Transcriber's note:

 Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible; please see detailed list of printing issues at the end of the text. 

A BLACK ADONIS. 

by

ALBERT ROSS. 

 * * * * *

 THE ALBATROSS NOVELS

 By ALBERT ROSS

 23 Volumes

 May be had wherever books are sold at the price you paid for this volume

 Black Adonis, A Garston Bigamy, The Her Husband's Friend His Foster Sister His Private Character In Stella's Shadow Love at Seventy Love Gone Astray Moulding a Maiden Naked Truth, The New Sensation, A Original Sinner, An Out of Wedlock Speaking of Ellen Stranger Than Fiction Sugar Princess, A That Gay Deceiver Their Marriage Bond Thou Shalt Not Thy Neighbor's Wife Why I'm Single Young Fawcett's Mabel Young Miss Giddy

 G. W. DILLINGHAM CO. Publishers :: :: New York

 * * * * *

A BLACK ADONIS. 

by

ALBERT ROSS. 

Author of "Out of Wedlock, " "Speaking of Ellen, " "Thou Shalt Not, " "Why I'm Single, " "Love at Seventy, " Etc. , Etc. 

 "You see!" he answered, bitterly. "Because I am black I cannot touch the hand of a woman that is white. And yet you say the Almighty made of one blood all nations of the earth!"--Page 212. 

New York:Copyright, 1896, by G. W. Dillingham. G. W. Dillingham Co. , Publishers. [All rights reserved. ]

CONTENTS. 

 Chapter Page

 I. A Rejected Manuscript 9

 II. "Was my story too bold?" 23

 III. "Her feet were pink" 35

 IV. With Titian Tresses 49

 V. Studying Miss Millicent 65

 VI. "How the women stare!" 79

 VII. A Dinner at Midlands 93

 VIII. Holding Her Hand 99

 IX. "Daisy, my darling!" 110

 X. "Oh, so many, many maids!" 121

 XI. Archie Pays Attention 136

 XII. Dining at Isaac's 143

 XIII. A Question of Color 155

 XIV. "Let us have a betrayal" 166

 XV. The Green-Eyed Monster 177

 XVI. "I've had such luck!" 190

 XVII. A Burglar in the House 198

 XVIII. Black and White 204

 XIX. "Play out your farce" 215

 XX. Like a Stuck Pig 226

 XXI. "We want Millie to understand" 238

 XXII. Where Was Daisy? 246

 XXIII. An Awful Night 254

 XXIV. "This ends it, then?" 263

 XXV. An Undiscoverable Secret 273

 XXVI. "I played, and I lost" 282

 XXVII. Absolutely Blameless 292

 XXVIII. Trapping a Wolf 301

 XXIX. "The Greatest Novel" 309

TO MY READERS. 

I do not know how better to use the space that the printer always leavesme in this part of the book than to redeem the promise I made at the endof my last novel, and tell you in a few words what became of BlancheBrixton Fantelli and her husband. 

But, do you really need to be told?

Could they have done anything else than live in connubial felicity, after the man had proved himself so noble and the woman had learned toappreciate him at his true worth?

Well, whether they could or not, they didn't. Blanche is the happiest ofwedded wives. She still holds to her theory that marriage is based onwrong principles, and that the contract as ordinarily made isfrightfully immoral; but she says if all men were like "her Jules" therewould be no trouble. 

In this she proves herself essentially feminine. She is learning, albeita little late, that man was not made to live alone, and that the love amother feels for her child is not the only one that brings joy to awoman's breast. 

Fantelli does not claim that Blanche is his property. He is her loverstill, even though he has gained the law's permission to be her master. He recognizes that she has rights in herself that are inviolable. Thisis why they live together so contentedly. She would not be his mate onany other terms. 

If it is not the ideal existence, it is very near it. As near as a manand woman who care for the world's opinion can live it in these days. 

And now, with heartfelt thanks for the continued favor of the readingpublic, which I am conscious is far beyond my desert, I bid a temporaryfarewell to American shores. By the time this book is on the shelves ofthe dealers I shall be on European soil, there to remain, I trust, forthe better part of a year. Wherever I am, my thoughts will always turnto you who have made these journeys possible, and there as here my penwill continue devoted to your service. 

 ALBERT ROSS. 

 Cambridge, Mass. , _June 1, 1895. _

A BLACK ADONIS. 

CHAPTER I. 

A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. 

"A letter for Mr. Roseleaf, " he heard his landlady say to thechambermaid. And he was quite prepared to hear the girl reply, in a toneof surprise:

"For Mr. Roseleaf! This is the first letter he has had since he came. "

The young man referred to stood just within his chamber door, waitingwith some anxiety for the letter to be brought to him. He was abouttwenty years of age, of medium height, with rather dark complexion, curling hair and expressive eyes, and with a natural delicacy of mannerthat made him seem almost feminine at first view. 

He had the greatest possible interest in the letter that the postman hadjust brought, but he was far too polite to disturb the landlady or herservant, who were not yet through with it. 

"You can see that it is from a publishing house, " commented Mrs. Ranning, inspecting the envelope with care. "It is from Cutt & Slashem, who bring out more novels than any other firm in the city. I told you hewas some kind of a writer. Perhaps they are going to publish a book forhim! If they do he will leave us for finer quarters. Novelists make amint of money, I have heard. We must do our best to keep him as long aswe can. Be very polite to him, Nellie. He appears to be an excellentyoung man. "

Shirley Roseleaf's anxiety to get possession of his letter was notlessened by this conversation. It seemed as if his entire future hung onthe contents of that envelope tarrying so long in Nellie's hands. Thegreat publishers, Cutt & Slashem, had had a manuscript of his in theirhands for nearly a fortnight. When they had definitely accepted it, hispath would be perfectly clear. If they rejected it--but he had not gotso far as that. 

The manuscript was a romance--a romance of love! Its author had spent agreat deal of time upon it. He had rewritten it with care, and finallymade a neat copy, of which he was very proud. Then he had thought a longtime over the question of a publishing firm. Cutt & Slashem stood at thetop of their profession, and they finally received the preference. Withthe MSS. Roseleaf sent a pretty note, in which he included a delicatecompliment on their success. The MSS. And the note were arrangedtastefully in a neat white package and tied with pink twine. 

After all of those precautions it is no wonder that the novelist feltsurprise when days passed and no reply was sent to him. But never at anytime was he discouraged. Had they intended to reject the novel, hereasoned, they could as easily have done so in three days as ten. 

He pictured the members of the firm hugging themselves over their goodfortune, passing the manuscript from one to the other, all eager for ataste of such a marvelous work. He did not think it egotism to believethey did not get stories like that every day. 

His thoughts flew rapidly as Nellie slowly climbed the stairs. Now hewould be famous, he would be courted, he would be envied! He would alsobe very, very rich, though that was not of so much account. 

As Nellie handed him the letter he responded to her pleasant smile withone of his own, and even pressed a twenty-five cent piece into her hand. Then he closed his door behind him, bolting it in his eagerness to bealone. The morning was foggy, and he sank into a chair by the window, the only part of the room where he could see to read distinctly. 

There was an attraction about the envelope. It was light buff in color, bearing the address of Cutt & Slashem in large letter on one side of thefront face, besides the names of several of the most famous authorswhose publishers the firm had the happiness to be. 

"Shirley Roseleaf!" It would not look so badly in print. 

So lost was he in the pleasant pictures which these thoughts conjuredup that it was some minutes before he tore open the envelope. Then hisastounded eyes rested upon these lines:

 "Messrs. Cutt & Slashem regret to be obliged to decline with thanks the MSS. Of M. Shirley Roseleaf, and request to be informed what disposition he desires made of the same. "

Roseleaf read this dizzily. For some moments he could not understandwhat that sentence meant. "Obliged to decline" was plain enough; but hisconfused mind found some grains of comfort in the request of the firm toknow what he wished done with his manuscript. They must, he reasoned, consider it of value, or they would not respond in that courteousmanner. Still, he could not comprehend how they had had the asininity to"decline" it at all. 

Were they unwilling to add another star to their galaxy?

Could they actually have read the tale?

A firm of their reputation, too!

When Roseleaf emerged from his temporary stupor it was into a state ofgreat indignation. Why, the men were fools! He wished heartily he hadnever gone to them. They would yet see the day when, with tears in theireyes, they would regret their lack of judgment. His first act should beto go to their office and express his opinion of their stupidity, andthen he would take his MSS. To some rival house. And never, never in theworld--after he had become famous, and when every publisher on bothsides of the Atlantic were besieging him--never, he said, should theseignorant fellows get a scrap of his writing, not even if they offeredits weight in gold!

He was too excited for delay, and donning his hat, he took his way withall speed to Cutt & Slashem's office. At that instant he had more faithin his novel than ever. As he walked rapidly along he compared it withsome of the stories issued by the firm that had rejected it, to thegreat disadvantage of the latter. 

"I wish to see Mr. Cutt or Mr. Slashem, " he said, imperiously, as heentered the counting room. 

"Both are in, " said the office boy, imperturbably. "Which will youhave?"

"I will see them together. "

Had they been tigers, fresh from an Indian jungle, it would have made nodifference to him. 

The boy asked for his card, vanished with it, returned and bade himfollow. Up a flight of stairs they went, then to the left, then to theright, then across a little hall. A door with the name of the house andthe additional word "Private" loomed before them. 

"Come in!" was heard in response to the knock of the office boy. 

Roseleaf entered, something slower than a cannon ball, and yetconsiderably faster than a snail. The two principal members of the firmwere sitting together, with lighted cigars in their mouths, examining alot of paper samples that lay upon a table. They did no more at firstthan glance up and nod, not having finished the business upon whichthey were engaged. 

"Is it any better than the last?" asked Mr. Slashem, referring to thesample his partner was examining. 

"It's just as good, at least, " was the answer. "And an eighth of a centa pound less. I think we had better order five hundred reams. "

"Five hundred reams, " repeated the other, slowly, making a memorandum ina little book that he carried. "And the other lot we'll wait about, eh?Paper is not very steady. It's gone off a sixteenth since Thursday. "

This conversation only served to infuriate still more the visitor whostood waiting to pour out his wrath. Were these men wasting time overfractions of a cent in the price of stock, just after they had rejectedone of the greatest romances of modern times!

With the precision of a duplex machine both partners finally looked upfrom the table at the young man. 

"Mr. Shirley Roseleaf?" said Mr. Slashem, interrogatively, glancing atthe card that the office boy had brought. 

"Yes, sir!" was the sharp and disdainful reply. 

"We need nothing in your line, " interrupted Mr. Cutt. "I suppose Mr. Trimm has our other order well under way?"

The look of indignant protest that appeared in Roseleaf's face causedMr. Slashem to speak. 

"This is not Mr. Roseberg, " he explained. "My partner took you for anagent of our bookbinder, " he added. 

The novelist thought his skin would burst. 

"I am quite complimented, " he said, in an icy tone. "Let me introducemyself. I am the author of 'Evelyn's Faith. '"

The partners consulted each other. 

"The similarity of names confused me, " said Mr. Cutt. "Is your book onethat we have published?"

Saints and angels!

"It is one that was sent to you _for_ publication, " replied Roseleaf, with much heat, "and has been returned this morning--_rejected_!"

"Ah!" said Mr. Cutt. 

"We have nothing to do with that department, " said Mr. Slashem, comingto the rescue. "You should see Mr. Gouger, on the second floor above;though if he has rejected your story a visit would be quite useless. Henever decides a matter without sufficient reason. "

"Oh, dear, no!" added Mr. Cutt, feeling again of the paper samples. 

Shirley Roseleaf listened with wild incredulity. 

"Do you mean to tell me, " he said, "that you, the members of the firm ofCutt & Slashem, have rejected my story without even reading it?"

The partners glanced at each other again. 

"We never read books, " said Mr. Cutt. 

"Never, " said Mr. Slashem, kindly. "We have things much more importantto attend to. We pay Mr. Gouger a large salary. Why, my young friend, there are probably a dozen manuscripts received at our office everyweek. If we were to try to _read_ them, who do you think would attendto the _essential_ points of our business?"

Roseleaf's contempt for the concern was increasing at lightning speed. He did not care to mince his words, for it could make no difference now. 

"I should imagine that the selection of the books you are to print wouldbe at least as important as the paper you are to use, " he retorted. 

Mr. Cutt looked at him in great astonishment. 

"You are much mistaken, " said he. 

"Entirely mistaken, " confirmed Mr. Slashem. 

The author had no desire to remain longer, as it was evident he waslosing his temper to no purpose. If it was Mr. Gouger who had rejectedhis work, it was Mr. Gouger that he must see. 

Bowing with ironical grace to the examiners of printing paper, he tookleave of them, and mounted to the sanctum of the man who he had beentold was the arbiter of his fate. A girl with soiled hands pointed outthe room, for there was nothing to indicate it upon the dingy panel ofthe door; and presently Roseleaf stood in the presence of the individualhe believed at that moment his worst enemy. 

There were two men in the room. One of them indicated with a motion ofhis hand that the other was the one wanted, and with a second motionthat the caller might be seated. Mr. Gouger was partly hidden behind adesk, engaged in turning over a heap of manuscript, and it appeared fromthe manner of his companion that he did not wish to be disturbed. 

Somewhat cooled down by this state of affairs, the young novelist tookthe chair indicated and waited several minutes. 

"What d--d nonsense they are sending me these days!" exclaimed Mr. Gouger at last, thrusting the sheets he had been scanning back into thewrapper in which they had come, without, however, raising his eyes fromhis desk. "Out of a hundred stories I read, not three are fit to build afire with! This thing is written by a girl who ought to take a term in agrammar school. She has no more idea of syntax than a lapdog. Her fatherwrites that he is willing to pay a reasonable sum to have it broughtout. Why, Cutt & Slashem couldn't afford to put their imprint on thatrot for fifty thousand dollars!"

He had finished saying this before he learned that a third person was inthe room. Upon making this discovery he lowered his voice, as ifregretting having exhibited too great warmth before a stranger. Thenovelist rose and handed him a card, and as Mr. Gouger glanced at thename a gleam of recognition lit up his face. 

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Roseleaf, " he said. "I had half a notion toask you to call, when I felt obliged to send you that note yesterday. There are several things I would like to say to you. Archie, perhaps youwould let us have the room for a few minutes. "

The last remark was addressed familiarly to the man who occupied thethird chair, and who looked so disheartened at the prospect of having torise therefrom that Roseleaf hastened to express a hope that he wouldnot do so on his account. 

"Very well, " said Mr. Gouger, abruptly. "You heard what I said aboutthis copy I have just read, though it was not my intention that youshould. I supposed I was talking only to Mr. Weil, who is not in theprofession and does not expect to be. Now, let me say at once, Mr. Roseleaf, that your contribution is not open to any of the objections Ihave cited. You have evidently been well educated. Your English is pureand forcible. It is a real delight to read your pages. Every line showsthe greatest care in construction. I did with your story what I have notdone with another for a long time--I read it through. Why then did Ireject it?"

The question was too great for the one most interested to answer, but inthe glow of pleasure that the compliment brought he forgot for themoment his bitter feelings. 

"Possibly, " he suggested, "Cutt & Slashem have more novels on hand thanthey feel like producing at present. "

"No, " responded Mr. Gouger, disposing of that theory in one breath. "Ahouse like ours would never reject a really desirable manuscript. If youwill reflect that only one or two of this description are produced eachyear you will the more readily understand me. Your story has a cardinalfault for which no excellence of style or finish can compensate. Shall Itell you what it is, and before this gentleman?"

He indicated Mr. Weil as he spoke. Roseleaf's heart sank. For the firsttime he felt a deadly fear. 

"Tell me, by all means, " he responded, faintly. 

Mr. Gouger's face bore its gentlest expression at that moment. He wastaking valuable time, time that belonged to his employers, to saysomething that must temporarily disappoint, though in the end it mightbenefit his hearer. 

"Let me repeat, " he said, "that your work is well written, and that Ihave read it with the greatest interest. Its fault--an insuperableone--is that it lacks fidelity to nature. Mr. Roseleaf, I think I couldgauge your past life with tolerable accuracy merely from what thatmanuscript reveals. "

The novelist shook his head. There was not a line of autobiography inthose pages, and he told his critic so. 

"Oh, I understand, " replied Mr. Gouger. "But this I have learned: Yourlife has been marvelously colorless. Yet, in spite of that, you haveundertaken to write of things of which you know nothing, and aboutwhich, I may add, you have made very poor guesses. "

Mr. Weil, leaning back in his chair, began to show a decided interest. Mr. Roseleaf, sitting upright, in an attitude of strained attention, inquired what Mr. Gouger meant. 

"Well, for instance, this, " responded the critic: "You attempt to depictthe sensations of love, though you have never had a passion. Can youexpect to know how it feels to hold a beautiful girl in your arms, whenyou never had one there? You put words of temptation into the mouth ofyour villain which no real scamp would think of using, for their onlyeffect would be to alarm your heroine. You talk of a planned seductionas if it were part of an oratorio. And you make your hero sosuperlatively pure and sweet that no woman formed of flesh and bloodcould endure him for an hour. "

The color mounted to Roseleaf's face. He felt that this criticism wasnot without foundation. But presently he rallied, and asked if it werenecessary for a man to experience every sensation before he dared writeabout them. 

"Do you suppose, " he asked, desperately, "that Jules Verne ever traveledsixty thousand leagues under the sea or made a journey to the moon?"

Mr. Weil could not help uttering a little laugh. Mr. Gouger struck hishands together and clinched them. 

"No, " said he. "But he could have written neither of those wonderfultales without a knowledge of the sciences of which they treat. "

"He has read, and I have read, " responded Roseleaf. "What is thedifference?"

"He has studied, and you have not, " retorted the critic. "That makes allthe difference in the world. He has a correct idea of the structure ofthe moon and what should be found in the unexplored caverns of theocean; while you, in total ignorance, have attempted to deal in ascience to which these are the merest bagatelles! You know as little ofthe tides that control the heart of a girl as you do of the personalhistory of the inhabitants of Jupiter! Your powers of description aregood; those of invention feeble. Either throw yourself into a loveaffair, till you have learned it root and branch, or never again try todepict one. "

Mr. Archie Weil smiled and nodded, as if he entirely agreed with thespeaker. 

"What a novel _I_ could make, my dear fellow!" he exclaimed, "if I onlyhad the talent. I have had experiences enough, but I could no more writethem out than I could fly. "

"It is quite as well, " was the response, "your women would all beMessalinas and fiction has too many now. "

"Not _all_ of them, Lawrence, " was the quick and meaning reply. 

"In that case, " said Gouger, "I wish heartily you could write. The worldis famishing for a real love story, based on modern lines, brought up todate. I tell you, there has been nothing satisfactory in that line sinceGoethe's day. "

Mr. Weil suggested Balzac and Sand. 

"Why don't you include George William Reynolds?" inquired Gouger, with asneer. "Neither of them wrote until they were depraved by contract withhumanity. If we could get a young man of true literary talent to seelife and write of it as he went along, what might we not secure? But Ihave no more time to spare, Mr. Roseleaf. I was sorry to be obliged toreject your story. Some day, when you have seen just a little of theworld, begin again on the lines I have outlined, and come here with theresult. "

Quite dispirited, now that the last plank had slipped from under him, the novelist walked slowly down the stairs. He did not even ask for hismanuscript. After what he had heard, it did not seem worth carrying tohis lodgings. His plans were shipwrecked. Instead of the fame andfortune he had hoped for, he felt the most bitter disappointment. Allhis bright dreams had vanished. 

A step behind him quicker than his own, made him aware that some one wasfollowing him, and presently a voice called his name. It was Mr. ArchieWeil, who had put himself to unusual exertion, and required some secondsto recover his breath before he could speak further. 

"I want you to come over to my hotel and have a little talk with me, " hesaid. "Gouger has interested me in you immensely. I believe, as he says, that you have the making of a distinguished author, and I want toarrange a plan by which you can carry out his scheme. "

Mr. Roseleaf stared doubtfully at his companion. 

"What scheme?" he said, briefly. 

"Why, of imparting to you that knowledge of the world which will enableyou to draw truthful portraits. You have the art, he says, the talent, the capacity--whatever you choose to call it. All you lack isexperience. Given that, you would make a reputation second to none. Whatcan be plainer than that you should acquire the thing you need withoutdelay?"

"The 'thing I need'?" repeated Roseleaf, dolefully. 

Mr. Weil laughed, delightfully. 

"Yes!" he explained. "What you need is a friend able to interest you, tobegin with. Pardon me if I say I may be described by that phrase. Cometo my hotel a little while and let us talk it over. "

It was not an opportunity to be refused, in Roseleaf's depressedcondition, and the two men walked together to the Hoffman House, whereMr. Weil at that time made his home. 

CHAPTER II. 

"WAS MY STORY TOO BOLD?"

"Well, Millie, your letter has come, " said Mr. Wilton Fern, as heentered the parlor of his pleasant residence, situated about twentymiles from the limits of New York City. "Open it as quick as you can, and learn your fate. "

His daughter started nervously from her seat near the window, where shehad been spending the previous hour in speculations regarding the verymissive that was now placed in her hands. She was a handsome girl, neither blonde nor brunette, with eyes of hazel gray and hair of thatcolor that moderns call Titian red. She took the envelope that herfather gave her, and though she wanted intensely to know the contentsshe hesitated to open it. 

"Read it, Millie, " smiled Mr. Fern. "Let us learn whether we have anauthoress in our house who is destined to become famous. "

But this remark made Miss Millicent less willing than before to open theletter in her father's presence. She slowly left the room withoutanswering and did not break the seal of her communication till she wasin the seclusion of her chamber. 

And it was quite a while, even then, before she summoned the necessarycourage. Some days previous she had sent a MSS. To the great publishinghouse of Cutt & Slashem. The writing had taken up the best of her timefor a year. She had high hopes that it was destined to lay thefoundation of an artistic success. Her plot was novel, not to saystartling. It was entirely out of the conventional order. It would becertain to arouse talk and provoke comment, if it got into print; and tomake sure that it _would_ get into print she had persuaded her father towrite a little note, which she enclosed with the MSS. , saying that hewould pay a cash bonus, if the firm demanded it, to guarantee themagainst possible loss. 

With this note in her mind, Miss Millicent had felt little doubt thather story would be accepted and printed. She only wondered how warmlythey would praise her work. It was not enough to have them print it; shewanted something to justify her in saying to her father, "There, you seeI was not wrong after all in thinking I could have a literary career!"

At last the envelope was removed, and the girl's astonished eyes litupon this cold, dry statement:

 "Messrs. Cutt & Slashem regret to be obliged to decline with thanks the MSS. Of Miss M. Fern, and request to be informed what disposition she desires made of the same. "

Millicent felt a ringing in her ears. Her hands grew clammy. A dull painpressed on her forehead. She felt a faintness, a sinking at the heart. Was it possible she had read aright? Rejected, in this cruel way, without even a reference to her father's offer! It was atrocious, and, girl-like, she burst into a spasm of weeping. 

How could she ever face her father? The sacrifices she had made cameback to her, sacrifices of which she had thought little at the time, butwhich now seemed gigantic. There had been nights when she had not goneto bed till three, other nights when she had been too full of hersubject to sleep and had risen in the small hours to finish someparticularly interesting chapter. Twelve hundred pages there were inall, note size, in her large, round, almost masculine hand. And thistime was all lost! She had mistaken her vocation. The greatestpublishing house in the country had decided against her. 

Gradually she dried her eyes. It would do no good to weep. She read thecurt answer that had come in the mail, a dozen times. Why could not thefirm have sent her a reason, an excuse that meant something? She wantedto know wherein her fault lay. It might be possible to correct it. Perhaps the state of business was to blame. The more she thought, themore determined she grew to investigate this strange affair, and withinan hour she had donned her street clothes and started, without sayinganything to the rest of the household of her intention, for the officeof Cutt & Slashem in the city. 

She knew that each large concern had one or more "readers, " on whosejudgment they relied in such matters. She, therefore, paused only longenough at the counting-room to get directed to Mr. Gouger. Her knock onthe critic's door brought forth a loud "Come in, " and as she entered shesaw two men standing with hats in their hand, as if about to take theirdeparture. 

"I beg your pardon, " she said, "but I wish to see Mr. Gouger. "

"That is my name, " responded one of the men, stepping forward. 

"I am Miss Fern. "

Mr. Gouger did not seem very glad to hear it. The hour of one had juststruck, and he was about to go to his lunch. He recognized the girl'sname, as that of the author of the MSS. He had criticized so severely tohis friend, Weil, who was, by-the-way, the third person in the room atthis moment. Had she sent up her card, as is usual with women, he wouldhave avoided seeing her at any hazard. 

Mr. Weil took a long survey of the young lady, and then retired to thevicinity of the front windows. He pretended to interest himself in therush of traffic that was going on in the street below, but he missednothing of what was said, and stole from time to time a glance at histwo companions, particularly the younger one. 

"A mighty pretty girl, " was his mental comment. "I hope Lawrence isn'tgoing to be nasty with her. "

Mr. Gouger motioned Miss Fern rather stiffly to a seat. 

"I do not wish to detain you, " she said, with feminine inconsistency, asshe accepted it. "I only want to know, if you will be so kind as to tellme, what is the trouble with my story. "

The critic was pleased at one thing. Miss Fern's voice was reasonablyclear. She had finished her weeping at home. There was to be no scene, something he dreaded, and in the course of his connection with thishouse he had experienced scores of them. He inspected his callercritically in the few seconds that elapsed while she was asking thisquestion, and when she paused he decided to answer her with as much ofthe truth as he dared use. 

"The fact is, " he began, "a firm like ours is unable to use more thanone novel out of fifty that is submitted to it. Of our friends who sendus manuscripts, the vast majority must, therefore, be disappointed. Now, your story--shall I be frank?"

"By all means, " answered Miss Fern. 

"Your story, though written with spirit and power, needs a great deal ofrevision from a--from a rhetorical standpoint. It is, in fact, carelessly put together. That is a cardinal fault in a literaryproduction, and one for which no amount of talent, or even of genius, can compensate. "

The girl listened with deep interest. She tried to think where theblemishes alluded to could be, for she had read the story twenty times. To say nothing of several girl friends, who had listened with evidentwonder and delight, to various parts of the tale, as it progressed. 

"If that is true, " answered Miss Fern, slowly--, "could not the troublebe remedied by sending the MSS. To some very competent person and havingthe errors made right?"

Mr. Gouger smiled. 

"Hardly, " he said. "A novel is like a painting. The _ensemble_--do youunderstand?--is the thing. Can you conceive a painting being 'doneover'? Your book would lose its quality if subjected to that process. "

A look of discouragement crossed the features of the young woman. 

"Of course, you know best, " she stammered. "What would you adviseme--try again?"

Mr. Gouger raised both his hands. 

"It is difficult to say, in such a case, " he replied. "But--if you wantmy best opinion--"

"That is just what I want, " said the girl, with ill-concealedimpatience. 

"You are not dependent upon your exertions, I suppose, for a living?"

Millicent shook her head, almost sorry at the moment that she could notreply in the affirmative. 

"Then--I should give up the idea of being an authoress. "

This was very unpalatable medicine, and the critic realized it as helooked at the sombre face before him. 

"Is your rejection of my story based at all, " asked Miss Fern, after apause, "on the--boldness of its subject?"

Mr. Gouger smiled again. 

"We publish the works of Hall Caine and George Moore, " he said. "Ishould not consider your story overbold, if there was nothing elseagainst it. It is a wonder to me, and always will be, why such younggirls as you choose _risqué_ themes, but if the work is well done thepublic will pay for it. "

There was a slight blush on Miss Fern's face, partly at the insinuationand partly at the adverse criticism that had crept thoughtlessly intothe sentence. 

"For my part, " she explained, "I wanted to write something that wouldattract attention--that would put my name prominently before the publicand keep it there. The girls I read it to thought the scenes justlovely, though some said perhaps their mothers would not feel that way. And I told them that the mothers of to-day were very old-fashioned, andthat the public taste was changing rapidly. If the story is too bold, there are things I could cut out of it, but if you say that would makeno difference, I would rather let them stand. I intend to try some otherconcern before I give up. "

Mr. Archie Weil had abandoned all pretence of looking out the window. Hestood with his eyes fastened on the pretty girl, as she made thesestatements in such a matter-of-fact way. He wondered what the dickensthe story was about, and made up his mind that he would try to getpossession of it. 

"All the same, " responded Mr. Gouger, who had apparently forgotten hislunch in his growing interest in the conversation, "I don't see wheregirls like you obtain such an intimate knowledge of things. You are notover twenty--excuse me, I am old enough to tell you this withoutoffence. It is not you alone, but a hundred others who have made me askmyself this question. As soon as the modern girl gets a bottle of inkand a pen and begins to let her thoughts flow over paper, it transpiresthat she knows everything--more than everything, almost. Why, I wastwenty-five before I was as wise as the heroine of sixteen, in thisstory of yours!"

Miss Fern reddened again, all the more because she had glanced up andencountered the bright eyes of Mr. Weil fixed upon her. 

"Why, Archie, " pursued the literary man--he turned toward Mr. Weil--"youremember Lelia Danté, you have seen her here. Five or six years ago Igot a letter from that young girl's mother asking me to come to theirresidence and hear a story she had written. It was her first one, andthe child was not a day over seventeen. I couldn't believe it when shecame into the room, with her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and beganto read to me the first chapter of 'Zaros. ' 'Did _she_ write that?' Iasked her mother, incredulously. 'Certainly, ' she replied. 'Without aidfrom any one?' 'Absolutely alone. ' My hair stood on end. I could notkeep it down for the next week with a brush. You know the story. Weprinted it, and it sold well, and that is all that C. & S. Cared aboutit; but I never understood how that infant could conceive it. No morethan I can understand your ability to write this story of yours, MissFern, " he added, pointedly. 

The young woman bridled a little. 

"It does not matter much, if you are not going to print it, " she said, raising her eyes to his. 

He bowed low to express whatever apology might be necessary. 

"I would have accepted it if I could, " he said. "My entire life is spentin reading manuscripts in the hope of discovering one that will make ahit with the public to whom we cater. When successful I am as pleased asa South African who fishes a diamond of the first water out of the mine. Your story, Miss Fern, shows decided talent. You have a greaterknowledge of some of the important things of life, I will wager, thanyour grandmother had at eighty, if she lived so long. As I am obliged togo now, let me add, without mincing matters, that you are very deficientin English grammar, and that nothing you can write will be acceptable toany first-class house until that fault is remedied. Are you ready, Archie?"

Mr. Weil felt indignant. He could not have spoken to any girl as prettyas this one in such language, and he thought it quite inexcusable on thepart of his friend to do so. Mr. Gouger, though feeling that it was bestto use little circumlocution, had not meant to wound his caller. Buther countenance showed that he _had_ wounded her, and the naturalgallantry of his younger companion came to the rescue. 

"I am not ready yet, " said Mr. Weil, telegraphing at the same time aseries of signals with his eyes. "I want a few minutes' talk with MissFern, if you will introduce me. I think I can say something she willlike to hear. "

Mr. Gouger, who now stood in such a position that Miss Fern could notsee him, shook his head to imply that he did not fancy this arrangement;but he ended by saying, "Very well. " He then abruptly made thepresentation, put on his hat, said good-by, and vanished. 

Miss Millicent, who had risen, turned with an air of puzzled inquirytoward Mr. Weil. 

"Be seated again, for a moment, " he said, politely. "I want yourpermission to read your story. "

"Why, I don't know, " she answered. "Are you one of the employes of Cutt& Slashem?"

He smilingly denied the imputation. 

"I have not that felicity, " he added, "but I am much interested inthings literary, and have a rather wide acquaintance in this line ofbusiness. If I could be allowed to read your MSS. Perhaps I should forma milder opinion of its faults than my unbending friend. And in thatcase a word from me, to another house, would certainly do you no harm. "

A brighter light came into Miss Millicent's eyes. 

"I shall be only too glad to have you read it, " she answered. "It ishard to believe that I have wasted almost a year in something entirelyworthless. You may take it with pleasure. "

Mr. Weil went to Mr. Gouger's desk, from which he soon came with theparcel in question. He untied the string and for a moment his gazerested on the handwriting. 

"Do you live far from here?" he began; and then added, as he noticed theaddress on an enclosed card, "Ah, I see! At Midlands. "

She explained herself rather more to him, giving the full address of herfather, and some particulars about the manner in which she had beendrawn into attempting literary work. He listened intently, all the timeengaged in rapid thought. 

"The best way for me to get a thoroughly correct impression of thisnovel, " he said, when she came to a pause, "is to hear you read italoud. In that manner, " he added, as he saw that she was about tointerrupt, "a hundred meanings would come to the surface that a mereinspection of the pages might fail to show. Beside, there would be anopportunity for discussion. If convenient to you I would gladly come toyour residence for this purpose. "

The eyes of the young girl brightened. She was greatly pleased at theidea and said so without delay. 

"Very well, " said Mr. Weil, more than delighted with the success of hisexperiment. "To-day is Tuesday; shall I come for the first time, say, Thursday evening?"

"That would suit me perfectly; or to-morrow, if you wish. I shall putaside everything and have my time free for you. "

Mr. Weil nodded. 

"Let it be Thursday then. And the hour--shall we call it eight?"

The time was promptly agreed to. 

"In the meantime, I will take the MSS. And look it over, to form ageneral idea of the plot. Here is my card. By-the-way, you will ofcourse arrange it so that we shall not be interrupted during ourconference. It disturbs anything of that kind to have people coming inand out. We want to be entirely alone so as to give our full attentionto the work in hand. "

Miss Fern smilingly acquiesced, saying that it was exactly what shewould wish. 

"And do you think there may be hope for it yet--that poor littlemanuscript?" she asked, as she stood by the door ready to take herdeparture. 

"That is a question I can hardly answer, " he replied. "I shall be betterable to tell you in a week or two, I trust. "

She lingered, with her hand on the door knob. 

"My father is willing to take all the financial risks, " she said. "Thatought to make a difference, don't you think so?"

"It would, with many houses, " he admitted. "I am glad to know thesethings. Thursday, then, Miss--Miss Fern. "

He wanted to call her "Millicent, " for he had read the name on thepackage he still held in his hand; but on the whole he concluded thatthis would be a little premature. 

CHAPTER III. 

"HER FEET WERE PINK. "

When Miss Millicent Fern entered the office of Lawrence Gouger, asdetailed in the preceding chapter, it will be remembered that she foundthat gentleman and his friend, Archie Weil, with their hats in theirhands. The fact was that Mr. Weil had but just entered the room, andthat Mr. Gouger had accepted an invitation to take lunch with him, anarrangement that was by no means an infrequent one between them. Theentrance of Miss Fern, and the subsequent proceedings, compelled theliterary critic to go out alone, as has been seen. When he returned hefound Mr. Weil still there. 

"Haven't you been to lunch yet!" exclaimed Mr. Gouger. 

"I have not been out of this office, " was the reply, "and all appetitefor anything to eat has left me. Lawrence, that is one of the mostinteresting girls I ever met. "

Mr. Gouger pursed up his lips, and uttered an impatient, "Pah!" He thenremarked that Mr. Weil had a habit of finding such a quality in thelatest women of his acquaintance. 

"What does she amount to?" he asked. "An overgrown schoolgirl, who didnot half learn her lessons. Read that MSS. She left here, and getdisillusionized in short order. Why, she doesn't even know how tospell, and her periods and commas are in a hopeless tangle. "

His companion eyed him quizzically. 

"Are periods and commas, even a correct spelling of the Englishlanguage, the only things you can see in a bright, handsome girl?" hedemanded. "For shame, Lawrence! You are a dried-up old mummy. Yoursenses are numb. A lively wind will come in at the keyhole some day andblow you out of that chimney. "

Mr. Gouger heaved a sigh, as if to say that discussion with such anonsensical fellow was useless, and took his seat at his desk, where anunfinished pile of MSS. Awaited his reading. 

"She's given me leave to take her story home, " said Mr. Weil, with amischievous expression. 

The critic stared at his friend. 

"Given it to you?" he repeated. "How did that happen?"

"I asked her for it, naturally. You were so severe on the poor child, that I couldn't help putting in a cheering word. We talked of the wholebusiness, and she was willing I should see if my opinion agreed withyours. "

"_Your_ opinion!" echoed Gouger, testily. "What is that worth? But takethe stuff, if you want it, and when you are done, send it to her; itwill make less rubbish in this confounded hole. One thing I'll tell you, though, in advance. You'll never be able to make sense of it, unless youget some one to straighten it out. "

"That's all right, " replied the other. "After I have read it through, Iam going to Miss Fern's house, where she will read it to me. "

Mr. Gouger started from his chair. 

"You don't mean that!" he exclaimed. 

"But I do. She asked me, and I'm going. I understand that it's a ratherbold tale, and I can conceive nothing more entertaining than to hearthat kind of thing from the red lips of such a pretty piece of flesh andblood as has just left here. "

There was an uneasy expression on the face of the critic as he heardthese words. He liked Weil, although they were as different in theirnatures as two men could well be. He wanted to please him, but theaspect of this affair was not agreeable. 

"Look here, Archie, " he said, earnestly, "there are some things that Ican't permit, you know. My office must not be made a starting-place forone of your lawless adventures. You met Miss Fern here. Now, I protestagainst your going to her house, pretending that you are interested inthat novel, when your real purpose is of a much more questionable kind. "

Mr. Weil put on the air of one whose feelings are lacerated by an unjustsuspicion. 

"My dear Lawrence--" he began. 

"That's all right, " growled the critic. "I may or may not be your 'dearLawrence, ' but I know you like--like a book, " he added, hitting byaccident on a very excusable simile. "You are an old dog that is notlikely to learn new tricks. I shall send this MSS. Back to Miss Fern, myself, enclosing a letter warning her to have nothing to do with you. "

A laugh escaped the lips of Archie Weil at this proposition. 

"If you knew the feminine mind half as well as you do modernliterature, " he answered, "you would see how little that would avail. Ihave met Miss Fern and made a distinctly favorable impression. Heraddress is in my pocket, and I have received a pressing invitation tocall. If you choose to send the MSS. By another messenger you willrelieve me of the task of carrying a bundle, but you will accomplishnothing more. "

Mr. Gouger's mouth opened in astonishment at the evident advantage whichhis friend had gained in so short a time. 

"You must have convinced her that your literary opinions are of value, "he said, presently. "If I write that you are a charletan and entirelyunworthy of attention, what will happen then?"

The smiling gentleman opposite crossed his hands over his left knee, anddid not delay his answer. 

"I will tell you, " he said. "In the same mail she will receive a letterfrom me, warning her that a certain party, who has given an adversejudgment on her writings, may attempt to influence her against othersmore likely to decide in her favor. She will be told that, havingrejected a book, this certain party does not wish any one else to printit. Send the severest note you can construct, Lawrence. I have fewtalents, but I know how to write letters. "

The critic could hardly believe that fate had thrown so many cordsaround his neck in the brief space of one hour, but the more he thoughtthe more he became convinced that his best course was to shut his eyes. 

"Well, gang your gait, " he said, after a long pause, during which thelook of triumph deepened on his companion's face. "You will have toanswer for your own sins. But I'll tell you one thing, that may saveyour time. Women who write racy novels are almost without exceptionremarkably correct in their own lives. "

Mr. Weil inquired if his friend was certain of this, and there was asuspicion of disappointment in his tone. 

"Absolutely, " said Mr. Gouger, refreshing his memory. "I can think of adozen instances to prove the point. There is Lelia Danté, for instance, who writes like a--like a--well, you know how she writes. She sticks toher mother's apron strings like a four-year-old child. They never areseen apart, I am told. Then there is Mrs. Helen Walker Wilbur, thepoetess. We have a volume of her verse that is positively combustiblefrom its own heat. The sheets had to be run off the press soaked inwater to keep them from igniting. The room was full of steam all thetime the work was going on. Warm! I should say so! Now, that woman isvain, and she dresses foolishly, and she does odd things for the sake ofbeing talked about--but nobody questions her loyalty to her husband. Youwould think by some of her poems that an East Indian regiment would notsuffice for her, and yet she is the straightest wife on ManhattanIsland. Oh, I know so many cases. You remember that girl who wrote, 'Love's Extremities, ' a work as passionate as Sappho. She is a littleQuaker-like maiden, [A] who dresses and talks like a sister of one of theEpiscopal guilds. These women are on fire at the brain only. They wouldrepel a physical advance with more indignation than those endowed withless esthetic perceptions. So, see Miss Fern as much as you like. Shouldyou attempt anything improper you will prove the truth of myassertions. "

 [Footnote A: Now dead, alas!--A. R. ]

Mr. Weil changed the knee he had been nursing, but the quiet smile didnot leave his countenance. 

"What an inconsistent fellow you are, Lawrence, " he said. "I couldconvict you of a hundred errors of logic. Do you remember telling Mr. Roseleaf that a man should have a passion before he attempts to depictone. "

"And I say so still, " retorted Gouger. "_You_ don't call the ravings ofthese poetesses and female novelists real life, do you? _You_ know theactual lover isn't content with kissing the hair and the feet of hisdivinity! There is more about women's _feet_ in these poems and novelsthan all the rest of their anatomy put together. And what is a woman'sfoot? Did you ever see one that was pretty--that you wanted to put toyour lips?"

"Yes, " interrupted Archie, dreamily, "once. At Capri. She was fifteen. Her feet were pink, like a shell. She was walking along the shore in theearly evening. "

"With the dirt of the soil on them!" exclaimed Mr. Gouger, in disgust. 

"No, she had just emerged from her bath. The sand there was clean as acarpet, cleaner, in fact. Gods! They were exquisite!"

The critic uttered an exclamation. 

"I waste time talking to you, " he said, sharply. "You are like the restof the imaginative crowd. It is a pity you were not gifted with thedivine afflatus, that you could have added your volumes to the nonsensethey print. "

"And which you are always glad to get, " interpolated Mr. Weil. 

"Because it will sell. Cutt & Slashem are in this business to makemoney, and my thoughts must be directed to the saleable quality of themanuscripts submitted. If _I_ was running the concern, though, I wouldtouch the mooney, maundering mess. It makes my flesh creep, sometimes, to read it. "

Archie Weil uttered another of his winsome laughs. 

"How would you like to be a serpent, " he asked, "and have your fleshcreep all the time? But before we dismiss this matter of Miss Fern, Iwant you to clear your mind, if you can, of the haunting suspicions youalways have when a woman is concerned. You know there are concerns inthe city who would print her book, with a proper amount paid down, if ithad neither sense, syntax nor orthography. If she wants it fixed up, Ican find tailors to help her out; and if her papa wants it on themarket, why shouldn't he be able to get it there? Now, let us talk alittle about Roseleaf. "

Mr. Gouger brightened at the change of subject. His interest in Mr. Roseleaf was genuine, and he had already learned that Archie had formeda sort of copartnership with the novelist, in the hope of making hisfuture work a success. While the critic could not be said to have anyreal faith in the arrangement, it certainly interested him. 

"What strange freak will you take to next?" he asked. "And do you reallyexpect to make a novelist out of that young man?"

Mr. Weil's eyes had a twinkle in them. 

"Didn't you say, yourself, that it could be done?" he inquired. "If Ihave made any mistake in my investment, I shall charge the loss to you. "

The critic reflected a minute. 

"I'm not so certain it _can't_ be done, " he said. "But that's quitedifferent from investing money in it, as you are doing. A man wantspretty near a certainty before he puts up the stuff. "

"You greedy fellow!" exclaimed Weil. "Will you never think of anythingbut gain? I have to spend about so much money every year, in a continualattempt to amuse myself, and it might as well be this way as another. Ihave a document, signed and solemnly sealed, by which I am to back himagainst the field in the interest of romantic and realistic literature, and in return he is to give me a third of the net profits of hiswritings. I don't know that I have done so badly. Perhaps you may liveto see Cutt & Slashem pay us a handsome sum in royalties. "

Mr. Gouger looked oddly at his friend, whose face was perfectly serious. 

"What are you going to begin with?" he asked. 

"Love, of course. It is the A B C, as well as the X Y Z of the wholebusiness. "

"What kind of love?"

"The best that can be got, " replied Weil, now laughing in spite ofhimself. "The very finest quality in the market. Oh, we shall do this upbrown, I tell you. "

"What have you done so far?" asked Gouger. 

"You want to know it all, eh?" responded Mr. Weil. "I don't think I amjustified in letting you too deeply into our secrets. However, you aretoo honorable to betray us, and so here goes: I have instructed myprotegé that he must fall violently under the tender passion before nextSaturday night. "

"With a lady whom you have selected, of course?"

"By no means. He must catch his own sweethearts. "

Mr. Gouger played with his watchchain. 

"And this is Tuesday, " he commented. "Do you think he will succeed?"

"He must, " laughed Weil. "It's like the case of the boy who was diggingout the woodchuck. 'The minister's coming to dinner. '"

"You might at least have got an introduction for him, " said Gouger, reflectively. 

"Not I. There's nothing in our agreement that puts such a task on me. Besides, there's no romance in an introduction. He would write a storyas prosy as one of Henry James' if he started off like that. "

Mr. Gouger nodded his head slowly. 

"That would be something to avoid at all hazards, " he assented. 

And at this juncture, to the surprise of both the parties to thisconversation, the young man of whom they were speaking entered the room. 

"I was telling Mr. Gouger of our agreement, " said Mr. Weil, as soon asthe greetings were over. "How do you get along? Have you discovered yourheroine yet?"

Mr. Roseleaf answered, with an air of timidity, in the negative. 

"I don't quite know where to find one, " he said. 

Mr. Weil spread out his arms to their fullest capacity. 

"There are thirty millions of them in the United States alone, " heexclaimed. "Out of that number you ought to find a few whom you canstudy. What a pity that _I_ cannot write! I would go out of that doorand in ten minutes I would have a subject ready for vivisection. "

The younger man raised his eyebrows slightly. 

"But, that kind of a woman--would be what you would want--the kind thatwould let you talk to her on a mere street acquaintance!"

Mr. Weil leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. 

"Oh, yes, " he said. "She would do for a beginning. Don't imagine thatnone of these easy going girls are worth the attention of a novelist. Sometimes they are vastly more interesting than the bread and butterproduct of the drawing rooms. It won't do, in your profession, toignore any sort of human being. "

Roseleaf breathed a sigh as soft as his name. 

"You were right, Mr. Gouger, " he said, turning to that gentleman. "I donot know anything. I have judged by appearances, and I now see thattruth cannot be learned in that way. "

"All the better!" broke in Archie. "The surest progress is made by theman who has learned his deficiencies. You remember the hare and thetortoise. I have read somewhere that the race is not always to theswift. You must treat your fellow men and women as if you had justarrived on this earth from the planet Mars. You must dig through thestrata of conventionality to the virgin soil beneath. The great humanpassions are lust and avarice, though they take a thousand forms, inmany of which they have more polite names. For instance, the former, when kept within polite boundaries, is usually known as Love. As Avaricemakes but a sorry theme for the romantic writer, Love is the subjectthat must principally claim your attention. All the world loves a lover, while the miser is despised even by those who cringe beneath the powerof his gold. Study the women, my lad, and when you know them thoroughlybegin your great novel in earnest. "

Roseleaf listened with rapt attention. 

"And the men?" he asked. 

"The men, " was the quick reply, "are too transparent to require study. It is the women, with their ten million tricks to cajole and wheedle us, that afford the best field for your efforts. "

Mr. Gouger, who had never been known to take so much time from his workduring business hours, tried to begin his reading, but without success. When at his usual occupation he would not have been disturbed by theconversation of a room full of people, so preoccupied was he with whathe had to do; but on this occasion he was too much entertained with hiscompanions to do anything but hear them through. 

"Is there no such thing as unselfish love--in a woman--love thatsacrifices itself for its object?" asked Roseleaf, with a trace ofanxiety in his tone. 

"M----m, possibly, " drawled Mr. Weil. "A female animal with youngsometimes evinces the possession of that sort of thing, and women mayhave touches of it on occasions. That will be a good point for you toremember when you are deeper in your investigations. However, I oughtnot to fill your head with ideas of my own. I think what we most desirein our friend, " he added, turning to the critic, "is completeoriginality. "

The young man shifted his feet nervously. 

"Pardon me, " he said, "would it not be well to talk with people andlearn their impressions? Then I can compare these with my ownexperiences, when they come. You would not send a blind man out on thestreet unled. "

Archie Weil laughed deliciously. 

"You are ingenious, when you should only be ingenuous, " he replied. "Youdo not act at all like the young man from Mars that I have in mind. Perhaps, nevertheless, you are not wholly wrong, for even my travelerfrom that planet might have to ask his way to the nearest town. Supposing you had just reached the earth, and had met me with a thousandquestions. What could I answer that would be of any use?"

Mr. Roseleaf reflected a moment. 

"You could tell me your idea of a perfect woman, " he suggested. 

"Well, I will, " said Weil, glancing meaningly at Mr. Gouger. "Theperfect woman is about nineteen years of age. She is neither very lightnor very dark. Her eyes are hazel, with a touch of gray in them. Shemeasures, say, five feet, four inches in height, and--about--twenty-twoinches around the waist. She has a plump arm, not too fleshy, awell-made leg, a head set on her shoulders with enough neck to give itfreedom and grace of movement, but not sufficient to warrant comparisonwith a swan, or even a goose. Her hands match her feet, being not tooslender nor too dainty. Her hips are medium, but not bulging. She weighsin the vicinity of a hundred and twenty-five pounds. And her hair--thereis but one color for a woman's hair--is Titian red. "

The young man had taken out his note-book and rapidly sketched this listof attractions. 

"Every woman cannot have Titian hair, " remarked Mr. Gouger. "Would youcondemn one with all the other attributes on account of missing that?"

"I would, decidedly, " was the reply, "when it is obtained so easily. Ithink it only costs two dollars a bottle, for the finest shade. Haveyou written it all down, Mr. Roseleaf?"

The young man ran over his notes. 

"I have it--all but the hair, " he said. "Of course I could not forgetthat. "

"Very well. And this hair must be long enough, but not too long, remember, for everything unduly accentuated spoils a woman. It shouldhang about five inches below the waist, when unfastened, and be thickenough to make a noticeable coil. There should be sufficient to hide herface and her lover's when he takes her in his arms. "

Mr. Roseleaf started slightly. 

"Then she should have a lover?" he remarked, curiously. 

"Undoubtedly. Else why the hair and the arms, and the five feet four! Itis a woman's business to be loved and to make herself lovable. When youhave found this woman, if she has no lover, you will be expected toofficiate in that capacity. If she has one, you must supplant him assoon as possible. And when you have fallen desperately, ravingly in lovewith such a creature, you will not have to come to me for furtheradvice. "

The young man surveyed the speaker with the utmost gravity. 

"Have _you_ ever been in love?" he inquired. 

"Never. "

"Why?"

"It was not necessary; _I_ did not intend to write novels, " said Archie, with a laugh. "But, come, we have bothered Lawrence enough. Let us go. "

He took the package containing Miss Fern's story, and sauntered out, paying no attention to the peculiar glances that his friend, the critic, threw at him as he was leaving. 

CHAPTER IV. 

WITH TITIAN TRESSES. 

Mr. Weil deciphered the MSS. Of Miss Fern with some difficulty. Not thatthe handwriting was particularly illegible, though it did not in theleast resemble copperplate engraving; but, as Mr. Gouger had intimated, the sentences were so badly constructed, and the punctuation sodifferent from that prescribed by the usual authorities, that he wascontinually obliged to go back over his tracks and hunt for meanings. Nevertheless, within an hour from the time when he sat down in his roomat the Hoffman House and opened the package he had brought, he had toconfess himself deeply interested. 

Miss Fern had conceived some entertaining characters, and some veryunconventional situations. Her people were virile; her hero was strongif not always grammatical; her heroine did and said things not common inreal life, and yet that were quite reasonable when her peculiar natureand environment were considered. 

Archie paused once in awhile to wonder how much of all this record waswithin the direct knowledge of the young authoress; which expressionsconveyed her own ideas and which sentiments she would personallyendorse. Gouger might be right as to the exceeding purity of most of theladies who dealt in eroticism, but in this especial case Mr. Weil meantto make an investigation on his own account before he accepted as auniversal rule the one his friend had laid down. 

He did not go to sleep that night until he had finished his story. Hadit been arranged by a competent hand he could have read it in fourhours, but as it was he consumed eight in the work. With all its faults, he liked it. There was something breezy about it, and it had a themethat he did not remember had been treated exactly in the same waybefore. Though, as he himself had said, without much talent forcomposition, Archie had read a great many books. It is no proof becausea person cannot write that he would make a poor critic. Mr. Weil mightalmost have filled Lawrence Gouger's place at Cutt & Slashem's. He hadwritten fugitive pieces in his time for the papers, in reference to histravels, which had been extensive, and had even contributed occasionalbook reviews to the magazines. His connection with Gouger enabled him tokeep in touch with what was going on in the literary world, and thedozens of new volumes which passed through that office were always athis disposal. 

"She's not a fool, by any means, " he remarked to himself, when he putdown the last sheet of Miss Fern's work. "A fellow who understood hisbusiness might put that into such shape that it would be worth using. Imean to find some one who can do it, and suggest the idea to her, when Iget to that stage in this affair. Let me see, who do I know that couldundertake it?"

He had begun to undress, and was in the act of taking off his collar ashe spoke. His mind ran over a list of struggling literary men. Somethingseemed the matter with most of them. There was Hamlin, but he would betoo exacting, and would want to suggest alterations in the story itself, which would never do. There was Insley, whose last three books had beenflat failures, and for whom Cutt & Slashem had positively refused toprint anything more; but Insley had gone into the country for the summerand nobody knew his address. Then there was--

"_Roseleaf!_"

Archie received this thought like an inspiration. He threw his cravat onthe bureau and began tugging at his shoestrings to the imminent dangerof getting them into hard knots that no one could unravel. Roseleaf! Whynot? The boy would do almost anything he suggested, so great was hisconfidence that a road to literary preferment could be staked out overthat path. Roseleaf would not undertake the work for the sake ofpecuniary compensation, but the thing could be presented to him in quiteanother light. In Miss Fern's story there were living, breathing men andwomen. In his own there were beautifully drawn marionettes. He could bemade to see that the study of the young lady's method was worth hiswhile. And then!

Mr. Weil's shoes lay on the floor, in the disorder of a bachelor who hadnever in his life taken pains to put anything in the place where itreally belonged. He took out the studs of his shirt, pulled that garmentover his head, and then sat for some minutes wrapped in active thought. 

"They must be introduced to each other!" he exclaimed, at last. "Betweenthem they have every qualification for success; apart they are like theseparated wheels of a watch. There is Shirley, with a style so sweetlysubtle, a grace so perfect, every line a gem; and with it all not a signof human emotion. There is Millicent, full of plot and daring andbreathing characters, and bold conceptions, and no more able to writegood English than an Esquimaux squaw. I have both these interestingpersons on my hands, and I must combine them, for their mutual good. 

"I wonder what Gouger will say when I unfold my plan. Perhaps I had bestnot tell him. He actually came near threatening, to-day, to send a lineto Miss Fern, warning her against me. He wouldn't have done it, though. Lawrence has a bark that is worse than his bite by a great deal. Yes, I'll bring these young folks together. I'll take them as Hermann doesthe rabbits, and press them gently but firmly into one. And then sha'n'twe get a combination! And won't Mr. Lawrence Gouger hug himself when theproduct of their joint endeavor comes to him for a reading!"

The muser finished disrobing and donned his night robes, but it was along time before he felt like slumber. He could think of nothing but hisscheme. As he revolved it over in his mind, it took many new forms. Atfirst Roseleaf was to be asked to rewrite the story that Miss Fern hadoffered Cutt & Slashem. And afterwards there must be an entirely newnovel, conceived together and worked out slowly, using the best of whatwas brightest in both of them. 

The last idea Mr. Weil had before he relapsed into unconsciousnesscontained two novels, worked out at the same time. Roseleaf was allright, if he could only get a glimpse of realism into his work. MissFern would have no trouble if her ideas could find a garb that suitedthem. 

There would be a way to make them of service to each other, and the timeto cross a bridge is always when you come to it. So thought Archie Weil, as he fell asleep. 

In the morning he laughed to think of the description he had given toShirley, in his offhand way, of "the perfect woman. " It was a faithfullist of Miss Millicent's charms, so far as they were apparent to him. Shirley had noted them down with great carefulness, and would be sure tonotice how fully the authoress met the ideal he now had in mind. It onlyremained for the schemer to say something to Miss Fern that wouldsuggest Roseleaf to her, whenever they were made acquainted. 

It must be plain to the reader that Mr. Weil's principal intention inthis whole matter was to dispose of the _ennui_ which idleness bringseven to its most adoring devotees. He had a fair fortune, accumulatedby a father who had denied himself every luxury to amass it. Drifting toNew York, he had found the vicinity of the Hoffman House very agreeable, and his companions, with the exception of Mr. Gouger, were of about aslight views of life as himself. The critic was one of those strangeexceptions with which most of us come in contact, where persons ofentirely opposite tastes and inclinations become attached friends. 

Breakfast was served so late to Mr. Weil that he had not finished thatrepast when the young novelist made his appearance. Seating himself onthe side of the table that faced his friend, Mr. Roseleaf responded tothe latter's inquiries in regard to his health by saying that he wasquite well. Indeed, he looked it. His eye was bright, his cheek rosy. His attire showed just enough of a negligent quality to be attractive. There was an air about him such as is often associated with an artist ofthe pencil and brush. 

"Never better in health, " he said, "but very anxious to begin somethingdefinite in the way of work. "

Mr. Weil smiled his most affable smile. 

"What did I tell you to do, first?" he asked, playfully. 

"To fall in love. "

"Which you have not yet done!"

The young man shook his head. 

"Good Heavens! And you have lost more than a week!"

Roseleaf colored more than ever. 

"Isn't there something else--that I could--begin on?" he asked, humbly. 

"I don't know of anything. Love is the alphabet of the novelist. You'dbest go straight. Aren't there any eligible young women at your lodginghouse?"

The younger man thought a moment. 

"No; only the chambermaid. "

Mr. Weil sipped his coffee with a wise expression. 

"It may come to that, " he said, putting down the cup, "but we'll hopenot. We will hope not. What's the matter with Central Park? There arefive hundred nice girls there every afternoon. "

"But I don't know them, " said Roseleaf, desperately. "And--I have beenthere. Yesterday one of them looked at me and smiled. I walked towardher, and she slackened her speed. When I came within a few feet shealmost stopped. Then--I could think of nothing to say to her, and Iwalked on, looking in the other direction. "

Several breakfasters in the vicinity turned their heads to note thecouple at the table, from which a laugh that could be heard all over theroom came musically. 

"Why didn't you say 'Good-morning?'"

"Yes! And she might have said 'Good-morning. ' And then it would be myturn, and what could I have done?"

Mr. Weil folded up his napkin and laid it by his plate. 

"You coward, " he replied, affably, "you could have done a thousandthings. You could have remarked that the day was fair, or that youwondered if it would rain. And you could have asked her to stroll overto a restaurant and take a little refreshment. Once opposite to her, therest would have come fast enough. "

The novelist took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from hisforehead. It all seemed very easy the way Archie described it, but hewas sure it would be very different in practice. How could he know, hedemanded, that the young lady would go to the restaurant with him? Shemight have declined, and then he would have been in a worse positionthan ever. 

"Declined!" echoed Archie. "Declined a lunch? Declined ice cream?Declined champagne frappé! Well, you _are_ ignorant of the sex. My dearboy, it is evident that I shall have to introduce you to the leadinglady of your company, and if you will be patient for a very few days, Ihope to be able to do so. "

Rousing himself with a show of genuine interest, Roseleaf inquired forfurther particulars. 

"Listen, " replied the other. "I expect, to-morrow evening, to spend afew hours in the company of one of the most charming members of her sex. She, like you, has an ambition to become a successful writer. Like you, also, she lacks some of the prime qualities that are needed for thatend. It happens, however, that the things wanting are entirely differentin each of your cases--that you will, if you choose, be able tosupplement and perfect each other. I shall tell her that I know a youngman of literary taste who will give her advice on the points in whichshe is deficient. With such an opening you will be at once on Easystreet, and if you cannot fall in love within forty-eight hours, I shallregard you as a case too hopeless to merit further attention at myhands. "

The young man's cheek glowed with pleasure. 

"That is more like it, " he said. "When do you think I shall be able tomeet this young lady?"

"Within a week or two, at the latest. I must sound her before I trustyou with her, for she is nearly as much a stranger to me, so far, as toyou. Of course there is no objection--quite the contrary--to yourfalling in love elsewhere in the meantime, if opportunity serves. "

At this moment Mr. Weil called his companion's attention to a rathercorpulent gentleman who had just entered the breakfast room and wasstopping near the door to hold a brief conversation with some one he hadmet there. 

"You see that fellow?" he remarked. "Wait a minute, and I will get himover here. If you ever want to put a real character into one of yourstories you will only need to take his photograph. In actual life he isas dull as a rusty meat axe, but for literary purposes he would be agodsend. "

Catching the eye of the person of whom he was speaking, Mr. Weilmotioned to him to come to his part of the room, and as he approachedarranged a chair for him invitingly. 

"Mr. Boggs, I want to present a young friend of mine to you, " saidArchie, rising. "Mr. Walker Boggs--Mr. Shirley Roseleaf. "

Mr. Boggs went through the usual ceremony, announcing that he was mosthappy, etc. , in the perfunctory style that a million other men followevery day. Then he took the chair that was offered him, and gave anorder for his breakfast to a waiter. 

"Are you a New Yorker, Mr. Roseleaf?" he asked, when this importantmatter was disposed of. 

"Mr. Roseleaf is staying here for the present, " explained Mr. Weil. "Heis a novelist by profession, and I tell him there is no better place tostudy the sensational than this vicinity. "

The young man's color deepened. He doubted if it was right to introducethe subject in exactly these terms. Mr. Boggs' next question did notdetract from his uneasiness. 

"Excuse me--I am not altogether up in current literature, and I must askwhat Mr. Roseleaf has written. "

Mr. Weil helped his young friend out of this dilemma as well as hecould. 

"He has written nothing, as yet; at least nothing that has beenprinted, " he said. "He is wise, I think, in laying a deep foundation forhis romances, instead of rushing into print with the first thoughts thatenter his head, as so many do, to their own subsequent regret and thedistress of their readers. I want him to meet men and women who haveknown what life is by their own experiences. You ought to be worthsomething to a bright writer, Walker. You have had many an adventure inyour day. "

Mr. Walker Boggs shrugged his shoulders. 

"In my 'day, ' yes, " he assented. "Enough to fill the Astor and Lenoxlibraries and leave enough for Charlie Dillingham and The American NewsCompany. But that is nothing but history now. My 'day' is over and itwill never return. "

He paused and ran his right hand dejectedly across his vest in thevicinity of the waist band. Though he knew perfectly what Mr. Boggsreferred to, Archie Weil wanted him to express it in his own words toShirley. 

"You wouldn't think, " continued Mr. Boggs, after a pause which seemedfilled with strange emotions, "that my figure was once the admiration ofevery lady who saw it, that they used to stop and gaze at me with eyesof positive envy. And now--look at this!"

He indicated his embonpoint again, and shook his head wrathfully. 

"It is simply damnable, " he continued, as neither of the others thoughtbest to interrupt him. "When I was twenty-four I had a reputation thatwas as wide as the continent. When I walked down Broadway you would havesupposed a procession was passing, the crowds gathered in such numbers. If it was mentioned that I would spend a week at Saratoga or Newport, the hotels had not a room to spare while I remained. The next year Imarried, and as one of the fashion journals put it, two thousand womenwent into mourning. For a decade I devoted myself entirely to my wifeand to business. I made some money, and kept out of the public eye. Then my wife died, and I retired from the firm with which I had beenconnected. The next twelve months dragged terribly. I did not know whatto do. Finally I decided that there was but one course open to me. Imust resume again the position I had vacated as a leader of fashion. "

Mr. Weil bowed, as if to say that this was a very natural andpraiseworthy conclusion; precisely as if he had not heard the story toldin substantially the same way a dozen times before. He was watchingRoseleaf's interested expression and had difficulty in repressing aninclination to laugh aloud. 

"I sought out the best tailor in the city, " continued Mr. Boggs. "I wentto the most fashionable hair dresser. I spent considerable time inselecting hats, cravats and gloves. When all was ready I took a stroll, as I had done in the old days, from Fiftieth street, down Fifth Avenueand Broadway to Union Square. I met a few acquaintances who stared at meslightly, but did not act in the least impressed. The women merelyglanced up and glanced away again. What was the matter? I went home andtook a long survey of myself in the mirror, a cheval glass that showedme from crown to toe. My costume was perfect. There was not a wrinkle inmy face--this was several years ago, remember. There was not a gray hairin my head then--there are a few now, I admit. 'What is it?' I askedmyself a hundred times as I stood there, studying out the cursedproblem. My tie was all right, my shirt front of the latest cut, mywatch chain straight from Tiffany's, my--ah! I saw it all in a moment!"

Roseleaf, who did not see it even yet, wore such an astonishedexpression that Mr. Weil had to stuff his napkin into his mouth toprevent an explosion. 

"It was this devilish abdomen!" said Mr. Boggs, slapping that portion ofhis frame as if he had a special grudge against it and would be glad ifhe could hit it hard enough to bring it to a realizing sense of itsturpitude. "My figure had gone to the devil! It was not as large as itis now, but it was large enough to cook my gruel. My waist had increasedso gradually that I had never noticed it. I got a tape and took itsmeasure. Forty-two inches, sir! The jig was up. With a heart as young asever, with a face as good and a purse able to supply all reasonabledemands, I was knocked out of the race on the first round by thisadipose tissue that no ingenuity could hope to conceal!"

Mr. Weil could wait no longer. His musical laugh rang out over the room. 

"Let this be a warning to you, Shirley, " he said, "to wear corsets. "

"It is no joke, " was the indignant comment of Mr. Walker Boggs, as heproceeded to add to his rotundity by devouring the hearty breakfast thatthe waiter had just brought him. "I am left like a marooned sailor onthe sea of life. The only occupation that could have entertained me isgone. It is no time to enter business again, I couldn't have selected awiser one to leave it. I don't want to marry, once was enough of that. The only women I can attract are those commercially inclined femalesthat any other man could have as well as I. What is the result? My lifeis ruined. I take no pleasure in anything. I eat, walk about, go to aplay, sleep. A _pig_ could do as much; and a pig would not have thesememories to haunt him, these recollections of a time so different that Iam almost driven wild. "

Roseleaf felt a sincere pity for the unfortunate gentleman, and did notsee the slightest element of humor in his melancholy recital. But ArchieWeil could not be restrained. 

"You're right about that pig business, " he remarked. "You recall theincident in Mother Goose, where--

 'A little pig found a fifty dollar note, And purchased a hat and a very fine coat. '

"There are strange parallels in history. "

Mr. Boggs would have replied to this remark in the terms it deserved hadhe not been too much engaged at the moment in masticating a particularlyfine chop. As it was he growled over the meat like a mastiff in badhumor. 

"Are there no remedies for excessive accumulation of fat in theabdominal region?" asked Weil, taking his advantage. "It seems to me Ihave read advertisements of them in the newspapers. "

"Remedies!" retorted the other, having swallowed the food andsupplemented it with a glass of ale. "There are a thousand, and I havetried them all. I have taken things by the gross. I have paid money toevery quack I could find. For awhile I starved myself so nearly to deaththat I went to making my will. And every day I grew stouter. I don'tknow what I measure now, and I don't care. A few fathoms more or less, doesn't count, when one falls from a steamer in midocean. "

Mr. Weil took occasion to say that there was no need for this extremediscouragement. A little coin in the hand, or a new diamond ring, wouldstill bring youth and beauty to his disconsolate friend. 

"That's just it, " retorted Boggs. "It's the contrast that's killing me. The only women who would look at me to-day are mercenary ones thatwouldn't care if I was black as Othello or big as George IV. Why, Icould show you a trunkful of letters, written me by the finest women inthis country, when I was at my best. They breathe but one thing--love, love, love! I lived on it! It was the air that kept my lungs in motion. And I thought to go back to it so easily! _Ah!_"

Mr. Boggs commenced upon his fourth chop and emptied the last of thequart bottle into his glass. 

"Well, I'm sorry for you, " said Weil. "I think the times must havechanged, as well as yourself, though. Now, here's a young fellow, withall the qualifications of face, figure and address that you once had, and he claims to be unable to make the acquaintance of a singleinteresting woman between Brooklyn Bridge and Spuyten Duyvil. "

The heavy eyes of Mr. Walker Boggs rested upon the youthful faceopposite to him. Under the scrutiny to which he was subjected Roseleafreddened, in the way he had. He had never looked more handsome. 

"This is evidently a jest of yours, " said Boggs, turning to Mr. Weil. 

"Not in the least, I assure you. "

"Then I say he can do what he likes, and I know it, " replied the stoutman. "If I had his form I'd have to ask the police to clear the way forme. I have seen circulation impeded in front of this very hotel becauseI was coming out to take my carriage. If he won't look at them, why, ofcourse, the women can't do it all, but it lies with him. "

Roseleaf's eyes glistened with a strange mixture of hope and fear. Hedid not think he would care to be in such great demand as that, but hedearly wished to break through the iron bars that enclosed him. Heglanced in a glass that paneled the wall near by. He was good-lookingenough, it was no vanity to say so. What he lacked was confidence. 

"He is afraid of them, that's his trouble, " smiled Weil. "We will curehim of that, and when he gets to know women as they are he will give usa novel that will set all creation by the ears. Gouger--you knowGouger--says he writes the purest English. All he needs is a taste oflife. "

To this Mr. Boggs gave his unqualified assent. And he added that if hecould be of any service in the matter he would only be too glad. 

"We thank you for the offer, and may be able later to make use of it, "said Mr. Weil. "And now good-morning, for we have important business toattend to. "

Roseleaf looked long and earnestly at the person they were leaving. Heseemed to him a very ordinary individual. If such a man had won thelove of scores of beautiful women, surely he himself could gain theaffections of one. When he stood with Weil in front of the hotel, bywhich an unrivaled procession of ladies and gentleman was alreadybeginning to pass, though it was only eleven o'clock, he felt muchencouraged. 

"They are looking at you, " whispered Archie, "plenty of them. Did yousee those two girls in pink in that landau? Why, they nearly broke theirnecks to get the last glimpse of you. There is another lady who wouldstop if you asked her, pretty as any of them, though she must be nearlythirty. Your eyes are not open. Ah, here is something better! In thatcarriage, with the Titian tresses!"

It was Miss Millicent Fern, and she bowed to Mr. Weil. Then her brighteyes lit up with a new lustre as they fell upon his companion. 

CHAPTER V. 

STUDYING MISS MILLICENT. 

When Mr. Weil made his appearance at the residence of Mr. Wilton Fern, the door was opened for him by a young negro of such superb proportionsthat the caller could not help observing him with admiration. He thoughthe had never seen a man more perfectly formed. The face, though too darkto suggest the least admixture of Caucasian blood, was well featured. The lips were not thick nor was the nose flat, as is the case with somany of the African race. The voice, as the visitor heard it, was by nomeans unpleasant. Mr. Weil could not imagine a better model for an ebonystatue than this butler, or footman, or whatever position, perhaps both, he might be engaged to fill. 

"Yes, sir, Miss Millicent is in, and she is expecting you, " said thenegro, in his pleasant and strong tones. "Let me take your hat andstick. Now, sir, this way. "

Miss Fern came in a few moments to the parlor, where Archie was left, and greeted him most cordially. 

"There is a sitting-room on the next floor, " she said, "where we shallnot be disturbed. I have given Hannibal orders to admit no one, sayingthat we shall want the evening entirely to ourselves. "

"Hannibal?" repeated the visitor. "Is that the name of the remarkableindividual who received me just now?"

"Yes, " said Miss Fern, rather coldly. "Though I do not know why you callhim 'remarkable. '"

"He is so tall, so grand, so entirely overpowering, " explained Mr. Weil. "One would think he might be the son of an African king. I never saw ablack man that gave me such an impression of force and power. "

Millicent elevated her eyebrows a little, as if annoyed at theseexpressions. She answered, still frigidly, that she had noticed nothingunusual about Hannibal. She did not believe she had looked closelyenough at his face to be able to identify him in a court. 

"He would make a fine character for a novel, " said Mr. Weil, as theywalked together up the broad staircase. "I could almost write onemyself, around such a personality. "

The young lady looked disgusted. 

"A negro servant!" she exclaimed. "What kind of a novel could you writewith such a central figure?"

"Perhaps I should not put him in the centre, " laughed Archie, determinedto win her good nature. "Every story needs lights and shades. You can'tdeny that he would cast a magnificent shadow. "

The humor of this observation struck Miss Fern and she joined mildly inher companion's mirth. Then she remarked that the central figure of anovel--the main thing in it--to her mind, should be a being who could begiven the attributes of beauty and grace. The minor characters were ofless account, and would come into existence almost of their own accord. 

"And now, before we do anything more, " she said, "I want you to tell meabout that excessively handsome young man that I saw with you yesterdayin Madison Square. "

Weil was delighted at this introduction of his young friend. He began amost flattering account of Shirley Roseleaf, describing him as a genuineparagon among men, both in talent and goodness. He drew heavily on hisimagination as he proceeded, feeling that he was "in for it, " and mightas well do his best at once. And he could see the cheek of the younglistener taking on a new and more enticing color as he went farther andfarther into his subject. 

"If I have to rearrange my novel--the one Mr. Gouger rejected--I shalldraw my hero after that model, " she cried, when he paused for breath. "Inever saw a man who came so near my ideal. "

"But--you would have to alter your hero's character, in that case?" hesaid. "I have read your MSS. , and your description does not tally withmy young friend at all. "

Miss Fern reddened. 

"You don't mean to claim, do you, " she replied, "that physical beautyand moral goodness always go hand in hand?"

"They should, " he answered, in a tone that was meant to be impressive. 

"Ah, that is another question! _Do_ they? that is all the novelist needsto know. Did you ever read Ouida's 'Sigma?' There are the two sisters, one as pure as can be, the other quite the opposite, and the beautybelongs to the depraved one. I know Oscar Wilde takes a different viewin 'Dorian Grey, ' but he is wrong. I am sure that the worst man or womanin the world--reckoning by what are called the 'amiable vices'--might bethe most lovely to look upon, the most delightful to associate with. Evefound the serpent attractive, remember. "

Where did she learn all these things? Weil looked at her withincreasing astonishment. "Amiable vices. " He liked the appellation. 

"Perhaps you are right, " he assented, as if slowly convinced. "If youwish to be acquainted with Mr. Roseleaf, I will bring him here withpleasure. My only fear is that he will not interest you. He seems almosttoo perfect for earth. Think of a young man who knows nothing of women, who says he has no idea what it is to be in love, who does notunderstand why the ladies who pass down Fifth Avenue turn their heads tolook at him! He, like yourself, is a novelist, but his characters arebeautiful images that lack life. He carves marble figures and attemptsto palm them off as flesh and blood. He really thinks they _are_, because he has never known the difference. If you could take him, MissFern, and teach him what love really is--"

The young lady blushed more than before. 

"_I_--" she stammered. 

"In a strictly literary way, " he explained. "But, " he added, thinking hewas getting upon the edge of a quicksand, "we must not forget the objectof my visit. "

He took the parcel containing her MSS. That he had obtained from Mr. Gouger, and began to untie the string. Manlike he soon had it in a hardknot, and Miss Millicent, coming to his rescue, her young hands touchedhis and made his heart beat faster. 

"There, " she said, when the knot had given way to their joint endeavors. "It is all right, now. But, before we begin on this, tell me a littlemore about Mr. Roseleaf. What has he written? Where was it published? Iwill send to-morrow morning and buy a copy. "

Her enthusiasm was agreeable under the circumstances, but the truth hadto be explained to her. 

"What he has written I will let you see, one of these days, " he replied. "As for publishing, he ran upon the same rock that you did--that of Mr. Lawrence Gouger. "

The beautiful eyes opened wider. 

"So he rejected his work, too! And yet you say that it was well done?"

"Exquisitely. Shirley's lines are as symmetrical as his face and figure. His people are dead, that is all the trouble. Gouger scented thedifficulty under which he labors, in a moment. 'Go and fall in love!' hesaid to him, 'and you will write a story at which the world willmarvel!'"

Miss Fern arranged one of her locks of Titian red that had fallen down. 

"And hasn't he taken the advice?" she inquired, in a low voice. 

"Not yet, " smiled the other. "He says, like a very child, that 'hecannot find any one to love. ' I walked up the avenue with him to-day, and afterwards rode in the Park. There were hundreds of the prettiestcreatures, all looking their eyes out at him. And he hadn't the courageto return one glance, not one. Ah, Miss Fern, it will be genuine lovewith Shirley Roseleaf, if any. The imitations one finds in thefashionable world will never answer for him. "

The young lady breathed a gentle sigh, as her thoughts dwelt on thehandsome figure she had seen in front of the Hoffman House. 

"You may bring him here--yes, I should be glad to have you, " she said, slowly. "But I must ask one favor; do not tell him what I said sothoughtlessly about his being my ideal. Let me talk with him on fairterms. It may be, as you suggest, that we shall be of advantage to eachother. When can you arrange it?"

"Almost any day, " smiled Weil. "I will let you know, by mail orotherwise. And now, this story of yours, " he added, thinking it a shrewdplan to divert her attention from the other matter while it was stillwarm in her mind. "Though I have read it through, and think I understandit fairly well, I am all the more anxious to hear it from your lips. Youwill put into the text new meanings, I have no doubt, that have escapedmy observation. "

Miss Fern flushed pleasantly and inquired with a show of anxiety whetherMr. Weil had found its construction as bad as his friend, Mr. Gouger, had intimated. 

"To be perfectly honest, it might be improved, " he replied. "But thegerm is there, Miss Fern--that necessary thing for a good novel--aninterest that will hold the reader in spite of himself. I disagree withLawrence in his essential point. I am sure that a good writer of Englishwith a taste for fiction could make all the necessary alterationswithout in the least detracting from the value of the story. Forinstance, I believe if Mr. Roseleaf would take hold of it I couldguarantee to get you a publisher this winter. "

"And do you think he would?" she cried. 

"I think so. "

The authoress was so delighted with this announcement that she conqueredthe slight wound to her pride. It would be herself still who had drawnthe picture, who had put the coloring into it; all that the other wouldhave to do might be described as varnishing. She took up the first sheetof her writing, and turned up an oil lamp that stood upon the table ather elbow, the better to see the lines. 

"Are you ready?" she asked. 

"Quite ready, " smiled Mr. Weil. 

In a voice that trembled a little, and yet not unpleasantly to thelistener, Miss Fern began to read her manuscript. The opening chapterintroduced the heroine and two gentlemen, either one of whom might bethe hero. As the book is now so well known it is needless to transferits features to these pages. 

Presently the authoress paused and seemed to wait for her guest'scriticism. 

"That is one chapter, " she said. 

"Yes. I remember. And the second one is where Algernon begins todisclose a very little of his true nature. Shall we not have that now?"

"As you like. I thought perhaps you would give me advice as weproceeded, some fault-finding here and there, a suggestion ofalterations. "

He shook his head affably. 

"Not yet, " he answered. "Up to this point I see nothing that requirescondemnation. "

"Nor praise, perhaps?" she said, in a low tone. 

"That might be true, also, " he replied. "The first chapter of a novel isonly the laying of the cloth and the placing of a few dishes. The viandsthat form the meal are still in the kitchen. "

She smiled at the simile. 

"But even the laying of the cloth is important, " she said. 

"Your cloth is laid most admirably, " he answered. "And now we will havethe castor, which in this case, I believe, contains a certain quantityof mustard and red pepper. "

At this she laughed the more, and glanced through a few of the sheets inher hands before she spoke again. 

"Did you form any opinion about--about _me_--from this story?" sheasked, constrainedly. "Did you, in brief, think it had taken a bold girlto write it?"

He hesitated a moment. 

"Yes, " he said, at last. "A bold girl, a daring girl, a brave girl. Notone, however, whose own conduct would necessarily be like that of thewoman she has delineated. "

She was so pleased that she put down the MSS. And leaned toward him withboth hands clasped together. 

"You are very, very kind, " she said, impressively. 

"No, merely truthful, " he replied. "With your permission I want toretain that last quality in all my conversations with you. When you askme a question I wish to be perfectly free to answer according to myhonest convictions. "

"It is what I especially desire, " she said, brightening. "No one able tojudge has heard anything of this story except your friend, Mr. Gouger. Iknow it is bold, sometimes I think it is brazen. I can conceive thatthere are excellent people who would say it never should have beenwritten. To my mind, the moral I have drawn more than justifies theplainness of my speech. You can tell better than I where I haveoverstepped the proper bounds, if there be such places. You are, ofcourse, a man of the world--"

The protesting expression on the face of her companion arrested her atthis point. 

"That depends on what you mean by 'a man of the world?'"

"It is a common expression. "

"And has many definitions. Before I plead guilty to it, I want to knowjust how much you intend by it. "

Miss Fern put down the page she had taken up and a puzzled look crossedher pretty face. 

"You make it hard for me to explain myself, " she said. "I suppose Imeant--"

"Now, be as honest as you asked me to be, " he interrupted. 

"Well, then, I suppose you are a man like--like other men. "

"But there are many kinds of other men. "

The young lady tried several times to make herself clearer, and thenasked, with a very pathetic pout, that she might be permitted toproceed with her reading, as the hour was growing later. It was not avery important point, any way, she said. 

"I cannot entirely agree with you, " replied Archie. "If you are to be awriter of fiction, you should not consider any time wasted which informsyou in reference to your fellow creatures. It is from them that you mustdraw your inspiration; it is their figures you must put, correctly orincorrectly, on your canvas. Don't understand me as dictating to you, mydear Miss Fern. I only wish, as long as you have referred to me, to knowof what I am accused. "

To this Miss Fern answered, with many pauses, that she had not intendedto accuse her visitor of anything. And once more--with evidentdistress--she begged to be permitted to drop the matter and return toher reading. 

"Very well, " he assented, thinking he had annoyed her as much as wasadvisable for the present. "As they say in parliamentary bodies, we willlay the question on the table, from which it can be taken at some morefitting time. I am as anxious as you can be to get into Chapter II. "

She read this chapter to the end, and paused a few seconds to see if hehad any comments to make, but he shook his head without breakingsilence, and she went on with the story. He pursued the same plan tillthe end of the fifth chapter. 

"It is interesting, exciting and true, " he remarked, referring to theclosing scene. "And I cannot help feeling arise in my brain the questionthat Mr. Gouger put when he read it: How could a young, innocent girllike you depict that situation with such absolute fidelity. "

He had come to the point with a vengeance. But to Miss Fern his mannerwas far more agreeable than if he had approached it by stealth, or in aninsinuating way. She had anticipated something of the sort and had triedto prepare herself to meet it. 

"Does not nature teach us some things?" she asked, speakingstraightforwardly, though her color heightened in spite of her efforts. "Given a certain condition, an intelligent mind can prophesy results. "

He shook his head in mild disagreement with her. 

"Gouger is an expert, and he denies this, as a regular rule, at least. You should have heard him argue it with Roseleaf. 'Either throw yourselfinto a love affair, ' he said, 'or never try to depict one. ' Excuse me, Miss Fern, you bade me be frank--"

She assented, with a grave nod of her shapely head. 

"You may have been in love--I do not ask you whether you have ornot--but you cannot have known personally of the sort of love that youhave depicted in these pages. I call it little less than miraculous thatyou should draw the scene so accurately. "

She colored again, this time partly with pleasure, for she was verysusceptible to compliments. 

"Perhaps your statement may explain to you, " she said, pointedly, "whatI meant a few minutes ago by calling you 'a man of the world. ' Yourecognize at a glance what I had to construct from my imagination. "

Archie Weil's face changed as he realized how deftly he had been caught. He had meant to pretend to this girl that he was more than usuallyignorant of the nether side of life. 

"Don't think too badly of me because I happen to know what is clear toevery man, " he said, impressively. 

"To every one?" she answered. "To your friend, Mr. Roseleaf?"

"Ah! He is an exception to all rules. And yet, Gouger says he can neverwrite a successful book till he is more conversant with life than he isat present. "

She looked troubled. 

"With life?" she echoed. "With sin, do you mean?"

"With the ordinary things that men know, and that most of them at sometime experience. "

Her bright eyes were temporarily clouded. 

"What a pity!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, " he said, for it was his humor to agree with her. "It is a pity. "

There was a pause of a minute, and then she asked if she had read enoughfor one evening. He answered that as it was now past ten o'clock itwould not be easy to get much farther and that he would come againwhenever she chose to set the time. 

"You do not say much about my work, " she said, anxiously, as he preparedto go. 

"Silence is approval, " he responded. "I can talk it over with youbetter when you have reached the end. I have things to say, and I shallnot hesitate to say them then. "

"When is it most convenient to you to come?" she inquired. 

"Any time, " he answered. "I don't do much that is really useful. Butwait till you see Shirley. He will atone for the shortcomings you findin me. "

She repeated the word "Shirley, " as if to test its sound. 

"You are your father's only child, are you not?" he asked, thoughtfully. 

"No. I have a sister, Daisy, a little younger than I. "

"And has she a literary turn, also?"

"Not in the least. "

Archie arose, and Miss Millicent accompanied him to the front door. Thetall negro came to open the portal, but Miss Fern told him, with thesame quality of dislike in her tone which Weil had noticed before, thathe need not wait. 

"He is really a magnificent piece of humanity, " said Archie, when theman had disappeared. "I never saw anything quite like him. "

"You admire negroes, then?" said the young lady, almost impolitely. 

"I like representatives of every race, " he answered, as if not noticingher. "There are interesting specimens in all. I number among myacquaintances several Chinamen, a Moor, a Mexican, Jews, Portuguese andRussians innumerable. If that fellow was not in your employ I wouldengage him to-morrow, merely as a study. "

Miss Fern took the hand he held out to her and set the next meeting forSaturday evening. Then she said:

"If you want Hannibal, perhaps papa would oblige you. I certainly woulddo all I could to persuade him. "

CHAPTER VI. 

"HOW THE WOMEN STARE!"

The next day Archie Weil lunched with Lawrence Gouger. He wanted to talkwith his friend about the young author and authoress. Gouger listenedwith interest to the story he had to relate, and nodded approval when itappeared that Archie had behaved admirably thus far in relation to MissMillicent. 

"Do you know anything about Mr. Fern?" he asked, when the other hadreached a period. 

"Nothing. "

"Well, neither did I, a week ago, but I have taken pains to informmyself. He is a highly respectable elderly party, who deals in wool. Hemarried a very beautiful lady, who has now been dead eight or ten yearsand he lives altogether in the society of his two daughters. If yousucceed in getting Millicent's book on the counters you will earn hiseverlasting gratitude. They say he is not literary enough himself to bea judge of its merits, and if she has fifty copies to present to thefamily friends it will probably be all he will ask. "

Mr. Weil uttered a low whistle. 

"I don't know what the family friends will say of it, " he replied, "butI call it pretty warm stuff. If the list includes many prudes they willhardly thank the girl for sending such a firebrand into their houses. "

"Pshaw!" said Gouger. "The world is getting used to that sort of thing, and they won't mind it a bit. Besides, they will be so lost inadmiration of their cousin's name on the cover that they will think ofnothing else. What did you make out of her? Is she as innocent as Ipredicted?"

Archie poured out a glass of Bass' ale and sipped it slowly. 

"Quite, " he said, as he put it down on the table. "And she's no dunce, either. " He went on to tell of the trap he had fallen into. "I'm dyingwith impatience to get her and Roseleaf together. They'd make an idealiccouple. "

Mr. Gouger inquired what he was waiting for. 

"Oh, I want to do the thing right, " said Weil. "I want to learn her asthoroughly as I can, before I bring him upon the stage. It will takethree or four evenings more to hear the rest of her novel, and anotherto discuss it. I shall get around to him in about a fortnight, at therate things are going. He will keep. What do you suppose he is doingnow? Writing poetry! He sent a piece a few days ago to the _Century_, and they accepted it. "

"He will be gray when it appears, " said the critic. "It takes a longtime for anything to see the light in that publication. "

"But in this case an exception will be made, " said Weil. "They haveassured him that it will come out in their very next issue. He will beso proud to see his name in print that I expect to find difficulty inholding him back. A poet who appears in the Century has certainlystepped a little higher on the ladder. "

The critic agreed to this, and remarked that such a man as Roseleafshould give his whole attention to poetry. 

"Wait!" cried Archie. "Give him time. See him after he has fallen headover ears in love with charming Millicent Fern. There is something inhim, I feel sure, and between that dear girl and myself we will bring itout. By-the-way, there is a character I want you to meet, " he added, asMr. Walker Boggs came into the room. "You have never had the pleasure, Ithink, though you have heard me speak of him. "

Mr. Boggs had his attention attracted by a waiter who was sent for thepurpose and came with great willingness to occupy a seat with Mr. Weiland his friend. 

"We were talking of a New York merchant just now, " said Archie, when theintroductions were over, "and it occurs to me that you, who know almosteverybody, may have some knowledge of him. He is in the wool business, I hear, and I think you once told me you had done something in that way. His name is Wilton Fern, and he lives at Midlands. "

"Do I know anything about him?" echoed Mr. Boggs. "I should say so. Hewas my partner for seven years, and I still have a little stake left inthe concern, on which I am drawing interest. "

Mr. Weil showed his astonishment at this statement. What a very smallworld it was, after all! Then, after pledging his friend not to mentionthat he had ever discussed the matter with him, he went guardedly intothe particulars of Miss Millicent's book, and of his having called atthe house for the purpose of passing judgment upon it. 

"I didn't know that was in your line, " replied Boggs. 

"Well, it was this way, " answered Archie. "Mr. Gouger's decision didn'texactly suit the young lady, as it was not very favorable. Mine will bequite to her taste, as I view her abilities in a more favorable light. Now tell us all about the family, as the only one of them I have met isMiss Millicent. Why, this is a regular find, old man! You should havetold me a week ago that you possessed all this information that I havebeen aching to get hold of. "

Thus adjured, Mr. Boggs entered upon his story. From which it appearedthat he knew the Ferns, root and branch, and had dined with them dozensof times. 

"What sort of a chap is the pater?" asked Weil. 

"A very well-kept man of nearly seventy, with a great deal of what iscalled 'breeding' in his manner, and a face like the portrait of aFrench marquis cut out of a seventeenth century frame. He doesn't looklike a business man at all, and between ourselves he's not much of aone. All the money he ever made--saving my apparent egotism--was when Iwas in the concern. I've heard he's got a big mortgage on his residenceand is going down hill generally. Too bad; nice fellow; sorry for him;such is life. "

Archie asked if Boggs would do him a personal and particular favor, ifit would not cause him much trouble; and on being answered in theaffirmative, said he would esteem it a great honor if he could beintroduced to Mr. Fern by that gentleman's former business associate. 

"I suppose I shall run across him at Midlands, some evening, " he said, "and get one of those presentations that are the most aggravating thingsin the world. I don't want that to happen, and the best way, to use anelegant phrase, is to take the bull by the horns, or in this case, thesheep by the tail. Will you make an accidental call on him to-morrowafternoon and let me be of the party?"

Mr. Boggs responded that he would be delighted. And this matter beingsettled, all parties could give more direct attention to their lunchthan they had been doing for the preceding ten minutes. 

"You must have heard of my friend Boggs, in the days when he was afigure on the streets of this town, " said Weil, presently, returning towhat he knew was the favorite subject of that personage. "You've livedhere for twenty years, and of course the name of Walker Boggs isfamiliar to you. "

Mr. Gouger looked a good counterfeit of complete mystification for someseconds, and then a gleam as of sudden recollection shot across hisface. 

"Certainly, certainly!" he said. "Mr. Boggs was what is popularly knownas a lady killer, if I am not mistaken. You got married, did you not, Mr. Boggs, some ten or eleven years ago?"

The party addressed acknowledged the practical correctness of the date. 

"Why, it comes back as plain as day, " said the critic. "The _Herald_ hada page about you, including your portrait and some verses by a wellknown poet. It said your marriage had cast a gloom over Manhattan Islandand some of the up-river counties. "

Mr. Boggs gloomily nodded, to show that the statement was true. Then hetouched his most rotund portion with a significant look. 

"I'm a widower now, " he said, "and nothing but this--_this_--stands inmy way. As Shakespeare says, ''Tis not as deep as a well, nor as wide asa church door, but--' The ladies never look at me now, and all onaccount of this d--d flesh, which hangs like a millstone around myneck. "

Cutt & Slashem's critic, ignoring the peculiar character of the metaphorused, remarked politely that he thought no lady of sense would put greatstress on such an insignificant matter. 

"Insignificant!" echoed Boggs. "I'll bet it's fifty inches around, come! And it's not the 'ladies of sense' I'm after. Quite the contrary. "

One of Archie Weil's explosive laughs followed this statement, whichcaused an expression of mild injury to settle over the countenance ofMr. Boggs. 

"You're getting on toward forty, and you ought to quit, " said Weil. "Confound the women! Let them go. "

"That's well enough to talk about, " replied Boggs, gruffly. "How wouldyou like to follow your own advice?"

Weil uttered an exclamation. 

"I? I have precious little to do with them, I assure you. For a man ofmy correct habits I have the worst name of any one I know. Everybodyinsinuates things about me, and they can prove nothing. "

"We'll ask Isaac Leveson about that, " sneered Boggs. "By-the-way, thatwouldn't be a bad place to take young Roseleaf to, when you get toinstructing him in earnest. I met the young fellow on the avenue lastnight and walked around with him for a couple of hours. He's a darling!"

"Roseleaf?" cried both the other gentlemen, in one breath. 

"To be sure. How the women stared at him! I couldn't blame them; hiswaist isn't over thirty, and he's as handsome as--as I was at his age. Itold him he could have all the loveliness in New York at his feet, if heliked. "

Weil smiled significantly at Gouger. 

"What did he reply to that?" he asked. 

"Oh, he had an ideal in his head, and none of those we saw quite came upto it; for I did get him to raise his eyes and look at the prettiestones. I drew out of him slowly that he would have nothing to do with agirl unless she had red hair; that--"

Mr. Weil uttered a laugh so hearty that it attracted the attention ofeverybody in the room. Mr. Boggs paused to inquire the cause of thisoutbreak, but Archie assured him that something entirely out of thepresent discussion had just occurred to him, which was to blame for hisimpoliteness. 

"A girl must have _Titian_ hair, " repeated Mr. Boggs, accepting theexplanation, "or he would not consider her. He ruled out all thestriking blondes and brunettes, saying that he liked only those of amedium shade. We came across one that answered these descriptions, anexquisite little creature who looked as if she would swallow him couldshe get the chance. And then there came out another idea. He would notthink of this fairy because she was so short. 'I want a woman five feet, four inches tall, ' he said, as if the article could be made to order, incase the size did not happen to be in stock. Then, would you believe it, he found a girl embracing every attribute he had mentioned. Her hair wasjust the right shade, her height must have hit the mark exactly, hercomplexion was medium. But no. She was too heavy. She would weigh ahundred and forty-five, he said, quite twenty pounds too much. If we hadfound a girl that filled all his description he would have inventedsomething new to bar her out of the race. "

Mr. Weil remarked that he was not so sure of Roseleaf's insincerity. Hebelieved the right woman would yet be discovered, and that a case of themost intense affection would then spontaneously develop. 

"In fact, " he added, "I have the identical creature in mind. It is clearto us--to myself and Mr. Gouger here--that Shirley will never write athrilling romance till he has fallen wildly, passionately in love. "

Mr. Boggs smiled slightly, and then sobered again. 

"Shall you have him marry, also?" he inquired, pointedly. 

"Why not?"

"Because it will finish him; that's why. The romance in a modernmarriage lasts six weeks. At the end of that time he will be useless forliterary purposes, or anything else. "

Mr. Weil shook his head in opposition to this rash statement. 

"My theory is, " said he, "that a novelist should know everything. Towrite of love he should have been in love; to tell of marriage he shouldhave had a wife--a real one, no mere imitation; to talk of fatherhoodintelligently he should become a father. How can he know his subjectsotherwise?"

The stout man smiled significantly. 

"And if he wishes to write of murder, he must kill some one. And if hewants to depict the sensations of a robber he must take a pistol and askpeople to stand, on the highway. "

"Now you are becoming absurd, " said Archie. 

"No more than you, " said Boggs. "You go too far, and you will find itout. Let your novelist fall in love. That will do him good. But don'tlet him marry, or you will lose him, mark my word. Let him contemplatematrimony at a distance. Let him reflect on the glory of seeing hischildren about his knees. So far, so good. But when you have shelved himwith a wife of the present era, when you have kept him up nights for amonth with a baby that screams--his literary capacity will be gone. Makeno mistake!"

Mr. Weil, half convinced, and much surprised to hear such wisdom fromthis unexpected source, made an effort to maintain his ground. 

"Nearly all the modern novelists _are_ married, " he remarked. 

"Yes, and nice stuff they write, don't they? Namby-pamby, silly-billystories, misleading in every line! They are the most unsafe pilots onthe shores of human life. They start, without exception, from falsepremises. Their chart is wrong, their compass unreliable, theirreckoning ridiculous from beginning to end. Where did you ever see a bitof real life that resembled these abortions? Do lovers usually fall ontheir knees when they propose? Is the modern girl an idiot, knowing lessof the facts of nature than an oyster? Is the conversation between menand women filled exclusively with twaddle? You would think so, fromreading these books; and why? They are written by married people, mostof them, people who don't dare step over the line of the commonplace anymore than a woman would dare order her dressmaker to put pockets in hergown!"

Archie looked at Mr. Gouger, who nodded a partial approval of thesestatements. Mr. Boggs betook himself with more interest to his chops. And the other two gentlemen, remarking that time pressed, bade himgood-by for the day. 

"I see you agree with him that I shouldn't marry Roseleaf?" said Archie, with a rising inflection. 

"There is certainly point in what he says, " replied Mr. Gouger. 

"But--confound it! With the boy's disposition, it will be a delicatebusiness, " retorted Weil. "I don't know as I can carry him to the pointof passionate love for pretty Miss Fern, and then shut off the steamwhen it suits me. "

This matter was discussed for the next ten minutes, as the friendswalked along toward the office of Cutt & Slashem. 

"I think you are foolish to delay so long introducing him to her, " saidGouger, finally. "I don't see that you are making any progresswhatever. "

"Ah, but I am, " replied Weil. "I am making both of them more and moreanxious for the meeting. Shirley walks the street feverishly impatient, and I have no doubt mutters her name in his dreams. Millicent talksabout her ideal of manly beauty. When they get together failure will beimpossible. "

Mr. Gouger laughed at the idea that Roseleaf was "feverishly impatient"to meet any girl, and ventured to predict that the young man would haveto be put in irons to get him to the residence of the Ferns when thetime came; or at least to keep him there. 

"Just the point I am working on, " replied Weil. "Under ordinarycircumstances I would have to handcuff his wrists to mine, but I ammaking such a strong impression on his imagination that he is crazy togo. And once she gets him under her influence--I tell you, Lawrence, sheis no ordinary girl. "

"She certainly does not write like one, " smiled the critic, "either inher subject or her English. You may make something of him--I ratherthink you will--but not of her. Her ideas are wild, and her realism alittle too pronounced even for the present age. "

"She has truth on her side, you admit, " said Archie. 

"Yes, to a remarkable degree. "

"Well, that ought to be something, if Boggs' estimate of the modern liaris correct. Shirley will help her to style, give her his own, ifnecessary. I am going to land both of these fish, if only to spite you, Lawrence. You tossed them away with that fine contempt of yours, and youwill weep hot tears for it before you die. "

At the door of Cutt & Slashem's they met the two members of that firm, who paused to say a word to Mr. Gouger. They were anxious for a new bookto bring out as soon as possible, and were regretting with him thatnothing worth publishing seemed to present itself. 

"You may strain matters, it necessary, " said Mr. Cutt. "We can't keepup on reprints forever. I hope you made no mistake in rejecting thatbook of Mrs. Hotbox. I hear it is selling well. "

Mr. Gouger's face was, as ever, immovable before his employers. 

"What 'Fire and Brimstone?'" he inquired. "The authorities seized theentire edition this morning. "

Mr. Cutt looked at Mr. Slashem, with a startled expression. 

"In that case, I am glad we escaped it, " he said. "We shouldn't likethat sort of an affair, of course. "

Mr. Weil, who knew both the gentlemen well, inquired what they thoughtof Mrs. Hotbox's production. 

"I have never seen it, " said Mr. Slashem. 

"Nor I, " said Mr. Cutt. 

The partners disappeared into the counting-room, where they had aninterview with a binder who had offered to do their work at one-tenth ofa cent a hundred copies less than the concern with which they were thendealing. Archie said good-by to Gouger, and went off to find Roseleaf, with whom he had engaged to take, later in the day, a ride through thePark. 

"How soon am I to see your paragon?" sighed the young man, as they weremaking the grand round of that famous drive. 

"Within a week, I hope. Are you getting uneasy?"

"I am getting lonesome, " was the gloomy reply. "And I want to beginwork. "

"Well, it will soon pass now. To-morrow evening I am to hear anotherinstallment of her novel. Two more sittings after that will finish it, Ishould say. And the next thing will be--you. But have you seen no oneelse in all this time that you care for?"

The young man looked aimlessly at the fleecy clouds that hung low on thehorizon. 

"No, " he answered. 

"And you think you are ready for a passionate affection, if the rightperson is found?"

"I will try, " he said, simply. 

Mr. Weil roused himself and touched his horse with the whip. 

"Try!" he echoed. "You will not have to try. She will carry you off yourfeet, at the first go. Shirley, I have found you a superb woman, thatyou _must_ love. All I want to feel sure of is, that you can controlyourself enough to behave in a reasonable manner. "

Roseleaf looked up inquiringly. 

"She belongs to an eminently respectable family, " explained Archie. "Herfather is a gentleman of the most honorable type. She has a youngsister, who--"

Roseleaf, slow at all times, had at last begun to comprehend. 

"You surely don't think--" he began. 

"Ah, that is the question! A novelist must learn so very much--anovelist who is to depict the truth, as you are to do. Where should hestop? What experience should he refuse, provided it may be utilized inhis work? A responsibility that is no light one will rest on me, my dearboy, when I have introduced you to this family, and left you to yourown devices. "

Roseleaf's eyes opened wider at these mysterious suggestions, but he didnot like to make any more inquiries. Weil changed the conversation, calling attention to the women they met, who turned their handsome headsto look at the young man, as their equipages almost touched his. 

"What an awfully wide swath you are cutting!" was Archie's exclamation, as the throng increased. 

CHAPTER VII. 

A DINNER AT MIDLANDS. 

True to his appointment Walker Boggs met Mr. Weil on the followingafternoon, and set out with him for Wilton Fern's office. Thoughengaged, as has been already stated, in the wool trade, Mr. Fern did nothave on the premises to which these worthies repaired a very largeassortment of that product. His warehouses were in another part of thecity, and all the wool that was visible to his customers was arranged insample lots that would easily have gone into a barrel. Mr. Weil, notwithstanding the description that Boggs had given of his ex-partner, was not prepared to see such an exceedingly fine specimen of humanity asthe one introduced to him. The word "gentleman" was written in largecharacters on his broad forehead and in every word he spoke. Itcertainly was not often, said Archie to himself, that one encounteredthat sort of man in business. 

"I have already heard something of you, sir, " said Mr. Fern, affably, but with the dignity that was a part of his nature, no more to bediscarded than his eyes. "That is, if you are the same gentleman thathas kindly offered to assist my daughter in arranging a story she haswritten. "

Mr. Weil admitted the correctness of the supposition, but disclaimed anyspecial credit for what he had done. He explained briefly how he wasdrawn into the case. The visit lasted upwards of an hour, during whichthe conversation wandered from literature to business and politics, andall sorts of things. 

Mr. Weil could not tell from Mr. Fern's manner of alluding to hisdaughter's work whether he had a very high idea of its value or not. Indeed, there was very little to be learned from this grave gentlemanthat was not expressed in the language he used. He was inclined, Archiethought, to reticence, for when there was a lull in the conversation itwas always one of the others who had to start it going. The thing thatmight be counted a substantial gain, out of the whole affair, was aninvitation to dinner for the following Wednesday, in which Mr. Roseleafwas included, and Mr. Boggs also. 

Before the Wednesday set for the formal dinner at the Ferns', Mr. Weilhad heard the whole of Miss Millicent's novel read by the lips of thatcharming young woman. There was certainly something very strong in it, in spite of its grammatical faults. It would be a very good story when"Dr. " Roseleaf had put it into a little better English. 

The meeting between Roseleaf and Millicent was most interesting to theone who had been the means of bringing them together. The girl put outher hand with a straightforward motion of welcome, and it was acceptedwith something resembling timidity by the young man, who did not evenraise his eyes to hers. The talk that followed was nearly all her own, Shirley's part in it being largely monosyllabic replies to herstatements and suggestions. 

When Miss Daisy was presented to both the gentlemen, for the firsttime--Mr. Boggs she remembered very well--she drew their attention for afew moments from her sister, but soon relapsed into the moreinsignificant place which she seemed to prefer. She was not as large inany way, as Millicent, and did not seem likely to become so. Her hairwas of a soft shade of light brown, and her eyes a decided blue. In thepresence of her sister she did not expect to shine, and was evidentlyrelieved when she could go into a corner and talk over times long pastwith Walker Boggs. 

Mr. Fern came in rather late, but still before the hour announced fordinner. He had his habitual look of quiet elegance, but withal anexpression of care about his face, that Weil attributed to the businesstroubles of which Boggs had spoken. The manner of the daughters towardhim was marked by the watchful eyes of the chief conspirator. Millicentmerely looked up and said, "Papa, this is Mr. Roseleaf, of whom we havespoken, " and then when the greetings that followed were exchanged, wenton talking with those about her as if there had been no interruption. Daisy, on the other hand, crept softly to her father's side, and puttingan arm around his neck, kissed him when she thought no one observed her. 

"You are tired, papa, " she whispered. 

"No, no!" he said, brightening. "I am very well. "

It was at the table that Mr. Fern had his first conversation withRoseleaf, and the two men got along nicely together. Shirley acquittedhimself creditably. Weil, who saw everything, noticed that the negro, Hannibal, in superintending the service in the dining-room, lingeredmore about Miss Daisy's chair than any other, and took extra pains tosee that her wants were anticipated. In spite of this, however, Mr. Fernfrequently asked his younger daughter to have more of certain dishes, asif his mind was constantly turned in that direction. 

"How long do you think it will require to do the work you have sogenerously undertaken?" asked Mr. Fern of Roseleaf, when the dessert wasreached. 

"It is impossible to say, " stammered the young man. "Some weeks, atleast. "

"So I supposed, " said Mr. Fern. "That being the case I wish to tenderyou the hospitality of my home. It would be a great deal of trouble foryou to come every day from the city, and I know we could make youcomfortable here. "

Roseleaf was about to decline the offer with thanks, when Mr. Weil spoketo him in a low tone. 

"Take it, by all means, " he said. "It's a chance in a lifetime. You knownothing of family life. Don't dream of refusing. "

The delay allowed Miss Millicent to add her request to that of herfather, and fearing to let his protegé answer, Mr. Weil boldly spoke forhim. 

"It is a good idea, " he said. "He will have his baggage brought upto-morrow. There's nothing like being on the ground, when there's workto be done. And, with the general permission, I am going to run outpretty often myself, to see how things progress. "

The bright, off-hand way of the last speaker seemed to please Mr. Fern, for he heartily seconded this suggestion. When the table was vacated, Mr. Fern asked if he might be excused for a few minutes, while he wrotea couple of important letters, and requested Walker Boggs to show theguests through the grounds, where they could smoke their cigars till hereturned. 

Accordingly Weil and Roseleaf accompanied their new guide out of doorsand across an extensive lawn to an arbor at the further end, where ahandsome prospect of the Hudson unfolded itself. As Archie was wishingfor some feasible way of getting rid of Boggs, temporarily, thatgentleman espied an acquaintance in the adjacent road and went off tospeak to him. 

"Are you in love yet, you dog?" asked Archie, as soon as he and hisyoung friend were alone. "What! You're not! Don't let an hour pass, then, before you are. The best of all proverbs is, 'Never put off tillto-morrow what you can do to-day. '"

"How can I do this to-day?" was the doleful response. 

"How can you help it, you mean? There she was at the table--Titian hair, hazel-grey eyes, lovely waist--everything. Love! _I_ could fall in lovewith that girl, marry her, get a divorce and commit suicide, withinforty-eight hours. "

Even Roseleaf had to smile at this extravagant statement. 

"Do you want me to do all of those things?" he asked. 

"Only the first one, at present. If you can't do that, give up all ideasof being a novelist and secure a place in some factory or counting-room. Everything is ready for you. You are _persona grata_ here. Nothing cancome in your way. Oh, don't exasperate me!"

Roseleaf haltingly said he would do his best; and the next day he cameto Midlands, prepared to spend a month or longer. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

HOLDING HER HAND. 

For the first three days Roseleaf gave most of his time to reading theMSS. That Miss Fern had written. He could not say that he liked it, exactly, but that was not necessary. To fill in the time, he consentedto let the girl read his own story that Gouger had rejected, though hedid this with trepidation, having a dread that she would think itinsipid. When she had finished it, however, her delight was unbounded. 

"It is lovely!" she exclaimed, in response to his inquiring eyes. "Icannot see why they refused it. I haven't been so interested in a storyin years. "

When he had read _her_ story through he began to rewrite it, departingas little as possible from the original. As soon as he had a chapterfinished he would give it to her, for comparison, and criticism, if shechose to make any. She proved, however, a most charming critic, hershafts falling mainly upon herself, for she declared that her novelseemed unworthy of its elegant new dress. She conceived a shyness towardthis quiet youth, and blushed when the striking situations and boldlanguage of her tale came into the conversation. It was so differentfrom his own work!

"It is too bold. I am sure it is, " she said, repeatedly. "I ought tobegin again. My plot has too much freedom, too little conventionality. People will say a very strange girl must have written it. "

And he would tell her that he did not think so; that the strength of herideas was very great, and that the public would find excuses enough foranything that interested and entertained it. He even added that hewished he possessed her knowledge, her insight into life, herfearlessness to tread on any ground that her subject made desirable. 

Between them they were doing very good work, without doubt. Mr. Weiltook some of the completed chapters to Lawrence Gouger, who returnedthem with a smile that spoke volumes. Cutt & Slashem would take thestory when it was ready, if the subsequent pages kept up to the mark ofthe first ones. 

"Don't forget your own book, " said Gouger, in a note he enclosed forRoseleaf. 

Mr. Weil was not backward in accepting the cordial invitation he had hadto join the Ferns at dinner whenever he could make it convenient. Besides this he called frequently at the wool office, and ingratiatedhimself into Mr. Fern's good graces in many ways. Within a fortnight heknew all there was to be known about wool, in which he seemed to haveconceived a great interest. In his talks with Roseleaf he spokelearnedly on this subject, referring to the foreign and domesticstaples, like one who had made the matter a life study. 

"What a queer thing trade is!" he exclaimed, on one of these occasions. "Here we find a man who ought to adorn an atelier, or a seat inCongress, and yet is obliged to guide his entire existence by the priceof such a confoundedly dull thing as the hair on a sheep's back. Hevotes a certain political ticket on account of the attitude of the partyon Wool; he dines off mutton and lambs' tongues; he casts his lot withthe Sheep at church. I don't know but he would feel a genuine pleasurein having Wool pulled over his eyes. And still I am convinced that henever ought to have been in the Wool business at all, and thatBoggs--what a drop--is right in his impression that it will eventuallyswamp him. "

Roseleaf asked how Mr. Fern got into the trade in the first place. 

"Well, as I understand it, Boggs was looking for a partner. Mrs. Fernhad some cash and her husband wanted to put it into a good thing, from afinancial standpoint. They did well while they were together. When Boggspulled out they had a clear $200, 000 apiece. Boggs--confound him!--hashis yet; Fern hasn't. He's proud as the devil, and didn't tell me this, by any means. It would break him up completely to have to go intobankruptcy. Really, I wish I could do something for him. "

Roseleaf looked up inquiringly. 

"Why, I've got a fair amount of money, " explained Archie, "and perhaps alift over these hard times might be the making of him. I'm notparticularly a philanthropist, but I like this fellow wonderfully wellfor such a new acquaintance. I shall give him a delicate hint in a dayor two, and if I can fix things without too much risk--we have toprotect ourselves, you know--I am willing to do so. "

This struck Shirley Roseleaf as rather odd. He had never thought aboutMr. Weil in that way. Whether he was rich or poor had never entered hishead. He began to wonder if he was very wealthy. He certainly livedwell, and had no visible occupation of the sort the census takers call"gainful. "

"It is an interesting family, though, " pursued Archie, in his ramblingway. "I wish I could get into it as you did, you rascal, and observe itat shorter range. Even the servants are worth studying. Look at thatHannibal; who can say that the African race is inferior when it producessuch marvels! I can hardly take my eyes off the black paragon when he ispresent. How he passes the soup--as if it were some heavenly decoction, made by the gods themselves and sent to earth by their favoritemessenger! With what grace he opens the carriage door! with what majestyhe mounts to his seat by the driver! I wonder if he has a sister. Shewould be worth a journey to see. I have met such women on their nativesoil, statuesque, slender, full-breasted, square-shouldered, with jarsof water on their heads and clinking silver anklets. What a cursed thingis our American prejudice against color! No other people carries it tosuch an extent. In the Latin Quarter the West India blacks are primefavorites with the pretty grisettes. "

The young man could not help a slight shiver at this information. He didnot in the least agree with the sentiments his friend was advancing, butneither did he think it wise to contradict him. 

"Then there is the little one--Miss Daisy"--continued Weil, branchingsuddenly into that topic. "So quiet, so self-abased, as if she would notfor the world attract one glance that might be claimed by her eldersister, who is perfectly willing to be a monopolist of attention. A nicegirl, sweet as a fresh-plucked lily. There must be treasures hiddenunder all that reticence. Still waters run deep, the silent swine devourthe milk. I think I ought to investigate the child. If you are to havethat aggregation of beauty known as Millicent, what prevents me fromsecuring a slight hold in the affections of the junior?"

Roseleaf shook his head in a way that might have meant almost anything. He never could tell how much in earnest his friend was when he took up avein like this. Neither could he imagine little Daisy in the role of anentertainer for such a very wise man as Archie, not only much her seniorbut a thousand times her superior in knowledge and acquaintance withthings that people talk about. 

"Keep your eye on her--she will be worth watching, " said Weil, with oneof his laughs at the sober face before him. "She is worth almost as muchto a rising author as the negro--not quite, but nearly. Then there isthe pater-familias; is there anything in him? No, he will be of noservice to you. And that brings us back to our superb Millicent, withwhom you must now be wildly infatuated. "

Roseleaf shook his head again. 

"No--not yet, " he said. 

"But, what do you do all the time? How can you sit by the side of apretty girl, and kiss her cheeks, and put your arm around her, and yetkeep from falling in love?"

The younger man gasped at each of these suggestions, like one who hasstepped into icy water and feels it gradually creeping upward. 

"I have done none of those things, " he faltered. 

"None of them! Then I shall not let you stay here!" cried Archie. "Whatdoes the girl expect? That we are going to make her reputation in theliterary world and get nothing for ourselves? I never heard sucheffrontery! She refuses to give you the least opportunity, does she--thejade!"

More and more confused grew the other at these expressions. 

"You don't understand--you are quite in error, " he articulated. "She--she has refused me nothing, because--because I have askednothing. "

Mr. Weil uttered a disheartened groan. 

"But this will not do, my dear fellow!" he said. "How can you accomplishanything unless you make a beginning? Rewriting the story that she haswritten will not advance you one step on the path you profess suchanxiety to tread. That is only an excuse--a make-believe--a pretenceunder which you have been given quarters in this house and allowed everychance in creation to learn your lesson. Are you afraid of her, or whatis the matter? Does she overpower you with her beauty? Tell me whereyour difficulty lies. "

But Shirley could hardly answer these apparently simple questions. Hesaid he feared the trouble might be in the formality of the situation. How could Mr. Weil expect, he asked, that a spontaneous case oflove-making would develop from such a condition of things. 

"Stuff!" cried Archie, with a grimace. "If you and she were members of atheatrical company, and were cast as a pair of lovers, you wouldn't findso many pitfalls. You would go ahead and repeat the lines of your part, wouldn't you? All you want is to do the same now. "

"But what _are_ the 'lines of my part?'" inquired the other, dolefully. 

"Take her hand once in yours and they will come to you, " retorted Weil. 

Roseleaf reddened so much that Archie regretted the severity of histone, and hastened to turn the conversation to something more agreeable. He made up his mind, however, to have a talk with Miss Fern, and at thefirst opportunity he did so. It was on an afternoon when he knewRoseleaf was in the city, and he came to the point at once, after hisown fashion. 

"How are you and my young friend getting along?" he asked her. 

"Oh, as well as possible, " she responded. "I am learning to like himmore and more. I really shall be sorry when his task is done. "

Mr. Weil shrugged his shoulders. 

"There's a bit of selfishness in your words, Miss Fern, " he said. "Haveyou forgotten that he is not here to be useful to _you_ alone; that youagreed to do what you could for _him_, as well?"

The girl cast down her pretty eyes in confusion. 

"I am sure I have tried to be agreeable, " she replied, gently. 

"That is not enough, " replied Archie, gravely. "What he needs issomething--some one--to stir his blood, to awaken his fancy. I told youin the first place that you ought to make him fall in love with you--forliterary reasons. He must feel a sensation stronger than mere friendshipfor a woman before he can write such a story as will bring him fame. "

Miss Millicent did not grow more comfortable under this suggestion. Sheremarked, after a long wait, that she did not see how the end sought wasto be accomplished. Love, she said, was not a mere expression, it was adeep, actual entity. Two people, playing at love with each other, mightafterwards find that they were experimenting with fire. 

"I have heard, " she continued, her fair cheeks growing crimson, "thatthere are women--"

Then she paused and could go no further. But he understood. 

"There are women--thousands of them, " he admitted, "who would willinglydo what I ask. If it is necessary, he must go to them. "

She wanted to say that she hoped it would not come to that--she wantedto convey to her companion the horror she felt for what she supposed hiswords implied--but she could not. It was so much easier to write ofthings than to talk of them to a man like him. 

"Do you call it quite fair, " he asked, "to claim all and give nothing?He does not require much. Could you not let him take your hand, and--"

"And--"

"Possibly, touch your lips with his?"

Miss Fern rose to her feet with a fierce gesture. 

"Sir!" she exclaimed. 

"Very well, " replied Mr. Weil, shortly, turning away. 

The girl resumed her seat, with rapidly rising and falling bosom. Shewas in a quandary. The suggestion she had heard would have sounded fromany other lips like a premeditated insult. Coming from this man thevenom seemed to have vanished. 

Roseleaf felt somewhat discouraged after his latest talk with Weil. Hewanted to make a start, to do something, no matter how little, towardthe object he fully believed was to be attained. That evening whilewalking with Miss Fern (for it was their frequent habit to go out ofdoors unchaperoned) he found himself unconsciously taking her hand--thathand for which he had until now felt a genuine fright. And she, afterall her resolutions never to permit anything of the sort, gave it tohim, as they strolled together along an unfrequented byway. 

"I want so much to make a Name, " he was saying fervently. "I have triedand tried to begin such a book as Mr. Gouger wants, but I cannot. Won'tyou help me, dear Miss Fern? Won't you show me what I lack? I know youcan, if you will. They tell me I have had no experiences, and that Imust have--not a real affair, you know, but an inkling of what it islike. I have tried to say things to you and have been in fear that youwould not like them, and have held my peace. But now, I can wait nolonger. "

In his exuberance Roseleaf spoke at last with ardor, and even went sofar as to attempt to put one of his arms around the waist of the faircreature by his side. On her part Miss Fern was nearly overcome bysurprise. 

In one instant the timid young gentleman had changed into the similitudeof a most ardent swain; but in the next he became again his naturalself, with the added confusion resulting from his excited and mortifiedstate. 

"Let me take you home, " he said, when he saw that she could find nowords even to chide him. "Let me take you home; and to-morrow I will goaway. "

Go away! She did not like that idea! Her book was not yet finished, forone thing; and besides he was a nice young fellow, and had meant nooffense. 

"There is no reason why you should go, " she stammered. "I forgive you, Iam sure. "

"Do you!" cried Roseleaf, grasping her hand again in his joy. "You arekindness itself to say so. I must appear very stupid" (here he half puthis arm around her again, checking himself with difficulty fromcompleteing the movement) "and dull, and wanting in manners, but you arethe only young lady I have ever known on terms of the least intimacy. "

Miss Fern replied that she did not mind what had occurred, and hoped hewould forget it. She added that she would do anything she could forhim, and had the most earnest wish that they should be friends. 

At the gate they paused, and in some way their eyes were looking intoeach other. The girl laughed, a relief to feelings that had been for thepast ten minutes somewhat overcharged. 

"Well, you have made a beginning, " she said, mischievously, for shewanted to drive the sober expression from his clouded face. 

"A beginning?" he echoed. 

"Yes, " she said. "You have held my hand. "

He crimsoned. 

"You said you would forgive me, " he murmured. 

"With all my heart, " she responded, putting the hand in his again. 

He felt a thrill go through him, but it was a pleasant sensation. 

"I came very near putting my arm around you, " said he, looking away fromher. "Do you forgive that, too?"

She took the hand away and struck him playfully on the cheek with thepalm of it. 

Then, before he surmised what she intended, she ran brightly up thesteps of the house and vanished. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"DAISY, MY DARLING!"

It was Roseleaf's full intention to say something about this adventureto his instructor in the art of love, Mr. Archie Weil, but somehow hewas not able to summon the requisite courage. He had a delicate sensethat such a thing ought not to be repeated, where it might by anypossibility bring a laugh. And about this time the novelist's attentionbegan to be attracted toward the younger sister, who had till thenalmost entirely escaped his observation. 

He noticed particularly the ceaseless devotion that the black servant ofthe family exhibited toward her. She might have been a goddess and he adevotee; a queen and he her slave. Hannibal moved about the girl likeher very shadow, ready to anticipate her slightest wants, while Daisyseemed to take this excess of attention as a matter of course. 

Millicent constantly showed her dislike for the servant. 

"I don't see how you can endure to have him touch you, " she said toDaisy. "He knows better than to lay his hands on me. I have told papaoften that I want him discharged, and he ought to consider my wishes alittle. "

To this Daisy answered that the boy, as she persisted in calling thegiant, meant well and was certainly intelligent. Her father did not liketo change servants, for it took him a long time to get used to newones. So Millicent tossed her head, returned to her collaboration withMr. Roseleaf, and things went on as usual. 

Imperceptibly Shirley began to take an interest in Daisy. She did notrun away from him, and he discovered, much to his surprise, that she wasworth talking to. She was not exactly the child he had supposed, and shehad the full value of her eighteen years in her pretty head. He got intothe habit of taking short strolls with her, on evenings when Millicentwas occupied with Archie, and when, as often happened, Mr. Fern was awaywith Hannibal in the city. There was a sequestered nook at the far endof the lawn, in which the pair found retreat. Before he realized it, Roseleaf had developed a genuine liking for these rambles, and waspleased when the evenings came that brought Mr. Weil to dinner. 

Daisy was ingenuous, to a degree, if surface indications counted foranything. The words that flowed from her red lips were as unstudied asthe pretty attitudes she assumed, or the exceedingly plain but verybecoming dresses that she wore. After she once got "used" to Roseleafshe treated him quite as if she had been five years his senior. 

"Are you a rich man?" she asked him, on one of those early autumnevenings that they passed together. 

Her manner was as simple as if she had said that it looked like rain, and his answer was hardly less so. 

"No, Daisy. I have not much property, but I intend to earn more, by-and-by. Did you think, because I seem so idle, that I was amillionaire?"

"No, " she answered, a shade of disappointment in her face. "I onlywanted, in case you had plenty of money, to get you to lend me some. "

He stared at her through the half-light. Her features were turned in adirection that did not reveal them very well. What did she want ofmoney!

"How much do you need?" he inquired, wondering if it was within hispower to oblige her. 

"Oh, too much, I am afraid. And I cannot answer any questions, becausethe object I have is a secret. I don't think my plan very feasible, forit might be years and years before I could pay it back. You won't mindmy speaking of it, will you?"

Curiosity grew stronger, and as politely as possible he renewed hisquestion as to how much the girl needed to carry out her plan. 

"I don't know, exactly, " she said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps a thousanddollars a year for five or six years; it might take less. "

"It is a great deal, " he admitted. "Does your father know what youcontemplate?"

The girl changed color at once. 

"Oh, no. I should not like to have him, either. He would say it was veryfoolish. And yet I am sure it would not be. The money would do muchgood--yes, ever so much. "

The young man thought hard for a few moments. A desire to see a brighterlight flash into those young eyes possessed him. He debated seriouslythe idea of handing her his patrimony, as he would have given her apound of candy if she had wanted it. 

"I might give you part, " he said, after a pause. "Perhaps your thousandfor the first year or two. "

She looked him full in the face, and put both her hands in hisimpulsively. 

"You are too good, " she exclaimed, with fervor. "But you cannot affordso large a gift. No, I would only take it if you had a very large sum, and could not possibly miss it. I asked carelessly. I should not havedone so--I was selfish to think of such a thing. "

"I want to speak to you about something, also, " said Roseleaf, after astrained pause. "I have noticed of late that your father has sometrouble on his mind. "

She started suddenly. 

"Ah!" was all she said. 

"And I have wondered if there was anything I could do to--to aid_him_--to relieve him. Because, I would like it very much if I could, onaccount of--of--"

She looked up inquiringly. 

"I have been so much a member of your family, in a certain way, that agrief like this appeals strongly to me, " he said, haltingly. 

She paled slightly as she repeated his words. 

"A grief?"

"Well, distress, annoyance, whatever it may be called. If there isanything I can do, I shall be more than happy. "

The girl sat for some moments with her eyes on the ground. 

"He _is_ troubled, " she said, finally. "I am glad to talk with you, forI cannot get him to tell me anything. He is greatly troubled, and I amworried beyond expression. I can't understand it. He has always confidedin me so thoroughly, but now he shakes his head and says it is nothing, trying to look brighter even when the tears are almost ready to fall. What can it be, Mr. Roseleaf? He has no companions outside of his officeand this house? He sits by himself, and isn't a bit like he used to beand every day I think he grows worse. "

Roseleaf asked if Daisy had talked much with her sister about it. 

"No, " she said, with a headshake. "I don't believe Millie has noticedanything. She is so occupied with her literary matters"--there was asarcastic touch upon the word, that did not escape the listener--"shehas no time for such things. I hope you won't think I mean to criticiseher, " added the young girl, with a blush. "I know you care a great dealfor my sister, and--"

She stopped in the midst of the sentence, leaving it unfinished. AndRoseleaf thought how interesting this girl had become. 

"Let me confide in you, Daisy, " he said, in his softest tone. "I do notcare 'a great deal, ' nor even a very little for your sister. You see, "he went on, in response to the startled look that greeted him, "I am tobe a novelist. To be successful in writing fiction, I have been toldthat I ought to be in love--just once--myself. And I came here and triedvery hard to fall in love with Miss Millicent; and I simply cannot. "

Daisy's fresh young laugh rang out on the air of the evening. 

"Poor man!" she cried, with mock pity. "And hasn't she tried to helpyou?"

"No. She hasn't. And as soon as I get the work done I have commenced forher, I am going away. "

The child--she was scarcely more than that--grew whiter, but the shadowsof the evening hid the fact from her companion. 

"You ought not to go, " she said, slowly, and rather faintly, "until youhave made another trial. "

"Oh! It is useless!" he replied. 

"Is it that you cannot love--Millie--or that you cannot love--any one?"

He hesitated, puzzled, himself, at the question. 

"I never did love any one--any woman, " he confessed, "and perhaps Inever shall. But your sister seems peculiarly hard to love. Yet she is avery handsome girl and equipped with a mind of unusual calibre. "

Daisy acknowledged this description of her sister's charms. She remarkedthat it was strange that such a combination did not suffice toaccomplish the desired result. 

"There are people who do find her entertaining, " she added. "Mr. Weil isone of them. "

"Oh, Archie!" said Roseleaf. "He finds everything entertaining. It isnothing worth remarking. She is the exact description of his ideal infeminine face and form. He once gave me the list of the excellencies ofa 'perfect woman, ' and your sister has them all. "

The younger Miss Fern had her own opinions about this matter. Shethought the innocent man at her side had not quite gauged the interestthat Mr. Weil took in her family. 

"I will make a proposition, " she said, with a light laugh, when they hadtalked longer upon the subject. "I am afraid it won't seem worth much toyou, and perhaps you can do better; but why can't you stay here, and--ifMillie won't do--make love to _me_?"

Darkness is responsible for many things. In the light, Daisy could nothave uttered those words, even in jest. There, when the sun had set andthe stars were not yet on duty, she found the courage to make thatsuggestion. 

"You are very kind, " he stammered, when he grasped her meaning. "But Ido not think it will answer. I am afraid love cannot be pushed to anypoint without its own initiative. "

"That is probably the case with _real_ love, " replied the girl, "but animitation that would serve your purpose might be evolved in the way Ihave indicated. For instance, you could take my hand in yours--likethis--and I could lean toward you in--this way. And then, if you hadsufficient courage--"

Before he dreamed of doing it, it was done! He had kissed her on hertempting lips, placed within an inch of his own. 

"You are too good a scholar, " she pouted, rising to her feet in someconfusion. "I did not give you leave to do that. "

"I beg your pardon most humbly, " he answered, with intense contrition. "May I assure you that the act was wholly involuntary and that I am verysorry for it?"

She turned and surveyed him in the shadow. 

"Are--you--_very_--sorry?" she repeated. 

"Yes. "

"Why?"

"Because I have made you angry. "

"Do I seem angry?"

"At least, I have injured your feelings. "

Her face was close to his again. 

"Well, I forgive you. There, let us make up. "

She raised herself on the tips of her toes and kissed him twice. 

All the blood in this young man's body seemed to rush to his head andthen back with violence to his heart. 

"_Daisy!_" he stammered. "_Daisy!_"

But she sprang away as he tried to embrace her, and standing two yardsoff, tauntingly cried that he did not know what love was, and that noone could ever teach him. Taking up the challenge he started toward her. She ran away, he in pursuit. She had gone but a few steps when shetripped over an object in the path and went down. In trying to stophimself Roseleaf fell by her side. 

"Daisy!" he cried. "Are you injured?"

She did not answer. In the darkness he saw her lying there so still thathe was frightened. He caught her passionately in his arms, and knew nobetter way to bring her to consciousness than to rain kisses on hercheeks. As might be expected this only served to prolong her swoon, which was not a very genuine one, if the truth must be told, and it wassome seconds before she opened her eyes and caught him, as one mightsay, in the act. 

"How dare you!" she demanded, shrinking away from him. 

"Daisy, my darling!" he answered, his voice tremulous. "I thought youwere dead, and I knew for the first time how dearly, how truly I lovedyou!"

She laughed, not very heartily. She had hurt herself truly in her fall, and her feminine nerves were jarred. 

"You are doing nicely, " she said. "For a beginner, one could ask nothingbetter. And now, if you will help to rise, I think it would be moreproper. "

"No. " He spoke with force and passion. "You must not think I amtrifling. _I love you!_ Yes, I love you! _I worship you!_"

"I do not see, " she remarked, insisting in spite of him that she mustassume a standing position, "how you differ in your expressions from thelovers I have read of in novels. It is quite time that we returned tothe house. To-morrow, if you like, I will give you another lesson. "

Shirley was a picture of utter despair. His new sensations almostoverwhelmed him. In one second the dead arteries in his body had leapedinto the fullest life. The touch of that young maiden's lips hadgalvanized him. He could not bear to leave her with those mocking words. But at that moment a voice was heard in the direction of the residence. 

"Miss--Dai-sy! Miss--Dai-sy!"

It was Hannibal, who had returned from a drive with Mr. Fern. They couldsee him dimly coming across the lawn with the girl's cloak in his hand. Daisy, with one quick grasp of the fingers that hung close to hers, saidgood-night to her companion, and started in the direction of theservant. If she intended--as seemed probable--to pretend she was outalone, Roseleaf did not mean to share in that deception, and he followedclose behind her. 

"Here I am, Hannibal, " called Daisy. "Ah, you have my coat. It was verykind of you. Has papa come home? I am coming in. I did not think howlate it was. "

The negro stopped as he saw the strollers, and knew that they hadundoubtedly been together. What more he suspected no one can say withcertainty. But he threw the cloak upon the grass that bordered thepathway and turned on his heel without a word. 

"Confound his impudence!" exclaimed Roseleaf, when he had recoveredsufficiently from his surprise to speak. "I have a good notion tofollow him and box his ears. "

The soft hand of the girl was on his sleeve in a moment. 

"Say nothing to him--_please!_" she answered. "He--he is very thoughtfulfor me--of my health--and I was careless. Papa must have sent him. "

The touch on his arm mollified the young man at once. He tried to makeout the lines of the pretty face that was so near him and yet so faraway. 

"We are to study again to-morrow, then, " he said, taking up herstatement with an assumed air of gayety. "At what hour?"

But she broke away from him abruptly, and ran into the house without aword. Hannibal stood in the doorway and Roseleaf thought hedistinguished harsh sounds from the negro's lips; but this seemed soincredible that he conceived his senses at fault. 

Looking at his watch the novelist saw that it was still early enough totake a stroll by himself and ponder over his new happiness--or misery, which was it?--under the open sky. It was two hours later that hislatchkey turned in the door, and in that time he had resolved either tomake Daisy Fern his wife or commit suicide in the most expeditiousfashion. 

CHAPTER X

"OH, SO MANY, MANY MAIDS!"

The only disagreeable thing about falling in love with Daisy was thatRoseleaf felt compelled to reveal the truth to Archie Weil. He believedhe was bound to do this by a solemn contract which he had no moral rightto ignore. Perhaps Weil might claim that he had no business to fall inlove with one sister when his "manager" had picked out the other forthis operation. Be that as it may, there was no use in evading thequestion. It must be talked over, be the result what it might. 

"Well, I know what love is now, " was the abrupt way in which the youngman opened the subject on the following afternoon. 

He had ridden to the city, as Weil was not expected at the residence ofMr. Fern that day. The hope he had formed the previous evening ofgetting another interview with Daisy had not materialized, she havinggone on some short journey before he could intercept her. 

"You do!" was the equally abrupt reply, uttered in a tone that betrayedundoubted astonishment. "What do you mean?"

Roseleaf reddened. 

"It came to me all at once, last evening, " he said, avoiding the gaze ofhis companion. "We were down at the end of the lawn, you know--"

Archie interrupted him with a sudden shout. 

"Not _Daisy_!"

"Yes. "

"You are in love with _Daisy_!"

Roseleaf bowed. 

"Upon my word!"

There was nothing in any of these expressions that conveyed theinformation which the younger man craved, namely, whether his friendapproved what he had announced, but he stole a look at him and saw thathe appeared more astounded than angry. 

"You dear boy, " he said, "I don't know what to say to you. You blushlike a maiden over the acknowledgment. I am half inclined to believe youare the girl in the case, and your partner in love some great, strappingfellow on whose bosom you intend to pillow your coy head. So it isDaisy, eh? And last night it came to you? Tell me how it happened. "

Comforted in a measure by the good nature of his friend, Roseleafproceeded to give the outlines of what had occurred, suppressing themore intimate facts with which the luckier reader is acquainted. Headmitted the touch of hands, but did not mention the pressure of lips tolips. He told of the girl's swoon, but said nothing of the extraordinarymeasures adopted to bring her to her senses. But, while he made noinsinuations, nor pretended to see through the meshes in this net, theexperience of Mr. Weil served him in good stead. He could fill in thevacant places in the story with substantial correctness. 

"I don't know what Miss Millicent will say to all this, " he remarked, when the recital came to a pause. 

"I think she was just beginning to like you a little herself. Most ofour talk last evening was about you, and when I mentioned, as I took myleave, that you were probably out walking with Daisy, I could seedistinct traces of jealousy. I want to be fair with my client. I toldher that you came there to learn love from her, not from her littlesister. If all this should result in breaking her heart, I don't see howI could excuse myself. And the other one, she seems such a child, Inever thought of her in that connection. Why, how old is she--not overeighteen, I think. "

Roseleaf answered that Daisy would be nineteen on her next birthday, aningenious way of stating age that was not original with him. 

"All right, " said Archie, digesting this statement slowly. "And now, what is your programme?"

Roseleaf looked surprised at the business-like nature of the question. 

"I mean to secure her consent to marry me, as soon as possible, " hesaid. 

"And then?"

"Why, see her father, I suppose. Isn't that the most important thing todo?"

Mr. Weil shook his head decidedly. 

"Not by any means. You must not act with undue haste. Mr. Fern would sayshe was too young to think of matrimony, a proposition you could notsuccessfully dispute. Besides, should he happen to give his consent andappoint a week from Wednesday for the happy occasion, see what a messit would put you in. "

The suggestion caused the brightest of smiles to illumine thecountenance of the listener. 

"It would make me the happiest of mortals!" he cried. "There is nothingthat could prevent my summoning the clergyman and securing the prize Idesire. "

Mr. Weil grunted. 

"H--m! And in the meanwhile what would become of your great novel?"

This question brought a sober pause to the young novelist. 

"I could write it after my wedding, " he answered, finally. 

"Could you? You could write nothing at all then--nothing that any onewould pay a cent to read. I have told you from the start that what youwant is a _grande passion_, something to stir your soul to its depths. You are on the verge of that experience. Already you have had a glimpseof what it will be like. For the first time the touch of a woman'sfingers has driven sleep from your eyelids. No, you didn't tell me youlaid awake all night, but I saw it by looking at you. You can shutyourself up in your room now, and rhapsodize over the dear face, thelovely mouth, the soft voice of your beloved. In another week, if thiskeeps on, you can write like a combination of George Eliot (after shemet Lewes) and Amelie Rives (before her marriage). A month later, Gougermight rave over your productions, for you will be on the Matterhorn ofbliss unsatisfied. "

A slight laugh, at his own excess of description, issued from the lipsof Mr. Weil, but the countenance of his companion was as firm as a rock. 

"You are right, " said Roseleaf, gravely. "Already I see the vastdifference between this sensation of love and the thing I imagined it tobe when I wrote those silly pages that Cutt & Slashem did so well toreject. But I am torn between two desires. I want to write mynovel--until yesterday I thought no wish could be so great. And I alsowant my wife. " He breathed the word with a simple reverence thataffected even the flinty heart of his hearer. "I shall never rest easyuntil I find her wholly mine, to love, honor and cherish while God givesme breath!"

The hand of the elder man dropped heavily on the table by his side. 

"_Good!_" he exclaimed. "_Very_ good! You could not have said it better. There is an opportunity before you to accomplish both of these things. Ionly wish to impress upon you the fact that they must come in the orderI have indicated, or one of them will never come at all. Write yourstory while the fever of passion is on you. The dead calm of marriedlife would only bring the sort of novel that the shelves are alreadypiled with, nauseating to the public and a drug in the hands of thepublishers. "

Roseleaf doubted the full correctness of these conclusions. He thought, with that dear girl by his side, he could write with all the fervor of asweetheart, for his affection was to have no boundary, no limit, no end. But he had a high opinion of the abilities of Mr. Weil, and he had noidea of disputing the conclusions of that wise guide. 

"Do you think she will accept me?" he asked, wistfully, returning to themain question. "It came so sudden, and there was very little said, andit was late; and then Hannibal came after her, and she went into thehouse. Everything was left in a state of uncertainty. "

"Did nothing show whether you were indifferent to her?" was the wilyinterrogation that followed. "Usually I believe something conveys thesweet word 'hope' to the waiting one. And what do you say aboutHannibal? That he came to call your charmer and took her away from you?"

Without reserve the young man repeated what had happened. Archie seemeddeeply interested, but whatever his thoughts he did not express them atthe time. 

"And that reminds me of another thing, " said Roseleaf. "Have you noticedanything strange about Mr. Fern?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Weil, "I have noticed. I wondered if you had done thesame. Have you discovered what the trouble is?"

"No, and Daisy doesn't know, either. Indeed, she is much distressedabout it. Remember, this is a secret between us, for perhaps I had noright to talk of their affairs. He is in a state of great depression, and as he is so regular in his habits I can't imagine what to lay it to. You are so shrewd, couldn't you find out?"

Mr. Weil rose and took a few paces up and down the room. 

"You are the fellow to do that, not I, " he said, presently. "Yes, hearme out. You are in a sense a member of his family, and would have anatural right to allude to the state of his health. Then, if you were toput in a word about Miss Daisy--why, you might kill several birds withone stone. "

Roseleaf looked much puzzled. 

"I thought, " he said, "that you wanted me to postpone the matter of mymarriage as long as possible. "

"Your marriage, yes. But not the preliminaries. They may require a dozenbouts with the old gentleman. The first time he will probably laugh youout of the room as a silly young noodle; the second he will say that hehas nothing against you personally, but that his 'baby' is too infantileto think of such things for ten years yet; the third he will begin tosee the situation in its right light, and after that it will be only amatter of detail. All these things will be of the greatest value to youin the novel you are going to write, and you must not on your life missa single one of them. 

"Drop into the wool shop, catch his royal highness there, and for thefirst thing express solicitude for his health. Unless he is on his guardmore than is likely you ought to catch some slight straw to show whatails him. Then follow it up with a word or two about Miss Daisy, and youwill have spent a good afternoon, even if he doesn't smile on your suitat first hand, and take you to his manly breast as his long-lostson-in-law. "

The reasonings set forth in these propositions were so evidently correctthat Roseleaf resolved to adopt them just as soon as he could bringhimself into the proper mood. In the meantime, however, he wanted tohave a little further talk with Daisy, for he could hardly ask herfather for her hand without the semblance of permission on her part. Hetried to remember all she had said to him at the foot of the lawn, andwas compelled to admit that it was very little indeed. The only thingshe was certain of were the kisses, but his experiences were so slightthat he could not tell how much weight to give even these. 

That evening he tried his best to get a word with her alone, but sheeluded him, and he was obliged to go to the boudoir of her sister andread over that young lady's MSS. As it stood revised by his carefulhands. 

"Well, another chapter will finish it, " said Miss Fern, when he put downthe pages. "And then Mr. Gouger will decide whether Cult & Slashemconsider it worth printing. "

"Yes, " he answered, gravely. "They will print _your_ story now, withoutdoubt. But _I_ am as far as ever from satisfying their requirements. "

Millicent thought how supremely selfish she must seem, talking always ofher own hopes and doing nothing to help the one who had made her successpossible. She saw that he wore a dejected look, and she began tosincerely pity him. When our own ships are safely in sight of theharbor we have more time to dwell on the derelicts in which the propertyof our friends is embarked. 

"Perhaps, when we get this disposed of, I can help you, " she suggested. 

It was nearly a week before Roseleaf could get another talk with Daisy, a week that tried him to the utmost, for he could think of nothing buther, and could not understand her reasons for treating him so strangely. At last he wrote her a letter, giving it to Hannibal to deliver, inwhich he said that he was about to return to his city lodging and wantedto know if she meant him to leave without a kind word at parting. Hethought the negro looked peculiar as he took the note, half as if he didnot intend to accept the commission to deliver it; but he concluded thatthis must be imagination. He wondered why Archie Weil took such a fancyto Hannibal. If Roseleaf was lucky enough to claim Daisy as his wife, hewould never have that figure darken his door. 

The letter must have been taken to its destination without delay, for ananswer was brought in the course of an hour, stating in the briefestlanguage that Miss Daisy would await him in the parlor, after lunch. 

At the table Miss Fern was present, as usual, but not her father, hisbusiness in the city keeping him away at that hour. At meals it wasDaisy's habit to say little, leaving the conversation to her sister andwhoever else happened to be there. At the end of this particular lunchMillicent went up stairs to her chamber and Daisy betook herself to theparlor, followed a few minutes later by the young man. 

"Why have you treated me so coldly?" were his first words, when he foundhimself alone with her. 

"Oh, dear, that is a very bad beginning!" she said, smiling. "I shallhave to instruct you in some of the simplest things, I see already. Whenyou wish to make friends with a woman, don't begin by scolding her. I amhere because you wrote that you wished a kind word. Don't give me toomany cross ones, please. "

He sighed impatiently. 

"Daisy, " he exclaimed. "I hope you are not going to make fun of me! Ihave passed a most miserable week. After the glimpse of heaven you gaveme, that evening--"

She put on an air of mock surprise. 

"Did I do that! It was much more than I intended, then. I fear you areinclined to use extravagant metaphors, Mr. Roseleaf. But, never mind. You are going away, and I am very, very sorry. However, as you came hereon Millie's account, and not on mine, I suppose I have no right to sayso. "

The fair brow of the young man was a mass of wrinkles. 

"I can't understand why you speak so lightly, " he answered. "You know--Itold you--that I love you--that there is nothing in all the world sodear to me--that I want your promise to be my wife. I can't go from herewithout that consolation. Daisy, I ask you, in all sincerity, to saythat as soon as your father's consent is obtained, you will name a daywhen you will marry me. "

The smile faded from the girl's lips. Something brought to her mind avery sad reflection. 

"You ask a great deal, " she said. "Much more, I think, than you realize. Until a week ago I was nothing to you. We lived under the same roof, wetook our evening strolls together, we talked like the commonestacquaintances, and that was all. Then, in a moment, you discovered thatyour heart was on fire. I have not ascertained what made the marvellouschange. I am sure you cannot tell yet if it be a genuine and lastingone. Were I inclined to believe I ever should be willing to go to thelengths of which you speak, I should assuredly want time for thematurest reflection. In the first place, I know almost nothing aboutyou. One would not engage a--a coachman--without more inquiry. How can agirl promise to trust her entire future to a man with whom she has but acasual acquaintance? Such things need consideration. I know my fatherwould say so. And if he heard only the nicest things about you, I doubtif he would like to have you take me from him--especially now, when hisheart is heavy and he leans so much on my love and care. No, you are intoo great haste. "

His impatience grew to boiling heat as he listened. How could she findso many reasons, and (he was obliged to confess) such sensible ones, tobring against him?

"There is one thing you _can_ do, " he said, with an attitude of deepdejection. "You can tell me if you love me. "

She tossed her head with a feminine movement that was wholly charming. 

"Yes, I could tell you that, but it would be a very improper thing, under the circumstances, provided I was able to give you the answer youseem to wish. If I did care for you, would I like to say so in definitewords when anything further might turn out to be impossible? A girlwould not wish to have a man that she was never to marry going aboutwith the recollection that she said, 'I love you. '"

"Then you can say nothing at all?" he asked sadly. "Shall I be uncertainwhether at the end of my term in purgatory I am to be raised to a stateof bliss or dashed into the Inferno?"

She laughed; a delicious little laugh. 

"You are getting hyperbolical, " she answered. "There are ten thousandbetter women than I. "

"But I don't want them, " pleaded the young man. "Did you ever read thelines of Jean Ingelow:

 "'Oh so many, many, many Maids and yet my heart undone. What to me are all or any? I have lost--my--one. '"

Daisy replied that the sentiment was very sweet, and added that when alover could quote such admirable poetry with accuracy, there was hopefor him. Do what he would, Roseleaf could not make her see thateverything in his future life depended on "one little word" from her. She persisted that he was misled by the violence of his firstaffection, and that if he would only let a month or two pass he woulddiscover that his pulse would fall off a number of beats to the minute. 

"And is that what you want?" he asked, reproachfully. "Would you like tohave me come back two months later, and tell you my love had ceased?"

"Yes, if it was the truth. How much better than to learn it after myvows had been pledged and I was bound to you for the rest of my days!"

He rose and went with quick steps to her side, catching up her hand andcovering it with kisses. She did her best to stop him, whispering, witha glance toward the door, that they might be interrupted at any minute. 

"By whom!" he retorted, stung at her coldness. "Your sister has gone upstairs, and there is no one else in the house. "

"Hannibal might come in, " she said, in a low tone. "He has no way ofknowing that I do not wish to be interrupted. "

He grew angry at the mention of that name. But the warning had itseffect and he sat down, nearer to her than before, his heart beatingrapidly. 

"I hate the fellow!" he exclaimed bitterly. "It is a good thing I amgoing away, or I should strike him some day for his insolence!"

Daisy paled at the vehemence of her companion. 

"Has he been insolent to you?" she murmured. 

"To me? He would not dare! What angers me is the way he speaks to therest of you. He came with your cloak that night, acting as if he wasyour master, instead of your servant. I have heard him speak to Mr. Fern in a way that made me want to kick him! Why does your father bearit? Why do you? Has Hannibal some mysterious hold on his situation?"

The girl heard him patiently, though the roses did not come at once toher white cheek. 

"I am afraid, " she said, when he had finished his tirade, "that youdespise him for his color. It is a prejudice that seems to me--and to myfather--unchristian and uncharitable. Perhaps, in the anxiety to makeHannibal forget that God gave him a darker skin than ours, we may havegone to the other extreme, and treated him with too great consideration. But I think you overstate the case. "

Her gentle words smote upon the ears that heard them, and in a momentRoseleaf was affected by the most lively contrition. Without attemptingto excuse himself he begged her pardon, which she readily granted. 

"When do you leave us?" she asked. 

"To-morrow morning. "

"But you will call--occasionally?"

"If I may. "

His tone was so sad that Daisy assured him he ought to have no doubt ofthat. 

"I understand, " she added, "that you have probably helped Millie to areputation that she craves above everything, and she ought not to proveentirely ungrateful. We have enjoyed your stay here, and shall be mostsorry to have you go. I should be glad to think you would honor us withyour company to dinner not less often than once each week. "

For the first time a ray of light came into his face. 

"Oh, may I?" he cried. "Then I shall not be shut off entirely fromseeing you?"

"No, indeed, " she answered. "Father likes you and Mr. Weil too well--youwill bring him, of course. Once a week, at least--if it were twice itwouldn't do any harm; and if it were three times--"

His face was now one bright beam of light. 

"Daisy, " he cried. "I believe you do not hate me after all!"

"I hope you never thought I did, " she responded. "Why is it that a mancan see no middle ground between positive dislike and marriage? I expectto like a good many men in the course of my life, but I can only marry avery few of them. "

He was obliged to laugh at this, and to say that she would only marry_one_, if he had _his_ way. Before they had finished with this subjectRoseleaf was in a state of high good nature, though he had littleapparently upon which to base the rise in his spirits. 

"Can't I say something--just a hint, if no more, to your father?" heasked, getting down again to business. 

"Pretty risky!" she answered, sententiously. "He wouldn't give you muchencouragement I fear. "

The young man caught eagerly at the word. 

"You _fear_!" he echoed. "God bless you, Daisy!"

Bearing in mind what she had previously said about the unlocked doors, he did not attempt to suit the action to the phrase. But his happy facespoke volumes. 

"You had best say very little to father at present, " said Daisy, soberly. "He is most unhappy. "

"I wish I knew what troubled him!" he exclaimed. 

"I wish so, too, if you could aid him, " she answered, earnestly. 

"Who knows but I may?" he asked, with a smile that she hoped would proveprophetic. 

CHAPTER XI. 

ARCHIE PAYS ATTENTION. 

Roseleaf took rooms at his old lodgings in the city, and set in earnestabout the work of beginning his great novel. He had interviews with Mr. Gouger, at which he detailed the slight thread of plot which he alreadyhad in mind, profiting by the critic's shrewd suggestions. It wasdecided that he should portray, at the beginning, a youth much likehimself, who was to fall in love with an angelically pure maiden. Theoutline of their respective characters were to be sketched with care, and sundry obstacles to their union were to be developed as the storyprogressed. Gouger warned his young friend not to write too fast, and tocontent himself for the present with delineating the phase of love withwhich he had become familiar. 

"Later on, " he said, "when your hero finds that this girl is not all hisbright fancy painted her--when it is proved beyond a doubt that she hasplayed him false, that she has another lover--"

Roseleaf turned pale. 

"But that will never be!" he interrupted. 

"It will, of course--in the story, " corrected Gouger. "She will lead hima race that will make him an enemy to the entire sex, if she is used forall the dramatic effect possible. People expect to find immaculatepurity in the earlier chapters of a story, as they do in small children. With the progress of the action they look for something more exciting. To sketch a seraph who remains one would only be to repeat the failureyou made in your other effort--the one you brought to me the day I metyou first. It is not the glory of heaven that attracts audiences to ourchurches, but the dramatic quality of hell. A sermon without a largespice of the devil in it would be much worse than a rendition of Hamletminus the Prince. Put your heroine in the clouds, if you will, at thebeginning. The higher she goes, the greater will be her fall, and thegreater, consequently, your triumph. "

The young novelist shivered as he listened to these expressions. Howcould he build a heroine on the model of Daisy Fern, and conceive thepossibility that she would ever allow her white robes to touch theearth? He might have constructed such a plot with Millicent as thecentral figure, though that would be by no means easy; but Daisy!Impossible! He asked the critic if it would not do to send the hero ofthe tale to perdition, while leaving his sweetheart immaculate to theclose. 

"No, " said Gouger, decidedly. "A man's fall is not much of a fall, anyway you put it. The public is not interested in such matters. It demandsa female sacrifice, like some of the ancient gods, and it will not beappeased with less. I expect you to be new and original in yourtreatment of the theme, but the subject itself is as old as fiction. Youhave too little imagination, as I have told you before. You mustcultivate that talent. Having conceived your paragon, imagine her placedunder temptations she cannot resist; surround her with an environmentfrom which she cannot break; place her in situations that leave her noescape. "

Roseleaf shook his head. 

"I am afraid I never shall be able to do it, " he said. 

"Pshaw! Don't talk of failure at this stage of the game. All you have todo is to introduce upon the scene a thoroughly unprincipled man of goodaddress, who is fertile in expedients. You will find your model for thatamong a dozen of your acquaintances. Why, take Archie Weil, and hold himin your mind till you are saturated with him. "

What did Mr. Gouger mean? That Mr. Weil would actually do these dreadfulthings, would in his own person perpetrate the outrage of winning a puregirl to shame. It seemed childish to ask such a question, and yet such ameaning could easily be taken from what the critic had said. No, no! Allhe could have meant was that Mr. Weil might serve as a figure on whichto lay these sins--that he could be carried in the writer's mind, as acostumer uses a stuffed frame to hang garments on while in the processof manufacture. 

"Then there is Boggs, " added Gouger, with a laugh. "You ought to findsome place for a fellow like him, if only for the comic parts of yournovel, and there must be a little humor in a book that is to suit themass. A writer for a magazine said recently with much truth, 'He whowould hit the popular taste must aim low. ' I think Boggs could furnishthe cheap fun for an ordinary novel, without too great a wear on thewriter. Go ahead, my boy. Write a half dozen chapters in your ownidyllic way, and then get Archie to take you to a few places where yourmind will be turned to opposite scenes. It takes all sorts of edibles tosuit the modern palate. "

So Roseleaf wrote, slowly, patiently, with devotion to his art, until hehad completed five chapters of his story. And Gouger read it and wentinto ecstacies, declaring it the best foundation he had ever seen for amost entrancing romance. 

"He has wrought his people up to such a superlative height, " said thecritic to Mr. Weil, "that the _chute_ will be simply tremendous! Howsimply, how elegantly his sentences flow! If he can handle the necessarywickedness that must follow, the sale of 'Uncle Tom's Cabin, ' or 'ThouShalt Not, ' will be eclipsed without the least doubt. But, the questionstill is, _can_ he?"

"There's no such question, " was the response. "He must, that's the wayto put it. Confound it, he shall! And the next thing for him to do isto take a few visits with me to the underground regions, where he canget such slight shocks to his literary system as will enable him to takeup the vein he must work. "

During this time Roseleaf did not forget the invitation he had receivedto dine with the Ferns. It did him good to see Daisy, although he couldnot now get her for a moment to himself. He sighed to her over thetable, and across the parlor, after the party had retired to that partof the house, and she answered him with little bright smiles that actedlike an emollient on his hurt spirit. He had never found the courage tobeard her father in his den--of wool--and was not even sure that theaffair had reached a stage where anything could be gained by taking sucha step. What he wanted was a word of assurance from Daisy that she wouldwait for him till he had made a Name in literature, or proved hisability in some definite manner. There was no indication that any oneelse was in the way; everything pointed to a contrary probability. Butthere is nothing so desolate as the heart of a lover whose fair one isjust beyond his reach. 

Mr. Weil accompanied Shirley on most of these visits, and knew very wellwhat was going on. None of the glances exchanged between the youngpeople were so much their exclusive property as they believed. HadArchie possessed eyes in the back and sides of his head, he could haveseen little more than he did. While appearing to devote his entireattention to Mr. Fern and Millicent--principally the former, he foundtime to watch Roseleaf and Daisy, and even the negro Hannibal. 

He noticed that the servant was no less devoted than formerly to theyoungest member of the household. He saw him hover around her at thetable like a protecting spirit, letting her want for nothing thatthoughtfulness could procure. And he noticed that Daisy seemed asoblivious of this as she had always been. She accepted theseextraordinary attentions quite as if Hannibal were some automaton, acting with a set of concealed springs--a mechanism in which there wasnothing of human life or intelligence. 

Mr. Fern was the same gentlemanly host as of yore, with the same darkcloud hanging over him, whatever might be its cause. Courteous by natureto an exceptional degree he could not assume a gayety he did not feel. There was some terrible weight bearing him down, some awful incubus ofwhich he was unable to rid himself. The only person who did not noticeit was Millicent, and the one it troubled most was Daisy, on whose sweetyoung face the share she had in her parent's griefs had already begun toleave its impressions. 

Millicent's novel was soon placed in Mr. Gouger's hands, completed. Theoriginal theme was unaltered, but in its new garb of perfect English noone would have recognized the rejected work. The combination of thegirl's strength of mind and the man's elegance of diction wassuccessful. The critic recommended its acceptance without a word ofdissent, and Cutt & Slashem even consented, on his suggestion, toforego the guarantee against loss which they had of late demanded fromall authors whose names were unknown to the reading public. 

"I have fixed it for you, Archie, " he said, when that gentleman nextmade his appearance at the sanctum. "No deposit or guarantee, and tenper cent. Of the retail price for royalty. So take a train to yourinamorata's house and tell her the news. "

Mr. Weil did not seem to wholly relish the announcement. 

"In the first place, " he remarked, "you have no business to speak ofMiss Fern as my inamorata; and in the second you will pay her more thanten per cent. Or you won't get the book to print. "

At this, Mr. Gouger, after the manner of all publishers and theiragents, proceeded to show to Mr. Weil that it was perfectly impossibleto pay another cent more than the figure he had named; and before he hadfinished he agreed to see the firm and get the amount raisedconsiderably, provided the sales should exceed five thousand copies. Inshort, Mr. Weil secured a very respectable contract for a new author, and one that was sure to please Miss Fern, if she was in the leastdegree reasonable. 

"I wish you would hurry up Roseleaf, " remarked Gouger, when this matterwas disposed of. "When will you take him down into the depths and lethim see that side of life?"

"I have arranged a journey for to-morrow night, " said Weil. "We shall goto Isaac Leveson's and make an evening of it. Unless things aredifferent there from usual, he will lay the foundation for all thewickedness he needs to put into his story. "

The critic nodded approval. 

"He will probably have a Jew in it, then--a modernized Fagan. "

"Yes, " said Weil. "And a negro. A tall, well-built negro, who has awhite man for his slave!"

CHAPTER XII. 

DINING AT ISAAC'S. 

On the following day, when Shirley Roseleaf presented himself at theHoffman House, he found Mr. Weil awaiting him in a state of great goodnature. 

"Go home and make yourself ready for a dive into the infernal regions, "he said, merrily. "I am going to take you to a place where the devilspends his vacation, and show you a set of women as different from thoseyou have lately met as chalk is from indigo. Be here at nine o'clockthis evening, prepared for the descent. "

A vision of subterranean passages crossed the mind of the listener, andhe thought of tall boots and a tarpaulin. 

"How shall I dress--roughly, I suppose?" he inquired. 

"Certainly not. Put on your swallow tail, and white tie. Vice in thesedays wears its best garments. You cannot tell a gambler from aclergyman by his attire. Dress exactly as if you were going to theswellest party on Fifth Avenue. The only addition to your toilet will bea revolver, if you happen to have one handy. If you do not, I haveseveral and will lend you one. "

If he expected to startle the young man he was in error. Roseleaf merelynodded and said he would take one of the weapons owned by Mr. Weil. 

"We shall not use them--there are a thousand chances to one, " saidArchie. "New York is like Montana. You remember what the resident saidto the tenderfoot, 'You may be a long time without wantin' a we'p'n inthese parts, but when you do you'll want it d--d sudden. '"

When Roseleaf returned, the hands of his watch indicated the time atwhich he had been asked to make his appearance, but Mr. Weil did nottake him immediately to the point of destination. Instead he walked overto a variety theatre that was then in operation on Twenty-third street, and after spending a short time in the auditorium guided the young maninto the "wineroom. " Here the ladies of the ballet were in the habit ofgoing when off the stage, for the sake of entertaining the patrons withtheir light and frivolous conversation, and inducing them if possible, to invest in champagne at five dollars the bottle. 

Archie was, it appeared, not unknown to the throng that filled thisplace, for his name was spoken by several of both sexes as soon as heentered. He nodded coolly to those who addressed him, and took a seatat a table with his companion. With a shake of his head he declined theoffers of two or three fairies of the ballet to share the table, andordered a bottle of Mumm with the evident intention of drinking it alonewith his friend. 

Roseleaf slowly sipped the sparkling beverage. He was cautioned in awhisper to drink but one glass, as it was necessary that he should keepa perfectly clear head. Weil remarked in an undertone that he had onlyordered the wine as an excuse for remaining a few minutes. 

"I call this 'the slaughter house, '" he added, in a voice still lower. "Girls are brought here to be murdered. Not to have their throats cut, "he explained, "but to be killed just as surely, if more slowly. I haveseen them come here for the first time, with good health shining out oftheir rosy cheeks, delighted at the unwonted excitement and the amountof attention the frequenters of the place bestowed. I have watched themgrowing steadily paler, having recourse to rouge, the eyes gettingdimmer, the voice growing harsher, the temper becoming more variable. And then--other fresh faces came in their stead. There are killed, on anaverage, twenty girls a year here, I should say; killed to satisfy theappetites of men, as beeves are killed in Chicago, but not somercifully. "

The novelist looked into the faces that were nearest to him and thoughthe could discern the various grades of which his friend spoke--the new, the older, the ones whose turn to give way to others would soon come. All of them were drinking. Most had on the stage dresses they had justworn or were about to wear in the performance. Some had finished theirparts and were enveloped in street clothes, ready to take theirdeparture with the first male who asked them. And they were drinking, drinking, either in little sips or in feverish gulps, as they would at alater day, when the five-dollar wine would be replaced by five cent beeror perhaps the drainings of a keg on the sidewalk. 

Mr. Walker Boggs soon came into the wine-room and joined the pair at Mr. Weil's table. He called for a whiskey straight, pushing the champagneaside with an impatient movement. 

"I won't punish my stomach with such stuff, even if it _has_ gone backon me, " he exclaimed. "That will knock out any man who drinks it betweenmeals. "

Mr. Weil assented to this proposition, and to show his full belief in itfilled his own glass again and tossed its contents down his throat. 

"What brings you here?" he asked, quizzically. 

"Those creatures, " replied Boggs, with a motion of his hand toward themembers of the ballet. "They're all that's left me now. _They_ don'tmind the size of my waist. My hold on _them_ is as strong as ever. But_you_ ought not to be here, " he broke in, turning to Roseleaf. "It willbe years before you get to this stage, I hope. "

Mr. Weil hastened to explain. 

"Shirley is merely observing, " said he. "He came at my request. We aregoing next to Isaac Leveson's. "

Mr. Boggs grew interested. 

"So, so! You intend to show him Isaac's to-night?"

"Yes. Isn't it a good idea?"

The stout man shrugged his shoulders as if he had nothing to say on thatpoint. The movement was essentially a Frenchy one and might have meantanything. 

"Perhaps you would like to go with us, " said Archie. 

"What do you intend to do there?"

"Tell Mr. Roseleaf all the secrets. "

Mr. Boggs stared at the speaker. 

"Isaac won't let you, " he answered, grimly. 

"Won't he? He'll have to. Why, what's the odds? The boy won't give himaway. And if he should--" His voice sank to a whisper. 

Mr. Weil then proceeded to explain to his young friend that "Isaac's"was a peculiar affair, even for Gotham. It had entrances on two streets. Into one door went the most respectable of people, intent on getting anexceptionably good dinner, which was always to be had there, cooked inthe French style and elegantly served. At that end of the house therewere several dining-rooms that would hold forty or fifty guests, andseveral others made to accommodate family parties of six to twelve. If acouple happened to stray in and inquire for a room to themselves thehead waiter informed them that it was against the rule of the house toserve a private dinner to less than four people. 

It was evident that the establishment was conducted on the most moralprinciples, and in a way to prevent the possibility of scandal. Forthough a great many couples undoubtedly take dinners in private roomswith the utmost propriety, it must be admitted that such a course isopen to suspicion and might be used as a basis for unpleasant rumors. Mr. Leveson, who kept this hotel, took great pride in saying thatnothing in all New York bore a better name, and no amount of briberywould have induced one of his employes--on _that_ side of the house--tovary the rules laid down. 

But on the _other_ side of the building--at the entrance on the otherstreet--ah, that was different!

If only the most respectable customers entered the first door it wasalmost equally true that none but those who lacked that quality used thesecond. Mr. Leveson sometimes remarked with glee, at twelve o'clock atnight, that he would give a hundred dollar bill for an honest man orwoman in any of the rooms up-stairs. The waiters had instructions to"size up" all comers with care, and to admit no accidental parties whomight apply for entrance under a misapprehension as to the character ofthe place. 

"We are all full, sorry to say, " was the established formula. "There isa very good restaurant just around the corner, on ----th street. " And inthis manner the shrewd restaurateur got all the custom he wanted, whilepreserving the natural atmosphere in each part of his dominions. 

The meals served in these two places were prepared by one chef, andserved from one kitchen. Thus the virtuous and vicious patrons weresupplied with exactly the same dishes. But on what may be called theGood side nothing stronger than wines were found on the bill of fare. Onthe Wicked side every decoction known to the modern drinker was to behad for the asking. Then, again, the doors of the Good side were closedat eleven o'clock, while it was often daylight before the last patron ofthe Sinful side reeled into his carriage. 

After a little more talk Mr. Boggs seemed satisfied and consented tojoin the party. 

Mr. Leveson was notified of the presence of the newcomers and met themat the door. Isaac was of a decidedly Jewish cast of countenance, slightly gray, not very tall, and quite round shouldered. He put out alank hand toward Roseleaf, when that young gentleman was named as amatter of introduction, but put it down again when Mr. Weil curtly saidhandshaking was out of date. Archie had seen a disinclination in the eyeof his friend to touch the fingers of the Hebrew, and with his usualquickness had solved the difficulty. The party entered a private officeat the left of the entrance, where Mr. Leveson inquired what he shouldorder for them to drink. 

"You will order nothing, at present, " said Weil, in a contemptuous waythat excited the astonishment of Mr. Roseleaf. "When I wish for anythingI will ring. Who is there in the house?"

The manager of the establishment bowed humbly, and proceeded to run overthe list of his customers. 

"There is Major Waters and his wife--"

"Together!" exclaimed the questioner. 

"Oh, no! The Major has the little blonde that he has brought for thelast month; his wife has Mr. Nikles of the Planet. Then--"

But Mr. Weil interrupted him again. 

"You'll let them run into each other some day and there'll be a nicetime. "

"Never fear that. The boys understand thoroughly. He comes earlier andstays later than she. Besides, we never let anybody meet on the stairs. The waiters cry out, 'You must go back; it is bad luck!' if any of themseem in danger of running into each other. They are as safe fromdiscovery here as if they were in places a mile apart. "

Some one descended the stairs at this moment and Leveson tiptoed to thedoor and opened it half an inch to peer at them. 

"You know I have no object in saying these things, " said Weil, "exceptto save your precious self from trouble. Who is that going out?"

"Some new people; it is the third time they have been here. "

"Well, " asked Weil, impatiently, "who are they?"

Leveson held up both his hands as if to beg a moment to answer. 

"They come from Brooklyn. I don't know their names. I think neither ismarried. "

"I have a curiosity about things, " explained Weil to his friends, "thatI cannot account for. You remember how Silas Wegg used to talk about'Aunt Jane' and 'Uncle Parker. ' Well, I have the same way of studyingthe men that wander in here of an evening, with other people's wives anddaughters. There is so little really entertaining in this confoundedworld that I seize upon anything promising a change with avidity. Isaactells me all the secrets of his queer ranch, and they prove wonderfullyinteresting, sometimes. You see, " he added, addressing himselfparticularly to Roseleaf, "not a couple comes into this place that wouldlike to have it known. "

Roseleaf bowed constrainedly. 

"And how does Mr. Leveson know them?" he inquired. "They surely do notregister, or if they do their names must be fictitious. "

Mr. Weil laughed. 

"He has ways of finding out, " said he. "There are little birds that flyin at the window and tell him. "

"I should not think he would wish to know, " commented Roseleaf. "Especially when it is evident they would not like to have him. "

Archie laughed again. 

"Let me explain, then, " he said. "I need not mind Boggs here, who isdiscretion itself. Leveson's reason--of course, I can rely on yoursilence?"

The young face reddened at the insinuation that he might betray asecret. 

"I was sure of it, " said Archie, so quickly that Roseleaf felt at easeagain. "Well, the reason why Isaac wants to know what is going on is, heis connected with the police. "

Roseleaf said "Ah!" and opened his eyes wider. 

"People who go to places like this, " continued Mr. Weil, "are of greatinterest to the guardians of the peace. And by the police I do not meanthe members of the regular force so much as the special service. It isto the latter that we go when a confidential clerk has robbed us or webecome suspicious that our wives are unfaithful. Nine times out of tenthe chief of the private detective office knows in advance all we wishhim to ferret out. When he has told us that we will set investigationson foot, and that he hopes to learn something of the matter within a fewdays, he bows us out of his bureau with an air that implies that we havenot come to the wrong party. And as soon as we are gone he turns to aledger, and in a few minutes has found an abstract that tells himeverything. 

"Let us suppose, " said Mr. Weil, "that a jeweler misses twenty valuablepieces of _bijouterie_ from his stock. The circumstances prove that theywere taken by some one in his employ. He thinks of his clerks, andcannot find the heart to accuse any of them of such a grave crime. Hegoes to the detective office and states his case. When he is gone thechief turns to the book and finds this:

"'L. M. Jenkins, clerk at Abram Cohen's, Sixth Avenue; abouttwenty-three, medium height, dark, dresses well. Rooms at No. --Twenty-Ninth street. Has been giving expensive suppers as well asvaluable jewelry to Mamie Sanders, No. So-and-so, Such-a-street. Theydined together at Isaac Leveson's on such-and-such dates. ' Etc. , etc. , etc. 

"Now, he can recover the jewelry and get that clerk into quod in threehours, if he likes. Naturally he won't expedite things in that way, because he wants some excuse for running up a large bill, unless it bea bank case, where he prefers to make a great impression and get himselfsolid with the directors. But he will collar the fellow and recover thestuff, and all because he knew about it long before any one in the storehad a suspicion. "

Mr. Leveson returned. Mr. Weil asked that one of the private rooms onthe second floor be put in order at once, for himself and friends. Hethen inquired what ladies were in the house unoccupied by escorts. 

"Miss Pelham has been waiting an hour for the Judge, " replied Isaac, "but I don't think he'll come. He disappoints her half the time now. AndMrs. Delavan, who has just come in, found a note from Col. Lamorest, asking her to excuse him to-night. "

Archie looked pleased. 

"They'll do, " he said. "Tell them to come and dine with us. But, " hepaused, and looked at Roseleaf, "we need still another. "

The color mounted to the cheeks of the young novelist, as he understoodthe thought that prompted this statement. 

"Not on my account--I would much rather not, " he stammered. 

"You will kindly leave that to my judgment, " replied Archie, impressively. "Remember, you are not the instructor here, but the pupil. There must be some one else, Isaac. "

Mr. Leveson hesitated. He was mentally going over the rooms upstairs andtaking stock of what was in them. 

"There are two girls, " he said, at last, "who used to work in one ofthe dry goods stores, but you wouldn't want them. They are very strict, and they dress plainly, --and I am afraid the other ladies wouldn't liketo associate with them. "

Mr. Weil grew vastly irritated by this statement. He brought his handdown on the table with a bang. 

"The other ladies!" he echoed, angrily. "When you tell Mrs. Delavan andJenny Pelham that you want them to dine with us, you know that ends it!As to these shop girls, what do you mean by calling them _strict_? Whatwould a _strict_ girl be doing in _this_ house?"

Mr. Leveson cringed before his interrogator and made the old, imploringmovement with his hands. 

"Let me explain, " he said. "These girls came here a few weeks ago withsome traveling men. They took dinner, but Adolf says neither drank adrop of wine. A few days later they came again, with other escorts, andthe same thing occurred. "

"Why did you let them in?" demanded Weil. 

"Because I knew the gentlemen. "

Archie started to say something, but checked himself. 

"And after that they came alone and asked to see me, " pursued Isaac, humbly. "They said they had been thrown out of work, and thought theremight be an opportunity to do something here, like waiting on theguests. And while we were talking, two old customers of the house calledto dine, alone, and asked me if they could get some one to share themeal with them. And, it seemed quite providential--"

Archie stopped the voluble speech by striking his hands sharplytogether. 

"Enough!" he said. "When the dinner is ready send one of them in. Thatwill make the three we need. "

In half an hour the dinner was ready to be served. Then Isaac came withthe information that the girls refused to be separated. 

"What a nuisance!" exclaimed Weil. "Well, send both of them, then. We'lltake care of them, somehow. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

A QUESTION OF COLOR. 

The next morning, when Roseleaf awoke, he was for some time in a sort ofstupor. Through the bright sunlight that filled his room he seemed toscent the fumes of tobacco and of liquor. The place was filled, heimagined, with that indefinable aroma that proceeds from a convivialcompany made up of both sexes. He half believed that Jennie Pelham andMrs. Delavan were sitting by his bed, more brazen than the bell which, from a neighboring steeple, told him the hour was ten. And surely, bythose curtains there, hiding the flame that filled their cheeks, werethe two "shop-girls, " their pinched faces denoting slow starvation. Boggs, and Isaac Leveson, and Archie Weil were there, all of them; andthe young man tossed uneasily on his pillow, struggling with theremnant of nightmare that remained to cloud his brain. 

When he was able to think and see clearly he sat up and rang for apitcher of ice water. He was consumed by thirst, and his forehead achedblindly. When he had bathed his head and throat he turned, by a suddenimpulse, to his table, and took out the MSS. Of the story he had begun. Slowly he read over the pages, to the last one. Then, seizing his pen, he devoted himself to the next chapter, without dressing, withoutbreakfasting. 

It was four o'clock when he ceased work. He realized all at once that hewas feeling ill. The fact dawned upon him that he needed food, anddonning his garments, he took his way listlessly to a restaurant andordered something to eat. As he swallowed the morsels, he fell towondering how much temptation _he_ would be able to bear, with hunger asa background. 

He passed a good part of the evening in walking the streets, selecting, instinctively, sections where he was least likely to meet any one heknew. When he returned to his room he read over the MSS. He had writtenthat day, and into his troubled brain there came a sense of pleasure. Gouger was right. To tell of such matters in a novel, one should knowthem himself. Roseleaf could never have written of vice before he sawLeveson's. Now, it was as plain to him as print, almost as easy to usein fiction as virtue. What was to follow? He pondered over the plot hehad mapped out, and it grew clearer. 

Daisy had given him no further encouragement--at least in words--sincethat day she had said it was "risky" to ask her father, but he feltcertain that she regarded him with favor, and that if Mr. Fern put noobstacles in the way she would not refuse to wed him when the right timecame. He thought it would be wise to obtain one more brief interviewwith her, before proceeding to extremities, and determined to do hisbest to draw her aside, when he made his next visit to her house. Thissettled, he went to bed again and slept soundly. 

When the day to go to Midlands arrived Shirley's courage began to ooze alittle. So much depended upon the attitude of his dear one's mind, which, for all he knew, had changed since he talked with her, that hefairly trembled with apprehension. He avoided Mr. Weil, with whom heusually took the train, and went out early. Alighting at a station amile or two away from the right one, he walked through the woods, tryingto think how to act in case matters did not turn out as he hoped. Underthe branches he strolled along, until he came within sight of the roofsof Midlands; and then he threw himself at the foot of a tree close toMr. Fern's grounds, and gave himself up to reverie. 

When he laid down here it was only five o'clock, and he was not expectedat the house for a full hour. It pleased him to be so near the one heloved, and to lie where he could dream of her sweet face and see theoutlines of the house that sheltered her, while she had no knowledge ofhis presence. Just over there was the arbor, where he had first had thesupreme bliss of touching her lips with his own. If he could get her tocome there with him again--to-night--when the others were occupied withtheir talk of earthly things, and if she would only tell him franklythat he might go to her father, and that her prayers would go with him!A soft languor came over his body at the deliciousness of thesereflections, but it was dissipated by the sound of voices whichpresently came to him from the other side of the hedge. 

"I can't exactly understand, Miss Daisy, " said one of the voices, whichhe had no difficulty in recognizing as that of Hannibal, "why you wishme to go away?"

There was an assurance in the tone that Roseleaf did not like. He hadnoticed it before in the intercourse of this negro with his employers. There was something which intimated that he was on the most completelevel with them. 

"I want you to go, " said Daisy, in her quiet way, "because education isthe only thing that will make you what you ought to be. There are ahundred chances open to you, in the professions, if you can take acollege course. Unless you do, you can hope for nothing better than suchemployment as you have now. "

It made the listener's blood boil to think that these people should beconsulting in that way, like friends. Daisy ought to have a better senseof her position. 

"I will not refuse your offer, at least not yet, " replied Hannibal, after a slight pause. "It may be as you say--if I graduate as a doctoror a lawyer. But I know that I live in a country where my color isdespised--and all that could possibly come to me here as a professionalman is work among my own race. I should be a black lawyer with blackclients; or a black physician, with black patients. To really succeed Ishould go across the ocean to some land where the shade of my skin wouldnot be counted a crime. "

Daisy's face could not be seen by the listener, but he was sure it was akindly one, and this made him fume. The situation was atrocious. 

"It should not be considered so anywhere, " said the girl, gently. 

"It is an outrage!" responded the black. "Having stolen our ancestorsand brought them here from their native country, the Americans hate usfor the injury they have done. In France, they tell me, it is not so. Oh, if I _could_ gain an education, and become what God meant to makeme--a man!" He paused as if the thought was too great to be conceived inits fullness, and then said, abruptly: "Where can you get this money?"

Roseleaf's suspicions were now keenly aroused and he dreaded lest sheshould bring his name into the conversation. 

"Your father would not give it to you--without an explanation, " pursuedthe negro. "And you have no fortune of your own. "

"I will get it--let that suffice, " interrupted the girl. "I can give you$1000 a year for two years, at least, and I hope for two or three more, if you will go to Paris and put yourself under instruction. Can youhesitate to accept a proposal of that kind? I thought you would seize itwith avidity. "

As Daisy said this she arose, and started slowly toward the house. Hannibal walked by her side talking in a tone so low that nothing morewas intelligible to the eavesdropper she little suspected was so near. But suddenly the girl stopped, and Roseleaf heard her cry with startlingdistinctness:

"_How dare you!_"

The voice that uttered these words was filled with rage, and the girl'sattitude, as Roseleaf could see--for he had risen hastily to hisfeet--was one of intense excitement. Then she added:

"If you ever speak of that again, they will be the last words I willever exchange with you. My offer is still open--you can have the moneyif you wish it--but never another syllable like this! Understand me, Hannibal, never!"

Miss Daisy passed on toward the house, alone. The negro stood where shehad left him, his head bowed on his breast, as if completely cowed bythe rebuke. Roseleaf's heart beat rapidly. What gave this fellow suchpower over these people? How could he say things to call out such anexclamation as that of Daisy's, and yet hold her promise to pay him alarge sum of money, instead of getting the prompt discharge he merited?

And this was what the girl wanted to do with the $1, 000, she had askedhim to lend her! Should he still give it to her? Yes, if it would ridthe country of that insolent knave who, from whatever cause, occupied aposition that must be growing unendurable to those who had to bear withhim. 

What had Hannibal said, that made her turn as if grossly insulted, andspeak with a vehemence so foreign to her nature? Roseleaf would haveenjoyed following the negro and giving him a severe trouncing. ThoughHannibal was twenty pounds heavier and considerably taller than he, thenovelist had not the least doubt of his ability to master him. Hebelieved the courage of an African would give way when confronted by oneof the superior race; and at any rate, righteous indignation would countfor something in so just a contest. 

There were no traces of excitement on Daisy's pretty face as shewelcomed the guests of the family. Weil arrived at about the same timeas Roseleaf, coming directly from the station, and Mr. Fern arrived alittle later. Millicent looked her best, which is saying no less thanthat she was a beauty, and Archie told her politely that she ought tosit for a painting. When the dinner was served, Hannibal took charge asusual. Shirley watched him with an interest he had never felt before, and nodded assent when Weil whispered behind his napkin, "Good materialfor a novel in that fellow, eh?"

The opportunity for a word alone with Daisy came earlier than Roseleafexpected. In fact she herself proposed it, while passing out of thedining room. She said she had something particular to tell him. 

"It is about that money you were so kind as to say I could have, " sheexplained, when they were far down the lawn, and out of hearing of theothers. "I want it very much and very soon. It--it will be all right, Ihope, and--and not cause you any inconvenience. "

"I will bring it, or send it to-morrow, " he replied, instantly. "But Istill wonder what you intend to do with it. "

She smiled archly. 

"A good act, I assure you, " she replied. "Something of which you wouldcertainly approve, if you knew all the circumstances. You are very kind, and if it was darker here I should be--almost--tempted to kiss you. "

He replied that it was growing darker rapidly, and that the requisiteshadow could be obtained if they stayed out long enough; but she saidshe could remain but a few moments, and turned in the direction of thehouse. 

"But, Daisy!" he cried, and then paused. "You--you know there issomething of very great importance that I want to talk about. I get solittle chance, and I want so much to tell you things. I have been tryingto go to your father's office, and I can't find courage. "

"I didn't know you were thinking of buying wool, " she said, mischievously. 

"I want one little lamb, to be my own, " he answered, "to love andcherish all my life long. Am I never to have it?"

She sobered before the earnestness of his sad face. 

"You are a dear boy, " she said, "and I love you. There! Don't sayanything more to me to-night. I have made a foolish confession, forwhich I may yet repent. We must go in. They will be looking for us. "

She looked at his countenance and saw that it was radiant. 

"I can endure anything now, " he said. "You love me, Daisy--can it betrue? I will go in with you--and I will wait. But not too long, mysweetheart; do not make me wait too long. Repent your confession, indeed! If you do, it will be from no fault of mine. _Daisy!_"

As he said these things they were gradually nearing the piazza, wherethe negro was taking in the chairs. 

"I have something pleasant to tell you, " whispered Daisy. "You don'tlike Hannibal. Well, he is going away soon. "

Roseleaf assumed surprise. 

"Has your father discharged him?" he asked. 

"No, he intends to leave of his own accord. He believes himself fittedfor better work. Hush! He may hear you. "

As they passed the servant, Daisy said, "Good-evening, Hannibal. " It washer invariable custom, and she spoke with the greatest courtesy. But inthis case the negro did not raise his eyes, nor turn his head towardher, nor make the slightest sign to show that he heard. 

It was too much for Roseleaf, and he stopped. 

"Did you hear Miss Daisy address you?" he demanded, sharply. 

Hannibal looked up, with a curious mixture of amusement, contempt andhate in his dark face. 

"I did, " he answered. 

"Why did you not answer?"

"Because I did not choose. "

Daisy threw herself in front of Roseleaf, just in time to preventHannibal's receiving a blow. 

"Oh, stop!" she exclaimed, "I beg you!"

The noise and the sound of raised voices brought Mr. Fern and his otherdaughter, with Archie Weil, to the door. Mr. Fern took in the situationat a glance, and his troubled face grew more distressed. 

"Mr. Roseleaf, " he said, speaking as if the words choked him, "I amsurprised--that you should--hold an altercation like this--in mydaughter's presence. "

Roseleaf did not know what to do or say. Daisy's pleading eyes decidedhim, much against his judgment, to drop the matter where it was, gallingto his pride though it might be. He escorted his sweetheart into theparlor, where the entire party followed, in a most uncomfortable stateof mind. 

"How can you permit that negro to insult your guests?" demandedMillicent, as soon as the door was closed. "It is beyond belief. If heis master of this house it is time the rest of us left it. I am certainMr. Roseleaf did not act without great provocation. "

Before Mr. Fern could answer, Daisy had spoken. 

"It is over now, and there is nothing to be said. Hannibal is going awayin a few days, and that will end your trouble. "

The father turned such an incredulous look toward his daughter that itwas evident he had heard nothing of this. 

"Going?" he echoed, faintly. "Going?"

"Yes, " said Daisy. "He told me to-day. He is going to some country wherehis color will not be counted a misdemeanor. "

Roseleaf had difficulty in maintaining the silence with which he haddetermined to encase himself. But Daisy did not wish him to speak, andher will was law. 

"Well, I am glad of that!" exclaimed Millicent. "In a country where theyconsider such people their equals, he will not meet the pity andconsideration he has so abused here. Still, I do think, father, that youought to apologize to Mr. Roseleaf for the way in which you haveaddressed him. "

This freed the young man's tongue. 

"By no means, " he said. "Very likely I was wrong to say anything. "

"You were not wrong!" retorted Millicent. "You were entirely right. Youwould have been justified in punishing the fellow as he deserved. It isothers who are wrong. If he were not going, I would never stay to seerepeated what I have witnessed in the last six months. "

Mr. Fern seemed to have lost all ambition for controversy. His elderdaughter's cutting words evidently hurt, but he would not reply. 

Mr. Weil came to the rescue by introducing a new topic of conversation, that of a European tenor that was soon expected to startle New York. Daisy went to the piano, and played softly, talking in whispers toRoseleaf, who leaned feverishly over her shoulder. But she made noallusion to Hannibal, and he did his best to forget him. 

"What do you make of that?" asked Mr. Weil, when he was in a railwaycar, on the way back to the city with his young friend. "A gloriouschance for a novelist to find the reason that black Adonis is allowedsuch latitude. "

But Roseleaf was not listening. He was thinking of a sweet voice thathad said: "You are a dear boy and I love you!"

CHAPTER XIV. 

"LET US HAVE A BETRAYAL. "

Mr. Archie Weil had become quite intimate with Mr. Wilton Fern; so muchso that he called at his office every few days, took walks with him onbusiness errands, went with him to lunch (to the annoyance of LawrenceGouger, who did not like to eat alone) and sometimes took the train homewith him at night, on evenings when Shirley Roseleaf was not of theparty. Everybody in the Fern family liked Archie. Even Hannibal, who hadconceived a veritable hatred for Roseleaf, brightened at the entrance ofMr. Weil either at the house or office, the negro seeming to alternatebetween the two places very much as he pleased. Millicent liked himbecause he was so "facile, " as she expressed it; a man with whom onecould talk without feeling it necessary to pick each step. Daisy likedhim because her father did, and because Roseleaf did, and because hetreated her with marked politeness that had apparently no doublemeaning. 

And they all got confidential with him, which was exactly what he wantedthem to do; only the one he most wanted to give him confidence gave himthe least. This was Mr. Fern, himself. 

Try as he might, Archie could not discover what clouded the brow of thewool merchant, what made him act like a person who fears each knock atthe door, each sound of a human voice in the hallway of his office. Hecould find no reason for Mr. Fern's attitude toward Hannibal, whosemanners were as far removed as possible from those supposed to belong toa personal servant. There must be a cause of no ordinary character whenthis polished gentleman permitted a negro to insult him and hisdaughter, in a way to excite comment. What it was Mr. Weil was bent ondiscovering, but as yet he had made little progress. 

It was on account of this plan that Mr. Weil affected to like Hannibalso well. He used to spend hours in devising ways for securing the truthfrom that source. Hannibal, however, gave no signs of intending toreveal his secret, and if he was going abroad to study, it seemedunlikely that the investigator would get at many facts in that quarter. 

One day, Mr. Weil happened to call at the office of the merchant at anhour when the latter was out, and found Hannibal in possession. As thiswas an opportunity seldom available, Archie entered into a livelyconversation with the fellow. 

"They tell me you are soon going to leave us, " he said, as a beginning. "I hear that you are going to Europe. "

"Yes, " said Hannibal, with a certain wariness. 

"If I can tell you anything about the country I shall be glad, " saidWeil, affably. "I have spent considerable time there. You don'tunderstand the language, I believe?"

The negro simply shook his head. 

"It's easy enough to acquire. Get right into a hotel with a lot ofstudents, and pitch in. Though they _do_ say, " added the speaker, archly, "that the best method is to engage a pretty grisette. The poetwas right:

 "'Tis pleasing to be schooled in a strange tongue By female eyes and lips; that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young--

"You know the rest. "

The answering smile that he expected, did not come into the negro'sface. If possible, it grew still more reserved and earnest. 

"There's one good thing, if you'll excuse my mentioning it, " pursuedArchie, "and that is, the French have no prejudice whatever againstcolor. Indeed, a colored student gets a little better attention in Paristhan a white one. "

Then the silent lips were unlocked. 

"Could a black man--_marry_--a white woman, of the upper or middleclasses?" asked Hannibal, slowly. 

"To be sure. There was the elder Dumas, and a dozen others. I tell youthere's absolutely no color line there. They judge a man by what he is, not by the accident of race or skin. You'll see such a difference you'llbe sorry you didn't go years before. "

Hannibal sat as if lost in thought. 

"Mr. Fern will miss you, though, " continued Archie. "Yes, and thefamily. You seem almost indispensable. "

A suspicious glance was shot at the speaker, but his face bore such aningenuous look that the suggestion was dismissed. What could he know?

"They will get some one else, " said the negro, quietly. 

"Yes, but in these days it is not easy to get people one can trust. Mr. Fern will not find any one to take your place in a moment. And just now, when he evidently has a great deal of trouble on his mind, it will beunpleasant to make a change. "

Hannibal was completely deceived by the apparently honest character ofthese observations. He could not resist the temptation to boast alittle, that peculiar trait of a menial. 

"I know all about Mr. Fern's affairs, " he agreed. "Both here and at thehouse. He would not trust the next man as he has me. "

Mr. Weil nodded wisely. 

"I see, I see, " he answered. "You know then what has annoyed him oflate--that which has puzzled all the rest of us so much. You know, buthaving the knowledge in a sort of confidential capacity, you would, ofcourse, have no right to reveal it. "

Hannibal straightened himself up in an exasperating way. 

"You will not find what troubles Mr. Fern, " he said, loftily. "And now, may I ask _you_ something. Do you expect to marry his eldest daughter?"

An inclination to kick the fellow for his impudence came so strong uponMr. Weil that it required all of his powers to suppress the sentiment. But through his indignation there struggled his old admiration for thiselegant physical specimen. He wished he could get a statue modeled fromhim, before the original left the country. 

"That is a delicate question, " he managed to say. 

"I know it, " replied Hannibal. "But I have observed some things whichmay have escaped you. Shall I tell you what I mean?"

Not at all easy under this strain, the curiosity of Mr. Weil was sogreat that he could only reply in the affirmative. 

"Miss Millicent, " explained Hannibal, slowly, "is in love--very much inlove--with another person. "

A stare that could not be concealed answered him. 

"You have not seen anything to indicate it?" asked the negro. "I thoughtas much. She has done her best to cover it, and yet I can swear it istrue. She _likes_ you, as a friend. But she _loves_ him, passionately. "

He was in for it now and might as well follow this strange matter to theend. 

"Do I know this individual?" asked Archie. 

"Yes. You brought him to the house and introduced him to her. "

The man gave a slight cry, in spite of himself. 

"Not Roseleaf!"

Hannibal bowed impressively; and at the moment Mr. Fern's footsteps wereheard in the entry. 

Mr. Weil did not know, when he tried to think about it afterwards, whether the wool merchant noticed particularly that he and Hannibal hadbeen talking together, or suspected that they might have confidences. His head was too full of the startling statement he had heard, and whenhe was again upon the street he wandered aimlessly for an hour trying toreconcile this view with the facts as they had presented themselves tohis mind previously. 

Millicent in love with Roseleaf! She had said very little to the youngman, so far as he had observed. Her younger sister--sweet littleDaisy--had monopolized his attention. If it were true, what an instanceit was of the odd qualities in the feminine mind, that leave men towonder more and more of what material it is constructed. But _was_ ittrue? Was Hannibal a better judge, a closer student, than the rest ofthem? He did not like Millicent, any better than she liked him. Was hetrying a game of mischief, with some ulterior purpose that was notapparent on the surface?

Out of it all, Archie Weil emerged, sure of but one thing. He must usehis eyes. If Millicent loved Roseleaf, she could not hide itsuccessfully from him, now that he had this clue. 

The girl's novel was selling fairly well. Weil had made a bargain withCutt & Slashem that was very favorable. It gave him an excuse to talkwith the authoress as much as he pleased, and he used his advantage. Hebrought her the comments of the press--not that they amounted toanything, for it was evident that most of the critics had merely skimmedthrough the pages. He came to tell her the latest things that Gouger hadsaid, what proportion of cloth and paper covers were being ordered, andthe other gossip of the printing house. And now he talked about the workthat Shirley was engaged on, and grew enthusiastic, declaring that theyoung man would yet make a place for himself beside the Stevensons andWeymans. 

Millicent struck him as caring much more for news of her own productionthan that of the young man who had been represented as the object of heradoration. If she was half as fond of Roseleaf as Hannibal intimated, she was certainly successful in concealing her sentiments from theshrewd observer. The result of a fortnight's investigation convincedWeil that the negro had made a complete mistake, and all the hypothesesthat had arisen were allowed to dissipate into thin air and fly away. 

Another two weeks passed and Hannibal still remained with the Ferns. Aninquiry of Daisy produced the answer that he thought of remaining inAmerica till spring. The girl tried to act as if it made not theslightest consequence to her whether he went or stayed, but she did notsucceed. Mr. Weil knew that she wished most heartily for the time whenthe negro would take his departure. She was bound up in her father, andHannibal was worrying him to death--from whatever cause. She wanted thetie between him and this black man broken, and hated every day thatstood between them and his hour of sailing. 

Roseleaf was almost as uneasy as Daisy over the delay. He had given herthe money she asked for, though no allusion to its purpose had beenmade. 

She still had it, somewhere, unless she had given it to the one for whomit was intended. When she took the package from his hand she rose on hertiptoes and kissed him with the most affectionate of gestures. It wasthe second occasion on which he had been permitted to touch her lips, and he appreciated it fully. He realized from her action how deeply shefelt his kindness in providing her with the funds that were to relieveher father of an incubus that was sapping his very life. 

"You don't find much use for our black Adonis yet, I see, " said Weil, ashe laid down the latest page of the slowly building novel. "I had hopedyou would penetrate the secret of his power over your heroine's father, by this time. "

"No, I cannot understand it at all, " replied Roseleaf. "And if you, withyour superior quickness of perception, have found nothing, I don't seehow you could expect me to. "

"You have greater opportunities, " said Weil, with a smile that was notquite natural. "You have the ear of the fair Miss Daisy, remember, " heexplained, in reply to the inquiring look that was raised to him. 

"Ah, but she knows nothing, either, " exclaimed Roseleaf. "I am sure ofthat. "

Mr. Weil was silent for some moments. 

"Well, if you cannot find the true cause, " he said, "you will have toinvent a hypothetical one. Your novel cannot stand still forever. Imagine something--a crime, for instance, of which this black fellow iscognizant. A murder--that he peeped in at a keyhole and saw. How wouldthat do?"

Roseleaf turned pale. 

"You know, " he said, "that you are talking of impossibilities. "

"On the contrary, nothing is impossible, " responded the other, impatiently. "College professors, delicate ladies, children not yet intheir teens, have committed homicide, why not this handsome gentleman inthe wool business? Or if you _won't_ have murder--and I agree that bloodis rather tiresome, it has been overdone so much--bring a woman into thecase. Let us have a betrayal, a wronged virgin, and that sort of thing. "

The color did not return to the young man's cheek. 

"Which is still more incredible in the present case, " he said. "Do youthink Wilton Fern could do evil to a woman? Look in his face once anddismiss that libel within the second. "

A desperate expression crossed the countenance of the elder man. 

"You must agree that he has done something!" he cried. "He wouldn'tallow a darkey to annoy him like this for fun, would he? He wouldn'twear that deathly look, and let his child grow thin with worriment, justas a matter of amusement!"

To this Roseleaf could not formulate a suitable answer. He felt theforce of the suggestions, but he would not associate crime with thesedate gentleman who was the object of these suspicions. He simply couldnot think of anything disreputable in connection with Daisy's father, and it seemed almost as bad to invent an offense for the character inhis novel whose photograph he had thus far taken from Mr. Fern. 

Daisy was surprised, a month after this, to have Mr. Weil stop her inthe hallway, and speak with a new abruptness. 

"Why don't that cursed nigger start for Europe?" he asked. 

She glanced around her with a frightened look. She feared ears thatshould not might hear them. But she rallied as she reflected thatHannibal was miles away, in fact in the city with her father. 

"He is going soon, " she replied. "But why do you allude to him by thatharsh term? I thought you rather liked him. "

"I do, " he answered. "I like him so well that if he continues to talkto--to your father--as I heard him the other day, I will throw him intothe Hudson: I can't stand by and see him insult an--an old man--muchlonger. "

The girl looked at him with sad eyes. 

"I thought I had succeeded in silencing that kind of talk, " she said. "Mr. Roseleaf used to speak very violently of Hannibal, but he haslistened to reason of late. Let me beg you to see nothing and hearnothing, if you are the friend of this family you have given us reasonto believe. "

She extended her hand, as if to ask a promise of him, but he affectednot to see it. 

"When does he intend to go?" he demanded. 

"Before the 1st of April. "

"I will give him till that date, " he answered, "but not an hour beyond. He will sail out of this country for some port or other, or there willbe a collision. You must not, you shall not defend him!" he added, asshe was about to speak. "I know the harm he is doing, and it must havean end!"

Turning from her suddenly he went out of doors. Far down the road hestopped to look around, pressing his hand to his forehead, like one whowould make sure he is awake, and not the victim of some fearful dream. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER. 

Before the first of April came, Hannibal sailed. During the winter hehad taken lessons in French of a city teacher, until he believed hecould get along after a fashion with that language. He announced toDaisy that he would go on the third of March, then he changed it to thetenth, and again to the seventeenth. Each time, when the dateapproached, he seemed to have a weakening of purpose, a dread ofactually plunging into the tide that set toward foreign shores. The girlhad interviews with him on each of these occasions, at which what passedwas known only to themselves. And each time, when she had reached herown room, she threw herself on her bed and wept bitterly. 

But, at last, on the twenty-fourth, he went. With his overcoat on hisarm, his satchel and umbrella in his hands, he said "Good-by" to thelittle party that gathered at the door. He had been treated with greatconsideration in that home. Perhaps he realized this to some extent ashe was about to turn his back upon it. Certain it is that he could nothide the choking in his throat, as he said the words of farewell. ArchieWeil, who stood there with the rest, thought he saw a strange look inthose black orbs as they dwelt a moment on the younger daughter; but itpassed so quickly he could not be sure. 

Mr. Fern was there, and Roseleaf. Millicent had responded, when aservant went to inform her that Hannibal was going, that she was veryglad. Did she wish to go down? By no means. She hoped she was not such afool. 

Weil, who watched everybody, saw an unmistakable relief in the careworncountenance of Mr. Fern, when the tall form of his late servantdisappeared at the gate. 

"I hope you will do well, " had been the last words of the merchant, andDaisy had added, "So do we all, I am sure. " Roseleaf had not spoken. Hehad stood a little apart from the others, his mind filled with varyingemotions. It was he who had furnished the money to carry out this plan, and if it made one hour of Daisy's life happier he would be content. 

Within an hour it was evident that a cloud had been lifted from theentire household. Everybody felt brighter and better. Roseleaf eyed Mr. Fern with surprise, and had half a mind to go to his office the next dayand tell him how dearly he loved his daughter. It was the first timeanything like a smile had been upon that face since he had known itslineaments. 

Archie Weil devoted his attention, as usual, to Millicent. He did nottalk to her about Hannibal, knowing how distasteful was the subject. Hediscussed her novel, of which she never seemed to tire, and asked herabout another, which she had begun to map out. She told him she was sureshe could do better the next time, and spoke of the assistance Mr. Roseleaf would furnish if needed, quite as if that was a matter alreadyarranged between her and the young novelist. 

Archie wondered if Millicent knew the extent of the attachment that hadgrown up between Shirley and her sister. She seemed to feel sure that hewould be at hand when wanted. Could it be that she believed he wouldultimately become her brother-in-law? The negro's guess had almost beenblotted out of his mind. There had been absolutely nothing in hisobservation to confirm it. 

A day or two after the departure of Hannibal, Mr. Fern had aconversation with Daisy, in which he dwelt with more stress than shecould account for on a special theme. He was talking of Walter Boggs andArchie Weil, and he cautioned her earnestly to treat both gentlemen withthe greatest consideration. The girl detected something strange in hisvoice, and she stole apprehensive glances at him, hoping to read thecause in his eyes. 

"Why, papa, I never see Mr. Boggs, " she said. "It is weeks and weekssince he came here. As for Mr. Weil, we all treat him nicely, I am sure, and are glad to have him come. "

"Yes, " he admitted. "You use him quite right, my child. I am notcomplaining; only, if you could show him _particular_ attention, something more than the ordinary--" He paused, trying to finish what hewished to say. "There may be a time when he will be of great value tome--and--I want him to feel--you observe things so cleverly--do youthink Millicent cares for him?"

Daisy looked up astonished. 

"Cares--for--Mr. Weil?"

Her father nodded. 

"He has been here several times a week for months, and most of his timehere has been spent with her. I thought--I hoped that she cared forhim. "

He thought! He hoped! Daisy had never had such an idea in her head untilthat moment. She had a dim idea that her father would give up either ofhis daughters with great regret, although she could not help knowingthat the relations between him and Millicent were not as cordial asthose between him and herself. And he "hoped" that Millie would marry, and that she would marry Mr. Weil! Her mind dwelt upon this strangethought. She tried to find a reason for it. Was there any strongerincentive in her father's mind than a desire to see Millie well settledin life, with a good husband?

Had he a fear that the time might soon come when he could not providefor her?

Or was there a worse fear--the kind of fear that had haunted him inrelation to Hannibal?

Every time Mr. Weil came to the house after that the young girl watchedhim as closely as he had ever watched her. He did not exchange a wordwith her father that did not engage her attention. And the conclusionshe came to was that, whatever the object of Mr. Fern in this matter, Mr. Weil was honor itself. 

Daisy had never made much of a confidant of Millicent, and the latterhad the habit of keeping her affairs pretty closely to herself. It wasno easy task, then, that the young sister had in view when she came toa decision to talk with Millie about Mr. Weil. 

Her father had expressed a hope that Millie and Weil would marry. Mr. Fern had some strong reason for his wish. Whatever it was, Daisy, withher strong filial love, wanted it gratified. 

"Millie, what do you think of marriage?" she asked, one day, when theopportunity presented itself. 

"I suppose it's the manifest destiny of a woman, " replied her sister, quietly. 

Much encouraged, Daisy proceeded to allude to Mr. Weil, praising him inthe highest terms, and saying that any girl might be proud to be honoredwith his addresses. Millie answered with confirmatory nods of the head, as if she fully agreed with all she uttered. But when her sister spoke, the words struck Daisy like a blow. 

"I am glad to hear this, " she said, in a voice more tender than usual. "I think Mr. Weil would have proposed to you long ago, but that hefeared the result. "

Daisy gasped for breath. 

"Millie!" she cried. "Do you mean that Mr. Weil--that--why, I do notunderstand! He has hardly spoken to me, while he has spent nearly everyminute he has been here, with you!"

"Of course he has, " responded the other. "What could be more like a caseof true love? If ever a man lost his head over a woman he has lost hisover you, Daisy. And, at any rate, you must know that _I_ care nothingfor him. You certainly could see where _my_ affections were engaged. "

Daisy pressed her hand dreamily to her forehead. She had never known hersister to show the least partiality to any other man. 

"I understand you less than ever, " she faltered. 

"Are you so blind?" exclaimed Millicent, with superior wisdom. "Did youthink Mr. Roseleaf had been so closely engaged all this time in myliterary work without learning to care for me? I presume you will thinkI ought to blush, but that is not my way. The strangest thing is that Ishould have to explain what I thought every one knew. "

Poor little Daisy! She was so crushed by these statements that she didnot know what reply to make, which way to turn for consolation. 

"He has told you that he loves you?" she managed to articulate. 

"He has shown it, at least, " was the answer. "He had not been here aweek before he tried to put his arms around me. I had to let him hold myhand to avoid an absolute quarrel. He is not an ordinary man, Daisy, anddoes not act like others, but we understand each other. He is waitingfor something better in his business prospects, and as I am so busy onmy new book I am glad to be left to myself for the present. "

It was the old story. Daisy could not doubt her sister's version of herrelations with Mr. Roseleaf. When he called the next time there was ared spot in both her cheeks. He told her with happy eyes that he had atlast secured something which made it possible to speak to her father. He had been offered a position on the Pacific Quarterly, at a goodsalary, and another periodical had engaged him to write a series ofarticles. 

"They tell me I have no imagination, " he explained, "but that I do verygood work on anything that contains matters of fact. I have some moneyof my own, but I did not want to tell your father I was an idle fellow, without brains enough to make myself useful in the world. The novel onwhich I base such great hopes might not seem to him worth consideringseriously, you know. So I can go with a better account of myself, and Iam going this very week. "

The bright light that shone from the face at which she looked made herwaver for a moment, but she found strength to answer that he must notspeak to Mr. Fern about her--now, or at any other time. She did not wantto marry, or to be engaged. She wanted to live with her father, and takecare of him, and she wanted nothing else. 

"Millie will marry, " she added, as a parting thrust, meant to be verydirect and bitter. "One of us ought to stay with papa. "

For a while he was too overwhelmed by her changed attitude to make asensible reply. When it dawned on him that she meant what she said, heappealed to her to take it back. He could not bear the thought of givingher up, or even of waiting much longer for the fulfillment of his hopes. He spoke in the most passionate tone, and his whole being seemed wroughtup by his earnestness. The girl was constantly thinking, however, thatthis was the same way he had addressed Millicent, and that there was notrust to be placed in him. 

"Calm yourself, " she said, when he grew violent. "I have tried to behonest with you. I have thought of this matter a great deal. You willadmit that it is of some importance to me. "

"To you!" he echoed. "Yes, and to me! I do not care whether I live ordie, if I am to lose you!"

She wanted to ask him if he had told Millie the same thing, but shecould not without making an explanation she did not like to give. 

"There are others, " was all she said. "Others, who will make youhappier, and be better fitted for you--in your career as a writer. "

He never thought her allusion had reference to any particular person, and he answered that there was no one, there never could be any one, forhim, but her. He had never loved before, he never should love again. Andshe listened, thinking what a capacity for falsehood and tragic actinghe had developed. 

After two hours of this most disagreeable scene, Roseleaf left thehouse, moody and despondent. It would have taken little at that momentto make him throw himself into the bosom of the Hudson, or send a bulletthrough his brain. 

On the way to the station he met Mr. Weil, who could not help askingwhat was the matter. 

"Oh, it's all up!" he answered. "She has refused me, and I am going tothe devil as quick as I can. "

"What are you talking about?" exclaimed the other, staring at him. "Youdon't mean--Daisy!"

"That's just what I mean. I went there to tell her of my good luck, andto say I was going to ask her father's consent; and she met me as coldas an iceberg, and said she had decided not to marry. So I'm going backto town without a single reason left for living. "

Mr. Weil stood silent and nonplussed for a few seconds. Then a brightidea came into his head. 

"Look here, Mr. Impetuousness, " said he. "I know this can be arranged, and I'm going to see that it's done. My God, the same thing happens inhalf the love affairs the universe over! Give me a few days tostraighten it out. Go home and go to work, and I'll fix this, I promiseyou. "

It took some time to persuade Roseleaf to follow this advice, but heyielded at last. Weil pleaded his warm friendship, begged the young manto do what he asked if only to please him, and finally succeeded. A fewminutes later Archie had secured an audience with Daisy. 

Too shrewd to risk the danger of plunging directly into the subject hehad in mind, Mr. Weil talked on almost everything else. It happened thatMillicent was away, which enabled him to devote his attention to theyounger sister without appearing unduly to seek her. But Daisy, onlyhalf listening to what he said, was pondering the strange revelation hersister had made, and thinking at each moment that a declaration of lovemight be forthcoming. 

She remembered her father's injunction to treat this man withparticular courtesy, and was in a quandary what to do in case he came tothe crucial point. But to her surprise, instead of pressing his ownsuit, Mr. Weil began to support in a mild manner the cause of Mr. Roseleaf. 

"I met Shirley leaving here, " he said, in a sober tone, "and he was in adreadful state. You didn't say anything cross to him, I hope. "

With these words there seemed to come to Daisy a new revelation of thetrue character of this man. Loving her himself, he was yet loyal to hisfriend, who he believed had a prior claim. As this thought took root itraised and glorified its object, until admiration became paramount toall other feelings. 

"Why should I be cross to him?" she asked, evading the point. "There areno relations between us that would justify me in acting as his monitoror mentor. "

Mr. Weil shook his head. 

"He loves you, " he said. "You cannot afford, my child, to trifle with aheart as noble as his. "

The expression, "my child, " touched the girl deeply. It had a protectivesound, mingled with a tinge of personal affection. 

"I hope you do not think I would trifle with the feelings of anyperson, " she said. "Still, I cannot marry every man who may happen toask me. You know so much about this matter that I feel justified insaying this; and I earnestly beg that you will ask no more. "

But this Mr. Weil said gently he could not promise. He said further thatRoseleaf was one of his dearest friends, and that he could not withoutemotion see him in such distress as he had recently witnessed. 

"You don't know how fond I am of that boy, " he added. "I would doanything in my power to make him happy. He loves you. He will make you agood husband. You must give me some message that will console him. "

He could not get it, try as he might; and he said, with a forced smile, that he should renew the attack at an early date, for the cause was arighteous one, that he could not give over unsatisfied. He took her armand strolled up and down the veranda, in such a way that any visitormight have taken them to be lovers, if not already married. She likedhim better and better. The touch of his sleeve was pleasant. His lowtones soothed the ache in her bosom, severe enough, God knows! When herfather came from the city he smiled brightly to see them together, andafter hearing that Millicent was away, came to the dinner table with thegayest air he had worn for months. 

Another week passed, during which Mr. Weil went nearly every day toMidlands, and communicated to Roseleaf on each return the result of hislabors, coloring them with the roseate hues of hope, though there waslittle that could legitimately be drawn from the words or actions ofMiss Daisy. The critic for Cutt & Slashem had also been given more thanan inkling of the state of affairs, and had perused with delight thechapters last written on the famous romance. He saw that the nextexperience needed by the author was a severe attack of jealousy, and asthere was no one else to play the part of Iago he himself undertook therôle. 

"Archie Weil is pretty popular with the Fern family, isn't he?" was theway he began, when he called on Roseleaf. "I met the old gentleman theother day and he seemed absolutely 'gone on' him, as the saying is. Theytell me he's out at Midlands every day. Got his eye on the youngerdaughter, too, they intimate. "

It takes but little to unnerve a mind already driven to the verge ofdistraction. The next time that Weil saw Roseleaf, the latter receivedhim with a coolness that could not be ignored. When he pressed for areason, the young man broke out into invective. 

"Don't pretend!" he cried. "You've heard of the case of John Alden. What's been worked once may go again. I'm not entirely blind. "

Mr. Weil, with pained eyes, begged his friend to explain. 

"Tell me this, " shouted Roseleaf. "Do you love that girl, yourself?"

Unprepared for the question, Archie shrank as from a flash of lightning, and could not reply. 

"I know you _do_!" came the next sentence, sharply. "And I know that itis owing to the inroads you have made--not only with her but with herfather--that I have been pushed out. Well, go ahead. I've no objection. Only don't come here every day, with your cock and bull stories ofpleading _my_ cause, for I've had enough of them!"

The novelist turned aside, and Mr. Weil, too hurt to say a word, aroseand silently left the room. His brain whirled so that he was actuallygiddy. Not knowing where else to turn he went to see Mr. Gouger, to whomhe unbosomed the result of his call. 

"Don't be too serious about it, " said Gouger, soothingly. "It's a goodthing for the lad to get his sluggish blood stirred a little. In a dayor two he'll be all right. That novel of his is coming on grandly!"

Weil was in no mood to talk about novels, and finding that he could getno consolation of the kind he craved, he soon left the office. Thecritic laughed silently to himself at the idea of the biter having atlast been bitten, and then took his way to Roseleaf's rooms. 

No answer being returned to his knock, he opened the door and entered. At first he thought the place was vacant, but presently he espied astill form on the bed. The novelist was stretched out in an attitudewhich at first suggested death rather than sleep, and alarmed thevisitor not a little. Investigation, however, showed that he was simplyin a tired sleep, worn out with worry and restless nights. 

"What a beauty!" whispered Gouger. "A very dramatic scene could beworked up if that sweetheart of his were brought here and made to standbeside the couch when he awakes. Yes, it would be grand, but it wouldneed his own pen to trace the words!"

The hardly dry pages of the great manuscript that lay on an adjacentdesk caught the eyes of the critic, and he sat down to scan themcloser. As he turned the leaves he grew so delighted as to become almostuncontrollable. 

"He's a genius, nothing less!" he said, rapturously, and then tiptoedsoftly from the chamber. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"I'VE HAD SUCH LUCK!"

One day Mr. Fern came home in a state of great excitement. He had notacted naturally for a long time and Daisy, who met him at the door, wondered what could be the cause of his strange manner. He caught hisdaughter in his arms and kissed her like a lover. Tears came to hiseyes, but they were tears of joy. He laughed hysterically as he wipedthem away and told her not to mind him, for he was the happiest man inNew York. 

"I've had such luck!" he exclaimed, when she stared at him. "Oh, Daisy, I've had such grand luck!"

She led him to a seat on a sofa and waited for him to tell her more. 

"You can't imagine the relief I feel, " he continued, when he had caughtsufficient breath. "I've had an awful time in business for years, butto-day everything is all cleared up. The house over our heads wasmortgaged; the notes I owed Boggs were almost due; I had given outpaper that I could see no way of meeting. And now it is all providedfor, I am out of financial danger, and I have enough to quit businessand live in ease and comfort with my family the rest of my days!"

Daisy could only look her surprise. She could not understand such atransformation. But she loved her father dearly, and seeing that he washappy made her happy, too; though she had had her own sorrows of late. 

"Tell me about it, father, " she said, putting an arm around his neck. 

"You couldn't understand, no matter how much I tried to make it clear, "he answered, excitedly. "There was a combination that meant ruin orsuccess, depending on the cast of a die, as one might say. Wool has beenin a bad way. Congress had the tariff bill before it. If higherprotection was put on, the stocks in the American market would rise. Ifthe tariff rate was lowered they would fall. I took the right side. Ibought an immense quantity of options. The bill passed to-day and thePresident signed it. Wool went up, and I am richer by two hundred andfifty thousand dollars than I was yesterday!"

For answer the girl kissed him affectionately, and for a few momentsneither of them spoke. 

"I don't wonder you say I can't understand business, " said Daisy, presently. "It would puzzle most feminine brains, I think, to know how aman could purchase quantities of wool when he had nothing to buy with. "

The father drew himself suddenly away from her, and gazed in a sort ofalarm into her wide-opened eyes. 

"That is a secret, " he said, hoarsely. "It is one of the things businessmen do not talk about. When stocks are rising it is easy to buy a greatdeal, if one only has something to give him a start. "

"And you _had_ something?" asked Daisy, trying to utter the words thatshe thought would please him best. 

"Yes, yes!" he answered, hurriedly. "I--had--something! And to-morrow Ishall free myself of Boggs, and of--of all my troubles. I shall pay themortgage on the house, and we can have anything we want. Ah! What arelief it is! What a relief!"

He panted like a man who had run a race with wolves and had just time toclose the door before they caught him. 

"May I tell Millie?" asked the girl. "She has worried about the house, fearing it would be sold. "

He shook his head as if the subject was disagreeable. 

"She will find it out, " he said. "There is no need of haste. And at anyrate I don't want you to give her any particulars. I don't want her toknow how successful I have been. You can say that I have mademoney--enough to free the home. Don't tell any more than that to anyone. It--it is not a public matter. I was so full of happiness that Ihad to tell you, but no one else is to know. "

Daisy promised, though she asked almost immediately if the prohibitionextended to Mr. Weil. He was such a friend of the family, she said, hewould be very much gratified. 

She had reached thus far in her innocent suggestion, when she happenedto glance at her father's face. He was deathly pale. His body was limpand his chin sunken to his breast. 

"Father!" she exclaimed. And then, seized with a nameless fear, wasabout to summon other help, when he opened his eyes slowly and touchedher hand with his. 

"You are ill! Shall I call the servants?" she asked, anxiously. 

He intimated that she should not, and presently rallied enough to say hewas better, and required nothing. 

"What were we speaking of?" he asked, in a strained voice. 

"We were talking of your grand fortune, and I asked if I might not tellMr. --"

He stopped her with a movement, and another spasm crossed his face. 

"You will make no exception, " he whispered. "None whatever. My affairswill interest no one else. If you are interrogated, you must knownothing. Nothing, " he added, impressively, "nothing whatever!"

Mr. Fern's recovery was almost as quick as his attack, although he didnot resume the gaiety of manner with which he had opened the subject. After dinner he talked with Daisy, declaring over and over that she hadbeen on short allowance long enough, and asserting that she must bepositively in a state of want. She answered laughingly that she neededvery little, and then suddenly bethought herself of something and grewsober. 

"Do you feel rich enough to let me exercise a little generosity forothers?" she inquired. 

He replied with alacrity that she could do exactly as she pleased withwhatever sum he gave her, and that the amount should be for her to name. 

"You don't know how big it will be, " she replied, timidly. 

"I'll risk that. Out with it, " he said, smiling. 

"Supposing, " she said, slowly, "that I should ask for a thousanddollars?"

"You would get it, " he laughed. "In fact I was going to propose that youaccept several thousand, and have it put in the bank in your name, soyou would be quite an independent young woman. You must have your owncheckbook and get used to keeping accounts. I will bring you acertificate of deposit for three thousand dollars, and each six monthsafterwards I will put a thousand more to your credit, out of which youcan take your pin money. "

It seemed too good to be true, and the girl's face brightened until itshone with a light that the father thought the most beautiful on earth. Now she could return the thousand dollars she had borrowed of Mr. Roseleaf, a sum that had given her much uneasiness since she broke offher intimate relations with the young novelist. More than this, shewould have sufficient on hand to send the future amounts that Hannibalwould need to keep him abroad. It was such a strange and delightfulthing to see smiles on her father's face that she did not want anythingto disturb them. She was quite as happy as Mr. Fern, now that this cloudhad been lifted from her mind. 

The next day was a bright one for the wool merchant. By noon he had sentfor Walker Boggs and astonished that gentleman by handing him a check infull for the entire amount of his indebtedness. In answer to a questionhe merely said he had been on the right side of the market. Mr. Fernalso settled with his mortgage creditor, and went home at night happythat his head would again lie under a roof actually as well as in namehis own. Notes which he had given came back to him soon after, and heburned them with a glee that was almost saturnine. Burned them, afterlooking at their faces and backs, after scanning the endorsements;burned them with his office door locked, using the flame of a gas-jetfor the purpose. 

The ashes lay on the floor, when a knock was heard and Archie Weil'svoice answered to the resultant question. Mr. Fern lost color at thefamiliar sound, but he mustered courage. 

"I've come to congratulate you, " said Archie, warmly. "They say you havemade a mint of money out of the rise in wool. "

"Who says so?" asked Mr. Fern, warily. 

"Everybody. Don't tell me it's not true. "

"I've done pretty well, " was the evasive reply. "And I'm going out ofbusiness, too. It seems a good time to quit. "

Mr. Weil made a suitable answer to this statement and the two men talkedtogether for some time. After awhile the conversation took a wider turn. 

"Where's your young friend, Roseleaf?" asked Mr. Fern, to whom thematter did not seem to have occurred before. "I don't believe I haveseen him at Midlands for a month. "

"No, he doesn't come, " replied Archie, growing darker. "If you wish aparticular reason, you will have to ask it of your daughter. "

Mr. Fern looked as if he did not understand. 

"He became very fond of her, " explained Archie, "and for some reason, hedoes not know what, she has evinced a sudden dislike to him. "

Mr. Fern looked still more astonished. 

"Millie is a strange girl, " he ventured to remark. "But I supposed--Iwas almost sure, her affections were engaged elsewhere; and, really, Ithought he knew it. "

Mr. Weil stared now, for it was evident his companion was far from theright road. He was also interested to hear that Miss Fern had anythinglike a love affair in mind, for he had supposed such a thing quiteimpossible. 

"I was not speaking of Miss Millicent, but of Miss Daisy, " he said. 

The wool merchant rose from his chair in the extremity of hisastonishment. 

"You meant that--that Mr. Roseleaf--was in love with Daisy!" he said. "And that she seemed to reciprocate his attachment?"

"I did. And also that a few weeks ago she asked him to cease hisvisits, giving no explanation of the cause of her altered demeanor. Heis a most excellent young gentleman, " continued Weil, "and one for whomI entertain a sincere affection. Her conduct is a great blow to him, especially as he does not know what he has done to deserve it. I trustthe estrangement will not be permanent, as they are eminently suited toeach other. "

The face of Mr. Fern was a study as he heard this explanation. 

"If he was an honorable man, why did he not come to _me_?" he asked, pointedly. 

"He was constantly seeking Miss Daisy's permission to do so, " repliedArchie. "Which she never seemed quite willing to give him. "

"She is too young to think of marriage, " mused Mr. Fern, after a longpause. 

"He is willing to wait; but her present attitude, giving him no hopewhatever, has thrown him into the deepest dejection. "

From this Mr. Weil proceeded to tell Mr. Fern all he knew aboutRoseleaf. He said the young man was at present engaged on literary workthat promised to yield him good returns. He had a small fortune of hisown beside. Everything that could be thought of in his favor was dilatedupon to the fullest extent. 

"I don't believe I can spare my 'baby, '" said Mr. Fern, kindly, "for anyman. You plead with much force, Mr. Weil, for your friend. How is itthat _you_ have never married. Are you blind to the charms of the sex?"

For an instant Archie was at loss how to reply. 

"On the contrary, " he said, at last, "I appreciate them fully. I havehad my heart's affair, too; but, " he paused a long time, "she lovedanother, and there was but one woman for me. Perhaps this leads me tosympathize all the more with my unfortunate young friend. "

Mr. Fern said he would have a talk with Daisy, and learn what he couldwithout bringing in the name of his informant. 

"We fathers are always the last to see these things, " he added. "Itwould be terrible to give her up, but I want her to be happy. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

A BURGLAR IN THE HOUSE. 

Millicent Fern lay wide awake a few nights later, at Midlands, when theclock struck two. She was thinking of her second novel, now nearly readyfor Mr. Roseleaf's hand. There was a hitch in the plot that she couldbest unravel in the silence. As she lay there she heard a slight noise, as of some one moving about. At first she paid little attention to it, but later she grew curious, for she had never known the least motion inthat house after its occupants were once abed. She thought of each ofthem in succession, and decided that the matter ought to beinvestigated. 

Millicent had no fear. If there was a burglar present, she wanted toknow. She arose, therefore, and slipped on a dress and slippers. Guidedonly by the uncertain light that came in at the windows, she tiptoedacross the hall, and in the direction in which she had heard the noise. She soon located it as being on the lower floor where there were nobedrooms, and a thrill of excitement passed over her. She crept assilently as possible down the back stairs, and toward the sound, whichshe was now sure was in the library. 

What was the sound? It was the rustling of papers. It might be made by amouse, but Millicent was not even afraid of mice. She was afraid ofnothing, so far as she knew. If there was a robber there, he wouldcertainly run when discovered. At the worst she could give a loudoutcry, and the servants would come. 

She tiptoed along the lower hall. A man sat at her father's desk, examining his private papers so carefully, that he seemed wholly lost inthe occupation. 

The room was quite light. In fact, the gas was lit, and the intruder wastaking his utmost ease. His face was half turned toward the girl, andshe recognized him without difficulty. 

It was Hannibal!

Hannibal, whom she supposed at that moment in France!

Without pausing to form any plan, Millicent stepped into the presence ofthe negro. 

"Thief, " she said, sharply, "what do you want?"

They had hated each other cordially for a long time, and neither hadchanged their opinion in the slightest degree. Hannibal looked upquietly at the figure in the doorway. 

"I have a good mind to tell you, " he said, smiling. 

"You will _have_ to tell me, and give a pretty good reason, too, if youmean to keep out of the hands of the police, " she retorted. "Come!"

He laughed silently, resting his head on his hands, his elbows on thedesk. Millicent's hair hung in a loose coil, her shoulders were butimperfectly covered by her half buttoned gown, the feet that filled herslippers had no hosiery on them. She was as fair a sight as one mightfind in a year. 

"Do you remember the time I saw you in this guise before?" he asked, ina low voice. 

A convulsion seized the girl's countenance. She looked as if she wouldwillingly have killed him, had she a weapon in her hand. But she couldnot speak at first. 

"It was you who sought me then, " said the negro. "And because I bade yougo back to your chamber, you never forgave me. Have you forgotten?"

Gasping for breath, like one severely wounded, Millicent roused herself. 

"Will you go, " she demanded, hotly, "or shall I summon help?"

"Neither, " replied Hannibal. "If you inform any person that I am here, Iwill tell the story I hinted at just now. Besides, I would only have towait until your father came down, when he would order them to releaseme, and say I came here by his request. "

Millicent chafed horribly at his coolness. 

"Came here by my father's request!" she echoed. "In the middle of thenight! A likely story. Do you think any one would believe it?"

"I do not think they would. It would not even be true. But he would sayit was, if I told him to, and that would answer. Don't you know by thistime that I have Wilton Fern in a vise?"

Yes, she did know it. Everything had pointed in that direction. Millicent could not dispute the insinuation. 

"What has he done, in God's name, that makes him the slave of such athing as you?" she cried. 

"I will answer that question by asking another, " said the negro, after apause. "Do you know that Shirley Roseleaf hopes to wed your sister?"

The shot struck home. With pale lips Millicent found herself tremblingbefore this fellow. 

"You love him, " pursued the man, relentlessly. "You do not need toaffirm or deny this, for I know. He loves Daisy, and unless prevented, will marry her. I hold a secret over your father's head which can sendhim to the State prison for twenty years. If I confide it to you, willyou swear to let no one but him know until I give you leave?"

The girl bowed quickly. She could hardly bear the strain of delay. 

"Then listen, " said the negro. "To save himself in business he hascommitted numerous forgeries upon the names of two men. One of them isWalker Boggs and the other Archie Weil. Very recently he has beensuccessful in his speculations, and has called in many notes with theseforged endorsements. But the proofs of his crimes are ample, and Ipossess them. If he ever proposes to let Roseleaf marry Daisy, hint tohim of what you know, and he will obey your will. I shall be in thecity. Here is my address. If you need me I am at your service. Understand, I shall not harm your father unless he makes it necessary. Ionly mean to use the fear of what might await him, and you can do thesame. It is time I was going. I have found all I want here, though I hadenough before. "

He handed Millicent a card on which was the address he had mentioned, and she allowed herself to take it from his hand. Then he started topick up a package of papers that lay where he had put them on the table, when a third figure, to the consternation of both, brushed Millicentaside, and stepped into the room. It was the younger sister. 

"Give that to me!" she demanded, imperiously, reaching out her hand forthe package. 

The apparition was so unexpected that the previous occupants of thelibrary stood for a few seconds staring at it without moving a step. Daisy was dressed in much the same manner as Millicent, but she thoughtonly of the danger that threatened one she loved better than life--herfather. 

"Give that to me!" she repeated, approaching Hannibal closer. 

Without a word the negro, his head bowed, handed it to her. 

"And now, " she said, in the same quick, sharp tone, "the others!"

"They are not here, " he answered, huskily. 

"Where are they?"

"At my lodgings in the city. "

Instantly Daisy snatched the card from her sister's hand. 

"At this place?" she asked, hastily scanning the writing. 

"Yes, " said Hannibal, in a voice that was scarcely audible. 

"I will be there this morning at ten o'clock. See that they are ready. "

The negro bowed, while his chest heaved rapidly. 

"And now, " said the girl, pointing to the door, "go!"

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more to her, but recollecting thatshe would meet him so soon, he turned and obeyed her. At the thresholdhe only paused to say, "You must come alone; otherwise it will be of nouse. " And she answered that she understood. 

She followed some paces behind and closed the door after him, pushing abolt that she did not remember had ever been used before. 

Then she turned to encounter her sister; but Millicent had disappeared. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

BLACK AND WHITE. 

When Daisy reached her own room again, she felt assured that no one butherself and Millicent knew what had occurred. This was something. Hadher father awakened, she did not know what might have followed. She hadseen him too often, pale and distraught, in the presence of hisrelentless enemy, not to entertain the greatest thankfulness that he hadslept through this terrible experience. At any cost it must be kept fromhim. She would beg, pray, entreat Millicent to seal her lips. And in themorning she would go to the address Hannibal had given her and obtainhis proofs of her father's guilt, removing the frightful nightmare thathad so long hung over that dear head. 

Would Hannibal surrender his documents? He had made a tacit promise todo so, and she had faith that she could make him keep his word. She knewthe negro had a liking for her that was very strong. 

She had made it possible for him to become a man--by giving him themoney that took him to France. Why had he returned so suddenly? What newfancy had caused him to give up his studies and recross the sea to enterher doors at night, to plunder still further secrets from her father'sprivate desk? There were a thousand reasons for fear, but the devoteddaughter only thought of saving the one she loved at all risks. Shewould dare anything in his behalf. 

And this father of hers--that she had revered from babyhood--was aforger! He had made himself liable to a term of imprisonment in thecommon jail! He was a criminal, for whom the law would stretch out itshand as soon as his guilt was revealed! His previous high standing inthe community could not save him; nor the love of his children; nor hisnew fortune--won by such means as this. Nothing could make his libertysecure but the silencing of the witness to his fault, the negro who hadcarefully possessed himself of certain facts with which to ruin hisbenefactor. 

What did Hannibal want? Surely he had no revenge to gratify, as againsther or her father! They had treated him with the greatest consideration. Only once--that day on the lawn--had Daisy spoken to him in a sharptone, and then the provocation was very great. Since then she had raisedthe money that was to make a man of him. What did he require now? Anincreased bribe to keep him away? Well, she would get it for him. Shewould spend one, two, three thousand dollars if necessary to purchasehis silence; if it needed more she could borrow of--of Mr. Weil. 

Yes, Mr. Weil was the friend to whom she would turn in this emergency. He had lost nothing, apparently, by the unwarranted use of his name. Thenotes on which his endorsement had been forged were all paid. When shemet Hannibal she would ascertain his price and then the rest would beeasy. Her father need not even know the danger to which he had beenexposed. 

In the morning she went to Millicent's room early, in order to have aconversation with her undisturbed. Millicent was sleeping soundly andwas awakened with some difficulty. 

"I've only been unconscious a little while, " she said, in explanation. "I thought I never should sleep again. Oh, what a disgrace! My father aforger! Liable to go to prison with common criminals, to wear thestripes of a convict! It seems as if my degradation could go no lower. "

Reddening with surprise at the attitude of her sister, Daisy answeredthat the thing to be thought of now was how to save Mr. Fern from theconsequences of his errors. 

"You're a strange girl, " was Millicent's reply. "You don't think of meat all! Won't it be nice to have people point after me in the street andsay, 'There goes one of the Fern girls, whose father is in Sing Sing!' Inever thought I should come to this. There's no knowing how far it willfollow me. I doubt if any reputable man will marry me, when the factsare known. "

Thoroughly disgusted with her sister's selfishness, Daisy cried out thatthe facts must _not_ be known--that they must be covered up and keptfrom the world, and that she was going to bring this about. She remindedMillicent of the evident suffering their father had undergone for thepast two years, changed from a light-hearted man into the easily alarmedmood they had known so well. 

"If he deserved punishment, God knows he has had enough!" she added. "And there is another thing you and I ought not to forget, Millie. Whatever he did was in the hope of saving this home and enough to liveon, for us! During the last week he has had an improvement in business. He has paid all of those people whose claims distressed him. You haveseen how much brighter it has made him. Now, when he had a fair prospectof a few happy days, comes this terrible danger. Surely you and I willuse our utmost endeavors to shield him from harm. Even if he were theworst of sinners he is still our father!"

But Millicent did not seem at all convinced. She could only see that herreputation had been put in jeopardy, and that a dreadful fear wouldconstantly hang over her on account of it. 

"It is your fault, as much as his, too!" she exclaimed, angrily. "Youboth made as much of that negro as if he were a prince in disguise. I'vetold you a hundred times that he ought to be discharged. I hope you'lladmit I was right, at last. "

There was little use in reminding her sister that Hannibal had shownhimself the possessor of some information that endangered Mr. Fernbefore either he or Daisy began to cultivate his good will; for she knewit well enough. What Daisy did say was more to the point. 

"Have you _always_ hated him?" she asked, meaningly. "What did he meanlast night by his reference to a time when you _sought_ him, _endishabille_?"

Millicent sprang up in bed, with flashing eyes. 

"He is a lying scoundrel!" she cried, vehemently. "I never did anythingof the kind, and I do not see how you can stand there and repeat such acalumny!"

"The strange thing about it, " replied Daisy, quietly, "is that you didnot dispute him. But then, you did not know a third person was present. When I meet him this morning I shall ask for further particulars. "

Millicent sprang from the bed and threw herself at her sister's feet. 

"Would you drive me mad!" she exclaimed. "I am distracted already withthe troubles of this house, and now you wish to hear the lyinginventions of one you know to be a blackmailer and a robber! Don'tmention my name to him, I entreat you. He is capable of any slander. Youcan't intend to listen to tales about your sister from such a low, basething!"

Having Millicent at her feet, Daisy was pleased to relent a little. 

"Very well, " she said. "I will not let him tell me anything about you. But I want you to promise in return that you will do all you can toprotect father from the slightest knowledge of what happened last night. I am afraid it would kill him. So far he believes us ignorant of histroubles. If I can make an arrangement to send Hannibal back to Francehe will remain so. Be sure you do not arouse his suspicions in any way, and we may come out all right yet. "

The promise was made, and, as nothing could be gained by prolonging theconversation, Daisy withdrew. In the lower hall she met her father, andhis bright smile proved to her that he was still in blissful ignorancethat any new cloud had crossed his sky. Millicent did not appear atbreakfast, for which neither of the others were sorry. It enabled Mr. Fern to talk over some of his plans with his younger daughter. Amongthem was a possible trip abroad, for he said he felt the need of a longrest after his troubled business career. 

The last suggestion opened a new hope for Daisy. If worse came to worst, and there was no other way to escape the jail, flight in a Europeansteamer could be resorted to. It would mean expatriation for life, asfar as he was concerned, but that would be a thousand times better thana lingering death inside of stone walls. He could raise a large sum ofready money, and they would want for nothing. Millie would not wish togo with them, probably. She would stay and marry--how the thought chokedDaisy--marry Mr. Roseleaf; unless indeed, the young novelist did whatshe had foreshadowed, repudiated the thought of allying himself with atainted name. 

Roseleaf! The bright, happy love she had given him came back to thechild like a wave of agony. 

Making an excuse that she had shopping to do, Daisy took the train tothe city with her father, and parted from him at a point where thedowntown and uptown street cars separated. Then she took a cab and droveto the address given her. 

It was not the finest quarter in the city, and she would have hesitatedat any other time before taking such a risk as going there alone. Atpresent she thought of nothing but the object of her visit. Inquiry atthe door brought the information that the lady was expected and that shewas to go upstairs and wait. The woman who let her in was a pleasantfaced mullatress, and several young children of varying shades wereplaying on the stairs she had to ascend. Daisy mounted to the roomdesignated, which proved to be a small parlor, with an alcove, behindthe curtains of which was presumably a bed. 

As the weather was quite warm, the girl went to the front windows andopened them, in order to admit the fresh air. Then she sat down andwaited impatiently. There was a scent in the room which she associatedwith the Ethiopian race, a subtle aroma that she found decidedlyunpleasant. It gave her an indefinable uneasiness, and she mentallyremarked that she would be glad when the ordeal was over. Her nerveswere already beginning to suffer. 

After the lapse of fifteen minutes, Hannibal entered. He had the look ofone who had passed a sleepless night, and despite the blackness of hiscomplexion, his cheeks seemed pale. 

"Good-morning, " said Daisy, rising. 

"Good-morning, " he replied. 

And then there was a brief space of silence, each waiting for the other. 

"I am here, you see, " said the girl, finally, with an attempt at asmile. "And now will you give me the things I came for, as I cannot staylong?"

The negro tried to look at her, tried many times, but failed. His eyesshifted uneasily to all the other objects in the room, resting on noneof them more than a second at a time. 

"You wonder, " he said, after another pause, "why I returned to America, why I came to your house last night. I thought I could tell you--thismorning--and I have been trying to prepare myself to do so--but Icannot. You blame me a great deal, that is evident in every line of yourface, but you do not know what I have suffered. Were your father to goto jail for the term the law prescribes, he would not endure the agonythat has been mine. "

He looked every word he spoke and more. 

"I am sorry, truly sorry for you, " she replied. "But why could you notleave all your troubles, when you went to France, and begin an entirelynew life? You found it true what I told you, I am sure, about the lackof prejudice--on account of your--race. "

He nodded and cleared his throat before he spoke again. 

"Oh, yes; but it is not the prejudice _there_ that worries me. It is theprejudice _here_. It is the barrier my color brings between me and theonly being whose regard I crave!"

The girl's cheeks grew rosier than ever, but she affected not tounderstand, and once more reverted to the errand that had brought herthither. 

"You promised me the documents with which my poor father has beentortured, " she said, reproachfully; "let us not talk of other thingsuntil you have given them to me. "

The negro drew from a pocket of his coat a fair-sized package tied witha ribbon. 

"They are all there, " he said. "Every scrap, every particle of proof, everything that could bring the breath of suspicion upon your father'shonesty. All there, in that little envelope. "

She reached for it, but instead of giving it to her, Hannibal caught herhand, and before she dreamed what he intended, pressed a kiss upon it. The next moment the girl, with a look of outraged womanhood, was rubbingthe spot with her handkerchief, as if he had covered it with poison. 

"You brute!" she exclaimed. "You--you--"

She could not find the word she wanted; nothing in the language shespoke seemed detestable enough to fill the measure of her wrong. 

"You see!" he answered, bitterly. "Because I am black I cannot touch thehand of a woman that is white. You have claimed to be without the hatredof the African so ingrained among Americans; you have talked about theAlmighty making of one blood all the nations of the earth; and yet youare like the rest! A viper's bite could not have aroused deeper disgustin you than my lips. And all because the sun shone more vertically on myancestors than it did on yours!"

Daisy was divided between her horror of the act he had committed and heranxiety to do something to free her father from his danger. Shesuppressed the hateful epithets that rose to her tongue and once moreentreated the negro to give her the packet he held in his possession. 

"You can do nothing with it but injure a man who has been kind to you, "she pleaded. "And if you use the information you have, and afterwardsrepent, it will be too late to remedy your error. Give it to me, andreturn to France with the proud consciousness that you are worthy theposition you wish to occupy. "

Hannibal shook his head with decision. 

"That would be very well if I ever could be considered a man by the onefor whose opinion I care most. But while I am to her a creaturesomething below the ape, a mere crawling viper whose touch is pollution, I will act like the thing she thinks me. To-day I possess the power tomake a high-born gentleman dance whenever I pull the string. You ask meto give up this power, and in return you offer--nothing. "

"One would suppose, " remarked Daisy, struggling with herself in thisdilemma, "that the ability to inflict pain was one a true nature woulddelight to surrender. My father has done no harm to you. "

The negro bent toward her and spoke with vehemence. 

"But his daughter has! She has made my life wretched. Whatever positionI may attain will be worthless to me, without the love I had hoped mightbe mine. "

"_Love!_" cried the girl, recoiling. "_Love!_"

"Love and marriage, " he replied. "In France we could live without thehateful prejudices that prevail in America. I have natural abilityenough, you have told me so a thousand times, and I could make myselfworthy of you. As my wife--"

Daisy rose and interrupted him fiercely. 

"Cease!" she exclaimed. "There is a limit to what I can endure. If youmean to make any promise of that kind a prelude to my father's freedomfrom persecution, we may as well end this conversation now as later. Hewould rather rot in prison than have his child sacrifice herself in sucha manner!"

She started toward the door, and he did not interrupt her passage, asshe half expected he would do; but he spoke again. 

"All this because I am black, " he said. 

"Because you are a cruel, heartless wretch!" she answered, her eyesflashing. "Because you have abused the goodwill of a generous family;because you have tortured a kind old man and a loving daughter. If youwere as white as any person on earth, I would not marry you. Worse thanall outward semblance is a dark and vile mind. Do what you like! I defyyou!"

The door opened and closed behind her. Hannibal heard her retreatingfootsteps grow fainter on the stairs, and then there was silence. 

"I might have known it, " he said, aloud. "I did know it, but I kepthoping against hope. She would wed a Newfoundland dog sooner than me. Nothing is left but to make her repent her action. I will bring thatfather of hers to the dust, if only to revenge the long list of injurieshis race has inflicted on mine!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

"PLAY OUT YOUR FARCE. "

When Daisy left the house where she had the interview with Hannibal, shewalked for some minutes aimlessly along the street. Her mind was in astate of great excitement. She realized that she had defied a man whocould inflict the deepest injury on the father she dearly loved. How shecould have done otherwise was not at all clear, but the terror whichhung over her was none the less keen. The proposal of the negro--tomarry her--filled her with a nameless dread that made her teeth chatter, though it was a warm day. Rather would she have cast her body into thetides that wash the shores of Manhattan Island. Even to save her fatherfrom prison--if it came to that--she could not make this sacrifice. Shenow felt for Hannibal a horrible detestation, a feeling akin to that shemight entertain for a rattlesnake. Whatever good she had seen in him inother days had vanished under the revelations of his true character. 

What to do next was the absorbing question. A great danger hung over herfather. A dim idea of seeking the mayor--or the chief of police--andimploring their mercy, entered her brain. Then she thought of Roseleaf, whose aid she might have secured, if he had not proved himself adouble-dealer, capable of making love to herself and Millicent at thesame time. And then came the resolve to seek out Mr. Weil, the oneperson in all this trouble that seemed clear of wrong. Her sister hadtold her that he loved her. Well, if necessary she would marry him. Atleast he was a man of honor, and white. Yes, she would go to him andthrow herself upon his mercy. 

Daisy knew that Archie made his headquarters at the Hoffman House, andsummoning a cab she asked to be taken to that hotel. Ensconced in theladies' parlor she awaited the coming of the man she wanted and yetdreaded so much to see. Luckily he was in the house, and in a fewmoments responded in person to her card. 

"Why, Miss Daisy, " he stammered. "What is the matter? Nothing wrong, Itrust. You look quite pale. Is it anything--about--your father?"

The girl was pale indeed. Now that Mr. Weil was so close, the dangerthat he might not be willing to help her rose like a mountain in herpath. She did not know exactly how grave a matter forgery was--whetherit was something that the injured party would be able or likely toforgive. If she should tell him everything, and he should refuse to beplacated--what could she do then?

There was no one else in the parlor, but seeing that she wanted as muchseclusion as possible, Mr. Weil motioned the girl to follow him to aremote corner, where the curtains of a recessed window partiallyconcealed them. He felt that she had come on a momentous errand. Hissuspicions concerning Mr. Fern were apparently about to be verified, andif so, he did not mean that other ears should hear the tale. 

"Mr. Weil, " began Daisy, tremblingly, "I don't know what to say to you. I am in great distress. Would you--will you--help me?"

He responded gently that he would do anything in his power. He bade hercalm herself, and promised to be the most attentive of listeners. 

Reassured by his kind words and manner, the girl began again; but shecould not tell her story connectedly, and after making several attemptsto do so, she broke out in a new direction. 

"I want so very much of you, dear Mr. Weil. And I am nervous and afraidto ask what I would like. I will give you anything you please in return. Yes, yes, anything. "

He smiled down upon her face, on which the tears were making stains inspite of her. 

"You are promising a great deal, little girl, " he said. 

"I know it; I realize it fully, " she responded quickly. "But I mean allI say. I did not think I could, once, but I am quite resolved now. Millie told me you were in love with me, and feared I would refuse you. But I won't. No, no, I will marry you--indeed I will--if you will onlysave my darling father!"

The concluding words were spoken in the midst of a torrent of sobs thatshook the girlish frame and affected powerfully the strong man thatwitnessed them. 

"Daisy, dear child, don't speak like this, " he answered. "If I can doanything for your father I will most gladly, and the price of your sweetlittle heart shall not be demanded in payment, either. Leave that matterentirely out of the question, and tell me at once what you desire. "

She heard him with infinite delight, and wiping her eyes she began, inbroken tones, to relate the history of Hannibal's revelations. As sheproceeded his brow darkened, and when she had finished he mutteredsomething that sounded very much like a curse. 

"And what do you wish of me?" he asked, when she had ended. 

"To keep him from having my father put in prison; to give us time toescape, if there is no other way; and to forgive the harm to yourself. Iknow, " she added earnestly, "it is a great deal to ask, but I have noone else to go to. He has paid every cent, and you will lose nothing. Tell me, dear Mr. Weil, is there anything you can do?"

He had the greatest struggle of his life to keep from bending over thattrembling mouth and pressing upon it the kiss he knew she would notrefuse; that mouth he had coveted so long and which must never betouched by his lips!

"Can I do anything?" he repeated. "Certainly. I can stop that fellow soquickly he won't know what ails him. Have no fear Miss Daisy. Go homeand rest in peace. Before the sun sets I will remove the last particleof danger from your father's path. "

The girl sprang to her feet and would have thrown her arms around hisneck had he not prevented her. 

"You are certain you can do this?" she cried, beaming with happy eyesupon him. 

"There is not the least question of it. But--I must demand payment formy trouble. I shall not do this work for nothing. "

With a hot blush Daisy lowered her eyes to the carpet. 

"I have already told you what I will do, " she said, trembling. "If youaccomplish what you say, have no fear but I shall keep my word. "

There was an element of pride and truth in the way she spoke that struckthe hearer strongly. The reverent smile on his face grew yet deeper. 

"I am placed in a peculiar situation, " he said, after a slight pause. "Your sister has, unintentionally, no doubt, misrepresented matters in away that may be embarrassing for us both. When I have removed thetroubles that stand in your way, I will talk this over with you. "

Daisy looked up quickly. What could he mean?

"I beg you to explain, " she stammered. "If there has been any mistake notime can be better to set it right than now. "

The man toyed with the lace of the window curtain. He had no intentionof evading his duty, and yet he did not find it agreeable as heproceeded. 

"Your sister told me, " he said, finally, "that--you loved me. She waswrong. I knew all the time she was wrong. You have just offered to giveyourself to me in marriage in exchange for the efforts that I am to makeon your father's behalf. But I would not marry a woman who did not loveme--who only became mine from gratitude. No, I could not accept youunder such circumstances. "

The young girl glanced at him timidly. 

"I wish you knew how much I liked you, " she said. "I never knew a man Irespected more. "

"That is most gratifying, " he answered, "for I hold your good opinionvery highly. You must think I speak in riddles, for I have said that Idemand payment for my services, and yet that I would not accept thegreatest gift it is in your power to bestow upon me. Let me wait nolonger in my explanation. When I have put your father out of all dangerfrom this blackmailer--and I can easily do it, never fear--you must dojustice to Shirley Roseleaf. "

She shivered at the name, as if the east wind blew upon her. 

"He is not a true man, " she replied, in a whisper. "He has forfeited allclaim to my consideration. "

"Why do you say that? I am afraid there is another misunderstandinghere, my child. "

Then he drew out of her, slowly at first, the revelations that Millicenthad made. And he disposed of the charges, one by one, until there wasnothing left of them. 

"Could you--would you--only go with me to his rooms, " he added, "and seehim lying there, wan and pale, disheartened at the present, hopeless forthe future, you would change your mind. He has never in his life lovedbut one woman, and that one is yourself. I will not undertake to say whyyou have been told differently, though I could guess. Shirley Roseleafloves you, Miss Daisy, and you love him. When I have made good mypromise, I shall ask you to come to my friend's side and bring him backto health with the sunshine of your presence. "

Daisy was more than half convinced, for the strong affection she had hadfor the young man plead for him in every drop of her blood. 

"Is he so very ill?" she asked, dreamily. 

"He has not left his room for a week, " was the answer. "Nothing hisfriends can say will move him. He is in such a state of mind that heeven refuses to have me with him; me, until very lately, his closestfriend. But if I tell him you have relented, there is no medicine onearth will have such an instant effect. "

The girl thought for some moments without speaking. 

"It is my father first, of course, " she said at last. "But while you arearranging matters concerning him, I do not see any reason to keep mefrom helping a sick boy. I--yes, I will go with you now. "

He looked the gratitude he could not speak, and fearful that in hermercurial mood she might change her mind, he accompanied her withoutdelay to the street, and procured a cab, in which they were drivenrapidly to Roseleaf's lodgings. On the way, with that loved form so nearhim, Archie Weil had a constant struggle. She might be his, if he wouldforget duty. 

And he loved her! God, how he loved her! He could marry her, and perhapsafter a fashion make her happy. The perspiration stood on his foreheadas he dwelt on the bliss that he had resolutely cast aside. 

Roseleaf's landlady came to the door in person and informed the callersthat her guest was in about the same condition as he had been for somedays. He was not ill in bed, but he did not leave his room. When shesent up his meals he received them mechanically, and they were oftenuntouched when the domestic went for the dishes. He wrote several hoursa day, though he was undoubtedly feeble. Did he have any visitors? Onlyone, Mr. Gouger, who was with him at the present moment. Should she goup and announce them? Very well, if it was not necessary. Mr. Weil couldshow the lady into the adjoining room, which was empty, until he hadannounced her presence in the house to his friend. 

Archie whispered to Daisy when he left her at Roseleaf's door, that hewould come for her as soon as possible. He did not enter the sick boy'schamber at once, for something in the conversation that came to his earsarrested his steps at the threshold. Mr. Gouger's voice was heard, andArchie's ears caught the sound of his own name. 

"You should let me send to Mr. Weil, " said Gouger. "I am sure he canexplain everything. You have written all you ought for the present. Hewould take you to ride and bring the color to those white cheeks ofyours. "

"But he cannot bring me the girl I love, " responded Roseleaf, with aprofound sigh. "Even if I have done him injustice, she is lost to menow. You know appearances were against him. Why, you agreed with meabout it. I don't want to see any one. I want to go away from here, andforget my sorrows as best I can in some far distant place. "

There was a sadness in the tone that went to the listener's heart. Thedoor was slightly ajar and Archie took the liberty of looking into theroom. Roseleaf lay stretched out in a great chair, and Gouger leanedover him, appearing for all the world like some sinister bird of prey. Mr. Weil felt for the first time in his life that there was somethinguncanny in the aspect of the book reviewer. He did not think he couldever be close friends with him again. And what did Shirley mean bysaying that Lawrence had "agreed" with him when he heard such baseopinions?

The critic was fingering with apparent satisfaction a pile of MSS. Thatlay on the table. It had grown vastly since Archie saw it the last time, and must be fifteen or twenty chapters in extent now. 

"You must not go away until you have finished this wonderful work, "replied Gouger, with concern. "A few more months--a little furtherexperience in life--and your reputation will be made! Ah, it iswonderful! It is magnificent! The world will ring with your praisesbefore the year is ended. Such fidelity to nature! Such perfection ofdetail! In all my career I have never seen anything to approach it!"

Shirley moved uneasily in his chair. 

"Do you ever think at what cost I have done this?" he asked. "I know thepain of a burn because I have held my hands in the fire. I know theagony of asphyxiation, because I have dangled at the end of a rope. Ican write of the miner buried beneath a hundred feet of clay, because Ihave had the load fall on my own head. To love and find myself beloved;then to see happiness snatched without explanation from my grasp; tofeel that my best friend has been the one to betray me! That is what Ihave passed through, and from the drops of misery thus distilled, I havepenned those lines you so much admire. I have written all I can of thesehorrors. I will not begin again till I have caught somewhere in thegreat sky a glimpse of sunlight!"

Mr. Weil could wait no longer. He pushed open the door and went to thespeaker's side. 

"The sunlight is awaiting you, " he said, gazing down upon the figure inthe armchair. "You have only to raise your curtain. "

Mr. Gouger sprang up in astonishment at the sudden arrival, and perhapsa little in alarm also; for he could not tell how long the visitor hadbeen eavesdropping at the portal. But Roseleaf turned his languid eyestoward his old friend, and was silent. 

"Shirley, my boy, " pursued Weil, with the utmost earnestness, "I canprove to you now that Daisy Fern loves you and you alone. "

Roseleaf did not move. His lips opened and the words came stiffly. 

"You can promise many things, " he said, "but can you fulfill any ofthem?"

So cold, so unlike himself!

"What will convince you?" demanded Weil. "Shall I bring a letter fromher? Or would you rather she came in person, to tell you I speak thetruth?"

The shadow of a smile, a smile that was not agreeable, hovered aroundthe corners of the pale mouth. 

"I shall write no more, " said the lips, when they opened, "until I haveseen her and heard the reason for my rejection. I will discover who myenemy is. I will unmask the man or the woman that has done me thisinjury. Till then, I shall write no more. No, not one line. "

Mr. Gouger was nonplussed by the new turn in affairs. He knew that Weilhad some basis for what he said, that he was not the man to come withpretence on his tongue. Neither of the other persons in the room paidthe least attention to him, any more than if he had not been present. Itwas like a play, at which Gouger was the only spectator. 

"Could you bear it if I brought her to you to-day, if I brought her herenow?" asked Archie, beseechingly. "If I go and get her, and she comeswith me, will the shock harm you?"

The ironical smile deepened on the face of the younger man. 

"Play out your farce, " he said. 

Casting one look of apprehension at Roseleaf, Mr. Weil turned towardthe door that entered the hallway. Before he could reach it, a femaleform came into the room and caught his arm. Together they faced therecumbent figure in the chair. This lasted but a moment. Then Daisybroke from her escort and threw herself at her lover's feet. 

"Come, " whispered Archie, to the critic. "Let us leave them alone. "

CHAPTER XX. 

LIKE A STUCK PIG. 

Hannibal was neither better nor worse, morally, because his color wasblack. There are men with white complexions who would have done exactlyas he did. There are others as dark as Erebus who would have donenothing of the sort. 

He was no ordinary negro. His intelligence was above the average. Whenhe first entered the employ of Mr. Fern, that gentleman took every painsto encourage the aptitude for learning that he found in him. Hannibalaccompanied his employer to his office, where he was entrusted withimportant commissions, which he seemed for a long time to execute withfaithfulness and discrimination. At home he performed his duties in away that gave great satisfaction. At the end of the first six months Mr. Fern would have hated to part with a servant that he believed difficultto replace. 

But the great source of trouble arose gradually. Hannibal began toentertain a sentiment for his master's younger daughter that wasimpossible of fruition. Daisy treated him in the most consideratemanner, never dreaming what was going on behind his serious brow. Millicent, ungovernable in all things, began early to show the bitterestenmity toward the negro, while her sister, seeing that her father likedand appreciated him, tried by her own kindness to compensate for theother's rudeness. What caused Millicent's feelings Daisy had no means ofknowing, and she had not the least suspicion until she heard theconversation in the library the night the house was entered. Even thenshe did not take the subject much to heart, for she did not comprehendall that Hannibal had meant to convey in the brief and sarcasticexpression he used. Daisy had a mind too pure to believe anything soheinous of her own sister as Hannibal had intimated. 

The passion of love is a thing that grows in curious ways. What made itseem to Hannibal that there was hope for him was the discovery that Mr. Fern was committing forgeries and that the proofs might be his for thetaking. If he could hold such a power as that over this gentleman, whocould say that even so great a mésalliance as his daughter's marriage toan African might not be arranged?

The negro proceeded cautiously. He secured the proofs he wished, and letMr. Fern know tacitly that he had them. The terror, the undisguised fearthat followed, the admittance of the menial to a totally differentposition in the household and the office, showed that the servant hadnot underrated the importance of his acquisition. 

Not one word bearing directly on the subject passed between them. Thecondition of the merchant was more horrible than it would have been hadhis employé said outright, "I have the proof that you are a forger--Ican send you to prison for twenty years, and I will do so unless you doso-and-so for me. " He did not know how Hannibal meant to use hisinformation. He was afraid to broach the matter to him. He could onlywait and suffer; and suffer he did, as a proud-spirited, high-minded manwho has made an error must suffer, when such a sword hangs over hishead, ready at any moment to fall. 

As Walker Boggs had said, Mr. Fern was not by nature a business man. After the former's retirement from active participation in the concernthere was a series of losses. When Mr. Fern took his pen and began toimitate the signature of his late partner on a sheet of paper, nothingbut some such course stood between him and bankruptcy. He felt certainthat if he could tide over twenty-four hours he would be saved. Beforehe left his office he had made a note, written Mr. Boggs name across theback of it, and raised money thereon. 

He did this many times afterwards, but finally, when he again wanted aname to save himself with, he dared not use this one. Boggs had calledin to remark that he should withdraw the capital he had lent as soon asthe term arranged for had expired. The sum was already infringed upon, had the investor known it. The next name used was that of Archie Weil. Archie had been to the house a good deal to see Millicent. Mr. Fernbelieved there was a love affair between them, and he caught at thestraw of possible protection in case of discovery. The forgeries becamenumerous, and the total amount on that day when the passage of a newtariff saved the venturesome speculator, was very large. Hannibal was atthis time in foreign parts, or at least so the merchant supposed. Hesoothed his conscience with the reflection that this additional wrongact would enable him to right the others that preceded it. And thingsmight have gone well had not the negro returned, consumed with the lovehe bore the younger daughter, and had not his love turned to vinegar byher contemptuous rejection of his advances. 

An hour after Daisy left him, Hannibal had made up his mind to berevenged. He had faltered a little in the meantime, asking himself whatgood it would do to bring disgrace on the head of this poor old man, buthis injuries were too strong for mercy. He was despised by them all; hewould show them that, black as he was, his ability to hurt was no lessstrong than theirs. Roseleaf had made the first impression on that youngheart he himself had craved. It remained to be seen whether he would wedthe daughter of a convict. There would be something pleasant, too, indisgracing Millicent, who had once placed herself in a position where hecould have blasted her reputation forever, and had afterwards dared totreat him as if he were the dirt beneath her shoes. Yes, Hannibaldecided, he would go to Mr. Weil and Mr. Boggs, and show them the waythis man had used their names, hawking them in the public market withouttheir knowledge. 

When Hannibal reached the Hoffman House and inquired for Mr. Weil, hewas told that he was absent. An hour later he received the same answer. A visit to the residence of Mr. Boggs elicited a reply preciselysimilar. In fact, the day wore away and evening arrived before he foundthem. 

In the meantime, Mr. Weil had not been idle. While Daisy and ShirleyRoseleaf were tearfully exchanging their explanations, he sent amessenger to Mr. Boggs, asking that gentleman to come to him withoutdelay. An hour later the messenger arrived with the gentleman, andhaving engaged a room for temporary use, and seen to it that Roseleafwanted nothing at present but his fair nurse, Archie pulled Boggs in andlocked the door securely. 

"What's all this?" exclaimed Boggs. "You look and act as if there wasthe devil to pay. "

"There is, " was the short answer. "I want you to do one of the mostcreditable acts of your life. I want it as a personal favor, and I'mgoing to have it, too. "

Mr. Boggs crossed his hands over his paunch and waited for furtherinformation. 

"Are you a first-class liar?" was Mr. Weil's next question. "Could you, in an emergency, do yourself justice as an eminent prevaricator? Are youable, for a certain time, to banish truth from your vicinity?"

Mr. Boggs remarked, in response to these astonishing suggestions, thathe could tell much better what his friend was about if he would dropmetaphor. 

Mr. Weil hesitated. He saw no way but to trust this man with the facts, and yet he dreaded the possibility that he might prove obstinate. 

"By-the-way, " he said, as if to change the subject temporarily, "haveyou been out to see Fern lately?"

Mr. Boggs shook his head. 

"You ought to, " said Weil. "He's improved a thousand per cent. In thelast few weeks. His financial luck has made a new man of him. "

"I'm glad of that, " responded the other. "And I'm glad too that I've gotmy money out of his firm, for I had a strong suspicion at one time thathe was running pretty close to the wall. "

Mr. Weil nodded to show that he believed this statement, and then grewsober. 

"Sometimes, when men get into a tight place financially, " he said, "theydo queer things. Supposing I should tell you that Mr. Fern had endorsedchecks and notes in a way he was not authorized to do?"

The stout man opened his eyes wider. 

"That would be a piece of news, " he answered. "But, if he did, he's madeit all right by this time, of course, and nobody is the loser. "

Mr. Weil drew himself up in his chair, as if righteously indignant. 

"Do you think that is enough?" he demanded, raising his voice. "By Gad, supposing I tell you my name was one of those he monkeyed with!"

The other did not seem much perturbed. 

"If the paper is all in, I wouldn't make a fuss about it, if I wereyou, " he replied. "Fern is a good fellow. He has gone out of business, and I hope he'll never go in again. Take my advice, if you have learnedanything to his discredit, and keep it to yourself. "

Weil could hardly control himself. 

"Do you think I intend to let him forge my name on his notes and checksand not put him under arrest!" he cried; "when the proofs are beyondquestion?"

Mr. Boggs bowed and said he meant that, exactly. He further remarkedthat he was astonished that his friend had any other idea in his mind. The Fern family was one in which he had been favorably received and heought to do everything possible to prevent harm to any of its members. As he proceeded in this vein, Mr. Boggs grew so earnest that he did notnotice the broad smile of happiness that was creeping over the face ofhis companion, and was not prepared to find a pair of manly arms claspedaround his neck. 

"You--you!" Archie Weil was trying to say. "You dear, kind, sensiblefellow. You've made me the happiest man on earth! Of course _I_ wouldn'ttrouble Fern, but I was afraid _you_ would. He used your name as well asmine, the rascal! Everything is paid up, and all the trouble now is thata miserable scamp has got hold of some of the paper and wants toblackmail him. And what I called you here to-day for is to get you toagree--with me--to acknowledge every scrap of that paper as being ourown!"

The sudden change was more than Mr. Boggs could bear for a moment. Hesat, to use a common expression, "like a stuck pig, " staring at Archie. 

"You remember the nigger that worked for Fern, " explained Mr. Weil. "Hegot hold of some of these notes and checks, in Fern's office, and iscoming to look us up to-day, for the purpose of having his employerarrested. A nice game, eh? But we will foil him, won't we? We'll showhim a trick worth several of his! He's probably gone to the HoffmanHouse and he'll hang round till he finds me. I'll send word that I am tobe home this afternoon at five. You will be there with me. We'll tacklehim together. When he tells us that he has some forged paper in hispossession we'll act astonished and enraged; we'll ask him to show it tous; and when we've got it all in our hands we'll say the signatures areour own, and kick him down stairs. Are you with me, Walker? Is it a go, old boy?"

The agreement was made without more ado. Mr. Boggs began to see thehumorous element in the affair, and actually came nearer laughing thanhe had done since the day he discovered that the size of his waistplaced him out of the list of eligible "mashers. "

When everything was settled, Mr. Weil excused himself for a few moments, while he tiptoed to Roseleaf's door and knocked. Daisy came to open it, and when she saw who the visitor was she blushed charmingly. 

"Come in, " she said. "I am sure both of us are glad to see you. "

Shirley's eyes met those of his friend with a strange expression. Heknew now that all his suspicions were unfounded, that Weil had provedhimself noble and true. But the apologies that he owed could not besuitably made in the presence of a third person, and he made noreference to them. His changed appearance was enough, however, forArchie. The reconciliation with the girl of his heart was perfect, andthe happiness that shone from their faces repaid their good friend forhis sacrifice. 

"I think I ought to take Miss Daisy to her train now, " said Archie, after the exchange of a few ordinary remarks. "She can come to see youto-morrow again, and before many days we will have matters arranged withpater familias, so that Shirley can go out to Midlands in his propercapacity. Oh, you need not redden, little woman! The love you two havefor each other does both of you credit. "

Returning to Mr. Boggs, for the sake of allowing the young couple a fewminutes for their good-bys, Archie dismissed that gentleman with theunderstanding that not later than half-past four he would join him inhis room at the Hoffman House. Soon after he escorted Miss Fern to herstation, and before he left the building Archie sent a dispatch to herfather, asking him to come to the city and meet him at his hotel at fourthat afternoon. 

Everything worked to a charm. Mr. Fern arrived at the time designatedand went promptly to Mr. Weil's apartments. A brief explanation of whatwas about to occur threw the wool merchant into a state of extremeagitation, but he was assured that the last particle of danger tohimself would be removed before he left the Hoffman House. He was askedto step into an inner room of the suite, the door of which was to beleft ajar, and to make no move unless he was called. 

Mr. Boggs came at his appointed hour, and Hannibal soon after. Delightedto find both gentlemen--accidentally, as he supposed--the negro beganwithout delay to explain the cause of his visit. He stated the manner inwhich he had discovered the forgeries, and said he thought it only hisduty to let the facts be known. 

Messrs. Weil and Boggs exchanged glances of well-simulated surprise asthe discoverer proceeded. 

"How long is it since you first knew of this matter?" asked Mr. Weil, when Hannibal came to a pause. 

"Something like eighteen months. "

"And you allowed this swindle to go on all that time without saying aword!" said the questioner. "I am surprised, when I remember that for along time you saw me almost daily. "

"That is true, " was the quiet response. "I could not easily bring myselfto disgrace one whose bread I was eating. But that does not matter now. I have here a number of notes on which Mr. Fern has forged both of yournames. The law will hold him just as strongly as if I had exposed him atthe time. "

He exhibited a package of papers, and unsuspiciously passed them to thetwo gentlemen. Undoing the band Archie Weil spread the documents on thecentre table and went over them carefully with Mr. Boggs, separatingthose which bore their several names. A close perusal of all the notesfollowed, and finally Mr. Weil looked up and asked if there were anymore. 

"No, those are all, " said Hannibal. "I believe there are thirty-six ofthem. "

Mr. Weil consulted in a low tone with Mr. Boggs. They seemed puzzledover something. 

"If these are really all the notes you have, " said Archie, "there hasbeen a great mistake on your part. These endorsements are genuine inevery case. Where are the forged papers of which you spoke?"

The negro stared with all his might at the speaker. 

"Genuine!" he repeated. 

"Undoubtedly, as far as my name is concerned. I have lent my credit toMr. Fern for a long time. "

"That is equally true of myself, " spoke up Boggs, slowly. "I wrote everyone of these signatures and I am willing to swear to them. "

Hannibal's eyes flashed with baffled rage. He had been trapped. Thesemen had conspired to save his late employer from his clutches. They hadlied, deliberately, and he was powerless against their combinedassertions, although he knew the falsity of all they said. 

"You will be as glad as we to learn the truth, " said Archie, in a softlymodulated voice. "It would have grieved you to know that your kindemployer had made himself amenable to the criminal law. Your onlyobject in this matter was to ease your conscience, and do justice. Thereis nothing, now, to prevent your returning at your earliest convenienceto France. "

The negro rose and took up his hat. 

"This is very nice, " he growled, "but I want to tell you that you arenot through with me yet. "

Mr. Weil rose also. 

"I trust, " he said, "that you are not going to be impolite. I certainlywould not be guilty of discourtesy to you. But let me assure you of onething: If you ever, hereafter, annoy in the slightest degree my friend, Mr. Fern, or any member of his family, you will wish heartily that youhad never been born. We can spare you now, Mr. Hannibal. "

With the last words, Archie waved his hand toward the door, and withoutfurther reply than a glare from his now blood-shot eyes, the Africanstrode from the apartment. 

"I want you to take a ride in the Park with me, for an hour or so, andthen we will return here for dinner, " said Mr. Weil to Mr. Boggs. 

He did this to allow Mr. Fern to leave the house without Boggs' knowinghe was there, and also to avoid a meeting that he felt would be too fullof gratitude to suit his temperament just then. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"WE WANT MILLIE TO UNDERSTAND. "

Millicent Fern had been so busy on her second novel that she had hardlynoticed the prolonged absence of Shirley Roseleaf from her father'shouse. Her first story was selling fairly well and she had received agoodly number of reviews in which it was alluded to with more or lessfavor. Not the least welcome of the things her mail brought was a checkbearing the autograph of Cutt & Slashem, that tangible evidence whichall authors admire that her efforts had not been wholly in vain. She hadput a great deal of hard work into her new novel, and felt that, whenMr. Roseleaf added his polish to the plot she had woven, it would make asuccess far greater than the other. 

Millicent thought she understood the young man perfectly. To her mind hewas merely awaiting the moment when she was ready to name the day fortheir marriage. To be sure he had not asked her to wed him, but hisactions were not to be misunderstood. She would accept him, for businessreasons, and the romance could come later. Together they wouldconstitute a strong partnership in fiction. While she was wrapped up inher writing it was quite as well that he remained at a respectfuldistance. Between her second and her third story she would have time toarrange the ceremony. 

When Roseleaf made his next appearance at dinner, in the house atMidlands, Miss Fern smiled on him pleasantly. She remarked that helacked color, and he replied that he had been suffering from a slightillness. Then she spoke of her new story, revealing the plot to alimited extent, and said it would be ready for him in about two weeks. The astonished young man saw that she considered his services entirelyat her disposal, without question, whenever she saw fit to call uponthem. He talked it over with Daisy. 

"You know, " stammered the girl, "that Millie thought you were in lovewith her. That would account for everything, wouldn't it?"

"But where did she ever get that idea!" he exclaimed, desperately. 

"She says you tried to put your arm around her. "

"Just to practice. Just to learn what love was like. I told you howignorant I was, the same as I did her. Archie said she would show me, but it didn't amount to anything. It was only when I asked you, Daisy, that I began to understand. Do you remember how you stood on your toesand kissed me?"

The girl bade him be quiet and not get too reminiscent, but he wouldnot. 

"It taught me all I needed to know, in one instant, " he persisted. "Ah, sweetheart, how much happiness and suffering I have had on youraccount!"

He stooped and kissed her tenderly as he spoke. 

"And after this it will be happiness only, " she whispered. 

Another kiss answered this prediction. 

"What can I do if she asks me to rewrite the whole of another novel?"asked Roseleaf, with a groan. 

"I think you might find time to oblige her, " said Daisy. "But you oughtto explain things--you ought not to let her misunderstand your positionany longer. "

He said that this was true, and that he would act upon the suggestion. He had her father's consent, and nothing could stand in the way of hismarriage to Daisy before the year ended. It was not right, of course, togo on with the implication of being engaged to both the sisters. 

"But I wish I could escape doing that writing, " he added. "I hatefiction, any way; I have been at work on one of my own that I fear Inever shall finish. There is much sadness in novels, and I like joy somuch better. I believe I shall abandon the whole field. "

This she would not listen to. She said her husband that was to be mustbecome a famous writer, for she wanted to be very proud of him. And Mr. Fern came in to the room, and having the question put to him, decided itin the same manner, as he was sure to do when he learned that hisyounger daughter held that opinion. 

The retired merchant bore the appearance of a man from whose shouldersthe severe burden of a great weight had fallen. The tiger that hadcrouched so long in his path, ready at any moment to spring, had beenvanquished. Beyond the profound humiliation of knowing that his sin wasexposed to the gaze of two of his intimate friends, he had no cause forpresent grief. Both of them had proved friends indeed, and nothing wasto be feared from any quarter. Hannibal had disappeared immediatelyafter the interview at the Hoffman House, and it was supposed had goneback to France. 

There was to be no haste about the wedding, after all. Now that theyoung couple felt perfectly sure of each other they were more willingthan they had been to wait. The freedom that an understood engagementbrings to Americans was theirs. If Millicent had only known the truecondition of affairs, and was content with them, they would have beenperfectly satisfied. 

An old story tells how a certain colony of mice came to the unanimousconclusion that a bell should be hung around the neck of a cat for whichthey had a well-defined fear; and it also relates that none of therodents were willing to undertake the task of placing the warning signalin the desired position. Both Shirley and Daisy wished heartily thatMillicent could be told the exact condition of their hopes andexpectations, but neither had the courage to inform her. Many of theirlong conversations referred to this matter, and one day, when they haddiscussed it as usual, Daisy hit upon a bright idea. 

"You don't suppose, do you, that Mr. Weil would tell Millie for us? Hehas done so many nice things, he might do one more. "

Roseleaf wore a thoughtful expression. He realized how much Archie hadalready done for him--realized it more fully than Daisy did; but he saidthe matter was worth thinking of. He wanted very much to have itsettled. 

"Would--would you--ask him?" he stammered. "He would do anything foryou. "

"Yes, " she responded, softly, "I will ask him. But we had best betogether. I do not want to broach the matter unless you are there. "

In a few days the opportunity came. Mr. Weil heard the voice he lovedbest explaining the situation. 

"We want Millie to understand, " said Daisy. "If she--if she still likesShirley herself, there may be an unpleasant scene, and you will see howdifficult it is for either of us to tell her. But you, who have done somany kindnesses for us, could convey the information to her without thediffidence we should feel. Will you, dear Mr. Weil?"

And Archie said he would, and that it would be a pleasure to him. And abright light illumined the faces of the young people, as another stonewas rolled out of the pathway their feet were to tread. 

Mr. Weil did not know how to approach his subject except by a more orless direct route. One day he was talking with Miss Fern about her newnovel, and she spoke of Mr. Roseleaf in connection with its nearness tothe required revision. 

"I don't know as Shirley will find time to help you out, " he replied. "He is so busy just now with Miss Daisy. "

She did not seem to comprehend him in the least. 

"Oh, he is merely filling in the time, as a matter of amusement, " sheanswered. "When I am ready he will be. "

He looked at her earnestly. 

"Is it fair to speak of love-making as a matter of amusement, MissFern?"

"Love-making? Is he, then, practicing for his novel with Daisy, also?"she inquired. "I am afraid he will get erroneous views of love in thatquarter. She is such a child that she can have little knowledge of thesubject. "

She had evidently no suspicion of the truth, and he determined to becomemore explicit. 

"Perhaps that is exactly what he wishes, " said he. "The virgin heart ofa young girl certainly affords tempting ground for the explorations of anovelist. "

For the first time she showed a slightly startled face. 

"I trust you do not mean that Mr. Roseleaf is deceiving my sister withpretended affection?" she said. "I did not think him that kind of man. If he is making love to her, as you call it, surely she understands thatit is only for the purposes of his forthcoming novel?"

Mr. Weil drew a long breath. 

"Is it possible, " he asked, "that you do not know him better than evento hint that suspicion? Shirley Roseleaf is honor personified. He wouldnot lead any woman to believe him her lover unless he truly felt thesentiments he expressed. "

Miss Fern looked much relieved. 

"I am glad to hear you say so, " she replied. 

Archie was plunged into a new quandary. He had evidently made noprogress whatever thus far. 

"No, " he continued, slowly, "he has not deceived Miss Daisy. His lovefor her is as true as steel. I understand their engagement is to beannounced in a few days. "

If he had known the pain that these words would bring to theirhearer--if he had foreseen the anguish that was portrayed on that browand in those eyes--friend as he was of the young couple who had set himto this errand, he would have shrunk from it. Millicent made no verbalreply. Spasms chased each other over her white face. She seemed strickendumb. Her hands, lifted to her forehead, trembled visibly. And Mr. Weilsat there, uncertain what to do, as silent as herself. 

Gradually the force of the storm passed, and Miss Fern staggered faintlyto her feet. Mr. Weil offered to support her with his arms, but sherefused his aid with a motion that was unmistakable. She was makingevery effort to conceal her agitation, and she dared not trust herselfwith words. After taking a weak step or two, and finding that she couldnot walk unassisted, she rested herself upon the arm of a large chair, and signed to him to leave her. Much mortified, but knowing no othercourse, he bowed profoundly and obeyed the signal. 

The next morning he received the following letter at his hotel:

 "MR. A. WEIL:--SIR: If you are in any respect a gentleman--which I may be excused for doubting--you will not allude in the presence of any one to the exhibition I made to-day. Had I had the least preparation I could have controlled myself. You adroitly took me at a complete disadvantage, and you saw the result. 

 "I leave to-morrow for a new home. Never again shall I live under the roof of those who have betrayed me. Do not think I shall succumb to grief because of my sister's conduct. She is welcome to her victory. No answer to this is expected. Yours, M. A. F. "

Luckily Archie had escaped from Midlands without meeting either Daisy orRoseleaf, and he obeyed as strictly as possible the injunction hereceived from the elder sister. All he would say was that he hadinformed her of the engagement and that she had made no reply. When hewas told a day or two later that Millicent had left the house, he merelyremarked that he was not much surprised, as she was a girl of strongwill and usually did about as she pleased. 

Mr. Fern, at first much distressed over his daughter's action, grewreconciled when he thought of it more at length. He sent a liberalallowance to her, which she did not return, and made arrangements bywhich she could draw the same sum at her convenience at a bank in thecity. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

WHERE WAS DAISY?

The wedding was arranged to occur in the month of October, and thepreparations, so dear to the hearts of all young women, were pushed withdispatch. There were to be no ceremonials beyond the ones necessary, andthe company to visit the nuptials was limited to a dozen of the family'smost intimate friends. When the evening came, Walker Boggs was on hand, wearing an extra large waistcoat, and a countenance such as would havebest befitted a funeral. Lawrence Gouger came, his keen eye alert, foreseeing several chapters in the great novel that Roseleaf waswriting, based on the experiences of the next few weeks. But Archie Weilwrote a note at the last minute, regretting that a business engagementthat could not be postponed had called him to a distant point, andsending a magnificent ornament in large pearls for the bride, to whom hewished, with her husband, all health and happiness. 

Mr. Gouger had had many arguments with Mr. Weil, in opposition to theearly date set for the wedding. He had shown that, according to the bestmodels, the hero of Roseleaf's novel--which was practically the youngman himself, ought to pass through some very harrowing scenes yet beforehis wedded happiness began. He feared an anti-climax, and wasapprehensive that the wonderful romance would lie untouched for longmonths while Roseleaf sipped honey from the lips of his beloved. And heacted as if these things were entirely at the disposal of Mr. Weil--asif the young couple were mere marionettes whose actions he couldcontrol. 

"You could put it off if you liked, " Gouger said, complainingly. "Youcould introduce other elements that would be the making of the novel, and you ought to do it. They should not marry before next spring, at theearliest. You run the risk of spoiling everything. "

"Good God!" cried Archie. "You talk like a fool. I would have postponedit forever, if I could, and you know it. But she loves him, and there isnothing to be gained by delay. Confound you and your old novel! With thehappiness of two human beings at stake you talk about a piece of fictionas if it was worth more than a blissful life!"

Gouger straightened himself up in his chair. 

"It is worth a hundred times more!" he answered, boldly. "A novel suchas Roseleaf's ought to be would give pleasure to millions. But I see youare bound to have your way. The only hope left is that there will betrouble enough after marriage to spice the story to the end. A milk andwater, nursing-bottle existence for them would make all the work alreadydone on this manuscript mere wasted time!"

Weil turned from his friend in disgust. Could the man talk nothing, think nothing, but shop?

But Archie did not come to the wedding. He knew the final strain wouldbe more than he could bear. It was one thing to sacrifice the woman heloved and quite another to see her given into the arms of the rival hehad encouraged. One may do the noblest things, at a respectful distance, and find himself physically unable to view them at greater proximity. 

Of course Shirley Roseleaf was almost too happy to breathe. But even thehappiest of lovers somehow manage to inhale a sufficiency of oxygen tokeep life in them, though they have no knowledge of the process by whichthis is accomplished. He had seen several of his productions in type, some in the leading magazines, and he had a permanent position now onthe staff of a great periodical. When the month he had allowed himselfas necessary for a wedding journey was ended, he would settle down towork, and he knew no reason why he might not make a success in hischosen field. And there was Daisy--always Daisy--he would never again beseparated from Daisy! Who that has loved and been loved can doubt theperfect content of this young man?

The saddest face at Midlands was that of Mr. Fern, who failed in hisbest attempts to appear cheerful. He was not sorry that his daughter wasto be married, he would not have put a single obstacle in her way; butshe was going from him, and the very, very dear relations they had solong sustained would never be exactly the same again. It was the destinyof a woman to cleave to her husband. He found no fault with the law ofnature, but he had clung to Daisy so devotedly that he could not welcomevery sincerely the hour that was to take her away. 

The marriage was to be early in the evening. Everything was ready, evento the trunks, filled with traveling and other dresses. The night was tobe passed at the Imperial Hotel in the city, and the journey proper tobe begun some time on the following day. 

On the most momentous morning of her life, Daisy Fern announced that shehad an errand to do in the city and would return shortly after twelveo'clock. As she was so thoroughly her own mistress nobody thought ofquestioning her more particularly. But twelve o'clock came, and oneo'clock, and three, and five, and she neither was seen at Midlands norwas any message received from her. 

By the latter hour Mr. Fern was in a state of excitement. The entirehouse was in an uproar. The servants were catechised, one by one, to seeif perchance any of them could guess the young lady's destination. Wordwas sent by telephone to various places in the city, asking information, but none was received. She had left the house, ostensibly to go to NewYork, and nothing could be learned of her from that moment. 

As Mr. Roseleaf was not expected until some time later, Mr. Fern went atlast to the city and sought the young man at his rooms. He found him inthe company of Lawrence Gouger, dressed for the ceremony, and impatientfor the arrival of the hour when he should start for his bride's abode. It may be conceived that the news Mr. Fern brought was not thepleasantest for him. 

"You--you have not seen Daisy?" came the stammering question, as thefather paused on the threshold of Roseleaf's room. 

"To-day? Why, certainly not!" was the stupefied answer. "I was justabout to start for your house. "

Mr. Fern sank upon a sofa just inside the door. 

"Something--has--happened!" he groaned. "Ah, my boy, something hashappened to my child!"

Roseleaf looked at Mr. Gouger, who in turn looked at Mr. Fern. 

"She--went away--this morning--on an errand, " enunciated the father, slowly, "saying--she would return--at noon. And--that is the lastwe--have seen--of her. Oh, it seems as if I should go mad!"

It seemed as if Shirley Roseleaf would go mad, too. He looked like onebereft of sense, as he stood there without uttering a word. 

"Perhaps she has returned since you left home, " suggested Mr. Gouger, onthe spur of the instant. "Don't lose heart yet. Let me send to atelephone office and have them inquire. You have a 'phone in your house, have you not, Mr. Fern?"

The father bowed in reply. He was too crushed to say anythingunnecessary. Touching a button, Mr. Gouger soon had a messengerdispatched for the information desired, and in the meantime he tried, bysuggesting possibilities, to soothe the two men. 

"You shouldn't get so excited, " he protested. "There are a hundredslight accidents that might be responsible for Miss Daisy's delay. Perhaps she has met with an insignificant accident, and the word shehas sent to her father has gone astray--as happens very often in thesedays. That would account for everything. Or she may have taken the wrongtrain--an express--that did not stop this side of Bridgeport, andhesitated to telegraph for fear of alarming you. 'Don't cry till you'rehurt' is an old proverb. Why, neither of you act much better than as ifher dead body had been brought home!"

They heard him, but neither replied. They waited--it seemed an hour--foran answer to the telephonic message, and it came, simply this: "Nothinghas been heard as yet of Miss Fern. "

The thoroughly distressed and disheartened father shrank before the gazeof the lover, when this news was promulgated by Mr. Gouger. 

"What swindle is this?" were the bitter words he heard. "Have youdecided on another husband for your daughter, and come to break the newsto me in this fashion?"

Mr. Gouger interfered, to protect the old man whose suffering wasevidently already too acute. 

"Hush!" he exclaimed. "Can't you see that you are killing him? Becareful!"

Roseleaf waved him back with a sweep of his arm. 

"Your advice has not been asked, " he replied, gutturally. "I can seesome things, if I _am_ blind. That girl has gone to the man sheloves--the man he, " indicating the father, "wanted her to marry. He isrich, and I am poor, and he has won! It is plain enough! And hepretended, day by day, to my face, that he had given her up for my sake;and she put her arms around me, and beguiled me into confidence, inorder to strike me the harder at the end. Well, let him have her! Iwouldn't take her from him. But there's an account between us that hemay not like to settle. When you see your friend, tell him that!"

Mr. Fern heard these terrible sentences like a man in a dream. It couldnot be Roseleaf that was uttering them--the man to whom his youngdaughter had given the full affection of her innocent heart! He was madto talk that way. Mad! mad!

"You will repent these rash statements, " said the old gentleman, risingfaintly from his seat. "You will repent them, sir, in sackcloth. I wishwith all my heart that Mr. Weil was here, for he would at least try tohelp me find my child. "

Mr. Gouger suggested that Mr. Weil would be at Midlands soon, as he hadan invitation to the wedding. 

"No, " replied Mr. Fern, chokingly. "I received word from him to-day thathe could not attend. He is out of the city. "

Roseleaf gave vent to an expression of nausea. 

"Are you yourself deceived?" he exclaimed. "He will not attend _my_wedding; certainly not! He is attending _his own_. If, indeed, he doesnot compass his ends without that preliminary. "

Weak and old as Mr. Fern was he would have struck the speaker had notthe third person in the room interfered. 

"Do you dare to speak in that manner of my daughter!" he cried. "Mustyou attack the character not only of my best friend but of my child aswell? I thank God at this moment, whatever be her fate, that she did notjoin her life to yours!"

With a majestic step he strode from the presence of his late prospectiveson-in-law. Gouger, with a feeling that some one should accompany him, followed. But first he turned to speak in a low key to the novelist. 

"Do not go out to-night, unless you hear from me, " he said, impressively. "This may not be as bad as you think, after all. I will goto Midlands and return with what news I can get. Don't act until you arecertain of your premises. "

The young man was removing his wedding suit, already. 

"I shall not go out, " he responded, aimlessly. 

"You might write a few pages--on your novel, " suggested the critic, ashe stood in the hallway. "There will never be a better--"

A vigorous movement slammed the door in his face before he couldcomplete his sentence. 

Hastening after Mr. Fern, Gouger accompanied him home, where the firstthing he heard was that there was still no news of the missing one. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

AN AWFUL NIGHT. 

It was an awful night for Wilton Fern. The presence in the house of Mr. Gouger and Mr. Boggs aided him but little to bear the weight thatpressed upon his heart. It was better than being entirely alone, but nota great deal. Together they listened whenever their ears caught anunusual sound. Twenty times they went together to the street door andopened it to find nothing animate before them. 

Morning came and still no tidings. The earliest trains from the citywere visited by servants, for the master of the house was too exhaustedto make the journey. And at nine o'clock the gentlemen who had passedthe night at Midlands took the railway back to New York, with nosolution of the great problem. 

Mr. Gouger had not been in his office an hour before the door opened andin walked Archie Weil. The critic started from his chair at theunexpected sight, and remarked that he had not expected to see hisvisitor so early. 

"I presume you heard the news and came home at once, " he added, meaningly. 

Mr. Weil was pale, and wore the look of one whose rest has beendisturbed. 

"I don't know what you mean, " he replied. "I was called away on businessthat I could not evade, and came back as soon as I could. I fear theFerns thought it rather rough of me to stay away from the wedding, but Icould not very well help it. You were there, of course. Everything wentoff well, I trust. "

The speaker had the air of a man who tries to appear at ease when he isnot. His voice trembled slightly and his hands roamed from one portionof his apparel to another. 

"Then you have heard nothing!" repeated Gouger, gravely. "Prepareyourself for a shock. There was no wedding last night at the Ferns'. Miss Daisy disappeared yesterday morning, and has not been seen since. "

If Mr. Weil had been pale before, his face was like a dead man's now. With many expressions of incredulity he listened to the explanationsthat followed. He declared that the occurrence was past belief, and thathe could see no way to account for it. Clearly something had happenedthat the girl could not prevent. She would never have absented herselfof her own accord. She loved the man who was to be her husband, and ifshe had wished to postpone her marriage she could have easily arrangedit. 

"I can think of nothing but a fit of temporary insanity, " he added, witha sigh. "And Shirley--poor fellow--how does he take it? Completelybroken up, I suppose?"

When he heard the attitude that Mr. Roseleaf had assumed, Mr. Weilseemed stupefied. Little by little Mr. Gouger revealed to him theanswers that the young man had made to Mr. Fern, finally referring tothe charge that he (Mr. Weil) had eloped with the bride. Archie's facegrew more and more rigid as he listened, but the anger that the relatorhad anticipated did not show there. 

"He is crazy, " was the mild reply. "I will go and see him, at once, andenlist his assistance in the thorough search that must be undertaken. Come, Lawrence, leave your work for an hour and go with me. "

Remembering his promise to return in the morning with the latesttidings, Mr. Gouger put on his hat and coat and entered the cab whichhis friend summoned. He felt that he was about to witness anotherchapter that would make most dramatic reading in that great novel!

"You had best let me go in first, " he whispered, when they stood atRoseleaf's door. "He is in an excitable frame of mind, I fear. "

For answer, Archie brushed the speaker aside and preceded him into thechamber, without the formality of a knock. Roseleaf lay before them inhis easy chair, bearing evidence in his attire that he had not disrobedduring the night. He greeted his visitors with nothing more than a lookof inquiry. 

"I only heard of your terrible disaster a few moments ago, " said Mr. Weil. "I learn that Miss Daisy had not been heard from up to nineo'clock this morning. We must bring all our energies to bear on thismatter, Shirley. Her father is unable to help us much. For all we knowshe may be in the most awful danger. Rouse yourself and let us consultwhat is best to do. "

Incredulousness was written on the quiet face that looked up at him fromthe armchair. 

"Why don't you tell us what you have done with her?" said the bloodlesslips, slowly. 

Mr. Weil trembled with suppressed emotion. 

"This is no time for recriminations, " he replied, "or I might answerthat in a different way. We must find this girl. Before we go to thepolice let us consider all the possibilities, for they will deluge uswith questions. Did any one think, " he asked, suddenly, turning toGouger, "of sending word to her sister Millicent?"

Mr. Gouger replied that they had done so. A servant had been dispatchedearly in the evening to Millicent's residence and had returned with theanswer that she had heard nothing of Miss Daisy and did not wish to. Shehad previously sent a sarcastic reply to an invitation to attend thewedding. 

"And she never came to comfort her father in his distress!" exclaimedMr. Weil. "What a daughter!"

They could get nothing out of Roseleaf. He answered a dozen times thatit would be much easier for Mr. Weil to send Daisy home or to write toher father that she was in his keeping, than to attempt the difficulttask of deceiving the police, who would have enough shrewdness to unmaskhim. 

"Then you will do nothing to help us?" demanded Archie, his patiencebecoming exhausted, though he kept his temper very well. "In that casewe must lose no more time. Ah, Shirley! I thought you worthy of thatangelic creature, but now--"

He checked himself before finishing the sentence, and went out into thehall. 

"I think I had best go to Midlands and consult with Mr. Fern, " he saidto Gouger in a low tone. "There is a possibility that his daughter hasreturned since you came away. What an awful list of horrible thoughtscrowd on one! If you can help me any I will send you word later. "

When Mr. Weil was gone, Mr. Gouger opened the door and looked again intoRoseleaf's room. The young man had not changed his position in theleast. 

"He has started for Midlands, " he said. "What do you think of hisexplanation in regard to his absence last night?"

"I think--I know--it is a lie!" was the quick reply. 

"You really believe she went away to meet him--and that he has passedthe last twenty-four hours with her. "

"Undoubtedly. "

The critic waited a minute. 

"Do you think they are married?" he asked. 

Roseleaf closed his eyes, as a terrible pain shot across them. Hewondered dimly why this fellow should delight in uttering things thatmust cause suffering. Gouger deliberated whether to say more, butthinking that he had left the right idea in the young man's mind for thepurpose he had in view, he softly withdrew from the chamber and left thehouse. When Roseleaf looked up again, some minutes later, he was alone. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Weil's hand was grasped feebly by the owner of Midlands, when hecame into the presence of the gentleman. Though completely exhausted Mr. Fern had not been able to sleep. He listened wearily while his callersuggested possibilities to account for his daughter's absence, but couldnot agree that any of them were probable. When the idea was broached ofcommunicating with the police he shrank from that course, but finallyadmitted that it must be adopted, if all else failed. In answer to ahundred questions he could only say that he had no idea of anything thatcould make her absence voluntary. 

"She loved her chosen husband devotedly, " said the old man. "When shehears what I have to tell her she will hold a different opinion. "

"Then, " said Archie, ignoring the latter expression, "she must either bethe victim of an accident, a fit of aberration, or--"

He could not bear to finish the sentence, but the father bowed inacquiescence. 

Lunch was served and Mr. Weil sat down to it, trying by his example topersuade Mr. Fern to take a few mouthfuls. Neither of them had anyappetite, and the attempt was a dismal failure. 

"I leave everything to you, " said the host, as Mr. Weil prepared to takehis departure. "You are the truest friend I ever had, and whatever youdecide upon I will endorse. But I have an awful sinking at the heart, afeeling that I shall never see my child alive. Do you believe inpremonitions? I have felt for weeks that some misfortune hung over me. "

Before Mr. Weil could reply a servant entered with a telegraphic messagethat had just been received. Tearing it open hastily Mr. Fern uttered acry and handed it to his companion:

 "I am alive and uninjured. Look for me to-morrow. --Daisy. "

A gush of tears drowned the exclamations of joy that the father began toutter. 

"Alive!" he exclaimed. "And will be home to-morrow! Ah, Mr. Weil, hopeis not lost, after all. But why, _why_ does she leave me in myloneliness another night? Is there any way in which you can explain thismystery?"

Mr. Weil confessed his inability to do so. He tried, however, to showthe father the bright side of the affair, and bade him rest tranquil inthe certainty that only a few hours separated him from the child headored. When Daisy came home she would explain everything to hissatisfaction. In the meantime he ought to indulge in thankfulness forwhat he had learned rather than in regrets. 

"Go to bed and get a good rest, " he added. "I will make a journey to thetelegraph office in the city and see if it is possible to trace thismessage. If I learn anything I will ring you up on the telephone atonce. And remember, if you do not hear from me, there is a proverb thatno news is good news. Daisy has promised to come home to-morrow. Thisis something definite. An hour ago we were plunged in despair. Now wehave a certainty that should buoy us up to the highest hope. "

Catching at this view of the case, Mr. Fern consented to seek rest andMr. Weil took the next train to the city. Engaging a carriage he badethe driver take him with all speed to Mr. Roseleaf's residence. Notwithstanding the harsh manner in which he had been treated by hislate friend, he wanted to be the first to inform him that Daisy had beenheard from. He was smarting, naturally, under the imputation upon hisown honor, and felt that the telegram in his hand would at least removethat suspicion. 

"I couldn't help coming again, Shirley, " he said, when he was in thepresence of the novelist. "I know, despite the cruel manner you haveassumed, that you still love Daisy Fern and will be glad to hear thatshe is safe from harm. Here is a telegram that her father has justreceived, stating that she is well and will be at home to-morrow. "

His face glowed with pleasure as he held out the missive, but darkenedagain when Roseleaf declined to take it in his hand. The young man hadnot moved, apparently, from the chair in which he had been seen threehours before, and his expression of countenance was unchanged. 

"Does she say where she passed the night--_and with whom_?" he inquired. 

"No. But she says she is well and will return. Is not that a great deal, when we have feared some accident, perhaps a fatal one?"

The novelist uttered a sneering laugh. 

"My God, Shirley, why do you treat me like this!" exclaimed Mr. Weil, excitedly. "I have been your friend in everything, as true to you as mancould be! If I had done the dastardly thing of which you accuse me, whyshould I come to you at all? I could have taken my bride and gone to theother end of the earth. We need not have adopted these contemptiblemeasures. But although I _did_ care for this girl--more than I evercared or ever shall care for another--I knew it was _you_ she loved andI did all I could to aid you in your suit. Have you forgotten how Ibrought her here, as you lay in that very chair, and removed themisunderstandings that had grown up between you? As God hears me, I haveno idea what caused her absence last night! I am going now to thetelegraph office to trace, if possible, the message and find where sheis at present, for I want to relieve her father's mind still more. "

Roseleaf seemed partially convinced by this outburst. He left his chair, and began slowly to arrange his attire before the mirror. 

"If you are sincere, " he said, "I will accompany you. I will also do mybest to discover the resting-place of this young woman. You must remainwith me till she is found. If we do not see her before to-morrowmorning, we will walk into her presence at Midlands together. Do youagree to this?"

"With all my heart!" was the joyous reply. 

In ten minutes they entered the carriage at the door, and were driven tothe station from which the telegram had been sent. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"THIS ENDS IT, THEN?"

There was nothing to be learned at the telegraph office. As near ascould be remembered a boy had brought the message, paid for it andvanished. Only one discovery amounted to anything. The original dispatchwas produced and proved to be in Daisy's handwriting. Roseleaf attestedto this, and he knew the characters too well to be mistaken. 

It was not advisable, in Mr. Weil's opinion, to go to the police, afterthe receipt of this word from the missing girl. It would only add to thenotoriety of the family in case the press got hold of the news. But hedid think it wise to go to see Isaac Leveson and find a man named Hazen, whose reputation as a detective was great. He could rely on the absolutesilence of both of them. The ride to Isaac's was consequently made next, and by good fortune Hazen happened to be in. He listened gravely to thesituation as it was outlined by Mr. Weil, but expressed his opinion thatnothing would be gained by doing anything before the next day. 

"That telegram is genuine, " he said. "It follows that, unless she isdetained forcibly, she will be at home to-morrow. The writing in thismessage is not like that of a person under threats, like one compelledto send a false statement. Your best way is to wait till she comes home, providing it is not later than she indicates, and hear her story. Perhaps it will explain the mystery. If she declines to do this, I willundertake to probe it to the bottom, if you wish. "

Mr. Roseleaf took no part in this discussion. He was becoming convincedthat Archie Weil was innocent of any complicity in this affair, but hewas still disinclined to talk much. 

"Where shall we go now?" he asked, when they came out of the restaurant. 

"To the Hoffman House?" said Weil, interrogatively. "I believe withHazen that we can do nothing to-night. "

Very well, to the Hoffman House they would go. But they had not been inWeil's room five minutes when a boy came up with a telephonic messagefrom Mr. Fern, stating that Daisy was safe at Midlands. 

"Let us return without delay, " said Weil, enthusiastically. "We shouldnot lose a moment in removing this terrible cloud! Come, Shirley, we cancatch the six o'clock train if we hasten. "

Mechanically the younger man followed his companion through the hall, down the elevator and into a carriage at the door. Forty minutes laterthey alighted from the train at Midlands and were soon in the familiarparlor at Mr. Fern's. A servant who had admitted them, stated that MissDaisy had been home about two hours but that she was now lying down. Hewould inquire whether she would receive the visitors. 

What seemed an interminable time followed before the appearance of Mr. Fern and his daughter. When at last they came in together, leaning oneach other, they were two as forlorn objects as one can imagine. Thesight of his sweetheart's woe-begone face smote Roseleaf like a blow. Heregretted to the bottom of his heart the cruel things he had thought andsaid of her. 

"Daisy!" he exclaimed, stepping forward. "Daisy--my--"

He could get no further, for Mr. Fern, with a majestic motion of hishand, waved him back. The presence of the intended bridegroom wasevidently not agreeable to the old gentleman. 

"Sit down, " said Mr. Fern, in a quavering voice, addressing himselfwholly to Weil. "I telephoned _to you_ that my daughter had returned, for I knew _you_ would be anxious. " He bore with special stress on theword "you. " "I--I did not know that you intended to bring--any otherperson. "

The allusion to Roseleaf was so direct, that he could not helpattempting some kind of a reply. 

"Who could be more anxious than I?" he asked, in a tone that was verysweet and tender; in vivid contrast, the old man thought, to his mannerof the preceding evening. "No one has a greater interest to learn whereshe has been these long, desolate hours. "

Mr. Fern abandoned his intention not to recognize the fact that Roseleafwas present, and turned upon him with a fierce glare in his sunken eyes. 

"What right have _you_ to ask questions?" he demanded, pressing thetrembling form of his daughter to his own. "You were the first to doubther--even her innocence--this lamb that would have given her life foryou only yesterday! She has returned to _me_, and henceforth she is_mine_! You could not have her though you came on your knees! You wishto know where she has been! Well, you never _will_! She will not tellyou! It is her own affair. I am speaking for _her_ when I say that wedesire no more of your visits to this house; we are through with you, thank God!"

It would be hard to tell which of the two men who listened to this wasthe more surprised. Mr. Weil felt his heart sink as well as didRoseleaf. Daisy clung to her father, without raising her eyes, and therewas nothing to indicate that she disputed his assertions. 

All was over between her and Roseleaf! Nothing could bring them togetheragain! And she did not mean to divulge the cause of her remaining away aday and a night--that day and night that had been expected to precedeand succeed her marriage. 

Shirley rose slowly. He bent his eyes earnestly on the father anddaughter, and his voice was firm. 

"When one is dismissed, there is nothing for him but to go. I regretsincerely what I said last night, when the horror of this thing camesuddenly upon me. I love you, Daisy, and I know by what you have told meso often that you love me. Are the foolish utterances of a distractedman to separate us forever? Conceive the agony I was in when at the verymoment I was to start for my wedding I heard that my bride could not befound! If I had not adored you passionately would I have been on theverge of madness, saying and doing things without reason and excuse? Iam ordered to leave you, my sweetheart, and if you do not bid me stay Ican only obey the mandate. But I love you more at this moment than ever. All I ask to know is why you made this flight. If your answer issatisfactory there will be nothing on my part to prevent our marriage. "

Archie Weil wished that he could have led this young man aside for justa moment, to show him that this was no time to make demands or exactconditions. He had no doubt that Daisy would explain everything, alittle later. All that was wanted now was a revocation of the dismissalthat Mr. Fern had pronounced. But he could not control the stormy oceanupon which they rode. 

"You seem singularly obtuse, " came the shaking voice of the oldgentleman. "It is not for _you_ to dictate terms. We want to see you nomore. Is not that clear enough?"

It certainly did not seem to be. Roseleaf lingered, wondering if thesewere really to be the last phrases he would hear in that house--in thatvery room where he had expected to hear the words that would make thissweet girl his for life. 

"Daisy, " he said, addressing himself once more to the silent figure, "Icannot believe you have so soon learned to hate me!"

She looked up at the solemn face and then dropped her eyes again. 

"You will tell me where you were?" he pleaded. "It is my right toknow. "

She looked up again, with a wild horror in her features. 

"Oh, I _cannot_!" she cried. "I _never_ can tell you. I never _can_!"

This statement shocked more than one person in that room. Up to thismoment Mr. Fern had only understood, from the disjointed expressions ofhis daughter when she entered the house, that she did not wish to bequestioned at that time. She had also explained to him that she had sentthe telegram to make the coast clear of all except her parent, as shedid not wish to meet others on her first arrival. When he had urged theduty of informing Mr. Weil she had acquiesced, not dreaming that Mr. Roseleaf would be in his company. 

And now the old man felt that there was more in the answer she had giventhan he had suspected--something very like a confession of wrong. Mr. Weil felt this also, though he could not believe Daisy meant anythingvery heinous, and Shirley Roseleaf had a dagger in his breast as hereflected what interpretation might be given to her words. 

"You _cannot_!" he repeated, ignoring the position in which he stood, and the presence of the others. "_You must!_"

Mr. Weil made haste to allay the storm that he saw was still rising. 

"Let us be considerate, " he said. "Miss Fern is not well. She is tiredand nervous. To-morrow, when she has rested, she will be only too gladto tell us the history of her strange disappearance. "

Mr. Fern looked uneasily from his daughter to the gentlemen and backagain. He loved her dearly, and in this new danger that seemed tothreaten her--danger perhaps even to her reputation--he wanted more thanever to shield her from all harm. Whatever had happened she was hischild. She should not be baited and badgered by any one. But Daisy didnot give him time to speak in her defense. She answered Mr. Weil almostas soon as the question left his lips. 

"It cannot be. Not to-morrow, nor at any other time, can I tell you--orany person--anything. You must never ask me. It would merely give mepain, and heaven knows I shall suffer enough without it. Let me say alittle more, for this is the last time I shall ever speak of thesethings. To you, Mr. Weil, I want to give my warmest thanks. You havebeen a true friend to me and mine. I do not mean to seem ungrateful, butI can tell you no more. And as for you, Shirley, " she turned with seteyes to the novelist, "you know what we were to each other. It is allended now. Even if you had expressed no disbelief in me when you heard Ihad disappeared, it would be just the same. I hold no hard feelingsagainst you, whatever my father may say. It is simply good-by. I shallnot remain here much longer. Do not let this make you unhappy any longerthan you can help. Now, you must excuse me, for my strength is gone. "

Daisy had been much longer saying these things than the reader will bein perusing them. They had come in gasps, as from one in severe pain, and there were pauses of many seconds. When she had finished she rose, and leaning heavily on the feeble old man who escorted her, walkedslowly out of the room. 

"Well, this ends it, then, " said Roseleaf, gloomily, following the fairfigure with heavy eyes. 

"No, Shirley, it does not; it _shall_ not!" replied Weil. "There is somedreadful mistake here, and a little time will clear it away. Havepatience. "

The novelist gazed at the speaker with a strange look. 

"I have treated you like a brute, " he said, slowly. "And I have treatedMr. Fern just as badly. My punishment is well deserved. But how can thispuzzle of her absence be accounted for! Of course she would have had tosatisfy me on that point before I could have married her. "

The listener turned giddily toward a window. 

"And yet you talk of love!" he said, recovering. "If that girl had doneme the honor she did you I would not have _asked_ her such a question--Iwould have refused to _listen_ if it gave her the slightest pain totell. "

"I wonder she did not love you instead of me--for she did love me once, "was the sober reply. "You would be a thousand times better, moresuitable, than I. "

There was no reply to this, but the two men walked slowly out of thehouse and to the station, where they took the next train for the city. On the way they talked little, and at the Grand Central Depot theyseparated. 

Lawrence Gouger, who had in some strange way learned the news of MissFern's return, was awaiting Roseleaf in his rooms. 

"Well, I hear the missing one is found, " he said, as the novelist camein. 

"Yes. She is with her father. But the peculiar thing is that she closesher lips absolutely about her absence. She not only refuses to speaknow, but announces that her refusal is final. "

Mr. Gouger hesitated what card to play. 

"When does the marriage take place?" he asked, finally. 

"With me? Never. I have been thrown over. Unless she had explained Icould not have married her, any way; could I?"

The critic said he did not know. It would certainly have been awkward. 

"And what is your theory?" he added. "Do you still lay anything toWeil?"

"No. I am completely nonplussed. But, never mind. It is over. "

Roseleaf stretched himself, and yawned. 

"Do you know, Gouger, I almost doubt if I have really been in love atall. I feel a queer sense of relief at being out of it, though there isa dull pain, too, that isn't exactly comfortable. I told Archie comingin that she should have married _him_. Upon my soul I wish she would. She's an awful nice little thing, and he has a heart that is genuineenough for her. Well, it's odd, anyway. "

Astonishment was written on the face of the other gentleman as he heardthese statements. 

"You have at least gained one point, " he said, impressively. "You havedone the best part of the greatest novel that ever was written. Sit downas soon as you can and finish it, and we shall see your name so high upon the temple of fame that no contemporary of this generation can reachit. "

"So high the letters will be indistinguishable, I fear, " respondedRoseleaf, with a laugh. "Where do you think I can get the heartiestsupper in New York? I am positively starved. I don't believe I've eatena thing since yesterday. If you can help me any to clear the board, letus go together. "

This invitation was accepted, and Roseleaf began making a moreparticular toilet, taking great pains with the set of his cravat andspending at least ten minutes extra on his hair when he had finishedshaving himself. He never had allowed a barber to touch his face. 

"You won't lose any time on the novel, will you?" asked Gouger, anxiously, while these preparations were in progress. "You must takehold of it while the events are fresh in your mind. "

"All right. I'll begin again to-morrow morning, and stick to the worktill it's done. Where shall we go to supper? I'll tell you--IsaacLeveson's. "

The critic could not conceal his surprise at the overturn that had takenplace so suddenly in the young man's conduct. He stared at him with alook that approached consternation. 

"You want to go there!" he exclaimed, unable to control himself. "Youwish to dine with some pretty girl, eh?"

Roseleaf started violently. 

"No, no! Not--yet!" he answered. "We can get a supper room without thatappendix. I wish to be among men as mean as myself. I want to dine in ahouse full of people who would cut a woman's throat--or break herheart--and sleep soundly when they had done it!"

CHAPTER XXV. 

AN UNDISCOVERABLE SECRET. 

The Ferns did not stay much longer at Midlands. Crushed by theirmisfortunes neither cared to remain near the scenes that had made themso unhappy, nor where they would be likely to meet faces which keptalive their grief. The father knew no more than at first concerning thestrange conduct of his daughter. She had told him nothing, and he hadnot asked her a single question. It was enough for him that she wasbowed with a great trouble. His only thought was to mitigate herdistress in every possible way. He was old--how old he had not realizeduntil that week when she changed from a happy, laughing girl, standingat the threshold of a marriage she longed for, to a sombre shadow thatwalked silently by his side. He was the one who under ordinarycircumstances should have received the care and the thoughtfulness--buteverything was altered now. He guided and directed the younger feet, even though his own were faltering and slow. 

Where they had gone no one seemed to know. Archie Weil received onebrief note from Mr. Fern thanking him again in touching phrase for hismany kindnesses, and saying that Daisy wished to add her most earnestwish for his happiness. The letter said they were going away for sometime; but no more. He went one day to Midlands, hoping to learnsomething from the servants, and found the home entirely deserted. Aneighbor told him a real estate agent near by had the keys, but that theplace was neither for sale nor to rent. The agent, when found, could addnothing to his stock of information. Mr. Fern had merely mentioned thathe was going on a journey and asked to have a man sleep at the houseduring his absence, as a precaution against robbery. 

Mr. Weil saw Roseleaf two or three times, but the interviews were sounsatisfactory that he felt them not worth repeating. The novelist toldhim, as he had told Gouger, that he did not believe he had ever reallyloved Daisy, and was actually relieved now that the strain was ended. Nopersuasion could turn him from this statement, which he made rather inexplanation of his present course than as a defense of it. Gouger hadpersuaded him that a love affair was necessary to develop his talents asa writer. Before he knew what he was about, such an affair had beenprecipitated upon him. He had felt its pleasures and pains to theuttermost, and now it was ended. All that was left as a result was apile of MSS. Which the critic pronounced wonderful. It was as if he hadbeen in a trance, or mesmerized. Henceforth he would confine hiswritings to actualities or to poetic imaginings. 

Talking with a man who held these views was not inspiring, to put itmildly, and Archie reluctantly gave up all hopes of making Daisy Fern ahappy woman through this source. He had dreamed of unraveling themystery that surrounded her and placing the young couple again in theposition which, by some horrible mischance, had been so vitally changedin the short space of one day. Though he still loved Daisy with all thewarmth of his nature, Archie had no thought of trying to win her forhimself. She had given the fullness of her innocent heart to Roseleafand he did not believe she was one to change her affections to anotherso soon as this. 

What had happened! What had happened! He thought it over day by day, andnight by night. 

Among the things he did before leaving New York--for he felt that ajourney was necessary for him--was to seek out Millicent. He found theelder sister adamant to every suggestion of love for her family. Shebelieved herself injured by them, and would have nothing more to do witheither. As to the strange affair regarding Daisy she declared she had notheory. She did not think it sufficiently interesting even to try toformulate one. Her time was given to writing, and she had found anotherassistant that quite filled Roseleaf's place. The firm of Scratch &Bytum had accepted her latest novel, as she did not care to haveanything more to do with Mr. Gouger. 

When she mentioned the name of Roseleaf, Mr. Weil looked at herintently, and saw that she uttered it with the utmost calmness. She hadhardened. Her fancied grievances had made her a different woman. She wascynical before, but now she was bitter. He would not have believed thatsuch an alteration could have taken place in so short a time. 

"What is your new book about?" he asked, trying to be polite. 

"Crime!" she answered briefly. "It deals with the lowest of the low. Itsuits the mood I am in. I am writing of things so terrible that theywill hardly be credited. To get at my facts I have to go into the mostdepraved quarters, and associate with the _canaille_. But I am going tomake a hit that has not been equaled in recent years!"

He smiled sadly. 

"Roseleaf had the same expectation, " he said. "And yet he tells me thathe is doing nothing on that wonderful tale over which I have heardGouger rave so often. He has reached a point where he can go no farther, and unless he rouses himself, all he has done is merely wasted time. "

Millicent closed her eyes till they resembled those of a cat at noonday. 

"Keep watch for mine, " she said. "It will be all I claim for it. "

During the winter Mr. Weil was in California. As spring approached hereturned to the East and visited a well known resort in North Carolina, where by one of those curious coincidences that happen to travelers, hefound himself placed at table exactly opposite to Mr. Walker Boggs. Theordinary salutations and explanations followed, and then Mr. Boggsalluded to a more interesting subject. 

"I think I can surprise you, " he remarked, "by something that I learnedthe other day. Mr. Fern and Miss Daisy are living within five miles ofhere. "

It was certainly news, and entirely unexpected at that. Those peoplemight be in Greenland, for all Archie had known, and indeed he hadsupposed they were on the other side of the ocean. He listened withinterest while Boggs went on to say that they had hired an oldplantation house and grounds and were living a strictly secluded life. The narrator had seen them in one of his drives through the country, andhad talked a few minutes with Mr. Fern; but--and he said it with a touchof pique--he had not been invited to visit them, nor had any apologybeen made for the neglect. 

"By George, I thought it rather tough!" he added, "considering the wayyou and I got him out of that nigger's clutches. "

"But you must remember what he has since endured, " replied Archie, mildly. 

"And there's been no explanation, of any sort?"

"Not the slightest. I'd give half I'm worth if I could get a clue. Itworries me all the time. A life like that girl's ruined--simplyruined--in twenty-four hours, and nobody able to tell why! It's enoughto drive a man frantic!"

Mr. Weil did not drive immediately to Oakhurst, which he learned was thename of the estate that Mr. Fern rented, but he enclosed his card in ahotel envelope and sent it there by mail, without a word of comment. Ifthey thought it best to see him he would be glad to go, otherwise hewould not intrude on their privacy. 

Several days after--mails were slow in the South--an answer came. Itbriefly requested that Mr. Weil and Mr. Boggs, if the latter were stillin town, would come to lunch on the following Wednesday. Boggs fumedslightly at the apparent difference made between him and Weil, but endedby going with his friend to Oakhurst. 

Mr. Fern did not look any worse than when Archie had last seenhim--indeed, if anything, he had improved in appearance. Time helps mostgriefs to put on a better face, and though the marks of what he hadpassed through would not be likely to leave his countenance, the utterhopelessness had in a measure disappeared. When Daisy came into theparlor, she also wore a mien not quite so crushed as when she left theroom at Midlands with her words of farewell. Whatever her trouble was, it had not left her without something to live for. Her youth was doingits work, and it seemed to the anxious eyes of the onlooker that timewould restore her nearly, if not quite, to her former radiance. 

In the presence of Mr. Boggs, neither father nor daughter cared todiscuss the past. They talked of the plantation on which they resided, of the pleasant drives in the vicinity, and of matters connected withthe world in general, of which they had learned through the newspapers. But after the lunch was finished Archie found himself alone with Daisy, wandering through the extensive oak forest that gave the place itsname. 

"How long shall you stay here?" he asked her, as a prelude to the otherquestions he wanted to follow it. 

"I don't know, " she replied. "We shall probably go north during the warmweather, perhaps to the White Mountains. "

He suggested that it must be rather lonesome at Oakhurst. 

"Not for us, " she said, quickly. "We are all in all to each other, andrequire no thickly settled community to satisfy us. "

"Daisy, " he said, after a pause, "there are things I must say to you, and I hope--with all my heart--you will find a way to answer them. Inthe first place, do you believe me, really, truly, your friend?"

She placed her hand in his for answer. The action meant more than anyform of words. 

"Then, tell me--tell me as freely as if I were your brother, yourpriest--why you stayed from home that night. "

She withdrew the hand he held, to place it with the other over her eyes. 

"It is impossible, " she responded, with a gasp. "I told you that I nevercould explain, and I never can. "

He looked sorely disappointed. 

"I know no person on earth--not even my father, " she proceeded, givinghim back the clasp she had loosened, "that I would tell it to soonerthan you. I have not given him the least hint. I know it leaves you tothink a thousand things, and I can only throw myself on your mercy; Ican only ask you to remember all you knew of me before that day, anddecide whether a girl can change her whole mental and moral attitude ina moment. "

He drew her arm caressingly through his, and breathed a sigh on herforehead. 

"Not for one second have I doubted your truth!" he replied. "Believethat, Daisy, through everything. But I hoped for an explanation, forsomething that might assist me to punish the guilty ones, for such theremust have been. "

The face that she turned toward him was full of terror. 

"Why do you say that?" she exclaimed. 

"Because--"

"No, no!" she cried, interrupting him. "I do not want to hear you! Wemust not talk on the subject! There is nothing to be told, nothing to beguessed. This must be alluded to no more between us. It must end hereand now!"

Thoroughly disappointed, he could do no more than acquiesce in thedecision, and he indicated as much by a profound bow. Then she changedthe conversation by an abrupt allusion to Roseleaf. When he told her, ashe thought it wisest to do, how well the young man had borne his loss, she said she was very thankful. She had feared that he would suffer whenhe came to his senses, and it was a mercy that this reflection had beenspared her. 

He spoke of her sister, and of the call he had made upon her, suppressing, however, the disagreeable features of her remarks. Daisysaid she had written twice and received no reply. It was evident thatthe separation in the family was final. 

Toward evening the visitors drove back to their hotel, discussing thestrange events that had occurred. Archie Weil did not close his eyesthat night. The love he had tried to suppress broke forth in all itsoriginal fervor. He could not sleep with the object of his adorationfive miles away, so lonely and so desolate. 

 * * * * *

The next day Mr. Boggs went away, and the next after this, a new visitorcarried from the north. On coming out upon the veranda to smoke, Mr. Weil found Shirley Roseleaf there. 

The surprise was mutual. Dying of ennui, Archie was glad even to meetthe novelist. They talked for hours and afterward went to ride together. It appeared that Roseleaf had come south to get material for an articlein the interest of the magazine on which he was employed. 

One night, a week later, Roseleaf came into Weil's room and asked if hewould like to take a moonlight canter with him. Glad of any means tovary the awful monotony Archie accepted, and the horses were soonmounted. Weil noticed that the route was in the direction of Oakhurst, but as he supposed Roseleaf knew nothing of the presence of the Fernsthere, and as the family were doubtless abed at this time, he made noattempt to induce him to take an opposite course. It was a sad pleasureto pass within so short a distance of the roof that sheltered the one heloved best. On they rode, until they were within a mile of Oakhurst, and then Roseleaf drew his animal down to a walk. A little further heturned sharply into a by-path and alighted. 

"What's all this?" asked Archie, stupefied with astonishment. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"I PLAYED AND I LOST. "

Roseleaf did not immediately reply. He busied himself by tying his horseto a tree, taking particular pains to make the knot good and strong. Heapparently wanted a little time to think what form of words to use. 

"I want you to see something that will interest you, " he said, finally, in the lowest tone that could well be heard. "If you will follow myexample and accompany me some distance further I think you will be paidfor your trouble. "

Mr. Weil was pale. He felt certain that this strange visit had beenpremeditated, and that some revelation regarding the Fern family wasabout to be made. The dread of an unknown possibility for which he hadno preparation--affecting the girl for whom he had so deep alove--unmanned him. 

"I have a right to ask you to explain, " he responded. "If your statementis satisfactory I will accompany you gladly. I do not see the need ofany mystery in the matter. "

The younger man drew a long breath and looked abstractedly at the groundfor some moments. Then he spoke again:

"There are subjects, " he said, "that one does not like to discuss. Thereare names that one hesitates to pronounce. If you will tie your horseand go with me, your eyes and ears will make questions unnecessary. "

A momentary suspicion flashed through the mind of the other--a suspicionthat he was being beguiled to this lonely spot from a sinister motivethat boded his safety no good. But it was immediately dismissed, andafter another second of delay, Archie slipped from his saddle andfollowed the example of his companion. 

"Lead on, " he said, laconically. 

Without waiting for a second invitation, Roseleaf began to penetrate thewood. He found a footpath, after going a short distance, and crept alongit slowly, taking evident pains not to make unnecessary noise. They weregoing in the direction of Oakhurst, and in less than ten minutes thechimneys of that residence could be seen in front of them. A littlefurther and Roseleaf stopped, placing himself in the attitude of anattentive listener. 

The silence was profound. A slight chill permeated the atmosphere, butneither of the prowlers felt cold. On the contrary, perspiration coveredthe bodies of both of them. Roseleaf went, very slowly, along the path, till he came near a fence, and then, diverging from it, drew himselfquietly into a thick copse, motioning Weil to follow. Here the leadersank to the ground, with a motion which indicated that the journey wastemporarily, at least, at an end, and the second member of the partyfollowed his example. 

Half an hour passed with nothing to indicate the reason for these mostpeculiar actions. Half an hour that was interminable to Mr. Weil, tornwith a thousand fears as to what it might all portend. At last, however, a faint sound broke the stillness. Some one was approaching. Roseleaftouched the shoulder of his companion to indicate the necessity ofabsolute silence. 

Hardly ten feet away there passed a tall, athletic form, walking with aquick stride, as of one who has no suspicion that he is watched byunfriendly eyes. As the man's face became visible in the moonlight itwas well that Roseleaf had a pressure of warning on his companion'sshoulder. It was almost impossible for the latter to restrain anexclamation that would have ruined everything. 

It was the face of Hannibal, the negro!

Horrified, Archie turned his bloodshot eyes toward Roseleaf. What couldthis strange visit of Hannibal's to that vicinity presage? Did he intendto murder the master of the house and abduct the daughter? What was hedoing there, at an hour not much short of midnight? The terrors of hisprevious imaginings gave way to yet more horrible ones. 

But the mute appeal that he shot at his companion produced no answer, except a resolute shake of the head--an absolute prohibition againstthe least sound or movement. 

Hannibal reached the fence and, without any attempt at concealment, climbed over it into the enclosure where were situated the house andoutbuildings of the Oakhurst estate. He acted like one who knows hisground and has no occasion to pick his way. He went, however, but alittle farther in the direction of the residence. In a place where theshadow of a smokehouse hid him from the possible view of any one lookingfrom the windows, he waited in an attitude of expectation. 

The difficulty of controlling himself grew stronger and stronger forArchie Weil. He wanted to end this terrible doubt--to spring over thatfence, pinion this fellow by the throat and demand what business he hadon those premises at that hour. Roseleaf realized all that was passingin his mind, and kept his hand still on his shoulder, at the same timewarning him by signs that the least movement would ruin everything. Itseemed to Archie, when he thought it over afterward, that he had neverendured such pain. He knew beyond reasonable doubt that Hannibal wasawaiting some one by appointment. Who could it be? That was thestupendous question that Roseleaf might have answered in a whisper, butthat he preferred for some mysterious reason his friend should discoverin the natural course of events. And that course was horribly, torturously slow!

Everything has an end, and the dread of the watcher changed to anotherfeeling as he saw distinctly one of the outer doors of the residenceopen and Daisy Fern's form come out. Without glancing to the right orthe left she walked in the direction where the negro was waiting. For aninstant, overcome by his apprehensions, Archie closed both his eyes indespair. The voice of Roseleaf was at last heard in his ear, a whispernearly inaudible, conjuring him not to betray his presence whatever theprovocation. 

When Archie opened his eyes again he saw that Hannibal stood in anattitude of respect. When the girl approached he bowed, without offeringany more intimate courtesy. Daisy had the look of one who has made upher mind to endure an unpleasant interview and desires to end it asquickly as possible. 

"Well?" she said, in a low tone. 

"I am going to-morrow, " he replied, in a voice that shook with emotion. 

"Yes. "

"And, as I told you, I want to say good-by once more. "

Archie breathed a trifle easier. He could not tell what fears hadcrowded upon him--they were indistinct in their horribleness--but someof them had already flown. 

"You are as cold as ever, " continued the rich voice of the negro, in acadence that was meant to be reproachful. 

"Do you think I could be anything else?" was the quick reply, as ifforced from lips that had meant to remain silent. "Has your conduct beensuch as to make me like or respect you?"

The negro's eyes fell before her indignant gaze. 

"No, " he answered, humbly. "I expect nothing; I ask nothing. I can seemy mistakes now. And yet, it would have been no different had I playedthe part of an angel toward you. The entire question with you wassettled in advance by the fact that my skin was black. "

The pressure on Weil's shoulder grew heavier, from time to time, as hiscompanion realized his temptation to break from his covert. 

"If it had been as white as any man's who ever lived, " replied Daisy, boldly, "your conduct would have earned the contempt of aself-respecting person! A blackmailer, an abductor, a conspiratoragainst the peace of mind of an old man and a young girl who neverharmed you! I wonder you can talk of other reasons when you created somany by your wicked acts!"

Hannibal shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is true, nevertheless, " he replied. "I am a negro. In a moment ofinsanity I dreamed I was a Man! I dreamed I might gain for my wife awoman whose ancestors had been born in a more northerly clime than myown. To gain that end I took the only course that seemed open. Ipossessed myself of an influence that would make her father fear me. Well, I played and I lost--and then, like other players and losers, evenwhite ones, I was desperate. You were to be married to another--a man Ihated. Life had lost its only charm, I could not bear that you should behis bride. My torture was intense. I asked but for death. "

These revelations, so novel to at least one of the listeners, smote himwith terrific force. 

"You asked for more!" said the girl, hoarsely. "You asked for my deathas well as your own. And you wanted me to die in such a situation thatall the world would say I had perished willingly with you. Couldanything more cowardly be conceived! Was anything more dastardly everdevised! It was the morning of my wedding day; my father was waiting forme at home; my promised husband was preparing for the bridal; my friendswere invited to the ceremony. What were all these to you? WithMephistophelian cunning you sent me a letter in another person'shandwriting, saying that, if I would come to a certain address, and payfifty dollars, several forged notes given by my father would be returnedto me. You knew I would respond. You knew I would tell no one where Iwas going, as I did not expect to be detained more than an hour, andthere was apparently the strongest reasons for secrecy. And when I wascompletely in your clutches you gave me the alternative of _marrying_you--ugh!--or of taking the poison you had so carefully prepared. Oh, how _could_ you! how _could_ you, when you professed to _like_ me!"

There was a low gurgle in Archie Weil's throat, that he could notsuppress. Fearful that it might be heard in that dead silence, Roseleafshook his companion slightly. Mingled with his other emotions there nowcame to Weil a stupefied wonder at the apparent coolness of thenovelist. 

"When one is willing to die for his love, it should not be questioned, "said the negro. "I could not have you in life--I wanted you in death. Iwanted the world, which had despised me, to think a beautiful woman hadpreferred to die with me rather than marry a man she did not wish towed. But why should we recall that dreadful day and night? You won thevictory. You, with your superior finesse, triumphed over the African asyour race has always triumphed over mine. I demanded love or death. Youdissuaded me from both. And the next day I permitted you to depart, andsaw vanish with you the last hope of happiness I shall ever feel. "

The rich voice of the speaker broke completely at the close, but thegirl who heard him seemed to feel no sympathy for his distress. 

"Always yourself!" she exclaimed. "Do you ever think of the life youleft to _me_--a life hardly more kind than the murder you contemplated. Before you opened the portals that you had meant for my tomb you made meswear never to reveal where I had passed those hours. Never, no matterwhat the provocation, was I to utter one word to implicate you in thetragedy that had ruined two households. _You_ were the one to beprotected--_I_ the one to suffer! Had it not been for the sacrifice tomy reputation in being found there with you dead--no explanation beingpossible from my closed lips--I would have accepted the alternative andswallowed the poison rather than live to bear what I do to-day!"

Weil closed his eyes again. His brain was swimming. 

"And you are sure, " asked the negro, after a pause, "that you have notviolated that promise? You can still swear that you have never, even bya hint, given the least cause of suspicion against me?"

"Never!" said the girl. "I consider my oath binding, notwithstanding themanner in which it was obtained. You may live in what peace yourconscience allows you, free at least from that fear. "

The negro evidently believed her, for he heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Well, good-by, " he said. 

"Good-by, " she replied. "And--you are not to come again, remember. Thereis nothing to be gained from another meeting between us. If--if you wantmoney--I can send it to you. "

He lifted his head rather proudly at the last suggestion. 

"I do not want any, " he said. "I am not low enough for that. I took thesum from you to go to France, because I hoped--in my infatuation--that Icould make myself something that you would not despise. If I had wantedmoney I could have got thousands out of your father, and I could still, notwithstanding the pretence of those men that they wrote the signaturesI saw him forge. No, I mean to give you back what I had from you, ifever I can compose my mind enough to go to work and earn it. I have noambition. I stay in my mother's cabin, day after day, unable to make theleast effort. Perhaps I can do something--in time. "

The negro took a step away, and then turned, as if unable to go soabruptly. 

"Good-by, " he said, again. 

"Good-by, " answered Daisy, impassively. "I want to tell you, now I thinkof it, where I got that $1, 000 I gave you. It was lent to me by the manyou hated so, Mr. Roseleaf. "

Hannibal did not seem to care for this information. 

"He did not lend it for any good-will to me, " he replied. "I have heard, by-the-way, that he did not mind losing you--this man for whom youspurned a heart that worshiped your very footprints. I believe some dayI'll take a shot at him. "

The girl shuddered. 

"It would be like you, " she said, "if no one was looking, and he did notknow of your presence. I don't believe, with all your claims, there is amanly trait in you. "

The tall form drew itself up and the athletic arms were folded firmly. 

"Take care!" said the red lips, sharply, and the ivory white teethgleamed. 

"Oh, I am not afraid, " replied Daisy. "My maid is watching us frombehind the blinds of my room. I told her my own story about why I was tomeet you, but should harm happen to me the alarm bell would ring out. "

Startled visibly at this information, Hannibal glanced in the directionindicated, and then began to take his departure in earnest. 

"All right, " he said, as he mounted the fence. "Keep your word and I'llkeep mine. But if you play any tricks, remember that's a game for two. "

The men could not arise without startling Daisy, who would undoubtedlyhave uttered a loud scream had they suddenly appeared before her vision. They saw her stand there for at least ten minutes, before she went intothe house. When she was out of sight, Weil crawled into a safer placeand rose to his feet. 

"I am going to follow that cur!" he muttered, between his teeth. 

"To-morrow is soon enough, " was the calm reply of his friend. "I knowwhere he lives. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

ABSOLUTELY BLAMELESS. 

Most men who are by nature excitable surprise their friends on occasionsby exhibiting great calmness. Shirley Roseleaf, who had often beenthrown into the greatest heat by far less important happenings than theone just narrated, seemed a picture of repose as he walked through thewood with his friend in the direction of the horses they had tethered. 

"How did you discover they were going to have this meeting?" asked Weil, nervously. "I am all at sea. "

"I have been on his track ever since the day I was to have beenmarried, " was the reply. "I didn't intend to leave a mystery like thatunsolved. I discovered that the Ferns were living here, and thatHannibal originated a few miles further on. I found that Miss Daisy wasstill a little afraid of him, that he was using an influence over herwhich was to say the least strange. Before I got at the truth I had somequeer misgivings, you may believe. "

Mr. Weil stared at his companion. 

"But how did you learn all this?" he demanded. 

"Oh, " said Roseleaf, with a slight laugh, "I've been in thisneighborhood for two months. They haven't met once but I heard everyword they said. Little by little I gained the truth of the matter. Andto-night, as it was perhaps the last time they would be together, Iwanted you to understand it perfectly. "

Archie frowned at the thoughts that crept in upon his brain. 

"Excuse me for saying that you don't appear to mind it much, " hemuttered. "If you have heard many conversations like the one to which Ijust listened, and could go away without expressing the thoughts youought to feel, you are made up differently from me. "

"That may be so, too, " smiled the other, good-humoredly. "But rememberthat things are changed. I once was a man in love--now I am simply awriter of romance. "

The elder man shivered. 

"Could one be actually in love with a girl like that and then recoverfrom it?" he asked, half to himself. 

"I don't think I ever was very much in love, " was the quick reply. "Butnever mind that. Let us talk of Hannibal. You spoke of going after him. What would you have done had you carried out that intention?"

Weil had not thought of the matter in this concrete form. He had wantedto punish the negro for his crimes against the woman he so dearly loved, against the old man for whom he had such a warm affection. How he wouldhave accomplished this he had not decided. The first thing was to followand tax the wretch with his offense. Subsequent events would havedepended on the way Hannibal met the accusation. Certainly the temper ofthe pursuer would have been warm, and his conduct might have beensevere. 

"I don't know, " he said. "I should have told him for one thing that hewould have to reckon with something more than a weak girl or a poor oldman if he annoyed that family again. In case he had been impertinent Icannot say what I might have been tempted to do. "

"All the more reason for congratulating yourself, " replied Roseleaf, asthey reached the horses, "that you did not follow him. He has promisedto keep away from the Ferns, and I think they have seen the last of him. What is done can't be undone, ugly as it is. Now, " he continued, vaulting into his saddle, "your course is reasonably plain. You mustvisit Miss Daisy soon, let her know that the extent of her misfortune isin your possession, and after a reasonable time, ask her to marry you. "

Archie Weil, who had also mounted his horse, came near falling from theback of the animal at this very abrupt suggestion. 

"That is just what you should do, " continued Roseleaf, without allowinghim to speak. "You are desperately in love. Daisy likes you very well, and it would take but little effort on your part to induce even a warmersentiment. Her father thinks you one of the angels that came down toearth and forgot to return to heaven. She ought not to go through lifealone. Her only trouble is the suspicion that rests on her name--asuspicion she considers herself bound in honor to do nothing to lift. Show her that you know how innocent she is, and you will bring a newlight to her eyes, a new smile to her lips. "

"But, " asked Archie, catching at the straw, "how can I tell her--how canI explain the source of my information?"

Roseleaf laughed. 

"By the novel method of using the truth, or at least a part of it, " hesaid. "Tell her you were out riding and saw Hannibal, and followed him. You needn't count me into it. Why, you've got to let her know, or else Ihave. It's a thing she would almost give her life to have revealedwithout her aid. Go like a man and take that heavy weight off her youngsoul. "

Finally Weil consented. He would not discuss the question of whether hewould afterwards speak of the hope that lay nearest his heart. But hewould go to her, as Roseleaf suggested, and relieve her of the strainthat had worn so deeply. He would go the very next day. The sooner itwas accomplished the better. The more he thought of it the moredelighted he grew that he could carry such tidings. He could make Daisyhappier. That was enough for him--at present. If he could make himselfhappy at a future date--but there was time enough for that. 

He sat upright in his saddle and exulted as his horse bounded nimblyover the ground. Why was it not already day, that he might turn thebeast in the opposite direction! The hours would be very long before thesun rose and he could start on his joyful errand. The sombre hue of hiscountenance disappeared before the contentment that began to fill hisbreast. 

He slept well, notwithstanding the fact that he expected to lie awakeall night when he retired. In the morning, on going down to breakfast, he found that Shirley had left still earlier, leaving word that he hadstarted on a quest for game. Weil did not mind. He had enough before himfor one day. He was going to see Daisy, and he had that to tell whichwould lighten the load she had so long felt compelled to carry. 

He waited until after nine o'clock, feeling that some regard must bepaid to _les convenances_, even on such an important occasion as this. When he was in the saddle he rode as slowly as he could bring himself todo, to make his arrival still later. At last he reached the gate ofOakhurst, and when he had summoned the porter he sent him for Mr. Fern, stating that he had happened to ride in that direction and wanted merelyto make a short call. 

It was but a few minutes before the servant returned, and thehospitable master of the premises came with him. Mr. Fern upbraided Weilfor using so much ceremony, remarking that although he was living in aretired way, there was always one friend he was glad to see. Giving upthe horse, Archie accompanied his host to the house, where the lattersaid he would send at once for Daisy. 

"A minute, " interpolated Archie. "I want a little talk with you first, alone. "

Mr. Fern looked up curiously. He believed he knew what his visitor wasabout to say. He had long suspected the feelings which Archieentertained for Daisy. He knew also that his daughter would consent towed no man, no matter who, while there hung over her fair fame theterrible mystery of her wedding night. 

"I want to tell you, " pursued Archie, before his host could interrupt, "that I have made a great discovery--one of the utmost moment to yourfamily. I know what happened on that day so sad to all of us, and--listen to me, Mr. Fern!--I know that your child is absolutelyblameless in the matter. "

The listener's face grew very white. He understood imperfectly, but itseemed to him that a tale he could not bear to hear was about to beforced upon him. 

"Mr. Weil, " he said, earnestly, "I hope you will not continue thissubject. I do not know what occurred--I do not wish to know. I haveconsulted my daughter's sentiments entirely. She prefers to have theveil unlifted, and I respect her wish. "

The visitor could hardly contain himself for impatience. 

"That has been true hitherto, " he replied. "But Miss Daisy herself willbe more than delighted when she knows I am aware of the entirefacts--which she has been prevented, by a promise extracted from her, from revealing. Call her, let me tell her that I know everything, andhow I know it, and you will see the happiest girl in America. "

Mr. Fern shook his head doubtfully. He was much afraid of doingsomething to injure Daisy's feelings. He could not believe she wanted tohave the trouble that had crushed her raked up by any one. Archiepersisted, however, and his arguments at last won the day. 

"You do not think I would come here with any tidings I did not believeagreeable?" he said, interrogatively. "You know I care too much for--forboth of you--to do that. "

When Miss Daisy was summoned, which she was at last, and Mr. Weil gentlylet drop a hint of what he had to tell, the girl was hardly lessagitated than her father had been. Instead, however, as the visitorexpected, of relying on her natural protector during the expectedrecital, she whispered to Mr. Fern, who obediently rose and let her leadhim out of the room. Presently she returned, and took a chair oppositeto Mr. Weil. Her face was so pathetic, her attitude so entreating, thathe quite forgot what he had come to tell, and leaning toward her, tookher hands in his. 

"Daisy, " he said, "I--I--" and he could go no further. 

"Yes, I know, " she answered, in a low voice. "But there is a reason whyI cannot listen to you. I have told you that before. I ought not even tosay as much as this. I should not even remain in the room while youexplain the least thing. "

He choked down the rising in his throat and hastened, lest she shouldfollow literally the sentiment she had outlined and leave him tohimself. 

"This has all been true, until now, " he said. "You were under a promise, an oath. But--Daisy, last night I heard all that passed between you andyour persecutor, and there is no longer any need for mystery betweenus. "

She gasped, as if her breath was going. 

"You--you heard!"

"Everything. I was within forty feet of you. Are you sorry that theawful cloud is blown away--that your perfect innocence is proved withouta violation of your plighted word?"

For the girl was crying, slowly, without hysteria, crying with both herhands tightly clasped over her eyes. 

"_I_ did not need it, not I, " continued the man, earnestly. "I knew youhad done nothing of your free will that the whole world might not know. But I knew, too, that you would be pleased to have your innocenceestablished. And I was glad for another reason. I love you, Daisy. Ihave loved you a very long time. Your sister was right in that. Had younot shown such a marked preference for my friend I would have done mybest to win you, months and months ago. While you felt that you were anobject of suspicion I knew you would not consent to be my wife. Now, that obstacle is gone and--Daisy--I want you. "

The hands were withdrawn from the tear-stained face, a handkerchief washastily passed over it, and Daisy turned half away from the speaker. 

"You will not refuse, my love, " he murmured, bending again toward her. "You will promise?"

One of her hands strayed toward him, and was clasped joyfully in hisown. 

"But, in relation to that other matter, " said Daisy, some moments later, when the sweet tokens of love had been given and taken, "I must be assilent as before. I have listened to you, but I have not replied. Youcan understand the reason. Never speak of it to me again, if you do notwish to inflict pain. It is something I cannot discuss. "

"I may tell your father, though, " he whispered. 

"It would be best not. He is content now. No, I beg you, say nothing toany one. "

And he promised, like the lover he was, and sealed it with another kisson her pure mouth. 

"I may tell him of--of our love?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes; we will tell him of that together. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

TRAPPING A WOLF. 

When Shirley Roseleaf left the hotel that morning he carried a fishingrod, a rifle, a gamebag and other acoutrements of the sportsman. In hisearlier years, before he ever came to the city, he had been accountedsomething of an expert with these implements. Since being in thiscountry where there was so much to tempt a Nimrod he had made a numberof similar excursions. Although it was some distance to the localitywhere he intended to go the young man did not take a conveyance of anykind. He walked briskly over the road, breathing the pure air of thatearly hour, and whistling in a low tone to himself as he went along. 

Among the other things he carried was a light lunch, for he did not careto break his fast so early in the day. He had, besides, a contrivancefor making coffee and for broiling the fish he expected to catch. Evenif his jaunt lasted till night his physical needs were well providedfor. One would not have imagined, to see his free and easy swing overthe road, that he had anything of greater moment on his mind than towatch for some stray rabbit, or a possible deer track. 

Not less than six miles from his starting point, he came to a smalllake, to reach which he had followed a narrow path that led through thewood. On the shore was a primitive rowboat, or rather canoe, which hehad purchased on another occasion from a native for an insignificantprice. Into this boat the novelist stepped, and after safely depositinghis traps, took up the paddle and used it skillfully. When he hadreached approximately the centre of the lake, he sat down, prepared hisfishing tackle and began to angle for the denizens of the water below. 

With the patience of a true fisherman Roseleaf sat quietly for twohours, during which time he had drawn out but few specimens. The longwalk had, however, given him the appetite he needed, and he now pulledhis frail craft toward the shore, with the intention of lighting a fireand preparing a meal. But even when he had nearly reached land he sawsplinters flying beneath his feet, and immediately after heard a dullsound which showed what had caused the trouble. 

A stray bullet, from some careless hunter, had penetrated his canoe. Thehole was large enough to render the boat useless, for the water began tocome in rapidly. With two more stout movements of the paddle Roseleafforced his craft against the shore and sprang upon dry land. Then hequietly picked up the things he had brought with him, and walked alittle away from the scene. 

"These fellows are getting altogether too careless, " he muttered, as heinspected his damp belongings. "A little more and that thing would havebeen tearing splinters in me. "

Scraping some dead wood together, he soon had a fire started, and thecooking of his breakfast was begun. He went about the workmethodically, whistling again in that low key he had used when on theway from his hotel, and stopping now and then as the noise of a woodbirdor some wild quadruped of the smaller kind came to his ears. He sniffedthe coffee that was boiling furiously and the freshly caught fish thatsent out an appetizing aroma. No meal served at the Hoffman, theImperial or the far-famed Delmonico restaurant, could equal thisprimitive repast, for him. 

Finally, all was ready. Helping himself to a large plateful of thedelicious food, and pouring out a huge tin cup of the coffee, Roseleafsat down as if to take his ease while breakfasting. But, instead oftouching the viands he had been at such pains to prepare, the next thinghe did was to fall prone on the ground. And at the same instant a secondbullet whizzed past him and buried itself with a tearing of bark andwood in the tree just behind him. 

If Roseleaf had laid down with suddenness he rose with no less speed. Ashe sprang to his feet he picked up his rifle. He made a dozen stepsforward, and then, bringing the weapon to his shoulder, cried to someone in front of him:

"Halt, or I fire!"

A human form that had been creeping away on its hands and knees, nowstood upright. It was perhaps thirty yards from the speaker, and when itfaced him he saw that the countenance was black. 

"Don't come any nearer and don't go any farther off, " said the novelist, gravely. "You are at a convenient distance. I can shoot you best whereyou stand. "

The negro looked considerably crestfallen. He seemed doubtful whether tobreak and run or stay and try to face it out. 

"I can't help an accident, " he said, at last, when the other remainedcovering him with the rifle. 

"No, " was the answer. "An accident is liable to happen to any one, theysay. But two accidents, of the same kind, on the same day--accidentsthat might either of them have been fatal if you were not such anawfully bad marksman--are too many. When _I_ get ready to fire, therewill be no accident. "

The negro was plainly uneasy. He cast his eyes on the ground andwrithed. 

"You have dropped your gun, " said Roseleaf. "That was right. It wouldhave incommoded your flight, and its only cartridge was used. You wouldhave had no time to reload. I know that gun very well; I have heard itmany times in the last six weeks. I knew the sound of it to-day when youfired the first time. A rifle has a voice, like a man; did you knowthat? I knew it was your gun and that you were at the end of it. Withthat information in my possession, of course you couldn't catch menapping twice. I pretended to watch my cooking, but in reality I watchednothing but you. There is no need that you should say anything, Hannibal. You could not tell me much, if you tried. "

The speaker examined his rifle carefully, still keeping the muzzleturned toward the person he was addressing. The latter did not seem togrow less uneasy. 

"I spent some time last evening, " continued Roseleaf, presently, "inlistening to a little conversation you had with a certain young ladyliving a mile or so from this spot. That surprises you, does it? Ithought it might. I learned how you had ruined her peace of mind, howyou had artfully contrived to make her appear the opposite of what shereally was. Now, you have tried twice within the last hour to murder me. For this I could have forgiven you. What you did to that young woman is, however, a more serious matter. I don't think anything less than pullingthis trigger will expiate that. "

He placed the rifle to his shoulder again, as he spoke, and glancedalong the sight. The negro half turned, as if of a mind to attempt anescape, and then, realizing the hopelessness of such a move, sank on hisknees and raised his hands piteously. 

"If you have anything to say, be quick!" said the hard voice of the manwho held the rifle. 

Then Hannibal blurted out his story. He told how he had been led, stepby step, to hope that he might rise above his station, until the wildidea entered his brain that he could even make Daisy Fern love and marryhim. He pleaded the disappointments he had suffered, the terriblerevulsion of feeling he had undergone, the broken life he had beenobliged to take up. He did not want to be killed. If allowed to go hewould swear by all that was good never to cross the path of the Ferns, or Roseleaf, or any of their friends again. When his treaties broughtno verbal response he grew louder in his tone, feeling that somethingmust be done to move the deaf ears to which he addressed his petition. 

"If I allowed you to leave here, you would try to shoot me the next timeyou had a chance, " said the novelist. "I should merely be giving my lifein exchange for yours, which I do not consider a good bargain. "

"No, I swear it before God!" came the trembling words in reply. 

"I cannot trust you. "

A slight sound attracted the attention of Roseleaf as he uttered thelatter words. It was the sound that oars make when dipped in water. Witha quick glance to one side he beheld a rowboat, in which were seatedArchie Weil and Daisy Fern, and they were coming directly toward him. 

"Here are some of the others you have wronged, " he said, pointing. "Iwill wait to see if their opinions agree with mine. "

Daisy saw him first, as Weil was handling the oars, and she called hercompanion's attention to him. Archie called his name. 

"Come here!" was Roseleaf's reply. "I have winged a black duck and Icannot leave. "

A few more movements of the oars brought the boat to the shore, and thesurprise of its occupants can be imagined when they saw the tableau thatawaited them. Hannibal was still groveling on the earth, and theattitude of Roseleaf plainly showed the cause of the negro's terror. 

"What has he done?" was the first question, and it was Daisy's voicethat asked it. 

"Let him tell, " replied Roseleaf, nonchalantly. "Tell the lady what youdid, Hannibal. "

With a courage born of his knowledge of the young lady's kind heart, Hannibal now turned his attention toward her. He begged her to pleadwith his would-be executioner to give him one more chance for his life, and reiterated his promises to cease meddling with all of their affairsif this was granted. As he spoke Daisy crept nearer to Roseleaf's side, and when he paused for a moment to gain breath, she laid her fair handon the rifle. 

"You would not kill a fellow creature?" she said, gently. 

"A fellow creature?" he retorted. "No! But a wolf, a snake, avulture--yes. "

She shook her head slowly, while Mr. Weil looked on, uncertain what todo or say. He wanted more than anything else in his life to lay handsupon the cause of all her woes. 

"You have not told me yet what he has done, " she said. 

"He shall tell you, " replied Roseleaf, sharply. "Stand up, Hannibal, andanswer truly the questions I am about to propound to you. "

The crouching figure tottered to his feet. The negro was weak from fear. 

"Did you try twice this morning to murder me?"

"Yes, " replied the shaking voice. "But I was insane with my troubles--Idid not realize what I was doing--I--"

Daisy's slight hand, still on the barrel of the rifle, was bearing itsteadily to the ground. 

"Once, " she said to Roseleaf, impressively, "you told me you loved me!Have you regard enough left to grant me a favor?"

He shook his head. 

"There are favors, " he said, "that are crimes. It is one's duty toexterminate vermin, in the interest of the human race. "

But, even as he spoke, she was having her way. Her slight strength hadtaken the weapon from him. 

Then, with the face of a forgiving angel she turned toward the negro anduttered very softly one word, "Go!"

Glancing at the others to see if he might safely follow this direction, Hannibal disappeared in the thick woods behind him. He walked with anunsteady step. There was a strange lightness in his brain. Some distanceaway he found the boat in which he had come, and entered it, staggeringly. Pushing from the shore with a feeble touch on his paddlehe set out for his home. 

 * * * * *

The negroes who found his body, a week later, could not decide whetherhe had perished by accident or by deliberate intention. The boat was notcapsized, but it was partially filled with water, indicating either thathe had tried to sink the craft or had leaned too heavily to one side insomething like a stupor. When his gun was discovered on the shore, newspeculations were set in motion. 

Those who knew him recalled that he had been moody for a long time--infact, ever since he came from the north. They remembered him as a youngfellow, four or five years previous, not very different from his mates;and they had stared in wonder when he returned with fine clothes andmoney in his pocket. The dislike between him and his old acquaintanceswas mutual. They could not understand him; and what an inferior minddoes not comprehend it always views with suspicion. 

A grave was made near the border of the lake, and the single word"HANNIBAL" was written on the board that marked the spot. But later someenvious hand scrawled beneath it:

"HE WANTED TO BE A GENTLEMAN!"

CHAPTER XXIX. 

"THE GREATEST NOVEL. "

Archie Weil and Daisy Fern were married in June. There was no need ofwaiting longer. It was a case of true love sanctified by suffering anddevotion. The bright eyes and ruddy cheeks of the bride testified to herrenewed health and spirits. The news of Hannibal's death--albeit itbrought a tear to her eyes, had removed the only shadow that stretchedacross her pathway. 

Shirley Roseleaf did not come to the wedding, to which he was the onlyinvited guest. He wrote that an important mission from his magazine madeit impossible to accept the invitation, but he sent a handsome presentand a letter to Archie, congratulating him in the warmest manner. 

For some time Lawrence Gouger had been urging the novelist to hasten thewonderful story that was to make his fortune and give a new impetus tothe house of Cutt & Slashem. They had consulted together a hundredtimes, and the thirty chapters already finished seemed to leave but afew weeks' steady work to be accomplished. Shortly after the weddingGouger went to Roseleaf's rooms, one evening, and begged him to lose nofurther time. 

"What is there to wait for now?" he asked. "All the dramatic incidentshave occurred. You only need to wind up with a glory of fireworks, showing virtue triumphant and vice buried under a North Carolinasycamore. Come, my dear boy, when may I expect to see the workcompleted?"

Roseleaf did not answer for some seconds. 

"There is a part of this story that you do not comprehend, " he said, finally. "A chapter is yet to be written at which you have not guessed. "

"Indeed!" exclaimed the listener. 

"Yes, " nodded the other. "So far the character that is supposed torepresent myself appears that of a heartless, cold, unfeeling wretch. Doyou think I shall be satisfied to leave it that way?"

The critic stared at the speaker in astonishment. 

"I--I do not understand, " he replied. 

"I thought not, " said Roseleaf, soberly. "Well, this story, to betruthful, must do justice to the one who is supposed to personate itsauthor. And, in the first place, to avoid all circumlocution, let metell you there has never been a moment since I first loved Daisy Fernthat she has not been the dearest thing on this earth to me!"

Mr. Gouger could not reconcile this statement with the events that hadtaken place, and his puzzled countenance said as much. 

"I acted like a villain, did I not, " continued Roseleaf, after a slightpause, "when the news was brought that she had disappeared? I seemed tohave no faith in her, no confidence in Archie, no trust in that poor oldman, her father. Why? I was so madly, insanely in love that everypossible phantasy got possession of my excited brain. To lose her was todeprive me of all hope, all ambition, all care for life. So far, I actedmy real self. If what I supposed true had been proven I think therewould have been a murder. Not of Daisy; ah, no! but of the man who hadrobbed me of my treasure. Then I went to Midlands with Archie and I sawher. I heard her speak, and like a lightning flash it came to me. He wasas honorable as a man could be and she cared more for him than for myunworthy self. She had contrasted us and discovered how much he was mysuperior. And I said to myself at that moment, 'I will give her up! Ifit costs me my happiness as long as I live I will give her up! No matterwhat happens, I will unite these people, who have been so faithful to meand toward whom I have acted the part of a cur and a coward!'"

The young man was speaking with perfect composure, but with intenseearnestness. 

"The first thing to be done, " he continued, "was to take myself out oftheir way. The next was to unravel the mystery that had made thetrouble. I knew, when my mind had resumed its natural state, that, whatever had occurred, Daisy was blameless. I knew that something farout of the common line had caused her to commit the act which had cast ablight over her reputation. For weeks I could find no clue. Then, oneday, in the street, I saw Hannibal, the negro for whom she had borrowedmy money and who I supposed was still in France. I cannot help the quicktemper I have inherited, and I confess that the sight of that fellowaroused my suspicions against this girl, only they took a new and morehorrible form. 

"I remembered distinctly what a strong hold Hannibal had on the Fernfamily. I recalled, with frightful distinctness, the manner in which heattended Daisy at table, his interest in her health, the $1, 000 she hadgiven him, her quick movement to prevent my striking him when hisanswers insulted us both. Perhaps--but I will not dilate on the thingsthat came to my distorted imagination. It was enough for me to put adetective on his track. I engaged Hazen, and in three days he came totell me that a white woman had passed the night with Hannibal at a houseon Seventh Avenue, the date corresponding with the one on which I was tohave been married!"

Gouger listened spellbound. It seemed to him that the most excitingchapter of this weird tale was yet to be written. 

"If I had lost control of my senses before, " pursued Roseleaf, "what doyou suppose happened when this information was brought to me? But then Ifound an excuse for my beloved one. I considered her the victim of oneof those forms of hypnotism of which there can no longer be any doubt. She could not have gone there without the demoniac influence of astronger personality. He had charmed her from her home by the exerciseof diabolic arts. My fury was entirely for him. I sought him at once, only to learn that he had left the city a few days before, leavingabsolutely no trace. I could not give over the hunt, however. If he wason the earth I must find him and be avenged for the wrong he had done. It occurred to me that an influence so strong as he had exerted wouldnot be given up. Wherever the Ferns had gone, he would probably befound. I discovered the whereabouts of the family, after a great deal ofeffort, and went to North Carolina. With the patience of a dog and thecunning of a fox I laid in wait for weeks, and one night I saw and heardDaisy Fern and Hannibal in conversation!"

There was no movement on the part of the critic. He sat as still as ablock of stone. 

"When they began to speak I could have sworn that my recent guesses werecorrect ones. It was at about the hour of midnight, and she had creptquietly and alone out of her house to meet this African. But the firstdozen sentences that were uttered gave me a new version of the affair. It was by no mesmeric power, but by a threat of injury to her fatherthat this fellow held her under bond. I learned that Mr. Fern had donesomething--I could not then tell what--which rendered him liable toimprisonment. I learned, also, beyond question--for they spoke withoutrestraint, supposing themselves alone--that, whatever the purpose ofHannibal when Daisy came to his rooms on the day she was to have beenmarried, it had not been accomplished. She was afraid of him, but onlyfor her father's sake. And I discovered beside, though not with perfectclearness, that a promise of secrecy accounted for her refusal toexplain the cause of that absence which had altered the whole course ofour lives. 

"I have said I had watched with patience. I determined to continue mywatch till I understood the entire situation. About once a week they metin the way I have described, and as the next date was always arranged inmy hearing there was no difficulty in my keeping the appointment. In themeantime I learned that Hannibal was born in the vicinity, that he wasliving a hermit life, and that nobody knew of the surreptitious visitshe was paying to Oakhurst. Then one day I heard that Archie was at thehotel, and thinking it time that I let him into the secret I went there, pretending I had just arrived from the north, when in reality I had beenboarding for months five miles away. The rest you know. I was enabled toprove to him as well as to myself what had actually happened. Sincethen justice has been done to us all. "

Mr. Gouger had to speak at last. 

"To _you_?" he asked. "Do you admit that all this is just to you?"

"Without doubt, " said Roseleaf. "I forfeited every right to the woman Ihad insulted by my suspicions. There are certain metals that can only betried by fire. I was placed in the crucible, and found wanting. "

The critic shook his head sagely. 

"You are a regular Roman father to your own delinquencies, " he answered. "But tell me another thing. Would you have shot Hannibal if Mr. Weil andMiss Fern had not made their appearance?"

"I have not the least doubt of it. He was in my eyes at that moment acrawling adder, whose fangs were liable to penetrate the flesh of someone if he was not put out of the way. But I am more than glad I wasspared the infliction of his punishment. "

Gouger wore a strange look. 

"And yet he had one most human quality, " said he. 

"Yes, I admit that now, " was the reply. "In his passionate, barbaricway, he certainly loved. When I revise my novel I shall try to dealfairly with him. "

"And you will finish it very soon now?"

"As soon as possible. "

A month later Lawrence Gouger received at his office a package marked onthe outside, "From Shirley Roseleaf. " He could hardly control hisexcitement until he had untied the strings, taken off the wrappings anddisclosed the tin box inside. It was a square box, just the right sizefor manuscript paper such as he had seen Roseleaf use, and the heart ofthe enthusiast beat high as he took it in his hands. A jewel case filledwith the costliest stones would not have seemed to him more precious. The fame of a new author would soon resound through the world! Cutt &Slashem would have the greatest work of fiction of recent years in theirnext catalogue! And he, Lawrence Gouger, would be given the credit ofdiscovering--one might almost say of inventing--this wonder!

Opening the box, the critic looked at its contents and then dropped itwith an exclamation. It contained nothing but a small sealed envelopeand _a heap of ashes_!

Ashes! Ashes made from recently burned paper!

When he recovered enough to open the envelope, this note was foundwithin:

 "TO LAWRENCE GOUGER, ESQ:--DEAR SIR: Enclosed herewith you will find the novel for which you have waited so long. I hope it will please you in all respects, as I certainly have taken the greatest pains with it. 

 "On reading it over I thought it best to more thoroughly disguise the personality of the characters, lest any of them might be injured by its publication. There was the happiness of a newly-made bride to be considered; her husband's ease of mind; her father's serene old age; her sister's feelings. There was even a black man who had perhaps suffered enough, and a critic employed by a large publishing firm who would not like his true character made manifest in type. In order to protect these people I have applied a match to the pages. You can best tell whether I have performed the work too well. 

 "If this novel does not bring me the fame you anticipate I shall not much care; I have lost some of my ambitions. If it fails to add to my fortune, never mind; a single man has no great need of wealth. 

 "I go to-night on board a steamer which sails for Europe at daybreak. When you read this I shall be on the sea. I have secured a position as resident correspondent abroad for one of the great newspapers. Perhaps I never shall return. Truly your friend, S. R. "

"_The idiot!_" cried the reader, as he finished perusing this letter. "_The imbecile!_ Was there ever such a fool born on this earth!"

Then he apostrophised the heap of ashes that lay in the box before him. 

"There never was and never will be so great a work of fiction as youwere yesterday! And yet a little touch of flame, and all wasextinguished! How like you were to man! Let him have the brain of aShakespeare, and a pound weight falling on his skull ends everything. 

"There was a flood in Hungary last week, in which a thousand people weredrowned. There was an earthquake in Peru where five hundred perished. Avessel went down off the Caroline Islands. Taken all together, they didnot equal to this world your loss. 

"The poet knew what he was saying: 'Great wits are sure to madness nearallied. ' Oh, to think that a mind that could execute your thrillingpages knew no more than to destroy them!

"I will not cast you, sublime ashes, to the winds of heaven! I will keepyou reverently, as one preserves the cloak of a great man, or the bonesof a mastodon. Behold, I close you again in your covers, where the eyeof no mortal shall henceforth behold you. "

With the words the disappointed critic performed the action. And to thisday visitors to his room read with wonder the inscription he has placedon the box:

"_The greatest novel that ever was written. _"

THE END. 

 * * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfullyas possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Obvioustypographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and thelike) have been fixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text arenoted below:

Table of Contents: typographical error corrected

 I. A Rejected Manuscript 1[9]

page 41: possible typographical error queried (not changed in the text)

 would[wouldn't] touch the mooney, maundering mess. It makes my flesh creep, sometimes, to read it. " v

page 106: duplicate word removed

 playing at love with each other, might afterwards find that [that] they were experimenting with fire. 

page 108: possible typographical error queried (not changed in the text)

 arm around her again, checking himself with difficulty from completeing[completing] the movement) "and dull, and wanting in manners, but you are the only young

page 116: typographical errors corrected

 about this matter. She shought[thought] the innocent man at her side had not quite guaged[gauged] the interest that Mr. 

page 118: typographical error corrected

 caught her passionately in his arms, and knew no better way to bring her to consiousness[consciousness] than to rain kisses on her cheeks. As might be expected this

page 126: typographical error corrected

 abilities of Mr. Weil, and he had no idea of dispuing[disputing] the conclusions of that wise guide. 

page 133: typographical error corrected

 "To me? He would not dare?[!] What angers me is the way he speaks to the rest of you. He

page 149: typographical errors corrected

 called the Good side nothing stronger that[than] wines were found on the bill of fare. On the Wicked side every decoction know[known] to the modern drinker was to

page 155: typographical error corrected

 sexes. He half believed that Jennie Pelham and Mrs. Delevan[Delavan] were sitting by his bed, more brazen

page 194: typographical error corrected

 young novelist. More than this, she would have sufficent[sufficient] on hand to send the future amounts that

page 251: typographical error corrected

 Roseleaf waved him back with a sweeep[sweep] of his arm. 

page 278: typographical error corrected

 countenance, the utter hopelessness had in a measure diappeared[disappeared]. When Daisy came into the parlor, she

page 297: typographical error corrected

 came with him. Mr. Fern upraided[upbraided] Weil for using so much ceremony, remarking that although he was