in his arms, and vas whispering: J “Tl guess my Martha does not feel quite so to- ward me as she tries to make me believe. ou are Tata interpol "Se8 chery, Bough “What?” I interpo ve in- wardly I was exuberant, : g: iy “That you love me.”
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** Indeed!” I tossed may, head scornfully. “ Yes. if you w only believe that I Jove yas. Maneehe,” he aoded, Lis. voids CARING & deep and earn “ Prove it, and I'll believe.”” me, Martha. And now, adieu,” as he kiss- ed me fondly. ‘tI must go.” then, and I was of it, for another moment and I should have oupotien rudence en- ngs of love. my tho event. ‘What varied emotions were mine that day! Above all, hope and fear predominated, alternately swaying me; now I was elevated by the former, now depress- ed by the latter. And so till afternoon; then, as the hour for the test was nearer, and suspense was harder to endure, I felt that I must escape from myself for a while, ‘so I ordered the carriage, and was driven down to Tif- fany's, where I learned that my husband had called for, and received, the diamond necklace, Feeling perfectly satisfied, I returned home, The hour preceding dinner was a time of terrible suspense. It seemed to me that the door-bell had never sounded so often, and at each ring I started up and waited in sickening suspense for the appearance of der with the half-ex note, or telegram, But my fears proved to be idle ones. At last, [heard my h ’s voice in the hall, and then his ap- preaching footste My hears beat high with joy. I sprang up, prepar- ed to welcome him gladly; but ere he reached the door, prudence had hwy eal “There 1s time yet for him to fail you—wait.” And again I concluded to wait. He entered, and I greeted him calmly. The same demeanor was preserved throughout dinner. I watch- ed him keenly; not a sign of uneasiness was on his face, or in his manner; there were no despairing looks cast at the clock; still, Isat in momentary ex- pectation of hea some excuse for non-attendance at the Academy. ut the meal was over, and noth- ing had transpired to confirm my fears. ery—very pleasant were my musings asI arranged my dark hair, and fastened in among its massive braids some pale yellow roses; as I donned the eream- colored silk, and brightened it with necklace and ornaments of blood-red coral. Not once did it occur to me to wear aught else than that which Augustus had desired; not once did I think of my diamonds. “He will stand the test,’’ I murmured, gladly, as I put the finishing touches to my toilette, and listened to his gay whistling that proceeded from the adjoin- ing room, ‘He will not fail me to-night?” Scaceel were the words uttered when his whistling eoeased. hy, I knew not, but my heart seemed to stop its beating at the same instant, and I remained in an attitude of expectation, Silence, dead silence for a few moments, then an exclamation of “Gracious Powers!’’ came to my ears. And almost immediately, the door connecting the rooms was opened, and my husband’s head appear- ed, . In a tone of real distress, he ke: ‘Martha, I’m just going around the corner, I'llbe ped ar Koos tat So, h bout to A e was abou esca) ane, afer Shit My face hardened, I know; I felt asit I had been suddenly transformed into a grim-vi poset 1 looked disdainfully at him, saying y: “T’ve been expecting this! Going around the cor- ner, eb? May I ask what itis that calls you around the corner at such a time as this?” “Don't be unkind, Martha,” he pleaded. “I'll be back in five minutes. I’m just going to get a cigar.”’ “A cigar! Ha-ha! Acigar! Do you think thatI am such a fool as to believe that?” “I_]J didn’t mean a cigar, Martha, I meant to say that i bsg Soar to see a man.” “Bah! That's an ever-ready excuse witb your sex. Going to see a man, indeed! I don't believe it!” “But will you not believe if I return as I promise?” “Til see.’ * Just five minutes, Martha; or ten at the most.” “Or, it might bappen to be a couple of hours,” I added, sn ngly. But he was gone. I heard the street-door close after him, then I turned to the clock, and noted the time. Oh, what a bitter blow was this! My hopes dashed just when hope was highest! I felt that he would not return; and when ten min- utes had passed, and he was still apey I had the sat- isfaction of knowing that my conviction had not fail- ed me, and the misery of knowing that my husband had. I stationed myself before the mirror, looked with scorn upon the image reflected there, and cried: “ Martha Ray, what a fool you have been! To think that I even weat so far asto defer to his wishes so strictly!” And I glared at my light robe, and touched the corals—and as I touched them, they brought to mind my diamond necklace. had said nothing about it; it must be in his room. Isprang in, and looked about on bureau, table, desk, chairs; no necklace! A horrible suspicion shot into my heart; he had not made the expected request for money—was he pe = pa of using my diamonds for the attainment of that? Isearched my rooni, the hall, the dining-room, No, it was not to be found. It was gone—and Augustus was gone, perhaps forever; over an hour had passed MY YOUNG HUSBAND. snes he left the house, and Ifelt that he would never return, I emy misery! How ay & attire mocked me! mblingly, passionately, I doffed it, and wrap- gadark r about me, I seated myself before e fire to brood over my woe. : Suddenly I remembered Mrs, Pemberton and her What will they think?” I queried. “It is now eleven o’clock, and they are waiting for us, I sup- A sharp peal of the door-bell startled me so that I bounied to my feet as if I had been shot from a gun. The blood flowed sl shiy through my veins, a.sense of suffocation opp me, asI waited to learn what it meant, I heard Philander’s step on the stairs; nearer— nearer, till at last he was at the door. I opened it in answer to his knock. A telegram was in his hand. I fairly snatched it from him, and closing the door, I tore it open, as I cried: ‘Now tosee what his excuse is this time! Another dying friend, or perhaps—my God!’’ I broke off sud- prog f asl became aware of that whichI had been read nF “What is this?” And I read again: “Mrs. Ray:—We do not go to the academy to-night, as Floy is missing. A. PEMBERTON.” " ep p Igasped. ‘Is she gone, too? My God, can it be ——”’ My voice failed me, andI sank gs meen d into a rim oy where I remained for hours, thinking of the simultaneous and very significant disappearance of Augustus, Floy, and my diamond neck CHAPTER XXVL A TIME OF TRIAL, Tre night passed, and morning was at hand, Augustus was still away. He had not appeared to upset my firm conviction that he would never re- turn. I was a deserted wife. A deserted wife! Oh, what keen and galling misery was embodied in those words—a deserted wife! How the world would. make merry over my woe! How it would speak of Martha Ray and her young husband, and oe its wise head sagely, woul conclude: it has ended as only it could end. Noone would blame him, and all would look upon me with pity; pity, that even now as I anticipated it, made my bl boil, and my heart rebel. 0, it should not be! The world should not pity me; I would face it bravely, and force it to abstain from conimiseration. I locked the door of my husband's room, saying, with all the ene and firmness of a Roman matron: . “Thus I shut him out from my heart and my life, forever—forever!” But, alas! for woman’s weakness! Not an hour had passed when I found myself thinking in this wise: perhaps Floy had returned; pereeee Augustus would soon return; foes their simultaneous de- parture was only a coincidence, and meant nothing at all; ne ag ang Oh, I could not frame my thoughts into words, for hcpe had leaped into my heart, and I was not the rational being of a few mo- ments since! The end. of it was that I attired myself with great care,and started for Mott Haven. For almost the first time, my journey thither was marked with no incident worthy of note, If I should say that my heart quailed not, as I stood on the stoop of Mrs. Pemberton’s stately home, waiting to be admitted, and thinking of the evil things I might hear as soon as admission was granted —I repeat, if I should say that, then I would be de- parting from the path of veracity which I have been treading unswervingly for five-and-thirty years. My heart did quail, and I acknowledged it; and for |} one moment I meditated seriously upon a retreat, but before I could put =e design into execution the door was opened, and I, of course, had to enter; and mentally I ranked myself among the legion of fools, for having placed myself in a position which, to say the least, might be decidedly uncomfortable. An almost solemn hush seemed to have settled upon the house. I felt it oppressively as I was ushered into the darkened drawing-room, A sound, as of the distant murmuring of the wind among trees, came to my ears, and I knew that Mrs. Pemberton was approaching. I assumed an expression of countenance, and an attitude, that were meant to be formidable, and prepared myself to meet bravely whatever was in store for me. ‘*Mrs. Ray, are you here?” Mrs. Pemberton asked, in a subdued tone, as she peered around the darken- ed room. “Of course Iam, as you would know if you would take the trouble to use your eyes.” The occasion, tome, seemed to require causticity; hence the nature of my reply. “To be sure, so you are,’ and she advanced, quickly and noiselessly. _“ But, hush, bu-sh!’’ sho added. “We're ina delightful state of romance and mystery here, and far be it from me to breal the spell! You received my telegram last night?” “Yes. And I have come——” “T see that you have,” she interposed, evidently desirous of doing all the talking herself. And now “But Floy,” I interposed, in turn, determined to have my say. “Is she still missing?” “ Oh, yes. , How smilingly she laid the ax at the root of my hopes! Poh, yes, she is still missing. And now let me tell ou all about it. At dinner she was with us, as charm: ng as usual, all tenderness to her papa, all devotion to her intended; who, by-the-way Dove, in the name of Cardwell. I must say that he has belied his ronymic, for he hasn't played his card well at all. ow’is that? good, eh!” “Very,” I replied, listlessly. I was in a poor humor for wit of any kind. Apparently not noticing my lack of appreciation, she continued: “We separated to make ready for the Academy, f course we had no suspicion of treachery, and each, in his or her allotted room, pursued the bo ha teries of the toilet, contentedly. We were to assemble in the parlor, and depart en masse, One after an- other came down, till all but Floy were there. Still nosuspicion of treachery! I went up for her, think- ing that she might be in need of a little at Imagine my horror, wheh upon opening the door, found the room—empty!” She poner, as if togive me time to comprehend the full horror of the situation, I sat like a statue, or a mummy, and made no sign, ‘othing daunted, she proceeded; “Yes, empty! Think of it! And not so much asa white slipper, ora glove to be seen, to va that she had contemplated going to the ball! Y caught sight of a@ note UPou the table; I took it, and with it I flew “Flew?” Linterrogated, spitefully. “Yes, flew. Lactually flew down stairs, and gave it to her pepe He read it, and oh! the confusion that followed he had been pags & us, the sly puss? had been playing the obedient, till an opportunity came when she could escape from this marriage toa man she hated. Oh, you should have seen parent and lover! Nothin on the stage ever came up to it for a scene of patern rage—of a lover's despair! Fifteen minutes of this melodrama, and then they started in pursuit, Of course they had no idea where to go, but they would do what they could, They took one of the carriages that were in waiting for us, and were driven off to the, depot, while we remained behind, to endure most ter- rible suspense." The last words she rendered effective by uttering them in a stage whisper. ; Still I sat, grim as death, and spoke not, A dee af 1, and then: “Little did we think how it would end. Scarcely twenty minutes had elapsed when aring at the door- bell filled the house with echoes, and brought us all to our feet—yes, to our feet!” _ Did she suppose that I would think that they had been brought to their heads, that she made such emphatic repetition? _I was about to question Ler in- scorers & but she interrupted me, saying, as she mopped her eyes with her handkerchief: . ‘**Oh, shall I ever forget the sight we then beheld? Mr. Haverhill, a bruised and battered wreck, brought in in the arms of two men; one was Mr. Gardwell, the other was a stranger to me, Oh, for the eloquence of a Cicero, that | might worthily depict the scene that ensued! Mr. Haverhill was deposited ona sofa, and then, battered and bleeding as he was, he spurn- ed Mr. Cardwell with his foot, as he cried: ““*Go, you coward! you poltroon! you wretch! Go, and never let me see you again!’ “Then, turning to the stranger, he extended his hand, saying: “+ Bless you, sir, you have saved my life at the risk of your own! Would that in some way I could prove to you my gratitude!’ " my ~ that wretch, that miscreant gone? he asked, ercely. ‘** Yes,’ we all chorused, for he had sneaked out, like a whipped dog, at the first words from the irate onion: coral in to the st: he be: t : en, turning again e stranger, he Hf yer You have the—’ He stop there, red, gasped, coughed, sputtered, and at last cried, hoarse- ¥2 “*¥Edgar Wells! You here?’ “The stranger bowed, “The old gentleman looked at him as if he were about to spring upon hii, and tear kim limb from limb; but the next momenta smile relaxed his fea- tures, and he said, heartily: “* Bless you, my boy! bless you! I have vowed! that you should never. marry se f daughter; but you have saved my life, and ok dee yourself so no v3 ery ada Isay: take her—take her—if you can fin er. “Do you see, Mrs. Ray? Do you understand? It was ine hg lover, from whose armsshe been torn. ruthlessly. He, it seems, had appeared just in time to save Mr, Haverhill from a horrible death, The carriage, in which they had started in pursuit of Floy, had broken down just as they were crossiog the rail- road track, The horses dashéd on, the driver was thrown some distance off, Cardwell escaped unin- ured, and Mr. Haverhill lay half-buried in the wreck, Vhat did Cardwell do? Help his prospective father- in-law? No—he ran! Yes, he ran, even though a train was fast approaching! Nearer and nearer it came, and death seemed inevitable, when, almost at the last moment, a man came dashing forward, and dragged him from the track! It was a daring deed, but it was crowned with success, “He, that is, Edgar Wells, then collared the coward, Cardwell, and forced him to lend a helping hand. They conveyed Mr. Haverhill to a carriage in which he, that is Edgar Wells, again, had fortunately been coming along. So, now, he can have Floy, ifonly he ean find her. He has gone in search of her——” a you any idea where—where she—” I stam- mered, &
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oe MY YOUNG HUBBARD. “I think I have,” she verted, look at me so mean- y that I actually became t. fou have come to hi e has gone,” eS Oh no," gasped. “I do not—I have not—at ve T thought you could. I felt quite sure that band—’ “ My husband!” I gasped: “Yes, your husband, I felt quite sure that he, as he has always been her champion, had now aided her to escape from her misery—or in other words, her mar- fee h, no,” I faltered. “It is not so, What is she to “My dear Mrs. Ray, are you so blind that you have not “No, 1 have not seen,” 1 interrupted, tartly. “It is false—all false! you are altogether wrong in your sur- mises—altogether!" She shook her head doubtingly as she said: “T think not, I shall do myself the honor of callin upon r husband to-day, in behalf of my dist friends here.” “* He—he is out of town,” I stammered. “T thought so!”’ she exclaimed, triumphantly; “I ht so, That proves my theory true. He must be found,” she cried, excitedly, rising from her chair and ing to and fro, “for 1 am sure he can tell us of Floy. h, if she but knew what Ve agai awaits er here! Poor, deluded creature, if she but knew!” It was all I could do to keep my senses from failing me as I listened to her words, She was in such a state of excitement that she took no note of my agitation, fortunately, “ When did your husband Jeaye town?’ she asked, so abruptly that she actually startled me into reply- She cla fre Nor haba together gleefully. 6 er hands together gleefully. “Still further proof?" she orien “T Knew it—I knew that he—’ *“ Madame,” Tinterrupted, rising in all dignity, but my legs trembled so beneath me that I was glad to reseat myself immediately, ‘‘Madame,” I repeat- ed, “how can you, to my very face, talk in this way of my husband ?"’ “Why, do you mind it?” she asked, in surprise, “Mind it!’ I cried. “Good gracious! You, a wo- pee with all a woman's feelings—can youask me al , “I didn’t suppose you would care, Mrs, Ray. Floy is so lovely that she Loctnecloualy appeals to all that is chivalrous in man. Who could refuse to aid beauty in distress? Not Augustus ag! that I know. And then, too, they are such old riends. Did you not know it? , Why, their friendship dates back to a time prior—— “No, Are you?” she asked, coldly, “Mrs. Pemberton, you horrify me!” I shrieked, ex- asperated beyond all endurance. “ Yes, you horrif. me! Why, I—you—he—she—they—all the world——" I’m sure Mrs. Pemberton did not understand the drift of my words; Lam equally sure that I did not py emery it myself, ‘Thave a vague remembrance of trying to explain, tillmy voice was drowned in the confused clatter that arose around me. I feit that cold water wa3 dashed into my face; I recognized the smell of vinegar, camphor, hartshorn; then came a time of , and then { awoke and found myself upon a Bed tn a Partwase room. I arose ~ an cgatinge rae of bavi beet im- posed upon in some way. not take me long to remem cr all that had transpired, and quickly, Pas. sionately, I donned my street gear, and stamped down the staircase, determined to rest not a moment till l was out of the house of this woman who seemed to th ny, husband's desertion of me for Floy was at all. It never occurred to me that her words could have other meaning than that. I passed down the hall till I came to the drawing- room, the duor of which was open. J glanced in, and I came to a sudden halt as my eyes rested upon the tableau there. Floy, standing beneath the chandelier, xed in the arms of that stranger, Edgar Wells; while near them, propped up with Pillows in a huge a ir, sat the stern parent, looking smilingly on. ‘ Thad wronged my husband! Oh, how tio my heart as I looked n Floy, there, in the arms of her lover, and realized that I had wronged mE ent I did not shout aloud in my joy; I could not réfrain from one triumphant flourish of my arm, and then I started for the door, : Oh, how I wished for wings, that I could fly to my home, where I fondly believed Augustus would be. Not for a moment did I doubt it. That hope sustain- ed me through the tedious journey tome—through the hour that seemed an age. en I, at last, was at my door,T could have wept for joy.. Oh, only to see my husband now would be b ecstasy ! Roane ref the door was opened I sprang in, and de- ag Se of Philander: . “Where is Mr. Ray—at dinner? He stared at me helplessly. ‘was fairly dancing with impatience. “ “Ts he at dinner?” I cried. *‘‘ Cau’t you speak? “Oh hada he replied. ‘‘ Certainly, ma'am. But —but I don’t think Mr. Ray is at dinner, ma’am, for, you see, he—he hasn't come yet.” "That blow, so unexpected, seemed to turn me to stone, In an icy tone, 1 asked: " “Has any word, any message, heen sent? “No m—uothing at all, ma’am.” “ Thank sa And Ebarned emer fo try to proliee my woe, made deeper, er, by the gleam of light that had obscured Tt for a time. What did his absence mean? Like an answer to my query, the name “Inez” flashed into my mind. I had been on the wrong track. Iwas a deserted = all the same, but my rival vas not Floy, but ez. CHAPTER XXVIL ALL SEEMS LOST, My experience of the t few months proved to me that I was ane a 4 _ ump to 2 Se tg ft I was very—ve ible in my judgments. s, for ce, Floy). how firm had toon my conviction that she was a rival of mine! I knew now that she had not been; and my husband's attentions to her seemed to be perfectly au fait, as a had seemed to a Pemberton, whose words I could now under- sta “Why did he not confide in me?” I asked myself. ‘“How much misery I would have been spared, if he had done so.” My own heart gave the answer: because he knew that I would not view the matterina reasonable light. I had been entirely in the wrong so far as Floy was a might it not be the same now in regard nez? That blessed’doubt lightened my weight of woe in & great measure, and filled my heart with hope. Atany moment he might return; at any moment I might hear his voice, his footfall down in the hall. Ileft my door ajar so that I could catch the first indication of his coming, and then I waited. O Heaven, what misery such waiting is, where hope an dread strive desperately for ascendancy! Hour after hour passed, the evening was gone. night was at hand, and still he had not come. et | waited, and hoped, but.in vain. And at midnight I stood upon the dead and blackened hearth, that seemed typical of my own life; every k of fire in the sg was extinguished, as was the flame of hope within my heart; cold and cheerless were my sur- roundings, cold and cheerless my future loomed up before me. e ae deserted, “ee alone! il es : ut by morning 1 was my again; no lon a sorrowing, suffering woinan, but one whose Sou ac. volted against the indignity that had been put upon her, I was filled with suspicion and pou tag all of which had Inez for its object, who, I again felt con- vinced, was my rival. To prove my suspicion true was now my purpose. But how to do it?—that was the question. After much thinking, I decided upon the following: to goto Mott Haven, ad try to find the abode of that steeple-like feuiale upon whose corns I had once intruded, I concluded that she knew Inez, as it was she whom I had seen in the sleigh with Inez on that day when we had en to skate on the river; and | concluded that she lived in or about Mott Haven, as she had alighted from the train at that place, It was not a very definite trail, but it was better to follow it than to remain at home and suffer the tor- tures of ive endurance, I donned the darkest, plainest apparel my ward- robe contained, and started out. At Mott Haven I came to a stand-still. to learn where the tall female lived? I'saw a stout, fat-faced, good-natured looking man lounging about on the platform, and I mustered up courage enough to approach and accost him. His face brightened up after I had said a few words in description of the female whom I desired to find. : “La, now, that's her to a dot,’’ he drawled; “ just herand no mistake. You mean the Widow Smith, of course, It’s quite a common name, as you likely know, but she ain’t no common person; she's a ve uncommon porents, as the late dead and gone Smit! could prove if he was allowed to come back and cer- tify. which mighs be.a charity, as it would sayve——" he is a w dow, then,”’ I interrupted. * La, now, that’s just what she is, A widow, and no mistake. She talked Smith to death; yes'm, she talked him to death, poor soul. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was o-going like a mill-cla per, I How was I and he just got disgusted, and laid down and died,’ ** Does she live hereabouts?’’ I asked. “Yes’m. She lives neighbor to us, and so long as it's right in my way I can see you there just as well as not,’ I ery Awe his magnificent offer, and. together we walked from the platform, It was in vain that he attempted to betray me into a disclosure of the ordect of my visit; I parried all his questions successfully, much to his dissatisfaction, and when we parted at the widow's gate, he looked as sad and disappointed as it was possible for any one to.look. The door was opened, in answer to my ring, by the steeple herself. g She looked down upon me inquiringly. I looked up at her, thinking that it might have. been wise if I had brought a ladder with me, so that IL could ascend to the level of ber auricular organs, and thus spare my yoice. I surveyed her quickly from head to feet. The lat- ter, large and flat, were plainly visitle beneath her rather short skirt; the former was adorned with the bow with ends, which, ag before, waved lazily in the breeze, said bow being placed recisely on the top of per Fons op & small coil of hair that reminded me of I broke the silence b ~ “This is Mrs. Smith? arin, MEE TT ’ “TLreckon so,”’ was the curt reply. “T have come from the city to see you, Mrs. Smith.” “Then walk right in, madame,” with an an- gular flourish of her arin she waved me toward a room on the left of the hall. I entered, seated myself, and maintained silence while she stirred the on the h assailed an unoffending and somnolent cat.with the poker, and went to the glass between the windows, evidently to see if the door-knob with the bow on it was all right. Then she came and seated herself ite to me, and by that time I had decided upon a reason for my coming; but first I wished to hear something of Inez. How was I to broach the subject? Ah! Ispied her picture on the mantel, and it promised to help me in —- dilemma, looked at it, and then at the Widow Smith, then back again at it, and ten the widow spoke as I had ex ; “ She's a sort of a cousin of mine.” “ Ah!” I said, gently. “She is very beautiful."” * Yes, tole: e looking.” ** She lives here with you, I suppose?!” “No. She’s been a staying with me, but she's gone now.” My veart began to thump. “Gone!” Lejaculated, quite forgetting where 1 was. “Yes. She went t'other evening—luesday even- ing.”’ Tuesday! the very evening of Augustus’ departure. Ah, I was on the right track now! “You must miss her sadly,’'I said, with a view of arousing her + ea “ Well, ldo andIdon’t. You see she’s queer, and it comes from nothing more nor Jess than being in love. She's been in love éver since she began to walk, Ido believe, and sheain’t got over it yet. But thie Jast must be an uncommon case, for she ain’t never acted as she has now. Gracious goodness!’’ and she stopped and poked the fire vigorously. “If it don’t beat all the way she’s been taking on eo and moping, and fretting, and rigging herself =p r calls me auntie, ‘I'm going.” ‘In course not.” : “* Has she no relatives!” ““None to speak of.. She's got an aunt in New York, but she’s sick, and old, and stingy, and has a. young dandy of a husband, and is skeered to have any one around that uin’t older'n herself. Inez was agoing there this Christmas; she asked her aunt to ineet her, but the aunt diuu't do it, so she got spunky and wouldn’t go near her, Andsoshe came here, and. —Sh!i—Scat!—you little imp!’ she ejaculated sud- denly, as she threatened the .cat, which had crept back to the hearth, with the poker. That digression favored me, for it gave me time to recover my equanimity, that had been entirely over- thrown by her words. Old, and rich, and stingy, on 2 @ young dandy of a husband! Pleasant, that, truly. Still armed with the poker, she looked up at me,, and added; “Well, I was going to tell what I did when she said she was a-going. I just sot my foot down, and 1 says, says I: ‘You can’t go.’ ‘Very well,’ says she, so humble-like that she deceived me, I P a so I took my nap in the evening as I always do, nen Il went to sleep she was a-sitting by me; when I woke up she was gone. I hunted for her, but she was gone, bag and baggage! She had written a few words for me; it was something about Filkins. She had promised to marry him, it seems, but she loved somebody else, and couldn't keep her promise.” “That somebody else is my husband, of course,” was my mental observation, 7 Wy... you have no idea where she has gone?” I ask- aloud, “Not the shadow of one! My soul!” and she began again to poxe the fire vigorously. ‘It sets my teeth onedge to think of it! If she didn’t want Filki why didn’t she tell him so, and not run away as i she was skeered of him? She's a disgrace to her sex —she is! Do you sup that I would have run. away from my Suwith if I didn’t want bim, even after I'd promised to marry him? Do you suppose I would? No, not a bit of it! But girls, now-a-days, ain't what they used to be; in my time——” I arose abruptly, not because I feared to Share the fate of the departed Smith, but because I was in des- pair at the hopeless termination of my séarch. I said that I was going, but she, apparently not hearing me, kept right on in her talk avour girls in her time. She soon became enthusiastic, flourishing the poker in her right hand in dangerous proximity to my head, My attenrpts to interrupt her were fruit- less; she was entirely lost in her own eloquence, I became impatient, at length, and left the room. Her voice, sharp and high, sounded in my ears till the street-door was closéd between us; and, for all I know, she may have continued her harangue for hours, unconscious that her auditor had taken un- ceremonious leave, Disconsolately I made my way to the depot, and boarded the train for New York. I sank intoa gl reverie, popewae | oblivious to all about me, till the. ride was accomplished. , . I was sitting, waiting wearily for the crowd to pass: out, when happening to lift my eyes, I saw Inez!
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% WY YOUNG HUSBAND. ‘Yes, it was she! Ste was standing right in ice i frem one of mps, and I could see her is- aye , she was alone! “I peered eagerly for- wa bat Augustus. was’ not there. Perhaps—Oh, h w the hope gladdened _me!—perhaps I had wrong- again. ; T started up quickly, and tried to force my way along, but in vain; I had to be content with following in the wake of the other passengers. Of course, Inez left the car before I did. As soon as my feet touch- = we platform I hurried on, straining my eyes to nd her. At length I spied her, far ahead of me. “There she is!’’ I cried, gladly, but the next mo- ment I recoiledas froma blow, for I saw thatshe was accompanied by a man—by Augustus, of course. In the dim, uncertain light that prevailed, I could not see clearly at the distance at which they were, but I knew, 0 too well, that it was Augustus, bon & were walking on with all speed. I soon recov- ered from my stupefaction, and walked on with all speed also. AslI reached the street, panting and puffing like a pups, 1 saw Inez entering a carriage; her cavalier ollowed, the driver mounted to the box, the horses started on, and all before I could get breath enough to say a word. Fora moment I was paralyzed with dismay; then I forced myself to action. I Me oe down to one of the cabmen on hand there, an Gasee: a see that carriage rolling down the ave- n He looked, and saw. “Follow it—keep it in sight,’’ I panted, ‘and any price shall be Sn A He si willingness by assisting me into the Cab, | soon we were rattling over the stony street. Once, twice, thrice LI looked out of the window to satisfy myself that the driver was doing his duty. Yes, each time I saw a vehicle ahead, dashing along pee. Ico aa at | h, that it was bound for -one.of the ferries to the Jersey shore, and then the chase became exciting. We were gaining but little, and if we did not succeed in catching the t that it did, then all was lost, earer—nearer! 1 kept my-head out of the win- dow, breathlessly watching for the end. Isaw the lights gleaming, and I heard the bell ringing. Isaw the carriage ahead dash in through the ferry gates, Iealied out to the driver: : “Quick! Don't spare your horses. We must not miss the boat.” He trged the animals on, but to no purpose; the bell ceased to ring, the gates were ciseats and we were left behind. “*Tt’s the train boat,’’ the driver explained. ‘‘ The last boat for the evening express to the west, or they 7 have waited for us:” t was with difficulty that Lrepressed a groan, Of what avail wou!d it be to follow in another boat? I realized that it would be more than useless, sol gave up the pursuit right there. “was too disconsolate to demur at the exorbitant price the driver demanded; I paid him without flinch- ing, and rode home ina B way car. Once again I stood at my door,waiting to be admit- ted. No hope was in my heart now to make me eager; I was utterly wretched, test A miserable, and I fairly dra myself over the threshold, and on, w thout towing a glance upon Philander. ‘Deserted, and alone!’’ was the wail that arose to my ape as I went toward the drawing room, ‘Saw that there was a light there, but I was so en- grossed with thoughts of Augustus and Inez that I did not heed it. I paused in the doorway, shading my e¢yes with one hand. Isaw a figure before me, but it seemed as part of my thoughts. Then I heard a voice; that aroused me, Ilooked up, and I saw a woman. I advanced a step, and look again. Great Heavens! It was Inez! Inez, whom I believed was speeding on toward the west! Had the age of ami returned? T asked abruptly: bi oxy not leave the train at Forty-second street a. x o'clock this evening?” * Yes. “Andthen?” * And then I came right here.” Fea tek Cercle.” " my the gentleman—there was a gentleman with you” pete “Yes, and he is with me now. Mr. Filkins,”’ she Mr, Filkins approached, Icould not speak; I sank into a chair, and stared hel 4 pie couple before me. “*T took the liberty of coming here,” I heard Inez say, ‘“‘because you are my aunt; and I took the liberty of asking Mr, Filkins here, because—well, be- cause Ia lid Fey wife.”’ I heard her, but I did not reply. I knew now that I had wronged my husband again, but there was only misery in the knowledge, for it mmade his absence seem the more unaccountable, CHAPTER XXVIUIIL. CONFUSION CREASES, Wa—that is, Inez and I~were at the house of Floy’s friends on the avenue. + — i A soiree, given in honor of Floy’s approaching nup- tials, was tiie ‘dceaion, "We ‘were. indébted to Mrs, | Pe rton for our invitations, Inez had been eager to go, and I had consented to chaperon her; not only to gees her, however, but also to sparé myself from the gisnien tongue of Dame Rumor, by facing the world bees f I had donned the very costume that Augustus had selected for the ball at the Academy; cream-colored silk and corals—pale-yellow roses in my dark-brown hair. My mirror told me that I had never appeared to such advantage, Inez was radiant in her dusky beauty. Her dress was of cardinal silk, ornamented with ruffles and puffs of white gauze, which were thickly studded with rich, red berries and autumn leaves, and berries and leaves gleamed against her dead-black hair. With Mr. Filkins for escort, we had entered Mrs. Wade’s(who, by the way, was an, entire stranger to me,) brilliantly-lighted and well-filled lors. I was quite contented to be a wallflower. I had made a got sacrifice of my inclinations when I had decided to be present. I felt that I had scourged my-~ self enough ~ | coming without my husband, with no knowledge of his whereabouts, and with only the flimsy fabrication to offer as an excuse for his -non- appearance, that he was out of town, had no desire to be brought into prominence, and run the risk of an encounter with Floy’s lover, my bete noir; as it was, I satin momentary dread of be- ing singled out by him, and = to deepest confusion. From my corner I had n watching Inez and Edgar Wells; and her pallor, her excessive hauteur, and her agitation when he left her, helped me to divine. her secret. Edgar Wells was the somebody else whom she loved; and it was because of his pres- ence there that she bad been so eager to go. Our hostess, Mrs. Wade, saw fit to come and try to woo me from my corner, but I was firm, 1 pleaded peaswpes and begged to be allowed to remain where was. She turned from me, and1 heard her voice in greet- ing to some one who had evidently just approached her; then she turned to me again, saying: ‘“Mrs. Ray, allow me to present to you——”" I had looked'up, and tomy amazement I saw before me—my husband! Istarted to my feet with a low cry, half joy, half astonishment. ; Augustus held out one hand; eagerly I placed mine n it. Mrs, Wade had stop short in the ceremony of introduction, and was looking from one to the other of us in surprise. Augustus explained, saying lightly: ‘““We have met before, Mrs. Wade. In fact, we know each other well, This is my wife.” “Your wife!” she exclaimed. “‘And your husband!”’ she added, addressing me. “That is a natural consequence,” interposed Au- gustus, “Since she is my wife, it is only natural to suppose—to infer—to understand, in fact, that lam her husbani,” : ‘Now you are satirical, Mr, Ray; Mrs. Ray said that her husband was out of town——”’ ** Aud solThave been, I returned quite unexpect- edly, and learning that my wife was here, I concluded to come also,”’ Mentally I blessed him. for his. ready wit, that re- leased me from what might have been avery em- barrassing situation. After a little, Mrs, Wade left us, and Augustus and I were alone together, No longer lost, but found! Was I content? No. Already I commenced to torment myself with doubts of him. Instead of saying one word of wel- come, I drew myself up and stood like a statue of in- jured dignity, as Lhalf-sneered: “Well, Augustus, what have you to say for yourself this time?’ He sighed deeply as he replied: “Tt is like the old story of the boy who cried ‘wolf!’ when there was no wolf; when, at last, a wolf did come, no one answered his ery, as no one could be- lieve him, Itis so with me now. I have deceived = i that now you will not credit what I have to ; “Let me hear your—yarn,” I said, spitefully. ““Your excuses generally have the merit of novelty and in- geniousness, if they do lack the element of truthful-’ ness. They can amuse, if they cannot satisfy me.” He led me to the conservatory ere he spoke again. “Here we can talk without making of ourselves marks for the curious. Martha, look at me.” “J am looking, sir.” “AmInot pale? Does not my face bear signs of suffering?” “Suffering! Ha-ha! You are trying a new role, I “Don’t be bitter, Martha. Do have a little charity. Do have a little faith in something else than yourown opinions. When I left you—let me see, when was it?” “When was it?’ I asked, indignantly. ‘You ma well ask that, sir! It is almost a week since you le me to be gone for ten minutes. Perhaps you reckon time by a calendar of your own——” * When I left you, Martha, I fully expected and in- tended to return as I promised; and I should have done so, if——” “Yes, of course, if,” Isneered. “It’s all the fault of that ‘if,’ to be sure.”’ “Tf I should tell you, Martha, that I have been ill— very ill, during all this time, what would you say?” “That 1 don’t believe you!l--that it is only a new variation of the old theme! Your nurse has been at the point of death, so has your bosom friend, an ow it is yourself.” (THE END.] d | have never had serious cause to “You will spare me from your taunts and sneers, Martha, or I will refuse to k,"" fate ; Something in his yoice warned me to be careful. As I remained silent, he went on: — “T called at Tiffany's se Bou diamond necklace, as you have, no doubt, heard by this time, Iwas then unexpectedly called back to my office——” : “To that dirty, dusty, dingy sanctum of yours?” I could not repress that sneer. He looked at me questioningly, “T have been there,” I explained. ‘‘ Tt is very dirty, very dusty, very dingy, upon my word! , Why, it’s.a gem!—a pertect bower of luxury and elegance!” “I’m glad you like it,’’ he returned, quietly. ‘“But to ios left the office for home, and not till my toilet was almost. completec did I give 4 thought to the necklace. I had left it at the office. Of course L would not allow it to be there during the night, I very foolishly hesitated about. telling you of my negligence, so I left. you as I did. My last remem- brance was of running wildly after a horse car. M next realization was to find myselfin a hospital ward. I had been kicked by a horse. I wasin evening dress, you wiil remember, So there were no papers, no cards about me to indicate my identity; I was, therefore, taken to the hospital, and there I haye been till to- “ Why did you not send for me?” “For two reasons; first, 1 wished to avoid publicity; second, I felt that you would consider any word might sehd a fabrication, so I determined to wait and piead my own cause. Martha, do you believe me now?” . ** No!” , ; He looked keenly at me for a_ moment, then bow- ing proudly, he started on, and was gone from my sight ere I could recall my emphatic ‘‘ no,” ‘or I would have recalled it. I did believe him; I was loth to acknowledge it to him, but I did believe what he told me. alleen Why hadI been so perverse? He was anxious to make peace, why did I strive to perpetuate dissen- sion? It was a conundrum, and I gave it up. Weary of the Bitter and the glare ab sought the solitude of the dressing room, and here. I remained for hours in communion with myself— with my unhappy self. The result of it was that I acknowledged that my misery was self-afflicted, and determined to reform, to try to be charitable, to have a little faith. > : When I.returned to the parlors I looked eagerly about for my husband; he was not there. I sought the conservatory; he was there, and by his side was Inez, My resolution to reform, to have faith, could not have taken root, for, at sight of those'two together, jealousy and suspicion filled _my heart. ; Stealthily, I drew near to them. Just then it would have been as keen satisfaction to me to gain proof that all my suspicions had not been groundless, as it would be to gain proof that my husband was true, . ~ Itook my stand behind a ef gate Mee plant in close proximity to them, and then | gave ear to their words, “When?” Inez asked. * At once,” “Where?” ‘ ‘ “¢ Anywhere--anywhere, out of the world.” - duee that quotation to something pen id it will stand; as. faras I can get with the contents of my. very slender exchequer.” . “You are determined?” ‘ “Tam determined.” ; “ Even though you love her?” ; “Even though I love her. Love, alas! has come too late. You will tell her of my departure to-morrow, Inez. When I leave this house to-night, I shall start . at once upon my journey, I have a very plea image to carry with me; Martha bas improved won- derfully of late, This evening, for the first time since our marriage, I felt proud of her, and was glad, to say: this is my wife.’ wt. ‘And I'm sureshe reciprocated th ene and was glad to say: this is my busband, Only she not, confess it," ut me, 1 : willing to go to her and say: Please, M . Til bea | pples I have not onpr pecngy ern & have . 1 acknow a u us, better things for the future” LO Ry a eg He took.my hands in his, Aad akan, earnestly: — ciled?" ae >) Then, in his gay and merry way, he ad ; “Your fein, Martha, is the world’s loss, I determin country’s good—to become a. public function some kind wd for instance, a car-conductor, Martha—oh, think what a car-conductor I woul made! But I bow to the decree of fate; I my high aspiration to be a Kuight of the Bell- _ and subside into my origi character of—your young husband.”’ ; [ will not say that life has been ecstasy ever since. --that Augustus and I never have occasi dis. on to : agree; but I will say that we are happy, and. } any t my resol to have faith in—my young husband,
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Buffalo Bill ( F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters.._By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain I’rederick Whittaker. Vagabond, Joe, THe YounG Wanverine Jew; or, PLoTrinG FoR A LeGacy. By Oll Coomes. Bill Biddon,. Brapper. By E. 8: Ellis: The Fiying Yankee; or, Tue OczaN OuT- cast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8 Seth Jones. By Edward §. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchatisen. 0 Nat Todd. By E.5. Ellis. 1 The Two Detectives; or, Tar Fortunes or A Bowery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken, 2 Gulliver’s Travel«, By Dean Swift. 3 ‘Fhe Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. 4 Aladdin; or, THs WonperFru. Lamp. 56 The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. 6 Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) 7 Ralph Roy, tae Boy Buccaneer; or, TuE Fueitive Yacut, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor, His Seven Voyages. 19 The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Deapwoop Dick's Deruance. By Edward L. eeler. elie cael el el aad = 21 ‘The Frontier Angel. By Edward §. Ellis. | 22 The Sea Scrpent; or; Tae Boy Rosryson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Tse Boy Spy or °76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk. 25 The Boy Captain. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoot, rxe BurraLo Demon; or, Tre BorprrR Voutures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, THe Boy Guripg. Oll Coomes, 28 Buffalo Ben, THE PRINCE of THE PIsTOL; or, Deapwoop Dirck oy Disevise. Bb. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood 5 THE ReEcK- LESS Ranger. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Prince or THE Patties By Oll Coomes. 382 Bob Woolf, THe Borprr Rvurrian; or, THE Great Dmap-Sxot. By Edward L. Wheeler. By Colonel P. Ingraham, 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or,.Tur Rep PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEES, By &. W. Pierce, 34 Orexon Sol; or, Nick Wuirr.es’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams. 35 Witd Ivan, tHe Boy Cuaupr Deva: or, THE BROTHERHOOD oF DeatTH. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown. By Frank §S. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, THz Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, tHe Derectiye; or, Lire AND _. Love in New Yorn. By Edward L. Wheeler. #0 Roving Ben. A Story og 4 Younc AMERI- can Wao’ WANTED To See THE WorRLD, Marshall. 4%)Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes. 42'The Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dick's BoNANZA. By Edward L. Wheeler, 43 Dick Darling, tHe P By wae 99 Frederick Whittaker, 44 Rattling Rube. By Harry St, George. 45 Old Avalanche or, WiLp EDNA, THE Girt. Bricaxp. E. L, Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THE Great Sor or Tar West. By Capt. J. F.C, Adams, 47 Nightingale Nat. By T. ©, Harbaugh. 48 Black \John, Tar Roap-AGent; or, THE Ovr- naws’ Rerreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Olly THE MAaskeD- Terror: or, DrAp- wooD Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler, 50 Burt Bunker, THE TRApper. C.E. Lasalle. 54 The Boy Rittess By Archie C. Irons; 52 The White Buffalo. By C0. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe,.Jr., THE Boy, Paenrx; or, TurovcH TO DEATH. By Edward L. Wheeler. ° 54 Ned Hazel, tae Boy Trapppr; or, Tre Paan- rom Princess. By Capt, JoF.GC. Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, THE UNKNOWN Scour; or, Tar BRANDED BROTHERHOOD. So Bill. 56 Nick Whifiles’ Pet. J.¥. C. Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagies; or, Taz Parps oF FLoop Bar. By Edward L. neeler. 58 The Border King. By Oll Coomes, 59 Old poe Ag By Harry St. aed Me 60 The White Indian. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61, Buckhorn. Bill; or, Tue Rep Rive Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship. By Col. P. Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood, W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand. By W. J,Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather ‘RY By Philip 8. Warne. 68 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, THe SHARpsHoorER; or, THE Boy DETECTIVE OF THE BLAGK RaNcu: by Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabins or, Tap Greennorn IN THE Woops. . C. Adams. eM J.F ms 71 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomés. 72 Mad Tom Western, rae Texan RANGER; or, THE QUEEN OF THE PRAIRIE. 73 Deadwood Dic on Deak ory CALAMITY Jane, THE HeRormeE OF WHOOP- ae By Wheeler. 74 HMawk-eye Marry. By Ol! Coomes. 75 The Boy Duelist; or, Tax Cruise or ree Sra-Wo pr... By Col Ingraham. 76 Abe Oolt, THE Crow- MAN oF THE WEsT. y he W. Aiken. B ony Express River. | THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; | By Hamilton. | | | | | / 77 Corduroy Charlie, tHe Boy Bravo; or, oc mohag A a yh sn oi By E. L. Wheeler. | 7 ur ek. By n Mayne Reidy... = UR Speier ee tie Om OF, § Kxigut . pes GuLou. By Elward neeler, . TH 81 Lightuing Jv. By Captain J. F.C. Adams. | ON 5 : | ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ee “ | 150 ; or, Tee Grear) 151 1 Deadwood i Prince oF THE Roxp. 82 Kit.Maretoot, tax Woop-HAawx; or, OL By Edward L. Wheeler, PownmR-Face AND ‘His Demons. By baugh, 2 Yellowstone Jack, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. | 83 Hollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 3 Kansas Kin 2 no Tae Rep Ricnr Hanp..| $4 idyll, the Girl Miners or, Rosesup Ros . Wm. ; Edward L. Wheeler. 85. Buck Buckram; or, Bess, Tar Femare Trapeer, By Captain J. F.C. Adams, 86 Daudy Kock. By G. Waldo Browne, $87 'The Land Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, tHp)Boy Stevrs; or, Rosegsup Ron's REAPPEARANCE, Ky EB, L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. Ly fvegebricee Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne, 91 The Captain oi the Ciub; or, THe Youne Rrvau Aruuerres. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada C#etys or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Buit’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roab-AGENT; Tue Boy TRAPPER. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers, Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARABS AND ANGELS oF A GREAT Crry. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers, By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tHe OvrLawep EARL; or, THE Merry Men of GREENWOOD, Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of ‘Taos; or, Wp Kate, Danny Rock’s ANGEL. By Geor Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Lealville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FoR Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York, By ee Hemyng. 102 Dick ead-Eye, THE Boy SmvuGerer; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, Taw Sian of THE Dovsie Cross, By FE. L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter. Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THE Guipr. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen: 108 Daring Davy, THE YounG Bear-KILuer; or, Tue TRAIL OF THE BORDER WotrF. H. St, Geonge. 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler, 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies, A yore, y of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Mad Hunter, By Burton Saxe. 3 Jack Hoyle, tHe Youne Sprecvtaror; or, THE RoapD To Fortungr,. By Ed. L. Wheeler: The Black Schooner, Roger Starbuck. The Mad Miner; or, Danny Rock’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. The Hussar Captains or, tae Hersrr or Heiu-Gatse. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Gilt-EKdged Dick, THe Sport Derective; or, Tap Roap-Agent’s .DauauTer, Wheeler. Will Somers, tne Boy Drerectrye, Morris, Miustang Sam, THE KING OF THE PLAINS. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr. 0 The Branded Hand. By Frank Dumont. 1 Cinnamon Chip, tHe Great Srort; or, Tue GoLpEN IDOL oF Mr. Rosa. *'d. L. Wheeler, 2 Phil Hardy, Tux Boss Boy; or, Tue Mys- TERY OF THE STRONGEOW. By Charles Morris. 23 Kiowa_ Charley, THe Wuite MustANGER. A a C. Harbaugh. PPYys THE TEXAN. By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Miner. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemvus, tum Doa Derrcrivs. - By Charles Morris. Wild-Fire, Boss orrngRoap. By Dumont. The Young Privateer, By H, Cavendish. Deadwood Dick*’s Double; or, Tue Guost or GorGcon’s GuicH. Ed. f.. Wheeler. Detective Dick, By Charlés Morris. The Goldem Handy or, DAnpy Rock To THe Rescue.. -By George W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter. By Ed; S. Ellis. Boss Bobs THE KiNG or THE Boorpuacks: or, THE PAWNBROKER’s*PLoT. Ed. Lb. Wheeler. or, ae cn st & 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 1 Solid) Sam, THE Boy Roap-AGENT; or, THE Branpep Brows. By Edward L Wheeler. 2 Handsome Harry, THE LACK De- TECTIVE., By Charles Morris, Scar-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. Dainty Lance, THe Boy Sport; or, THE BANK-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J: E. Badger. Cpptain Ferret, rae New Yorx Derrc- TIVE; Or, Boss Bon's Boss.Jon, By. Wheeler. Silver Star, tae Boy Kyicur, A Prairie Romance, _ By Oll Coomes, Will Wildfire, rHe Taokoverpren; or, Tax. Woyntna Hanp. By Charles Morris. Sharp Sami; or, THE ADVENTURES OF A FRIENDLESS Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold} or, Deapwoop Dick’s Bre By Edward L. Wheeler. Lance and Lasso, By Capt. F. Whittaker. Panther ell PIRATE; Or, 147 148 149 R; or, BEADLE'’S | HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. |}———— Par eae 1 ’ | | | Pu 167 Mike Merry, tHE Harsor Potice boy; or, TRE NiGHT-HAWKS OF PHILADELPHIA. Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, Tae TrRAPPER’s Trust., By Buffalo Bill. 159 The Lost Captain; or, THe Oren PoLak SEA. Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The. Black Giant; or, Damry Lance ww JEOPARDY. By Joseph FE. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Neil, THe Sov dun aerarruies or, OLD BLAKEsLy’s Money, By E. L. Wheeler, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Camp LIFE IN THE ALLEGHANTES. By Charlies Morris. 163 Little ‘Texas, Tez Youna MusTancer. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, Hunrzp to DeatH. By G. Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, THE Rarmroap Boy; or, Run to Earto. By Charles Morris, Hickory Harry. By Harry St. George. Asa Scoté, Tre SteampoatT Boy; or, THE Lanp PIRATES OF THE Mississippi. By kd. ‘Willett. Deadly Dash. By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tomy; or, Insun Jack From Rep Core. T. C, Harbaugh. A Trump Cardj or, Wa. Wmoprme Wrs AnD Loses. By Charles Morris. 171 Ebony Dan, By Frank Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Tae WoLF-HERDER or TSE Rockres.. By Harry St. George. 173 Dandy Rock's Rival. By G.W. Browne. 174 Bob Rockett, rae Boy Doparr; or, Mys- TERIES OF New YorK. By Charles Morris. 175 Captain Arizona, TKEe Kine Pix or Roap AcENTs; on, Patent Leather Joe's Big Game. By Philip 5. Warne. 176 The Boy Runaway; oF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D, p 177 Nobby Nick of Nevaday or, Tae Scamp OF THE SIERRAS. By Edw L, Wheeler. 178 Old Solitary, tHe Hermir TRAPPER; or, Tue DraGon or river LAKE, By Oll Coomes. 179 Bob Rockett, tre Bank Runner; or, Tok Roap To Ruy. By Charlés Morris. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Wet. Kerr. By Lieut. H. D: Perry, U.8. N. 181 Wild Frank, tre Bvcksxm Bravo; or, Lavy Lity’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Little Murricane, THe Boy Caprary; cr, THe OaTH OF THE YouNG AVENGERS, By Oil Coomes, 183 The Hidden Hand; or, Wau Wiprimr's REVENGE. By Chas. Morris: 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Damty Lance on Tak WarR-Patu. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 185 Evil Eye, Kixe or Cattie Tmerves; or, THe VULTURES OF THE Rio Granpe. By F. Dumont. : 186 Cool Desmon@d; or, Tue Gamsier's Bic Game. By Col: Delle Sara, 187 Fred Malyard,; tne Lire Boat Boy; or, THE SMUGGLERS OF THE InLEY. By C. Morris. 188 Ned Temple, tH: Borprr Boy! or, Tar Map Hunter or Powper River. By Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, rm Cracksman; or, DRIVEN TO THE WALL, By Charles Morris, 190 Dandy Darke; or, THe Tierrs or Hien Ping. By Wm. R, Eyster. 191 Buffalo Billy, ve» Boy BuriwHackek; or, Khar) x MED THIRTEEN. Capt. Ay B. ‘Taylor, 192 Captain Kit, THe W111-0'-rae-Wisp; or, THe Mystery or MontAvk Post,’ BY Lieut’ Harry Dennies Perry, U. 8. N. : 193 The Lady Road-Agent: or, Patexr- Leatser Joe's Dareat. Philip S: Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill's Bet; or, Taz Gamaurr Guipe, By Capt. Alfred B. Taylor, U. 8.‘A, 195 Deadwood _ Dick’s Dreamy; or, Tue RIvALs oF THE Roap. A Mining Tale of “ Tomb- stone.”’ By Edward L. Wheeler, 196 Shadowed}; or, Bos Rockerr’s Ficut ror Lire. By Charles Morris. 197 Little Grit, rz Witp Rmer; or, THe Stocr- TENDER’S DAUGHTER. * By Col. P. Ingraham. 166 167 168 169 170 or, THe BuccaNEER erry, U.S.N, 198 Arkansaw, THE Man with THE KNIFE; or. Tok QUEEN oF Farr’ t.c ‘pe = ATE’s REVENGE. By 199 Featherweight; or, Tax Boy CnAMPron oF THE MuskiNcum. By Edward Willett.. 200 The Boy Bedouins. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. : : 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Desv- woop Dick’s Warp, By Bdward Lb Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, or THE ox BRIGADE; or, ecm Coraee Honrens: By Oll Coomes. une 203 Mardy Zeph’s Big Findy or, Dantry art 4 era, By Jos. E. ¥ JP. Ready June 14th. r= b 204 Gold Plume, tax Boy_Banvrr; er, Tar! Kip Grove Sport, By Col, Prentiss. : Rowdy une Sisk Ingraham. ae? “aera,
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EADLE’ 82 Large Three-Column Pages. 1.4 Hard Crowd ; on, Gentieman Sam's Sister, By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; orn, THz Wincep Witom of tHe Ska. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3. Kit Carson, dr., Toe Crack Sor or ‘THE West. By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidsanper! oR, THE GREAT SHANGHAI OF THE NortHwest. By Philip S. Warne. 5. The FPire-Fiends; orn, HERCULES, THE Huncupack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Bdss Bruiser; or, THE BorDErR BLoopHounns, By Ed. L. Wheeler. 7. Death-Notch, THe Destroyer; OR; Tue Sprrir Lake Avenarrs. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10. Vidocg, THe Frencu Powice Spy. Written by himself. 11. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar- ryat. 12, The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; or, Nick Warrr.es, THE Op Trapper oF THe Nortuawest. By Robinson. 14. Thayendanegea, THE Scource; or, Tot WAr-EAGLE OF THE Momawks. Ned Buntline. 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EAGLe- HEAD To THE RescvuE. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, Tue Great PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 1%. Nightshade, Tor Rosser PRINCE or Hounstow Hratu. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 8. The Sea Bandit; or, Tue Queen Or THE IsLe. By Ned Buntline. 19. Red Cedar, Tu Pramm Ovtiaw. By Gustave Aimard. 20. The Bandit at Bay; on, Tur Pr- RATES OF THE PRArRiES. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; or, Tue OvtiAw’s Fate. By Gustave Aimard. 22. Whitelaw ; or, Narric or THE LAKE Suore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; on, STELLA DELORME’S CoMANCHE Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- ear author of old Gok er,”’ etc. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stern Arw, THE ReouuaTor. By Francis Johnson. 26. The Death-Track; or, Tux Ovrt- LAWS OF THE Mountary. By Francis Johnson. 27. The Spotter-Detective; or, THE ‘Grats or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 28. Three-Fingered Jack, Tum Roap- AGENT oF THE Rocktzs. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Tue Faro Kine; or, ‘Tue Casurer’s Crime. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Fiery Frep, ‘Tue Ovttaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp; on, Tux Fuasn or Licutnine. By Albert W. en. 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, Tue Scrarzs oF A Harp Ser or Cotueaians. By John D, Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken. 36. ae Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tux SwWoRDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; on, THE [non Grir or Ingun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. vhe Russian Spy; on, Tux Brots- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross! rederick Whittaker. 0. The tame at ‘Pards; or, ‘THe TARTARS OF THE 8. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan; orn, THe Waite Savace OF THE Great Saur Lake. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective; or, ‘Tae Wrrcnes or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, Tue RecxiEess:'RANGER; or, THe Ber-HuntEers’ Excursion. By Oll Coomés. 44. Old Dan Rackback, Tux Great EXTARMINATOR. By Oll Coomes, 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tse Licurnine Ssor or THE Puaws. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, Tue Lirttx Hunter oF THe Nor'-west. By Ol! Coomes. 47. Pacific Pete, Tue PRINcE or THE Revo.ver. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr! 48. Idaho Tom, Tur Youne Ovtrtaw Oll Coomes. or, THE QUEEN OF Demon; Rabbit, Tar Prarmre SPORT; Badger, Jr. 50, Jack By Jos, E. | By Joseph E. Badger, 51. Red Rob, THe Boy Roap-AGEnT. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, THe Cnrmr or Scoors. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sam; or, THE MystERY oF Deaiwoop Crry. By Col, Delle Sara. 54. Always on Hand; or, Tur Sportive Sport oF tHe Foor Huis. By Philip S. Warne. 55. The Scalp Hunters. A RoMANCE OF THE PLarIns. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Tndian Mazeppa; or, Tux Map MAN or THE PLains. By Hibert W. Aiken. 57. The Silent Hunter ; or, Tar Scowu Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife; or, WIcKLIFrE, THE Rocky Mountain Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OUTLAW OF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, THE IpioT or THE Buack His. By Frank Dumont, 61. Captain Seawaif, THe PRIVATEER. By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Toe TRapprrs oF ARKANSAS, By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. By Aiken. 64. Double- ight, the Death Shot. Yr. 65. The Red Rajah; or, Tae Scourcr oF THE InpIxs, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 66. The Specter Barque. A TALE or THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honrsty VERSUS CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kir CARSON TO THE Rescue. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 69. The Irish Captain; A Taz or Fontenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 70. Hydrabad, THE SrRANGLER; or, ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD, By Robinson. 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man SHARK OF THE Mississippi. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantom Hand. A Srory or New York HeArRTHS AND Homes, By A. W. Aiken. 73. The Knight of the d Cross; or, THe MaGIctaAn of Granapa. Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain ofthe Rifles. A. Romance OF THE Mexican VaLury. By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR, Prison, STAGE AND STREET. 5s ee W. Aiken. 76. The Queen’s usketeer ; or, TuIsne, THE Princess Paumist. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco; or, Tix Herress of BuENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, Gotpren FEATHER, THE BUCCANEER'S DAUGHTER. By Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, Taz Police Spy. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. A Man of Nerve; or, Carman, var Dwarr. By Philip 8S. Warne. 81. The Human Tiger; or, A Hrarr or Frre. By Albert W. Aiken. 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, raz Knicuts oF THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill. 84. Hunted own; or, Wires. By Albert W. Aiken. 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZvLEIKAgH, THE Bravutirunt. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 86. The Big Hunter; or, THz QuEenn or THE Woops. By the author of “‘ Silent Hunter.” 87. The Scarlet Captain; or, Tux PRISONER OF THE TOWER. By Col. Delle Sara. George, THE GIANT OF THE Gutou; or, Tae Frve Ovrtaw Broruers. By Badger. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pretry Newuy, Toe QueEN oF THEIsLE. By Col. Ingraham. 90. Wild Will, Tre Map RancHERo; or, THE TeRRIBLE Texan. By Buckskin Sam. 91. The W Oar; or, Tor INN KEEPER’s DaventTeR. By Albert W. Aiken. 92. Buffalo Bill, Tux Buckskin Kine; Major Dangerfield Burr. so wae tain Dick Talbot, Kine or THE RoAD. By Albert W. Aiken. 94, Freelance, THE BuCCANEER; or, The Warr or THE WAVE. Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95. Azhort, Tae AxMAn; or, THE SECRETS or THE DucaL Patace. By Anthony P. Morris. 96. Double-Death; or, THe Spy QuEeENn or Wyoming. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. Bronze THe CALIFORNIA THE WHITE THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken. 98. The Rock Rider; or, Tur Sprrrr. or Tuk Srerra. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. | FALLEN Star. By Pro IBRARY. Price 10 ets. 99. The Giant Rifleman; or, Wup LIFE IN THE LuMBER REGIONS. By Oll Coomes. 100. The French Spy; or, Tur Brivr oF Paris. A Story of the Commune. By A. P. Morris. 1. The Man from New York; or, THE ROMANCE OF A Rick Youne WomAN. By Albert W. Aiken, 102. The Masked Band; or, Tuz Man WirHovut A Name. By George L. Aiken. 103. Merle, the utineer; or, THE BRAND OF THE RED ANCHOR. By Col. P. Ingraham. 104. Montezuma, the Merciless; or, THE EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingraham. 105. Dan Brown oftDenver, THE Rocky Mountain Derectrye. By Jos. EF. Badger, Jr. 106. Shamus O’Brien, Tus BouLp Boy OF GLINGAL; or, Irish HEartTs AND IntsH Homes, By Colonel Delle Sara. 07. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; or, THE BROTHERS OF THE RED HAND, By A.W. Aiken. 108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, THz FLOWER or CaLcuTTa. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 109. Captain Kyd, THE Kiné or THE Buack Frag. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 110. The Silent Rifleman, A Tale of the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert. 111. The Sunggior Captain; or, THz Sxrpper’s Crime. By Ned Buntline. 112. Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, THe LEAGUE oF THE SKELETON Krys. By Aiken. 113. The Sea Slipper; or, THe Ama- TEUR FREEBOOTERS. By Prot. J. H. Ingraheaan. 114. The Gentleman from Pike; or, THE Guost or THE Canyon. By Philip 8S. Warne.! 115. The Severed Head; or, THE SecrET oF CastLECoucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 116. Black Plume, TsE Devi. or THE SEA; or, THE SorceREss oF Hett-Gate. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 117. Dashing Dandy, Tae Horspur oF THE Hr11s; or, Tat Pony Prince’s STRANGE Parp. By Te Dangerfield Burr, . The Burglar Captain; or, Tua . J. H. Ingraham. 119. Alabama Joe; or, Tur Yazoo’ Man-Hunters. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 120. The Texan Spy ; or, Tar Pramm Gurpe. By Newton M, Curtis. 121, The Sea Cadet; or, Taz Rover OF THE RiGoLetts. By Col. P. Ingraham. 122. Saul Sabberday, Tux Ipror Spr; or, LULIONA, THE SEMINOLE. By Ned Buntline. 123. Alapaha, the Squaw; or, THE RENEGADES OF THE BorpER. By Francis Johnson. 124. Assowaum, the Avenger; or, THe Doom or Tau Destroyers. By Francis Johnson. 125. The Blacksmith Outlaw; or, Merry ENGLAND. By Harrison Ainsworth. 126. The Demon Duelist; or, Tux LEAGUE oF STEEL. By Colonel Thos. H. Monstery. 127. Sol Scott, raz MaskEp Myer; or, Dan Brown's Dovsix. By Joseph E. Badger. 128. The Chevalier Corsair; or, Taz Herirace or Hatrep. By the author of “ Merle, the Mutineer.” 129. Mississippi Mose; or, A Srrone Man’s Sacririce. By Edward Willett. 130. Captain Volcano; or, THz Man OF THE RED OLVERS. By Albert W. Aiken, 131. Buckskin Sam,rHE Texan TRAILER: Each Number Complete, or, THE BANDITS OF THE Bravo. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 132. Nemo, King of the Tramps; or. THe Romany Girv’s VENGEANCE. By Cap Fred. Whittaker. 133. Rody, the Rover; or, Taz Rin. BONMAN OF IRELAND. By William Carleton. 134. Darkie Dan, tHe BLack Nemesis: or, Tae Kine or Diamonps. By Col. P. I am. Ready May 18th. 135. The Bush Ranger j or, THE Hatr-Breep Brigape. By F: Johnson. Ready May 25th. 136. The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Rep Jonny, THE Bus RaNezR. By Francis Johnson. Ready June Ist. A new issue every week, enna ee as is cone by all e ers, ten cents per copy, or on receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & A Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
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“A FIRST-CLASS FAMILY PAPER AND MODEL WEEKLY.” Lb nf l UNRIVALED AMONG POPULAR PAPERS In the good repute of its large corps of Contributors; In the variety, scope and interest of its contents; In the beauty of illustration, typography and order of its “‘make-up.” A FIRST-CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is Brest, Fresaest AND Most Arrractive in Fiction, Romance and Wovel—in Sketch, Story, and. Narrative—in Adventure on Sea and Land—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Events— dn Wit and Humor-—in Poetry and Essay—in the Useful and Practical—in Answers to Correspondents, Topics of the Times, Eiditorals, etc., etc., etc. : ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING, it meets the tastes, wants and demands of old and young alike,and is the Congenia: Companion, the Welcome Guest at Firesides, in Houses, Shops and Offices IN ALL PARTS OF THE UNION! No paper now published in this country having a wider ciréulation, and none being received with so much favor by that class of people who are solicitous that what they read shall be both pure and good. The corps of regular contributors embraces the following MOST POPULAR LIVING AMERICAN WRITERS: ALBERT W. AIKEN, CAPT. MAYNE REID, PHILIP 8. WARNE, MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, EBEN E. REXFORD, BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG (“Jack fark- OLL COOMES, MATTIE DYER BRITTS, away,”) CORINNE CUSHMAN, C. D. CLARK, EDWARD L. WHEELER, JOSEPH E. BADGER, Jr., COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, GARRY GAINES, MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, HON. WM. F. CODY (“Buffalo Bill,”) CAPT. CHARLES HOWARD, CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, T. C. HARBAUGH, A. W. BELLAW, LUCILLE HOLLIS, RETT WINWOOD, MARY GRACE HALPINE, CHARLES MORRIS, MAJOR SAM 8. HALL (‘Buckskin Sam,”) FRANK DAVES, ROGER STARBUCK, CAPT. SATTERLEE PLUMMER, 4S WELL AS THE INIMITABLE WITS AND HUMORISTS, WASHINGTON WHITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., and BEAT TIME. AND THE SPARKLING ESSAYISTS AND PEN-PREACHERS, THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS, all of whom cater exclusively for the Sarunpay Journat, while in its department of ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS, those who are conversant with such literature pronounce it the best and most interesting column of the day. Taken all in ail the Sawanpa® Jowntat, is the Journal Par Excellence for the Lovers of a Wholesome Popular Ligesinte, And those seeking for what is best and most enjoyable in that lime should become its readers. —————————————— The Saturday Journal is Published Weekly at the Following Rates: War Four Months... 5.6... 6... ceeeeeeceee st e+4+ $100 | Bwo Copies for One Year.......050..-ce06. 20s. . $5.00 Bue One Year. ..-.---.--..0e0es men se bh nde’ wl 3.00 higiedaghe. sat wee tee eam eeemenmles Sof — faqpplied by all Newsdealors.
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1 Was Sue His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell 10¢ w Love tn A Maze. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet....... 10¢ 2 Fueeive From Love. By Harriet Irving... 10¢ Bi rnotaia. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.... ... 8 Dip He Love Her? Bartley T. Campbell. .. 10¢ | 52 A Romance of A Poor Youna Grrv. Ellet. 10¢ 4 A Srrance Woman. By Rett Winwood. .. 10¢ | 58 Tae Lockep Heart. By Corinne Cushman. 10¢ f ‘Two Gris’ Lives. By Mrs, M. R. Crowell 10¢ | 54 Tue Pripr or Tux Downes, 7 M. Blount 10¢ 9 Tae War or Hearts. Corinne Cushman,. 1U0c | 55 A Srrance Girt. By Albert Aiken. ... 10¢ ii Tur Fatse Wivow. Mrs. & D. Burton. ... 10¢|56 THe Prerry Puriray. By A Parson’s 12-13 Lost ror Love. Miss M. E. Braddon.... 10¢ Daughter £65, Adee «| ahs den 14-15 Torers or THe Sea. By Victor Hugo. ... 10¢ Reed Crowell . 10¢ : - THE QuapRoon. »By Catharine A Wasselt. 10c | enny Davis Burton. 10¢ Unoite Siuas. By J. S. Le Fanu - 10c } 1s Deap-Sea FRcrr. Miss M, E. Braddon... 10c 21-2 Lrrrtz Kare Kirsy. »F. W. 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Arabella Southworth. y Arabella Southworth. ./ aU re ne in the World; or, Tre Youne | 39 Flirtation. By Ralph Royal. et oe ae ree author of” yy » 40 Pledged to Marry. By Sara Claxton. r 0 ray..Eyes; or, THE ER- . ‘ Le ee ey ary. | 42 Mentrteey tne, Iaoamtiful’ of Hi Bx0 intangied, en a Thackera } $ Or, 2 12 His Lawful Wife: or, Myra, Tre Camp By A. Southworth. or ApopTion. By Mrs. Ann 8. Stephens. 143 pat gerbe ieks Secret Sara Claxton, 13 Madcap, the Little Quakeress. 44 The Only Daughter! ory BROTHER Corinne Cushman. jaaeat Loves, By Flemi 4 ouithworth. Why I M d Bee Tus Woman , mtg ont ally a r ef \45 Her Hidden Foe. Arabella. 15 A Fair ory or, Our IN THE WorLD.! 4g The Little Heiress. By M. A. Denison. Bartley T. Campbell. 16 ‘trust Her Not = or, THe TRUE Kwstorr. 47 aya ag ee or, How argare ces 17 r Loyal Lover. is fae 448) In Spite of Herself, By S, R. Sherwood. 18 pie 349 ol; “fied Crowell MARRIAGE. 49 ‘His Heart's Mistress; or, Love ar a well, aad » ener ope. eiledeamed ' 50 The Cuban Freiress or, THE Prion $o'br ak By Mas Pe otinde « Girl; or, eetialv «: Tax Wrromes or k aia | 51 Two Young p95 or, = a BrIwE oF 21N per wiutevele tilwer es Dm Sue |. 2¥ BAR. “py Alice Fleming. petal bg Sd H LS a Messenger; or, sperm Ry Lik 7 pin ee eogg|¢ > PeFoms Sar. By Macy Reed Crowell, “ ofan Agiere 53 Agnes biaye, the Actress 3 cr, Tax Ro- or ate 8 ball a et oak, _. MANCE OF A Rusy Rixg. W, M. Turner, M. D. ¥ Leap Kear oars are BY h84 one “Woman's Weéart;* or, Savep F. # Srrxer, By George 8, Kaime..... 24 Wer Pace Was Her Fortune. BY! 55 'sne pid Not Love Him 3 or, Sroorme Eleanor Blain P By Ar 25 been ‘a Schootentareans 5 or, Har Un- | ‘ $ ee a , ee 6 Without a Moerk, nt ation {05 on wee he a Coquette? or, A GE = | AT ag By Henrietta Thackeray. a8 bomen yee or, THe GAkbLir’s Wirt. §. Stephens. _BRaKOtitED * MARRIED, Turner, M. D. rl. eming..’. 58 The Ebon ™ ha fle#)) Rachel Bernhardt. 60 Cecil’s Deceit. By Jennie Davis Burton. ihe Bares 29 poe nema 30 The Mowry. RSO0Y WEN T8SRTe WALLITW vad / Of Notable Works by Notable Aathore Beautifully printed in the popular folio form; each issue a complete nor and sold at the uniform price of TEN CENTS, No double price-on double or extra size numbers. . 27-28 CHARLOTTE’s INHERITANCE. By Braddon. 10c 65 PursvepD To THE AuraR. By Cushman 10c | 34 Tae Gipsy Bripe. By M. E. 0. Malen. ... 10c | 70 Drirrine To Ru. By Mary Reed Crowell. 10c | 35 Annie TEMPLE. By ey. J. H. Ingraham. 10¢e | 71 Tue Parson's DavcuTer. By A Parson's 36° Wirour Mercy. By Bartley T. Campbell: 10¢ | Daughter. .... 10¢ | By Mary R. Crowell. 84 Prarn or Paris. By A. P. Morris, dr.... . We 10¢ | 85 For Honor's Sake. By Mary Reed Crowell. 10c 86 Lance Unqunarr’s Loves, Annie Thomas. 10c 87 Sarety Marriep. By author of “ Caste.’’ 10c 88 Firorerre. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham ... 10e 89 Taree Times Deap. 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Cents. 64 What Jealousy Did} or, Tae Hei or Worstry Grance. By Alice Fleming. 65 The Wife’s Secret. By Col, Juan Lewis 66 A Brother’s Sin, By Rachel Bernhardt. 67 Forbidden Bans, Arabella Southworth. 68 Weavers and Weft, By M. E. Braddon. 69 Camille; or, Taz Fave op A CogverTte. By Alex Dumas. |70 The Two Orphans. By D’Ennery. 71 My Noung Wife, .By My Young Wife's Husband. ‘ 72 The Two Widows. By Annie Thomas. | 73 Rose, Michel; or, TRIALS oF A Fac- tory Girt. By ode ‘Hilton. 74 Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage. By Ouida. 75 The Black Lady of Duna. By J.5. Le Fanu. 76 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. 77 Christian Oa Ptietake., By the author of “John ax, Gentleman.”’ 78 My Young Husband. By Myself. 79 A Queen Amongst Women, By the author.of ‘‘ Dora Thorne.” 80 Her Lord and Master. By Florence Marryat 81 Luey ‘Temple. % $2 A.Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred, «| 83 Playing ny ee Stakes, By Annie, Thomas. Read ne 14th, ’ s4- whe Jonn Halifax, Gentiomen! 86 Janet's Re open ce. By George Eliot. 87 Romance of a Poor Youn og Man, y Octave Feuillet. Ready July 1 08, Esiziba Regt rus"h One A new leewe ORBAN rere Tue ‘Wavanury Limrary is for, all Newadealers; five cents per copy, or mail on receipt of, six Hx conts a b BEADLE "AND ADAMS, Publishers, $8 William street, New York. For sale by al! newsdealers, or sent, postage ‘ e author of ' 5 yes Astray, By Ocave an Haeee Sa .