THE BREADWINNERS

A Social Study

New York and LondonHarper & Brothers Publishers

1901

I. 

A MORNING CALL

A French clock on the mantel-piece, framed of brass and crystal, whichbetrayed its inner structure as the transparent sides of some insectsbetray their vital processes, struck ten with the mellow and lingeringclangor of a distant cathedral bell. A gentleman, who was seated infront of the fire reading a newspaper, looked up at the clock to seewhat hour it was, to save himself the trouble of counting the slow, musical strokes. The eyes he raised were light gray, with a blue glintof steel in them, shaded by lashes as black as jet. The hair was alsoas black as hair can be, and was parted near the middle of hisforehead. It was inclined to curl, but had not the length required bythis inclination. The dark brown mustache was the only ornament therazor had spared on the wholesome face, the outline of which was clearand keen. The face suited the hands--it had the refinement andgentleness of one delicately bred, and the vigorous lines and color ofone equally at home in field and court; and the hands had the firm, hard symmetry which showed they had done no work, and the bronze tingewhich is the imprint wherewith sky and air mark their lovers. Hisclothes were of the fashion seen in the front windows of theKnickerbocker Club in the spring of the year 187-, and were worn aseasily as a self-respecting bird wears his feathers. He seemed, inshort, one of those fortunate natures, who, however born, are alwaysbred well, and come by prescription to most of the good things theworld can give. 

He sat in a room marked, like himself, with a kind of seriouselegance--one of those apartments which seem to fit the person like amore perfect dress. All around the walls ran dwarf book-cases of carvedoak, filled with volumes bound in every soft shade of brown and tawnyleather, with only enough of red and green to save the shelves frommonotony. Above these the wall space was covered with Cordovan leather, stamped with gold _fleurs-de-lis_ to within a yard of the top, where afrieze of palm-leaves led up to a ceiling of blue and brown and gold. The whole expression of the room was of warmth and good manners. Thefurniture was of oak and stamped leather. The low book-cases werecovered with bronzes, casts, and figurines, of a quality so uniformlygood that none seemed to feel the temptation either to snub or tocringe to its neighbor. The Owari pots felt no false shame beside theroyal Satsuma; and Barbedienne's bronzes, the vases of Limoges andLambeth and bowls from Nankin and Corea dwelt together in the harmonyof a varied perfection. 

It was an octagon room, with windows on each side of the fire-place, inwhich a fire of Ohio coal was leaping and crackling with a cheerful andunctuous noisiness. Out of one window yon could see a pretty garden offive or six acres behind the house, and out of the other a carefullykept lawn, extending some hundred yards from the front door to thegates of hammered iron which opened upon a wide-paved avenue. Thisstreet was the glory of Buff-land, a young and thriving city on LakeErie, which already counted a population of over two hundred thousandsouls. The people of Clairfield, a rival town, denied that there wasanything like so many inhabitants, and added that "the less we sayabout 'souls' the better. " But this was pure malice; Buffland was a bigcity. Its air was filled with the smoke and odors of vast andsuccessful trade, and its sky was reddened by night with the glare ofits furnaces, rising like the hot breath of some prostrate Titan, conquered and bowed down by the pitiless cunning of men. Its peoplewere, as a rule, rich and honest, especially in this avenue of which Ihave spoken. If you have ever met a Bufflander, you have heard ofAlgonquin Avenue. He will stand in the Champs Elysees, when all thevice and fashion of Europe are pouring down from the Place of the Starin the refluent tide that flows from Boulogne Wood to Paris, and calmlytell you that "Algonquin Avenue in the sleighing season can discountthis out of sight. " Something is to be pardoned to the spirit ofliberty; and the avenue is certainly a fine one. It is three miles longand has hardly a shabby house in it, while for a mile or two the housesupon one side, locally called "the Ridge, " are unusually line, large, and costly. They are all surrounded with well-kept gardens andseparated from the street by velvet lawns which need scarcely fearcomparison with the emerald wonders which centuries of care havewrought from the turf of England. The house of which we have seen oneroom was one of the best upon this green and park-like thoroughfare. The gentleman who was sitting by the fire was Mr. Arthur Farnham. Hewas the owner and sole occupant of the large stone house--a widower ofsome years' standing, although he was yet young. His parents had diedin his childhood. He had been an officer in the army, had servedseveral years upon the frontier, had suffered great privations, hadmarried a wife much older than himself, had seen her die on the Plainsfrom sheer want, though he had more money than he could gettransportation for; and finally, on the death of his grandfather he hadresigned, with reluctance, a commission which had brought him nothingbut suffering and toil, and had returned to Buffland, where he wasborn, to take charge of the great estate of which he was the only heir. And even yet, in the midst of a luxury and a comfort which anticipatedevery want and gratified every taste, he often looked longingly backupon the life he had left, until his nose inhaled again the scent ofthe sage-brush and his eyes smarted with alkali dust. He regretted thedesolate prairies, the wide reaches of barrenness accursed of theCreator, the wild chaos of the mountain canons, the horror of the BadLands, the tingling cold of winter in the Black Hills. But the Republicholds so high the privilege of serving her that, for the officer whoonce resigns--with a good character--there is no return forever, thoughhe seek it with half the lobby at his heels. So Captain Farnham sat, this fine May morning, reading a newspaper which gave the stations ofhis friends in the "Tenth" with something of the feeling which assailsthe exile when he cons the court journal where his name shall appear nomore. 

But while he is looking at the clock a servant enters. 

"That same young person is here again. "

"What young person?"

There was a slight flavor of reproach in the tone of the graveEnglishman as he answered:

"I told you last night, sir, she have been here three times already;she doesn't give me her name nor yet her business; she is settin' inthe drawin'-room, and says she will wait till you are quite at leisure. I was about to tell her, " he added with still deeper solemnity, "thatyou were hout, sir, but she hinterrupted of me and said, 'He isn'tgone, there's his 'at, ' which I told her you 'ad several 'ats, andwould she wait in the drawin'-room and I'd see. "

Captain Farnham smiled. 

"Very well, Budsey, you've done your best--and perhaps she won't eat meafter all. Is there a fire in the drawing-room?"

"No, sir. "

"Let her come in here, then. "

A moment afterward the rustle of a feminine step made Farnham raise hishead suddenly from his paper. It was a quick, elastic step, accompaniedby that crisp rattle of drapery which the close clinging garments ofladies produced at that season. The door opened, and as the visitorentered Farnham rose in surprise. He had expected to see the usualsemi-mendicant, with sad-colored raiment and doleful whine, calling fora subscription for a new "Centennial History, " or the confessed genteelbeggar whose rent would be due to-morrow. But there was nothing in anyway usual in the young person who stood before him. She was a tall androbust girl of eighteen or nineteen, of a singularly fresh and vigorousbeauty. The artists forbid us to look for physical perfection in realpeople, but it would have been hard for the coolest-headed studio-ratto find any fault in the slender but powerful form of this young woman. Her color was deficient in delicacy, and her dark hair was tooluxuriant to be amenable to the imperfect discipline to which it hadbeen accustomed; but the eye of Andrea, sharpened by criticisingRaphael, could hardly have found a line to alter in her. The dress ofthat year was scarcely more reticent in its revelations than the firstwet cloth with which a sculptor swathes his kneaded clay; and prettywomen walked in it with almost the same calm consciousness of powerwhich Phryne displayed before her judges. The girl who now enteredFarnham's library had thrown her shawl over one arm, because the shawlwas neither especially ornamental nor new, and she could not afford tolet it conceal her dress of which she was innocently proud; for itrepresented not only her beautiful figure with few reserves, but alsoher skill and taste and labor. She had cut the pattern out of anillustrated newspaper, had fashioned and sewed it with her own hands;she knew that it fitted her almost as well as her own skin; andalthough the material was cheap and rather flimsy, the style was verynearly the same as that worn the same day on the Boulevard of theItalians. Her costume was completed by a pair of eyeglasses with steelrims, which looked odd on her rosy young face. 

"I didn't send in my name, " she began with a hurried and nervousutterance, which she was evidently trying to make easy and dashing. "because you did not know me from Adam----I have been trying to see youfor some time, " she continued. 

"It has been my loss that you have not succeeded. Allow me to give youa chair. "

She flushed and seemed not at all comfortable. This grave young mancould not be laughing at her; of course not; she was good-looking andhad on a new dress; but she felt all her customary assurance leavingher, and was annoyed. She tried to call up an easy and gay demeanor, but the effort was not entirely successful. She said, "I called thismorning--it may surprise you to receive a visit from a young lady----"

"I am too much pleased to leave room for surprise. "

She looked sharply at him to see if she were being derided, but throughher glasses she perceived no derision in his smile. He was saying tohimself, "This is a very beautiful girl who wants to beg or to borrow. I wonder whether it is for herself or for some 'Committee'? The longershe talks the more I shall have to give. But I do not believe she isnear-sighted. "

She plucked up her courage and said:

"My name is Miss Maud Matchin. "

Farnham bowed, and rejoined:

"My name is----"

She laughed outright, and said:

"I know well enough what your name is, or why should I have come here?Everybody knows the elegant Mr. Farnham. "

The smile faded from his face. "She is more ill-bred than I suspected, "he thought; "we will condense this interview. "

He made no reply to her compliment, but looked steadily at her, waitingto hear what she wanted, and thinking it was a pity she was so vulgar, for she looked like the huntress Diana. 

Her eyes fell under his glance, which was not at all reassuring. Shesaid in almost a humble tone:

"I have come to ask a great favor of you. I am in a good deal oftrouble. "

"Let us see what it is, and what we can do, " said Farnham, and therewas no longer any banter in his voice. 

She looked up with sudden pleasure, and her glasses fell from her eyes. She did not replace them, but, clasping her hands tightly together, exclaimed:

"Oh, sir, if you can do anything for me----But I don't want to make youthink----" She paused in evident confusion, and Farnham kindlyinterposed. 

"What I may think is not of any consequence just now. What is it youwant, and how can I be of service to you?"

"Oh, it is a long story, and I thought it was so easy to tell, and Ifind it isn't easy a bit. I want to do something--to help my parents--Imean they do not need any help--but they can't help me. I have triedlots of things. " She was now stammering and blushing in a way that madeher hate herself mortally, and the innocent man in front of her tenfoldmore, but she pushed on manfully and concluded, "I thought may be youcould help me get something I would like. "

"What would you like?"

"Most anything. I am a graduate of the high school. I write a goodhand, but I don't like figures well enough to clerk. I hear there areplenty of good places in Washington. "

"I could do nothing for you if there were. But you are wrong: there areno good places in Washington, from the White House down. "

"Well, you are president of the Library Board, ain't you?" asked thehigh-school graduate. "I think I would like to be one of thelibrarians. "

"Why would you like that?"

"Oh, the work is light, I suppose, and you see people, and get plentyof time for reading, and the pay is better than I could get at anythingelse. The fact is, " she began to gain confidence as she talked, "Idon't want to go on in the old humdrum way forever, doing housework andsewing, and never getting a chance at anything better. I have enough toeat and to wear at home, but the soul has some claims too, and I longfor the contact of higher natures than those by whom I am nowsurrounded. I want opportunities for self-culture, for intercourse withkindred spirits, for the attainment of a higher destiny. "

She delivered these swelling words with great fluency, mentallycongratulating herself that she had at last got fairly started, andwishing she could have struck into that vein at the beginning. Farnhamwas listening to her with more of pain than amusement, saying tohimself: "The high school has evidently spoiled her for her family andfriends, and fitted her for nothing else. "

"I do not know that there is a vacancy in the library. "

"Oh, yes, there is, " she rejoined, briskly; "I have been to see thelibrarian himself, and I flatter myself I made a favorable impression. In fact, the old gentleman seemed really smitten. "

"That is quite possible, " said Farnham. "But I hope you will not amuseyourself by breaking his heart. "

"I can't promise. He must look out for his own heart. " She had regainedher saucy ease, and evidently enjoyed the turn the conversation wastaking. "I find my hands full taking care of myself. "

"You are quite sure you can do that?"

"Certainly, sir!" This was said with pouting lips, half-shut eyes, thehead thrown back, the chin thrust forward, the whole face bright withsmiles of provoking defiance. "Do you doubt it, Monsieur?" Shepronounced this word Moshoor. 

Farnham thought in his heart "You are about as fit to take care ofyourself as a plump pigeon at a shooting match. " But he said to her, "Perhaps you are right--only don't brag. It isn't lucky. I do not knowwhat are the chances about this place. You would do well to get some ofyour friends to write a letter or two in your behalf, and I will seewhat can be done at the next meeting of the Board. "

But her returning fluency had warmed up Miss Maud's courage somewhat, and instead of taking her leave she began again, blushingly, but stillboldly enough:

"There is something I would like much better than the library. "

Farnham looked at her inquiringly. She did not hesitate in the least, but pushed on energetically, "I have thought you must need a secretary. I should be glad to serve you in that capacity. "

The young man stared with amazement at this preposterous proposal. Forthe first time, he asked himself if the girl's honest face could be theambush of a guileful heart; but he dismissed the doubt in an instant, and said, simply:

"No, thank you. I am my own secretary, and have no reason fordisplacing the present incumbent. The library will suit you better inevery respect. "

In her embarrassment she began to feel for her glasses, which werelying in her lap. Farnham picked up a small photograph from the tablenear him, and said:

"Do you recognize this?"

"Yes, " she said. "It is General Grant. "

"It is a photograph of him, taken in Paris, which I received to-day. May I ask a favor of you?"

"What is it?" she said, shyly. 

"Stop wearing those glasses. They are of no use to you, and they willinjure your eyes. "

Her face turned crimson. Without a word of reply she seized the glassesand put them on, her eyes flashing fire. She then rose and threw hershawl over her arm, and said, in a tone to which her repressed angerlent a real dignity:

"When can I learn about that place in the library?"

"Any time after Wednesday, " Farnham answered. 

She bowed and walked out of the room. She could not indulge in tragicstrides, for her dress held her like a scabbard, giving her scarcelymore freedom of movement than the high-born maidens of Carthageenjoyed, who wore gold fetters on their ankles until they were married. But in spite of all impediments her tall figure moved, with that gracewhich is the birthright of beauty in any circumstances, out of thedoor, through the wide hall to the outer entrance, so rapidly thatFarnham could hardly keep pace with her. As he opened the door shebarely acknowledged his parting salutation, and swept like a huffygoddess down the steps. Farnham gazed after her a moment, admiring theundulating line from the small hat to the long and narrow train whichdragged on the smooth stones of the walk. He then returned to thelibrary. Budsey was mending the fire. 

"If you please, sir, " he said, "Mrs. Belding's man came over to ask, would you dine there this evening, quite informal. "

"Why didn't he come in?"

"I told him you were engaged. "

"Ah, very well. Say to Mrs. Belding that I will come, with pleasure. "

II. 

A HIGH-SCHOOL GRADUATE. 

Miss Matchin picked up her train as she reached the gate, picked up hertrain as she reached the gate, and walked down the street in a state ofmind by no means tranquil. If she had put her thoughts in words theywould have run like this:

"That was the meanest trick a gentleman ever played. How did he dareknow I wasn't nearsighted? And what a fool I was to be caught by thatphotograph--saw it as plain as day three yards off. I had most made upmy mind to leave them off anyway, though they are awful stylish; theypinch my nose and make my head ache. But I'll wear them now, " and herethe white teeth came viciously together, "if they kill me. Why shouldhe put me down that way? He made me shy for the first time in my life. It's a man's business to be shy before me. If I could only get hold ofhim somehow! I'd pay him well for making me feel so small. The fact is, I started wrong. I did not really know what I wanted; and that gravenimage of an English butler set me back so; and then I never saw such ahouse as that. It is sinful for one man to live there all alone. Powersalive! How well that house would suit my complexion! But I don'tbelieve I'd take it with _him_ thrown in. "

It is doubtful whether young girls of Miss Matchin's kind are everquite candid in their soliloquies. It is certain she was not when sheassured herself that she did not know why she went to Farnham's housethat morning. She went primarily to make his acquaintance, with thehope also that by this means she might be put in some easy and genteelway of earning money. She was one of a very numerous class in largeAmerican towns. Her father was a carpenter, of a rare sort. He was agood workman, sober, industrious, and unambitious. He was contentedwith his daily work and wage, and would have thanked Heaven if he couldhave been assured that his children would fare as well as he. He was ofEnglish blood, and had never seemed to imbibe into his veins therestless haste and hunger to rise which is the source of much that isgood and most that is evil in American life. In the dreams of his earlymarried days he created a future for his children, in the image of hisown decent existence. The boys should succeed him in his shop, and thedaughters should go out to service in respectable families. Thisthought sweetened his toil. When he got on well enough to build a shopfor himself, he burdened himself with debt, building it firmly andwell, so as to last out his boys' time as well as his own. When he wasemployed on the joiner-work of some of those large houses in AlgonquinAvenue, he lost himself in reveries in which he saw his daughtersemployed as house-maids in them. He studied the faces and the words ofthe proprietors, when they visited the new buildings, to guess if theywould make kind and considerate employers. He put many an extra strokeof fine work upon the servants' rooms he finished, thinking: "Who knowsbut my Mattie may live here sometime?"

But Saul Matchin found, like many others of us, that fate was not soeasily managed. His boys never occupied the old shop on Dean Street, which was built with so many sacrifices and so much of hopeful love. One of them ran away from home on the first intimation that he wasexpected to learn his father's trade, shipped as a cabin-boy on one ofthe lake steamers, and was drowned in a storm which destroyed thevessel. The other, less defiant or less energetic, entered the shop andattained some proficiency in the work. But as he grew toward manhood, he became, as the old man called it, "trifling"; a word which bore withit in the local dialect no suggestion of levity or vivacity, for LukeMatchin was as dark and lowering a lout as you would readily find. Butit meant that he became more and more unpunctual, did his work worsemonth by month, came home later at night, and was continually seen, when not in the shop, with a gang of low ruffians, whose head-quarterswere in a den called the "Bird of Paradise, " on the lake shore. Whenhis father remonstrated with him, he met everything with sullensilence. If Saul lost his temper at this mute insolence and spokesharply, the boy would retort with an evil grin that made the honestman's heart ache. 

"Father, " he said one day, "you'd a big sight better let me alone, ifyou don't want to drive me out of this ranch. I wasn't born to make anigger of myself in a free country, and you can just bet your life Iain't a-going to do it. "

These things grieved Saul Matchin so that his anger would die away. Atlast, one morning, after a daring burglary had been committed inBuffland, two policemen were seen by Luke Matchin approaching the shop. He threw open a back window, jumped out and ran rapidly down to thesteep bluff overlooking the lake. When the officers entered, Saul wasalone in the place. They asked after his boy, and he said:

"He can't be far away. What do you want of him? He hain't been doingnothing, I hope. "

"Nothing, so far as we know, but we are after two fellows who go by thenames of Maumee Jake and Dutch George. Luke runs with them sometimes, and he could make a pile of money by helping of us get them. "

"I'll tell him when he comes in, " said Saul, but he never saw or heardof his son again. 

With his daughters he was scarcely more successful. For, though theyhad not brought sorrow or shame to his house, they seemed as littleamenable to the discipline he had hoped to exert in his family as theboys were. The elder had married, at fifteen years of age, a journeymanprinter; and so, instead of filling the place of housemaid in some goodfamily, as her father had fondly dreamed, she was cook, housemaid, andgeneral servant to a man aware of his rights, and determined tomaintain them, and nurse and mother (giving the more important functionprecedence) to six riotous children. Though his child had thusdisappointed his hopes, she had not lost his affection, and he evenenjoyed the Sunday afternoon romp with his six grandchildren, whichordinarily took place in the shop among the shavings. Wixham, theson-in-law, was not prosperous, and the children were not so welldressed that the sawdust would damage their clothes. 

The youngest of Matchin's four children was our acquaintance Miss Maud, as she called herself, though she was christened Matilda. When Mrs. Matchin was asked, after that ceremony, "Who she was named for?" shesaid, "Nobody in partic'lar. I call her Matildy because it's a prettyname, and goes well with Jurildy, my oldest gal. " She had evolved thatdreadful appellation out of her own mind. It had done no special harm, however, as Miss Jurildy had rechristened herself Poguy at a verytender age, in a praiseworthy attempt to say "Rogue, " and the delightedparents had never called her anything else. Thousands of comely damselsall over this broad land suffer under names as revolting, punishedthrough life, by the stupidity of parental love, for a slip of thetongue in the cradle. Matilda got off easily in the matter ofnicknames, being called Mattie until she was pretty well grown, andthen having changed her name suddenly to Maud, for reasons to be givenhereafter. 

She was a hearty, blowzy little girl. Her father delighted in hercoarse vigor and energy. She was not a pretty child, and had not aparticle of coquetry in her, apparently; she liked to play with theboys when they would allow her, and never presumed upon her girlhoodfor any favors in their rough sport; and good-natured as she was, shewas able to defend herself on occasion with tongue and fists. She wasso full of life and strength that, when she had no playing to do, shetook pleasure in helping her mother about her work. It warmed SaulMatchin's heart to see the stout little figure sweeping or scrubbing. She went to school but did not "learn enough to hurt her, " as herfather said; and he used to think that here, at least, would be onechild who would be a comfort to his age. In fancy he saw her, in a neatprint dress and white cap, wielding a broom in one of those fine houseshe had helped to build, or coming home to keep house for him when hermother should fail. 

But one day her fate came to her in the shape of a new girl, who satnear her on the school-bench. It was a slender, pasty young person, aninch taller and a year or two older than Mattie, with yellow ringlets, and more pale-blue ribbons on her white dress than poor Mattie had everseen before. She was a clean, cold, pale, and selfish little vixen, whose dresses were never rumpled, and whose temper was never ruffled. She had not blood enough in her veins to drive her to play or to anger. But she seemed to poor Mattie the loveliest creature she had ever seen, and our brown, hard-handed, blowzy tomboy became the pale fairy'sabject slave. Her first act of sovereignty was to change her vassal'sname. 

"I don't like Mattie; it ain't a bit romantic. I had a friend inBucyrus whose name was Mattie, and she found out somehow--I believe theteacher told her--that Queen Matilda and Queen Maud was the same thingin England. So you're Maud!" and Maud she was henceforward, though hertyrant made her spell it Maude. "It's more elegant with an _e_, " shesaid. 

Maud was fourteen and her school-days were ending when she made thisnew acquaintance. She formed for Azalea Windora one of those violentidolatries peculiar to her sex and age, and in a fort-' night sheseemed a different person. Azalea was rather clever at her books, andMaud dug at her lessons from morning till night to keep abreast of her. Her idol was exquisitely neat in her dress, and Maud acquired, as if bymagic, a scrupulous care of her person. Azalea's blonde head was fullof pernicious sentimentality, though she was saved from actualindiscretions by her cold and vaporous temperament. In dreams andfancies, she was wooed and won a dozen times a day by splendidcavaliers of every race and degree; and as she was thoroughly false andvain, she detailed these airy adventures, part of which she hadimagined and part read in weekly story-papers, to her worshipper, wholistened with wide eyeballs, and a heart which was just beginning tolearn how to beat. She initiated Maud into that strange world of vulgarand unhealthy sentiment found in the cheap weeklies which load everynews-stand in the country, and made her tenfold more the child ofdreams than herself. 

Miss Windom remained but a few months at the common school, and thenleft it for the high school. She told Maud one day of her intendedflitting, and was more astonished than pleased at the passion of griefinto which the announcement threw her friend. Maud clung to her withsobs that would not be stilled, and with tears that reduced MissAzalea's dress to limp and moist wretchedness, but did not move thevain heart beneath it. "I wonder if she knows, " thought Azalea, "howugly she is when she bawls like that. Few brunettes can cry stylishlyanyhow. " Still, she could not help feeling flattered by such devotion, and she said, partly from a habit of careless kindness and partly torescue the rest of her raiment from the shower which had ruined herneck-ribbon, --

"There, don't be heart-broken. You will be in the high school yourselfin no time. "

Maud lifted up her eyes and her heart at these words. 

"Yes, I will, darling!"

She had never thought of the high school before. She had alwaysexpected to leave school that very season, and to go into servicesomewhere. But from that moment she resolved that nothing should keepher away from those walls that had suddenly become her Paradise. 

Her mother was easily won over. She was a woman of weak will, moreafraid of her children than of her husband, a phenomenon of frequentoccurrence in that latitude. She therefore sided naturally with herdaughter in the contest which, when Maud announced her intention ofentering the high school, broke out in the house and raged fiercelyfor some weeks. The poor woman had to bear the brunt of the battlealone, for Matchin soon grew shy of disputing with his rebelliouschild. She was growing rapidly and assuming that look of maturity whichcomes so suddenly and so strangely to the notice of a parent. When heattacked her one day with the brusque exclamation, "Well, Mattie, what's all this blame foolishness your ma's being tellin' me ?" sheanswered him with a cool decision and energy that startled and alarmedhim. She stood straight and terribly tall, he thought. She spoke withthat fluent clearness of girls who know what they want, and used wordshe had never met with before out of a newspaper. He felt himself nomatch for her, and ended the discussion by saying: "That's allmoonshine--you shan't go! D'ye hear me?" but he felt dismally sure thatshe would go, in spite of him. 

Even after he had given up the fight, he continued to revenge himselfupon his wife for his defeat. "We've got to have a set of gold spoons, I guess. These will never do for highfliers like us. " Or, "Drop in atSwillem's and send home a few dozen champagne; I can't stummick suchcommon drink as coffee for breakfast. " Or, "I must fix up and make somecalls on Algonkin Av'noo. Sence we've jined the Upper Ten, we mustn'tgo back on Society. " But this brute thunder had little effect on Mrs. Matchin. She knew the storm was over when her good-natured lord triedto be sarcastic. 

It need hardly be said that Maud Matchin did not find the high schoolall her heart desired. Her pale goddess had not enough substantialcharacter to hold her worshipper long. Besides, at fifteen, a younggirl's heart is as variable as her mind or her person; and a greatchange was coming over the carpenter's daughter. She suddenly gainedher full growth; and after the first awkwardness of her tall staturepassed away, she began to delight in her own strength and beauty. Herpride waked at the same time with her vanity, and she applied herselfclosely to her books, so as to make a good appearance in her classes. She became the friend instead of the vassal of Azalea, and by slowdegrees she found their positions reversed. Within a year, it seemedperfectly natural to Maud that Azalea should do her errands and talk toher about her eyes; and Miss Windom found her little airs ofsuperiority of no avail in face of the girl who had grown prettier, cleverer, and taller than herself. It made no difference that Maud wasstill a vulgar and ignorant girl--for Azalea was not the person toperceive or appreciate these defects. She saw her, with mute wonder, blooming out before her very eyes, from a stout, stocky, frowzy child, with coarse red cheeks and knuckles like a bootblack, into a tall, slender girl, whose oval face was as regular as a conic section, andwhose movements were as swift, strong, and graceful, when she forgotherself, as those of a race-horse. There were still the ties of habitand romance between them. Azalea, whose brother was a train-boy on theLake Shore road, had a constant supply of light literature, which thegirls devoured in the long intervals of their studies. But even theromance of Miss Matchin had undergone a change. While Azalea stilldreamed of dark-eyed princes, lords of tropical islands, and fierce andtender warriors who should shoot for her the mountain eagle for hisplumes, listen with her to the bulbul's song in valleys of roses, orhew out a throne for her in some vague and ungeographical empire, thereveries of Miss Maud grew more and more mundane and reasonable. Shewas too strong and well to dream much; her only visions were of a richman who should love her for her fine eyes. She would meet him in somesimple and casual way; he would fall in love at sight, and speedilyprosper in his wooing; they would be married, --privately, for Maudblushed and burned to think of her home at such times, --and then theywould go to New York to live. She never wasted conjecture on the age, the looks, the manner of being of this possible hero. Her mindintoxicated itself with the thought of his wealth. She went one day tothe Public Library to read the articles on Rothschild and Astor in theencyclopedias. She even tried to read the editorial articles on goldand silver in the Ohio papers. 

She delighted in the New York society journals. She would pore forhours over those wonderful columns which described the weddings and thereceptions of rich tobacconists and stock-brokers, with lists of nameswhich she read with infinite gusto. At first, all the names were thesame to her, all equally worshipful and happy in being printed, blackon white, in the reports of these upper-worldly banquets. But after awhile her sharp intelligence began to distinguish the grades of ourrepublican aristocracy, and she would skip the long rolls of obscureguests who figured at the: "coming-out parties" of thrifty shop-keepersof fashionable ambition, to revel among the genuine swells whosefathers were shop-keepers. The reports of the battles of the Polo Clubfilled her with a sweet intoxication. She knew the names of thecombatants by heart, and had her own opinion as to the comparativeeligibility of Billy Buglass and Tim Blanket, the young men most inview at that time in the clubs of the metropolis. 

Her mind was too much filled with interests of this kind to leave anygreat room for her studies. She had pride enough to hold her place inher classes, and that was all. She learned a little music, a littledrawing, a little Latin, and a little French--the French of"Stratford-atte-Bowe, " for French of Paris was not easy of attainmentat Buffland. This language had an especial charm for her, as itseemed a connecting link with that elysium of fashion of which herdreams were full. She once went to the library and asked for "a niceFrench book. " They gave her "La Petite Fadette. " She had read ofGeorge Sand in newspapers, which had called her a "corrupter ofyouth. " She hurried home with her book, eager to test its corruptingqualities, and when, with locked doors and infinite labor, she hadmanaged to read it, she was greatly disappointed at finding in itnothing to admire and nothing to shudder at. "How could such a smartwoman as that waste her time writing about a lot of peasants, poor ascrows, the whole lot!" was her final indignant comment. 

By the time she left the school her life had become almost as solitaryas that of the bat in the fable, alien both to bird and beast. She madeno intimate acquaintances there; her sordid and selfish dreams occupiedher too completely. Girls who admired her beauty were repelled by herheartlessness, which they felt, but could not clearly define. EvenAzalea fell away from her, having found a stout and bald-headed railwayconductor, whose adoration made amends for his lack of romance. Maudknew she was not liked in the school, and being, of course, unable toattribute it to any fault of her own, she ascribed it to the fact thather father was a mechanic and poor. This thought did not tend to makeher home happier. She passed much of her time in her own bedroom, looking out of her window on the lake, weaving visions of ignoblewealth and fashion out of the mists of the morning sky and the purpleand gold that made the north-west glorious at sunset. When she sat withher parents in the evening, she rarely spoke. If she was not gazing inthe fire, with hard bright eyes and lips, in which there was only thesoftness of youth, but no tender tremor of girlhood's dreams, she wasreading her papers or her novels with rapt attention. Her mother wasproud of her beauty and her supposed learning, and loved, when shelooked up from her work, to let her eyes rest upon her tall andhandsome child, whose cheeks were flushed with eager interest as shebent her graceful head over her book. But Saul Matchin nourished avague anger and jealousy against her. He felt that his love was nothingto her; that she was too pretty and too clever to be at home in hispoor house; and yet he dared not either reproach her or appeal to heraffections. His heart would fill with grief and bitterness as he gazedat her devouring the brilliant pages of some novel of what she imaginedhigh life, unconscious of his glance, which would travel from herneatly shod feet up to her hair, frizzed and banged down to hereyebrows, "making her look, " he thought, "more like a Scotch poodle-dogthan an honest girl. " He hated those books which, he fancied, stoleaway her heart from her home. He had once picked up one of them whereshe had left it; but the high-flown style seemed as senseless to him asthe words of an incantation, and he had flung it down more bewilderedthan ever. He thought there must be some strange difference betweentheir minds when she could delight in what seemed so uncanny to him, and he gazed at her, reading by the lamp-light, as over a great gulf. Even her hands holding the book made him uneasy; for since she hadgrown careful of them, they were like no hands he had ever seen on anyof his kith and kin. The fingers were long and white, and the nailswere shaped like an almond, and though the hands lacked delicacy at thearticulations, they almost made Matchin reverence his daughter as hissuperior, as he looked at his own. 

One evening, irritated by the silence and his own thoughts, he criedout with a sudden suspicion:

"Where do you git all them books, and what do they cost?"

She turned her fine eyes slowly upon him and said:

"I get them from the public library, and they cost nothing. "

He felt deeply humiliated that he should have made a blunder soridiculous and so unnecessary. 

After she had left the school--where she was graduated as near aspossible to the foot of the class--she was almost alone in the world. She rarely visited her sister, for the penury of the Wixham householdgrated upon her nerves, and she was not polite enough to repress herdisgust at the affectionate demonstrations of the Wixham babies. "There, there! get along, you'll leave me not fit to be seen!" shewould say, and Jurilda would answer in that vicious whine oflight-haired women, too early overworked and overprolific: "Yes, honey, let your aunt alone. She's too tiffy for poor folks like us";and Maud would go home, loathing her lineage. 

The girls she had known in her own quarter were by this time earningtheir own living: some in the manufactories, in the lighter forms ofthe iron trade, some in shops, and a few in domestic service. Theselast were very few, for the American blood revolts against this easiestand best-paid of all occupations, and leaves it to more sensibleforeigners. The working bees were clearly no company for this poorwould-be butterfly. They barely spoke when they met, kept asunder by amutual embarrassment. One girl with whom she had played as a child hadearly taken to evil courses. Her she met one day in the street, and thebedraggled and painted creature called her by her name. 

"How dare you?" said Maud, shocked and frightened. 

"All right!" said the shameless woman. "You looked so gay, I didn'tknow. "

Maud, as she walked away, hardly knew whether to be pleased or not. "She saw I looked like a lady, and thought I could not be one honestly. I'll show them!"

She knew as few men as women. She sometimes went to the socialgatherings affected by her father's friends, Odd Fellows' and Druids'balls and the festivities with which the firemen refreshed themselvesafter their toils and dangers. But her undeniable beauty gained her nosuccess. She seemed to take pains to avoid pleasing the youngcarpenters, coachmen, and journeyman printers she met on theseoccasions. With her head full of fantastic dreams, she imaginedherself a mere visitor at these simple entertainments of the commonpeople, and criticised the participants to herself with kindly sarcasm. If she ever consented to dance, it was with the air with which shefancied a duchess might open a ball of her servants. Once, in a roundgame at a "surprise" party, it came her turn to be kissed by a youngblacksmith, who did his duty in spite of her struggles with strong armsand a willing heart. Mr. Browning makes a certain queen, mourning overher lofty loneliness, wish that some common soldier would throw downhis halberd and clasp her to his heart. It is doubtful if she wouldreally have liked it better than Miss Maud did, and she was furious asa young lioness. She made herself so disagreeable about it that sheceased to be invited to those lively entertainments; and some of themost eligible of the young "Cariboos"--a social order of a secret andmysterious rite, which met once a week in convenient woodsheds andstable-lofts--took an oath with hands solemnly clasped in the intricategrip of the order, that "they would never ask Miss Matchin to go toparty, picnic, or sleigh-ride, as long as the stars gemmed the bluevault of heaven, " from which it may be seen that the finer sentimentsof humanity were not unknown to the Cariboos. 

Maud came thus to be eighteen, and though she was so beautiful and soshapely that no stranger ever saw her without an instant of gladadmiration, she had had no suitor but one, and from him she neverallowed a word of devotion. Samuel Sleeny, a carpenter who worked withher father, and who took his meals with the family, had fallen in lovewith her at first sight, and, after a year of dumb hopelessness, hadbeen so encouraged by her father's evident regard that he had openedhis heart to Saul and had asked his mediation. Matchin undertook thetask with pleasure. Pie could have closed his eyes in peace if he hadseen his daughter married to so decent a man and so good a joiner asSleeny. But the interview was short and painful to Matchin. He left hisdaughter in possession of the field, and went to walk by the lake shoreto recover his self-possession, which had given way beneath her firmwill and smiling scorn. When he returned to the shop Sleeny was there, sitting on a bench and chewing pine shavings. 

"What did she say?" asked the young fellow. "But never mind--I seeplain enough it's no use. She's too good for me, and she knows it. "

"Too good!" roared Saul. "She's the golderndest----"

"Hold on there, " said Sleeny. "Don't say nothin' you'll have to takeback. Ef you say anything ag'in her, you'll have to swaller it, or whipme. "

Saul looked at him with amazement. 

"Well! you beat me, the pair of you! You're crazy to want her, andshe's crazy not to want you. She liked to a' bit my head off forperposin' you, and you want to lick me for calling her a fool. "

"She ain't no fool, " said Sleeny with sullen resignation; "she knowswhat she's about, " and lie picked up another shaving and ruminated uponit. 

The old man walked to and fro, fidgeting with his tools. At last hecame back to the young man and said, awkwardly dusting the bench withhis hand:

"Sam, you wasn't 'lowin' to leave along o' this here foolishness?"

"That's just what I was 'lowin' to do, sir. "

"Don't you be a dern fool, Sam!" and Saul followed up this judiciousexhortation with such cogent reasons that poor Sleeny was glad to bepersuaded that his chance was not over yet, and that he would muchbetter stay where he was. 

"How'll _she_ like it?"

"Oh! it won't make a mite o' difference to her, " said the old manairily, and poor Sam felt in his despondent heart that it would not. 

He remained and became like the least of her servants. She valued hisattachment much as a planter valued the affection of his slaves, knowing they would work the better for it. He did all her errands;fetched and carried for her; took her to church on evenings when shedid not care to stay at home. One of the few amusements Saul Matchinindulged in was that of attending spiritualist lectures and seances, whenever a noted medium visited the place. Saul had been an unbelieverin his youth, and this grotesque superstition had rushed in at thefirst opportunity to fill the vacuum of faith in his mind. He had neversucceeded, however, in thoroughly indoctrinating his daughter. Sheregarded her father's religion with the same contempt she bestowed uponthe other vulgar and narrow circumstances of her lot in life, and sohad preferred her mother's sober Presbyterianism to the new and rawcreed of her sire. But one evening, when she was goaded by more thanusual restlessness, Sleeny asked her if she would go with him to a"sperritual lectur. " To escape from her own society, she accepted, andthe wild, incoherent, and amazingly fluent address she heard excitedher interest and admiration. After that, she often asked him to takeher, and in the long walk to and from the Harmony Hall, where thelong-haired brotherhood held their sessions, a sort of confidentialrelation grew up between them, which meant nothing to Maud, but boundthe heart of Sleeny in chains of iron. Yet he never dared say a word ofthe feeling that was consuming him. He feared he should lose herforever, if he opened his lips. 

Of course, she was not at ease in this life of dreamy idleness. It didnot need the taunts of her father to convince her that she ought to bedoing something for herself. Her millionaire would never come down tothe little house on Dean Street to find her, and she had conscienceenough to feel that she ought to earn her own clothes. She tried tomake use of the accomplishments she had learned at school, but wasastonished to find how useless they were. She made several attempts tobe a teacher, but it was soon found that her high-school diplomacovered a world of ignorance, and no board, however indulgent, wouldaccept her services. She got a box of colors, and spoiled many fans anddisfigured many pots by decorations which made the eyes of the beholderache; nobody would buy them, and poor Maud had no acquaintances to whomshe might give them away. So they encumbered the mantels and tables ofher home, adding a new tedium to the unhappy household. She answeredthe advertisements of several publishing companies, and obtainedagencies for the sale of subscription books. But her face was not hardenough for this work. She was not fluent enough to persuade theundecided, and she was too proud to sue _in forma pauperis_; she hadnot the precious gift of tears, by which the travelling she-merchantsells so many worthless wares. The few commissions she gained hardlypaid for the wear and tear of her high-heeled boots. 

One day at the public library she was returning a novel she had read, when a gentleman came out of an inner room and paused to speak to thelibrarian's assistant, with whom Maud was at the moment occupied--agirl whom she had known at school, and with whom she had renewedacquaintance in this way. It was about a matter of the administrationof the library, and only a few words were exchanged. He then bowed toboth the ladies, and went out. 

"Who was that?" Maud asked. 

"Don't you know?" rejoined the other. "I thought everybody knew theelegant Captain Farnham. He is president of our board, you know, and heis just lovely. I always manage to stop him as he leaves a boardmeeting and get a word or two out of him. It's worth the trouble if Ionly get a bow. "

"I should think so, " assented Maud. "He is as sweet as a peach. Isthere any chance of getting one of those places? I should like todivide those bows with you. "

"That would be perfectly splendid, " said her friend, who was agood-natured girl. "Come, I will introduce you to the old Doctornow. "

And in a moment Maud was in the presence of the librarian. 

She entered at a fortunate moment. Dr. Buchlieber was a near-sightedold gentleman who read without glasses, but could see nothing six feetaway. He usually received and dismissed his visitors without botheringhimself to discover or imagine what manner of people they were. "I donot care how they look, " he would say. "They probably look as theytalk, without form and void. " But at the moment when Maud entered hislittle room, he had put on his lenses to look out of the window, and heturned to see a perfect form in a closely fit ting dress, and a facepretty enough to look on with a critical pleasure. He received herkindly, and encouraged her to hope for an appointment, and it was inaccordance with his suggestion that she called upon Farnham, as we haverelated. 

She did not go immediately. She took several days to prepare what shecalled "a harness" of sufficient splendor, and while she was at workupon it she thought of many things. She was not even yet quite surethat she wanted a place in the library. The Doctor had been very kind, but he had given her clearly to understand that the work required ofher would be severe, and the pay very light. She had for a long timethought of trying to obtain a clerkship at Washington, --perhaps Farnhamwould help her to that, --and her mind wandered off among thepossibilities of chance acquaintance with bachelor senators anddiplomats. But the more she thought of the coming interview, the moreher mind dwelt upon the man himself whom she was going to see--his bowand his smile, his teeth and his mustache, and the perfect fit of hisclothes. One point in regard to him was still vague in her mind, and asto that her doubts were soon resolved. One evening she said to herfather:

"Did you ever see Captain Farnham?"

"Now, what a foolish question that is I'd like to know who built hisgreenhouses, ef I didn't?"

"He is pretty well off, ain't he?"

Saul laughed with that satisfied arrogance of ignorant men when theyare asked a question they can answer easily. 

"I rather guess he is; that is, ef you call three, four, five millionswell off. I don't know how it strikes you" (with a withering sarcasm), "but _I_ call Arthur Farnham pretty well fixed. "

These words ran in Maud's brain with a ravishing sound. She built uponthem a fantastic palace of mist and cloud. When at last her dress wasfinished and she started, after three unsuccessful attempts, to walk toAlgonquin Avenue, she was in no condition to do herself simple justice. She hardly knew whether she wanted a place in the library, a clerkshipat Washington, or the post of amanuensis to the young millionaire. Shewas confused by his reception of her; his good-natured irony made herfeel ill at ease; she was nervous and flurried; and she felt, as shewalked away, that the battle had gone against her. 

III. 

THE WIDOW AND HER DAUGHTER. 

Mrs. Belding's house was next to that of Mr. Farnham, and theneighborly custom of Algonquin Avenue was to build no middle walls ofpartition between adjoining lawns. A minute's walk, therefore, broughtthe young man to the door of Mrs. Belding's cottage. She called it acottage, and so we have no excuse for calling it anything else, thoughit was a big three-storied house, built of the soft creamy stone of theBuffland quarries, and it owed its modest name to an impression in thelady's mind that gothic gables and dormer windows were a necessaryadjunct of cottages. She was a happy woman, though she would have beengreatly surprised to hear herself so described. She had not been out ofmourning since she was a young girl. Her parents, as she sometimessaid, "had put her into black"; and several children had died ininfancy, one after the other, until at last her husband, JairusBelding, the famous bridge-builder, had perished of a malarial fevercaught in the swamps of the Wabash, and left her with one daughter anda large tin box full of good securities. She never afterward alteredthe style of her dress, and she took much comfort in feeling free fromall further allegiance to milliners. In fact, she had a nature whichwas predisposed to comfort. She had been fond of her husband, but shehad been a little afraid of him, and, when she had wept her grief intotranquillity, she felt a certain satisfaction in finding herself theabsolute mistress of her income and her bedroom. Her wealth made herthe object of matrimonial ambition once or twice, and she hadsufficient beauty to flatter herself that she was loved more for hereyes than her money; but she refused her suitors with an indolentgood-nature that did not trouble itself with inquiries as to theirsincerity. "I have been married once, thank you, and that is enough";this she said simply without sighing or tears. Perhaps the unluckyaspirant might infer that her heart was buried in the grave of Jairus. But the sober fact was that she liked her breakfast at her own hours. Attached to the spacious sleeping-room occupied in joint tenancy byherself and the bridge-builder were two capacious closets. After thefuneral of Mr. Belding, she took possession of both of them, hangingher winter wardrobe in one and her summer raiment in the other, andshe had never met a man so fascinating as to tempt her to give up tohim one of these rooms. 

She was by no means a fool. Like many easy-going women, she had anenlightened selfishness which prompted her to take excellent care ofher affairs. As long as old Mr. Farnham lived, she took his adviceimplicitly in regard to her investments, and after his death shetransferred the same unquestioning confidence to his grandson and heir, although he was much younger than herself and comparativelyinexperienced in money matters. It seemed to her only natural that someof the Farnham wisdom should have descended with the Farnham millions. There was a grain of good sense in this reasoning, founded as it wasupon her knowledge of Arthur's good qualities; for upon a man who isneither a sot nor a gambler the possession of great wealth almostalways exercises a sobering and educating influence. So, whenever Mrs. Belding was in doubt in any matter of money, she asked Arthur to dinewith her, and settle the vexing questions somewhere between the soupand the coffee. It was a neighborly service, freely asked and willinglyrendered. 

As Farnham entered the widow's cosey library, he saw a lady sitting bythe fire whom he took to be Mrs. Belding; but as she rose and made astep toward him, he discovered that she was not in mourning. The quicktwilight was thickening into night, and the rich glow of the namingcoal in the grate, deepening the shadows in the room, while itprevented him from distinguishing the features of her face, showed hima large full form with a grace of movement which had something even ofmajesty in it. 

"I see you have forgotten me, " said a voice as rich and full as theform from which it came. "I am Alice Belding. "

"Of course you are, and you have grown as big and beautiful as youthreatened to, " said Farnham, taking both the young girl's hands inhis, and turning until she faced the fire-light. It was certainly abonny face which the red light shone upon, and quite uncommon in itsbeauty. The outline was very pure and noble; the eyes were dark-brownand the hair was of tawny gold, but the complexion was of that clearand healthy pallor so rarely met with among blonde women. The finestthing about her face was its expression of perfect serenity. Even now, as she stood looking at Farnham, with her hands in his, her cheekflushed a little with the evident pleasure of the meeting, she receivedhis gaze of unchecked admiration with a smile as quiet and unabashed asthat of a mother greeting a child. 

"Well, well!" said Farnham, as they seated themselves, "how long has ittaken you to grow to that stature? When did I see you last?"

"Two years ago, " she answered, in that rich and gentle tone which was adelight to the ear. "I was at home last summer, but you were away--inGermany, I think. "

"Yes, and we looked for you in vain at Christmases and Thanksgivings. "

"Mamma came so often to New York that there seemed no real necessity ofmy coming home until I came for good. I had so much to learn, you know. I was quite old and very ignorant when I started away. "

"And you have come back quite young and very learned, I dare say. "

She laughed a little, and her clear and quiet laugh was as pleasant asher speech. 

Mrs. Belding came in with gliding footsteps and cap-strings gentlyfluttering. 

"Why, you are all in the dark! Arthur, will you please light thatburner nearest you?"

In the bright light Miss Alice looked prettier than ever; the jet ofgas above her tinged her crisp hair with a lustre of twisted gold wireand threw tangled shadows upon her low smooth forehead. 

"We have to thank Madame de Veaudrey for sending us back a fine youngwoman, " said Farnham. 

"Yes, she _is_ improved, " the widow assented calmly. "I must show youthe letter Madame de Veaudrey wrote me. Alice is first in languages, first----"

"In peace, and first in the hearts of her countrywomen, " interruptedMiss Alice, not smartly, but with smiling firmness. "Let Mr. Farnhamtake the rest of my qualities for granted, please. "

"There will be time enough for you two to get acquainted. But thisevening I wanted to talk to you about something more important. The'Tribune' money article says the Dan and Beersheba Railroad is notreally earning its dividends. What am I to do about that, I should liketo know?"

"Draw your dividends, with a mind conscious of rectitude, though thedirectors rage and the 'Tribune' imagine a vain thing, " Farnhamanswered, and the talk was of stocks and bonds for an hour afterward. 

When dinner was over, the three were seated again in the library. Thefinancial conversation had run its course, and had perished amid thearid sands of reference to the hard times and the gloomy prospects ofreal estate. Miss Alice, who took no part in the discussion, wasreading the evening paper, and Farnham was gratifying his eyes bygazing at the perfect outline of her face, the rippled hair over thestraight brows, and the stout braids that hung close to the gracefulneck in the fashion affected by school-girls at that time. 

A servant entered and handed a card to Alice. She looked at it andpassed it to her mother. 

"It is Mr. Furrey, " said the widow. "He has called upon _you_. "

"I suppose he may come in here?" Alice said, without rising. 

Her mother looked at her with a mute inquiry, but answered in aninstant, "Certainly. "

When Mr. Furrey entered, he walked past Mrs. Belding to greet herdaughter, with profuse expressions of delight at her return, "of whichhe had just heard this afternoon at the bank; and although he was goingto a party this evening, he could not help stopping in to welcome herhome. " Miss Alice said "Thank you, " and Mr. Furrey turned to shakehands with her mother. 

"You know my friend Mr. Farnham?"

"Yes, ma'am--that is, I see him often at the bank, but I am glad to owethe pleasure of his acquaintance to you. "

The men shook hands. Mr. Furrey bowed a little more deeply than wasabsolutely required. He then seated himself near Miss Alice and begantalking volubly to her about New York. He was a young man of mediumsize, dressed with that exaggeration of the prevailing mode which seemsnecessary to provincial youth. His short fair hair was drenched withpomatum and plastered close to his head. His white cravat was tied withmathematical precision, and his shirt-collar was like a wall of whiteenamel from his shoulders to his ears. He wore white kid gloves, whichhe secured from spot or blemish as much as possible by keeping the tipsof the fingers pressed against each other. His speech was quicker thanis customary with Western people, but he had their flat monotone andtheir uncompromising treatment of the letter R. 

Mrs. Belding crossed over to where Farnham was seated and began aconversation with him in an undertone. 

"You think her really improved?"

"In every way. She has the beauty and stature of a Brunhild; shecarries herself like a duchess, I was going to say--but the onlyduchess I ever knew was at Schwalbach, and she was carried in a wickerhand-cart. But mademoiselle is lovely, and she speaks very prettyEnglish; and knows how to wear her hair, and will be a great comfort toyou, if you can keep the boys at bay for awhile. "

"No danger there, I imagine; she will keep them at bay herself. Did younotice just now? Mr. Furrey called especially to see her. He was quiteattentive to her last summer. Instead of going to the drawing-room tosee him, she wants him to come in here, where he is in our way and weare in his. That is one of Madame de Veaudrey's notions. "

"I should fancy it was, " said Farnham, dryly; "I have heard her spokenof as a lady of excellent principles and manners. "

"Now you are going to side against me, are you? I do not believe inimporting these European ideas of surveillance into free America. Ihave confidence in American girls. "

"But see where your theories lead you. In Algonquin Avenue, the youngladies are to occupy the drawing-room, while the parents makethemselves comfortable in the library. But the houses in Dean Streetare not so spacious. Most citizens in that quarter have only two roomsbelow stairs. I understand the etiquette prevailing there is forparents, when their daughters receive calls, to spend the evening inthe kitchen. "

"Oh, dear! I see I'm to get no help from you. That's just the way Alicetalks. When she came home to-day, there were several invitations forher, and some notes from young gentlemen offering their escort. Shetold me in that quiet way of hers, that reminds me of Mr. Belding whenhe was dangerous, that she would be happy to go with me when I cared togo, and happy to stay at home if I stayed. So I imagine I am booked fora gay season. "

"Which I am sure you will greatly enjoy. But this Madame de Veaudreymust be a sensible woman. "

"Because I disagree with her? I am greatly obliged. But she is a saint, although you admire her, " pursued the good-tempered woman. "She was aHamilton, you know, and married Veaudrey, who was secretary of legationin Washington. He was afterward minister in Sweden, and died there. Shewas returning to this country with her three girls, and was shipwreckedand they all three perished. She was picked up unconscious andrecovered only after a long illness. Since then she has gone verylittle into the world, but has devoted herself to the education ofyoung ladies. She never has more than three or four at a time, andthese she selects herself. Alice had heard of her from Mrs. Bowman, andwe ventured to write to ask admission to her household, and our requestwas civilly but peremptorily declined. This was while we were in NewYork two years ago. But a few days afterward we were at church withMrs. Bowman, and Madame de Veaudrey saw us. She called the next dayupon Mrs. Bowman and inquired who we were, and then came to me andbegged to withdraw her letter, and to take Alice at once under hercharge. It seems that Alice resembled one of her daughters--at allevents, she was completely fascinated by her, and Alice soon came toregard her in return as the loveliest of created beings. I must admit Ifound her a little still--though she _was_ lovely. But still, I cannothelp being afraid that she has made Alice a little to particular; youknow the young gentlemen don't like a girl to be too stiff. "

Farnham felt his heart grow hot with something like scorn for theworthy woman, as she prattled on in this way. He could hardly trusthimself to reply and soon took his leave. Alice rose and gave him herhand with frank and winning cordiality. As he felt the warm softpressure of her strong fingers, and the honest glance of her wide youngeyes, his irritation died away for a moment, but soon came back withdouble force. 

"Gracious heavens!" he exclaimed, as he closed the door behind him, andstepped into the clear spring starlight, hardly broken as yet by thebudding branches of the elms and limes. "What a crazy woman that motheris! Her daughter has come home to her a splendid white swan, and she iswaddling and quacking about with anxiety and fear lest the little maleducklings that frequent the pond should find her too white and toostately. "

Instead of walking home he turned up the long avenue, and went rapidlyon, spurred by his angry thoughts. 

"What will become of that beautiful girl? She cannot hold out foreveragainst the universal custom. She will be led by her friends and pushedby her mother, until she drops to the level of the rest and becomes aromping flirt; she will go to parties with young Furrey, and to churchwith young Snevel. I shall see her tramping the streets with one, andwaltzing all night with another, and sitting on the stairs with athird. She is too pretty to be let alone, and her mother is againsther. She is young and the force of nature is strong, and women are bornfor sacrifice--she will marry one of these young shrimps, and do herduty in the sphere whereto she has been called. "

At this thought so sharp a pang of disgust shot through him, that hestarted with surprise. 

"Oh, no, this is not jealousy; it is a protest against what is probablein the name of the eternal fitness of things. "

Nevertheless, he went on thinking very disagreeably about Mr. Furrey. 

"How can a nice girl endure a fellow who pomatums his hair in thatfashion, and sounds his R's in that way, and talks about TheedoreThommus and Cinsunnatta? Still, they do it, and Providence must be onthe side of that sort of men. But what business is all this of mine? Ihave half a mind to go to Europe again. "

He stopped, lighted a cigar, and walked briskly homeward. As he passedby the Belding cottage, he saw that the lower story was in darkness, and in the windows above the light was glowing behind the shades. 

"So Furrey is gone, and the tired young traveller is going early torest. "

He went into his library and sat down by the dying embers of the grate. His mind had been full of Alice and her prospects during his long walkin the moonlight; and now as he sat there, the image of Maud Matchinsuddenly obtruded itself upon him, and he began to compare and contrastthe two girls, both so beautiful and so utterly unlike; and then histhoughts shifted all at once back to his own early life. He thought ofhis childhood, of his parents removed from him so early that theirmemory was scarcely more than a dream; he wondered what life would havebeen to him if they had been spared. Then his school-days came upbefore him; his journey to France with his grandfather; his studies atSt. Cyr; his return to America during the great war, his enlistment asa private in the regular cavalry, his promotion to a lieutenancy threedays afterward, his service through the terrible campaign of thePeninsula, his wounds at Gettysburg, and at last the grand review ofthe veterans in front of the White House when the war was over. 

But this swift and brilliant panorama did not long delay his musingfancy. A dull smart like that of a healing wound drew his mind to asuccession of scenes on the frontier. He dwelt with that strangefascination which belongs to the memory of hardships--and which we areall too apt to mistake for regret--upon his life of toil and danger inthe wide desolation of the West. There he met, one horrible winter, thesister-in-law of a brother captain, a tall, languid, ill-nourished girlof mature years, with tender blue eyes and a taste for Byron. She hadno home and no relatives in the world except her sister, Mrs. Keefe, whom she had followed into the wilderness. She was a heavy burden onthe scanty resources of poor Keefe, but he made her cordially welcomelike the hearty soldier that he was. She was the only unmarried whitewoman within a hundred miles, and the mercury ranged from zero to -20degrees all winter. In the spring, she and Farnham were married; heseemed to have lost the sense of there being any other women in theworld, and he took her, as one instinctively takes to dinner the lastlady remaining in a drawing-room, without special orders. He had hadthe consolation of reflecting that he made her perfectly proud andhappy every day of her life that was left. Before the autumn ended, she died, on a forced march one day, when the air was glittering withalkali, and the fierce sun seemed to wither the dismal plain like thevengeance of heaven. Though Farnham was even then one of the richestmen in the army, so rigid are the rules imposed upon our service, bythe economy of an ignorant demagogy, that no transportation could behad to supply this sick lady with the ordinary conveniences of life, and she died in his arms, on the hot prairie, in the shade of anoverloaded baggage wagon. He mourned her with the passing grief onegives to a comrade fallen on the field of honor. Often since he leftthe army, he reproached himself for not have grieved for her moredeeply. "Poor Nellie, " he would sometimes say, "how she would haveenjoyed this house, if she had lived to possess it. " But he never hadthat feeling of widowhood known to those whose lives have been tornin two. 

IV. 

PROTECTOR AND PROTEGEE. 

A few days later, Mr. Farnham attended a meeting of the library board, and presented the name of Miss Matchin as a candidate for a subordinateplace in the library. There were several such positions, requiring nospecial education or training, the duties of which could be as wellfilled by Miss Maud as by any one else. She had sent several strongletters of recommendation to the board, from prominent citizens whoknew and respected her father, for when Maud informed him of her newambition, Matchin entered heartily into the affair, and bestirredhimself to use what credit he had in the ward to assist her. 

Maud had not exaggerated the effect of her blandishments upon Dr. Buchlieber. The old gentleman spoke in her favor with great fluency;"she was young, healthy, active, intelligent, a graduate of the highschool. "

"And very pretty, is she not?" asked a member of the board, maliciously. 

The Doctor colored, but was not abashed. He gazed steadily at theinterrupter through his round glasses, and said:

"Yes, she is very fine looking--but I do not see that that should standin her way. "

Not another word was said against her, and a ballot was taken to decidethe question. There were five members of the board, three besidesFarnham and Buchlieber. Maud had two votes, and a young woman whosename had not been mentioned received the other three. Buchliebercounted the ballots, and announced the vote. Farnham flushed withanger. Not only had no attention been paid to his recommendation, buthe had not even been informed that there was another candidate. In afew sarcastic words he referred to the furtive understanding existingamong the majority, and apologized for having made such a mistake as tosuppose they cared to hear the merits of appointees discussed. 

The three colleagues sat silent. At last, one of them crossed his legsanew and said:

"I'm sure nobody meant any offence. We agreed on this lady several daysago. I know nothing about her, but her father used to be one of ourbest workers in the seventh ward. He is in the penitentiary now, andthe family is about down to bedrock. The reason we didn't take part inthe discussion was we wanted to avoid hard feelings. "

The other two crossed their legs the other way, and said they"concurred. "

Their immovable phlegm, their long, expressionless faces, the dull, monotonous twang of their voices, the oscillation of the three largefeet hung over the bony knees had now, as often before, a singulareffect upon Farnham's irritation. He felt he could not irritate them inreturn; they could not appreciate his motives, and thought too littleof his opinion to be angry at his contempt. He was thrown back uponhimself now as before. It was purely a matter of conscience whether heshould stay and do what good he could, or resign and shake the dust ofthe city hall from his feet. Whatever he recommended in regard to theadministration of the library was always adopted without comment; but, whenever a question of the sort which the three politicians called"practical" arose, involving personal patronage in any form, theyalways arranged it for themselves, without even pretending to ask hisor Buchlieber's opinion. 

The very fact of his holding the position of chairman of the board waswounding to his self-love, as soon as he began to appreciate thepurpose with which the place had been given him. He and some of hisfriends had attempted a movement the year before, to rescue the cityfrom the control of what they considered a corrupt combination ofpoliticians. They had begun, as such men always do, too late, andwithout any adequate organization, and the regular workers had beatenthem with ridiculous ease. In Farnham's own ward, where he possessedtwo thirds of the real estate, the candidates favored by him and hisfriends received not quite one tenth of the votes cast. The loader ofthe opposing forces was a butcher, one Jacob Metzger, who had managedthe politics of the ward for years. He was not a bad man so far as hislights extended. He sold meat on business principles, so as to get themost out of a carcass; and he conducted his political operations in thesame way. He made his bargains with aspirants and office-holders, andkept them religiously. He had been a little alarmed at the suddenirruption of such men as Farnham and his associates into the field ofward politics; he dreaded the combined effect of their money and theirinfluence. But he soon found he had nothing to fear--they would not usetheir money, and they did not know how to use their influence. Theyhired halls, opened committee-rooms, made speeches, and thunderedagainst municipal iniquities in the daily press; but Jacob Metzger, when he discovered that this was all, possessed his soul in peace, andeven got a good deal of quiet fun out of the canvass. He did not takethe trouble to be angry at the men who were denouncing him, andsupplied Farnham with beefsteaks unusually tender and juicy, while theyoung reformer was seeking his political life. 

"Lord love you, " he said to Budsey, as he handed him a deliciousrib-roast the day before election. "There's nothing I like so much asto see young men o' property go into politics. We need 'em. Of course, I wisht the Cap'n was on my side; but anyhow, I'm glad to see himtakin' an interest. "

He knew well enough the way the votes would run; that every grog-shopin the ward was his recruiting station; that all Farnham's tenantswould vote against their landlord; that even the respectable Budsey andthe prim Scotch gardener were sure for him against their employer. Farnham's conscience which had roused him to this effort againstMetzger's corrupt rule, would not permit him to ask for the votes ofhis own servants and tenants, and he would have regarded it as simplyinfamous to spend money to secure the floating crowd of publicans andsinners who formed the strength of Jacob. 

His failure was so complete and unexpected that there seemed to himsomething of degradation in it, and in a fit of uncontrollable disgusthe sailed for Europe the week afterward. Metzger took his victorygood-naturedly as a matter of course, and gave his explanation of itto a reporter of the "Bale-Fire" who called to interview him. 

"Mr. Farnham, who led the opposition to our organize-ation, is a younggen'l'man of fine talents and high character. I ain't got a word to sayagainst him. The only trouble is, he lacks practical experience, and heain't got no pers'nal magn'tism. Now I'm one of the people, I know whatthey want, and on that line I carried the ward against a combine-ationof all the wealth and aristocracy of Algonkin Av'noo. "

Jacob's magnanimity did not rest with merely a verbal acknowledgment ofFarnham's merits. While he was abroad some of the city departments werereorganized, and Farnham on his return found himself, through Metzger'sintervention, chairman of the library board. With characteristicsagacity the butcher kept himself in the background, and the committeewho waited upon Farnham to ask him to accept the appointment placed itentirely upon considerations of the public good. His sensitiveconscience would not permit him to refuse a duty thus imposed, and sowith many inward qualms he assumed a chair in the vile municipalgovernment he had so signally failed to overthrow. He had not longoccupied it, when he saw to what his selection was attributable. He wasa figure-head and he knew it, but he saw no decent escape from theposition. As long as they allowed him and the librarian (who was also amember of the board) to regulate the library to their liking, he couldnot inquire into their motives or decline association with them. He wasperfectly free to furnish what mental food he chose to two hundredthousand people, and he felt it would be cowardice to surrender thatimportant duty on any pitiful question of patronage or personalsusceptibility. 

So once more he stifled the impulse to resign his post, and the meetingadjourned without further incident. As he walked home, he was consciousof a disagreeable foreboding of something in the future which he wouldlike to avoid. Bringing his mind to bear upon it, it resolved itselfinto nothing more formidable than the coming interview with MissMatchin. It would certainly be unpleasant to tell her that her hopeswere frustrated, when she had seemed so confident. At this thought, hefelt the awakening of a sense of protectorship; she had trusted in him;he ought to do something for her, if for nothing else, to show that hewas not dependent upon those ostrogoths. But what could be done forsuch a girl, so pretty, so uncultivated, so vulgarly fantastic? Aboveall, what could be done for her by a young and unmarried man?Providence and society have made it very hard for single men to showkindness to single women in any way but one. 

At his door he found Sam Sleeny with a kit of tools; he had just rungthe bell. He turned, as Farnham mounted the steps, and said:

"I come from Matchin's--something about the greenhouse. "

"Yes, " answered Farnham. "The gardener is over yonder at the corner ofthe lawn. He will tell you what is to be done. "

Sam walked away in the direction indicated, and Farnham went into thehouse. Some letters were lying on the table in the library. He had justbegun to read them when Budsey entered and announced:

"That young person. "

Maud came in flushed with the fresh air and rapid walking. Farnham sawthat she wore no glasses, and she gained more by that fact in hisgood-will than even by the brilliancy of her fine eyes which seemed toexult in their liberation. She began with nervous haste:

"I knew you had a meeting to-day, and I could not wait. I might as wellown up that I followed you home. "

Farnham handed her a chair and took her hand with a kindly earnestness, saying, "I am very glad to see you. "

"Yes, yes, " she continued; "but have you any good news for me?"

The anxious eagerness which spoke in her sparkling eyes and open lipstouched Farnham to the heart. "I am sorry I have not. The boardappointed another person. "

The tears sprang to her eyes. 

"I really expected it. I hoped you would interest yourself. "

"I did all I possibly could, " said Farnham. "I have never tried so hardfor anybody before, but a majority were already pledged to the otherapplicant. "

She seemed so dejected and hopeless that Farnham, forgetting for amoment how hard it is for a young man to assist a young woman, said twoor three fatal words, "We must try something else. "

The pronoun sounded ominous to him as soon as he had uttered it. But itacted like magic upon Maud. She lifted a bright glance through hertears and said, like a happy child to whom a new game has beenproposed, "What shall we try?"

Simple as the words were, both of them seemed to feel that a certainrelation--a certain responsibility--had been established between them. The thought exhilarated Maud; it seemed the beginning of herlong-expected romance; while the glow of kind feeling about the heartof Farnham could not keep him from suspecting that he was taking avery imprudent step. But they sat a good while, discussing variousplans for Maud's advantage, and arriving at nothing definite; for herown ideas were based upon a dime-novel theory of the world, andFarnham at last concluded that he would be forced finally to choosesome way of life for his protegee, and then persuade her to accept it. 

He grew silent and thoughtful with this reflection, and theconversation languished. He was trying to think how he could help herwithout these continued interviews at his house, when she disposed ofthe difficulty by rising briskly and saying, "Well, I will call againin a day or two, about this hour?"

"Yes, if it suits you best, " he answered, with a troubled brow. Hefollowed her to the door. As she went out, she said, "May I pick aflower as I go?"

He seized his hat, and said, "Come with me to the rose-house in thegarden, and you shall have something better. "

They walked together down the gravel paths, through the neat andwell-kept garden, where the warm spring sunshine was calling life outof the tender turf, and the air was full of delicate odors. She seemedas gay and happy as a child on a holiday. Her disappointment of an hourago was all gone in the feeling that Arthur was interested in her, wascaring for her future. Without any definite hopes or dreams, she feltas if the world was suddenly grown richer and wider. Something good wascoming to her certainly, something good had come; for was she notwalking in this lovely garden with its handsome proprietor, who was, she even began to think, her friend? The turf was as soft, the air asmild, the sun as bright as in any of her romances, and the figure ofFarnham's wealth which she had heard from her father rang musically inher mind. 

They went into the rose-house, and he gave her two or three splendidsatiny Marechal Niels, and then a Jacqueminot, so big, so rich andlustrous in its dark beauty, that she could not help crying out withdelight. He was pleased with her joy, and gave her another, "for yourhair, " he said. She colored with pleasure till her cheek was like theroyal flower. "Hallo!" thought Farnham to himself, "she does not takethese things as a matter of course. " When they came into the gardenagain, he made the suggestion which had been in his mind for the lasthalf hour. 

"If you are going home, the nearest way will be by the garden gate intoBishop's Lane. It is only a minute from there to Dean Street. "

"Why, that would be perfectly lovely. But where is the gate?"

"I will show you. " They walked together to the lower end of the lawn, where a long line of glass houses built against the high wall whichseparated the garden from the street called Bishop's Lane, shelteredthe grapes and the pine-apples. At the end of this conservatory, in thewall, was a little door of thin but strong steel plates, concealed fromsight by a row of pear trees. Farnham opened it, and said, "If youlike, you can come in by this way. It is never locked in the daytime. It will save you a long walk. "

"Thanks, " she replied. "That will be perfectly lovely. "

Her resources of expression were not copious, but her eyes and hermouth spoke volumes of joy and gratitude. Her hands were full of roses, and as she raised her beautiful face to him with pleasure flashing fromher warm cheeks and lips and eyes, she seemed to exhale something ofthe vigorous life and impulse of the spring sunshine. Farnham felt thathe had nothing to do but stoop and kiss the blooming flower-like face, and in her exalted condition she would have thought little more of itthan a blush-rose thinks of the same treatment. 

But he refrained, and said "Good morning, " because she seemed in nomood to say it first. 

"Good-by, for a day or two, " she said, gayly, as she bent her head topass under the low lintel of the gate. 

Farnham walked back to the house not at all satisfied with himself. "Iwonder whether I have mended matters? She is certainly too pretty agirl to be running in and out of my front door in the sight of all theavenue. How much better will it be for her to use the private entrance, and come and go by a sort of stealth! But then she does not regard itthat way. She is so ignorant of this wicked world that it seems to hermerely a saving of ten minutes' walk around the block. Well! all thereis of it, I must find a place for her before she domesticates herselfhere. "

The thought of what should be done with her remained persistently withhim and kept him irritated by the vision of her provoking and uselessbeauty. "If she were a princess, " he thought, "all the poets would betwanging their lyres about her, all the artists would be dying to painther; she would have songs made to her, and sacred oratorios given underher patronage. She would preside at church fairs and open the dance atcharity balls. If I could start her in life as a princess, the thingwould go on wheels. But to earn her own living--that is a trade ofanother complexion. She has not breeding or education enough for agoverness: she is not clever enough to write or paint; she is notsteady enough, to keep accounts, --by the Great Jornada! I have agrievous contract on my hands. "

He heard the sound of hoofs outside his window, and, looking out, sawhis groom holding a young brown horse by the bridle, the well-groomedcoat of the animal shining in the warm sunlight. In a few momentsFarnham was in the saddle and away. For awhile he left his perplexitiesbehind, in the pleasure of rapid motion and fresh air. But he drew reinhalf an hour afterward at Acland Falls, and the care that had sat onthe crupper came to the front again. "As a last resort, " he said, "Ican persuade her she has a voice, and send her to Italy, and keep herthe rest of her life cultivating it in Milan. "

All unconscious of the anxiety she was occasioning, Maud walked homewith her feet scarcely aware of the pavement. She felt happy throughand through. There was little thought, and we may say littleselfishness in the vague joy that filled her. The flowers she held inher hands recalled the faint odors she had inhaled in Farnham's house;they seemed to her a concrete idea of luxury. Her mind was crowded andwarmed with every detail of her visit: the dim, wide hall; the whitecravat of Budsey; the glimpse she caught of the dining-room through theopen door; the shimmer of cut glass and porcelain; the rich softness ofthe carpets and rugs, the firelight dancing on the polished brass, thetender glow of light and repose of shadow on the painted walls andceilings; the walk in the trim garden, amid the light and fragrance ofthe spring; the hot air of the rose-house, which held her close, andmade her feel faint and flushed, like a warm embrace; and through allthe ever-present image of the young man, with his pleasant, unembarrassed smile, the white teeth shining under the dark mustache;the eyes that seemed to see through her, and yet told her nothing; andmore than all this to poor Maud, the perfect fit and fashion of hisclothes, filled her with a joyous trouble. She could not dwell upon herplans for employment. She felt as if she had found her mission, hertrue trade, --which was to walk in gardens and smell hot-house roses. The perplexities which filled Farnham's head as to what he should dowith her found no counterpart in hers. She had stopped thinking andplanning; things were going very well with her as it was. She had lostthe place she had wished and expected, and yet this was the pleasantestday of her life. Her responsibility seemed shifted to stronger hands. It had become Farnham's business to find something nice for her: thiswould be easy for him; he belonged to the class to whom everything iseasy. She did not even trouble herself to think what it would be as sheloitered home in the sunshine. She saw her father and informed him in afew words of her failure; then went to her room and sat down by herwindow, and looked for hours at the sparkling lake. 

She was called to supper in the midst of her reverie. She was justsaying to herself, "If there was just one man and one woman in theworld, and I had the picking out of the man and the woman, this worldwould suit me pretty well. " She resented being called into othersociety than that of her idle thoughts, and sat silent through supper, trying to keep the thread of her fancies from breaking. But she was notallowed to go back undisturbed to her fool's paradise. 

Sleeny, who had scarcely removed his eyes from her during the meal, rose with a start as she walked into the little sitting-room of thefamily, and followed her. She went to the window with a novel to makeuse of the last moments of daylight. He stood before her withoutspeaking, until she raised her eyes, and said sharply:

"Well, Sam, what's the matter?"

He was not quick either of thought or speech. He answered:

"Oh! nothin'. Only----"

"Only what?" she snapped. 

"Won't you go and take a walk by the Bluff?"

She threw down her book at once. She liked exercise and fresh air, andalways walked with pleasure by the lake. Sam was to her such a nullitythat she enjoyed his company almost as much as being alone. She wasready in a moment, and a short walk brought them to the little openplace reserved for public use, overlooking the great fresh-water sea. There were a few lines of shade trees and a few seats, and nothingmore; yet the plantation was called Bluff Park, and it was muchfrequented on holidays and Sundays by nurses and their charges. It wasin no sense a fashionable resort, or Maud would never have venturedthere in company with her humble adorer. But among the jovial puddlersand brake-men that took the air there, it was well enough to have anescort so devoted and so muscular. So pretty a woman could scarcelyhave walked alone in Bluff Park without insulting approaches. Maudwould hardly have nodded to Sleeny on Algonquin Avenue, for fear somemillionaire might see it casually, and scorn them both. But on theBluff she was safe from such accidents, and she sometimes even took hisarm, and made him too happy to talk. They would walk together for anhour, he dumb with audacious hopes that paralyzed his speech, and shedreaming of things thousands of miles away. 

This evening he was even more than usually silent. Maud, after she hadworn her reverie threadbare, noticed his speechlessness, and, fearinghe was about to renew the subject which was so tiresome, suddenlystopped and said:

"What a splendid sunset! Did you ever see anything like it?"

"Yes, " he said, with his gentle drawl. "Less set here, and look at it. "

He took his seat on one of the iron benches painted green, anddecorated with castings of grapes and vine leaves. She sat down besidehim and gazed out over the placid water, on which the crimson cloudscast a mellow glory. The sky seemed like another sea, stretching offinto infinite distance, and strewn with continents of fiery splendor. Maud looked straight forward to the clear horizon line, marking theflight of ships whose white sails were dark against the warm brightnessof the illumined water. But no woman ever looked so straight before heras not to observe the man beside her, and she knew, without moving hereyes from the spectacle of the sunset, that Sam was gazing fixedly ather, with pain and trouble in his face. At last, he said, in a timid, choking voice, "Mattie!"

She did not turn her face, but answered:

"If it ain't too much trouble, I'd like to have you call me Miss whenwe're alone. You'll be forgetting yourself, and calling me Mattiebefore other people, before you know it. "

"Hold on, " he burst out. "Don't talk to me that way to-night--I can'tstand it. "

She glanced at him in surprise. His face was pale and disordered; hewas twisting his fingers as if he would break them. 

"Your temper seems to be on the move, Mr. Sleeny. We'd better go home, "she said quietly, drawing her shawl about her. 

"Don't go till I tell you something, " he stammered hastily. 

"I have no curiosity to hear what you have to say, " she said, risingfrom her seat. 

"It ain't what you think--it ain't about me!"

Her curiosity awoke, and she sat down again. Sleeny sat twisting hisfingers, growing pale and red by turns. At last, in a tremulous voice, he said:

"_I_ was there to-day. "

She stared at him an instant and said:

"Where?"

"Oh, I was there, and I seen you. I was at work at the end of thegreenhouse there by the gate when you come out of the rose-house. I waswatchin' for you. I was on the lawn talkin' with the gardener when youwent in the house. About an hour afterward I seen you comin' down thegarden with him to the rose-house. If you had stayed there a minutemore, I would ha' went in there. But out you come with your hands fullo' roses, and him and you come to the gate. I stopped workin' and kep'still behind them pear trees, and I heard everything. "

He uttered each word slowly, like a judge delivering sentence. His facehad grown very red and hot, and as he finished his indictment he drew ayellow handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from hisforehead, his chin, and the back of his neck. 

"Oh!" answered Maud, negligently, "you heard everything, did you? Well, you didn't hear much. "

"I tell you, " he continued, with a sullen rage, "I heard every word. Doyou hear me? I heard every word. "

The savage roughness of his voice made her tremble, but her spiritsrose to meet his anger, and she laughed as she replied:

"Well, you heard 'Thank you, sir, ' and 'Good-morning. ' It wasn't much, unless you took it as a lesson in manners, and goodness knows you needit. "

"Now, look'ye here. It's no use foolin' with me. You know what I heard. If you don't, I'll tell you!"

"Very well, Mr. Paul Pry, what was it?" said the angry girl, who hadquite forgotten that any words were spoken at the gate. 

"I heard him tell you you could come in any time the back way, " Samhoarsely whispered, watching her face with eyes of fire. She turnedcrimson as the sunset she was gazing at, and she felt as if she couldhave torn her cheeks with her fingernails for blushing. She was awareof having done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of. She had beenall day cherishing the recollection of her visit to Farnham assomething too pleasant and delicate to talk about. No evil thought hadmingled with it in her own mind. She had hardly looked beyond the merepleasure of the day. She had not given a name or a form to the hopesand fancies that were fluttering at her heart. And now to have thissweet and secret pleasure handled and mauled by such a one as SamSleeny filled her with a speechless shame. Even yet she hardlycomprehended the full extent of his insinuation. He did not leave herlong in doubt. Taking her silence and her confusion as anacknowledgment, he went on, in the same low, savage tone:

"I had my hammer in my hand. I looked through the pear trees to see ifhe kissed you. If he had 'a' done it, I would have killed him as sureas death. "

At this brutal speech she turned pale a moment, as if suddenly struck astunning blow. Then she cried out:

"Hold your vile tongue, you----"

But she felt her voice faltering and the tears of rage gushing from hereyes. She buried her face in her hands and sat a little while insilence, while Sam was dumb beside her, feeling like an awkwardmurderer. She was not so overcome that she did not think very rapidlyduring this moment's pause. If she could have slain the poor fellow onthe spot, she would not have scrupled to do so; but she required onlyan instant to reflect that she had better appease him for the present, and reserve her vengeance for a more convenient season. 

She dried her eyes and turned them on him with an air of gentle, almostforgiving reproach. 

"Sam! I could not have believed you had such a bad, wicked heart. Ithought you knew me better. I won't make myself so cheap as to explainall that to you. But I'll ask yon to do one thing for me. When we gohome this evening, if you see my father alone, you tell him what yousaw--and if you've got any shame in you you'll be ashamed of yourself. "

He had been irritated by her anger, but he was completely abashed bythe coolness and gentleness which followed her burst of tears. He wassorely confused and bewildered by her command, but did not dream ofanything but obeying it, and as they walked silently home, he was allthe time wondering what mysterious motive she could have in wishing himto denounce her to her father. They found Saul Matchin sitting by thedoor, smoking a cob-pipe. Maud went in and Sam seated himself besidethe old man. 

"How'd you get along at Farnham's?" said Saul. 

Sam started, as if "the boss" had read his uneasy conscience. But heanswered in his drawling monotone:

"All right, I guess. That doggoned Scotchman thinks he knows it all;but it'll take nigh on to a week to do what I could ha' done in a dayor two, if I worked my way. "

"Well, " said Saul, "that ain't none o' your lookout. Do what Scotcheetells you, and I'll keep the time on 'em. We kin stand it, ef theykin, " and the old carpenter laughed with the foolish pleasure of asmall mind aware of an advantage. "Ef Art. Farnham wants to keep ahigh-steppin' Scotchman to run his flowers, may be he kin afford it. Iain't his gardeen. "

Now was Sleeny's chance to make his disclosure; but his voice trembledin spite of him, as he said:

"I seen Mattie up there. "

"Yes, " said the old man, tranquilly. "She went up to see about a placein the library. He said there wasn't none, but he'd try to think o'somethin' else that 'ud suit her. He was mighty polite to Mat--give hersome roses, and telled her to run in and out when she liked, till hegot somethin' fixed. Fact is, Mat is a first-rate scholar, and takeswith them high-steppers, like fallin' off a log. " Saul had begun tofeel a certain pride in his daughter's accomplishments which had solong been an affliction to him. The moment he saw a possibility of amoney return, he even began to plume himself upon his liberality andsagacity in having educated her. "I've spared nothin'--Sam--in givingher a----" he searched an instant for a suitable adjective, "acommodious education. " The phrase pleased him so well that he smokedfor awhile contemplatively, so as not to mar the effect of his point. 

Sam had listened with, a whirling brain to the old man's quiet story, which anticipated his own in every point. He could not tell whether hefelt more relieved or disquieted by it. It all seemed clear andinnocent enough; but he felt, with a sinking heart, that his own hopeswere fading fast, in the flourishing prospects of his beloved. He hatedFarnham not less in his attitude of friendly protection than in thatwhich he had falsely attributed to him. His jealousy, deprived of itsspecific occasion, nourished itself on vague and torturingpossibilities. He could not trust himself to talk further with Matchin, but went away with a growing fire in his breast. He hated himself forhaving prematurely spoken. He hated Maud for the beauty that she wouldnot give him, and which, he feared, she was ready to give to another. He hated Saul, for his stolid ignorance of his daughter's danger. Hehated most of all Farnham, for his handsome face, his easy smile, hisshapely hands, his fine clothes, his unknown and occult gifts ofpleasing. 

"'Tain't in natur, " he growled. "She's the prettiest woman in theworld. If he's got eyes, he knows it. But I spoke first, and he shan'thave her, if I die for it. "

V. 

A PROFESSIONAL REFORMER. 

Sleeny walked moodily down the street, engaged in that self-torturewhich is the chief recreation of unhappy lovers. He steeped his heartin gall by imagining Maud in love with another. His passion stimulatedhis slow wits into unwonted action, until his mind began to formexasperating pictures of intimacies which drove him half mad. His facegrew pale, and his fists were tightly clinched as he walked. He hardlysaw the familiar street before him; he had a far clearer vision of Maudand Farnham by the garden gate: her beautiful face was turned up to theyoung man's with the winning sweetness of a flower, and Sam's irritatedfancy supplied the kisses he had watched for in the shadow of thepear-trees. "I 'most wish't he'd 'a' done it, " he growled to himself. "I had my hammer in my hand, and I could 'a' finished him then and hadno more bother. "

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and, turning, saw a face grinning afriendly recognition. It was a face whose whole expression wasoleaginous. It was surmounted by a low and shining forehead covered byreeking black hair, worn rather long, the ends being turned under bythe brush. The mustache was long and drooping, dyed black and profuselyoiled, the dye and the grease forming an inharmonious compound. Theparted lips, which were coarse and thin, displayed an imperfect set ofteeth, much discolored with tobacco. The eyes were light green, withthe space which should have been white suffused with yellow and red. Itwas one of those gifted countenances which could change in a momentfrom a dog-like fawning to a snaky venomousness. 

The man wore a black hat of soft felt; his clothes were black andglistening with use and grease. He was of medium height, not especiallystout, but still strong and well knit; he moved too briskly for atramp, and his eyes were too sly and furtive to belong to an honestman. 

"Well, Samivel!" he began, with a jolly facetiousness, "what's yournoble game this evenin'? You look like you was down on your luck. Isthe fair one unkind?"

Sam turned upon him with an angry gesture. 

"Hold your jaw, or I'll break it for you! Ever since I was fool enoughto mention that thing to you, you've been cacklin' about it. I've hadenough of it. "

"Go slow, Quaker!" the man rejoined. "If you can't take a joke, I'llstop jokin'--that settles it. Come along and get a glass of beer, andyou'll feel better. "

They soon came to a garden near the lake, and sat down by a littletable at their beer. The consumers were few and silent. The garden wasdimly lighted, for the spring came slowly up that way, and the air wasnot yet conducive to out-door idling. The greasy young man laid a dirtyhand on the arm of Sleeny, and said:

"Honor bright, now, old fellow, I didn't mean to rough, you when I saidthat. I don't want to hurt your feelings or lose your confidence. Iwant you to tell me how you are gettin' along. You ain't got no betterfriend than me nowhere. "

"Oh, " said Sam, sulkily, "I got nothin' to say. She don't no more carefor me than that there mug. "

The expression that came over his friend's face at these discouragedwords was not one of sympathetic sorrow. But he put some sympathy intohis voice as he said:

"Jest think of that! Such a fine young fellow as you are, too. Wherecan her eyes be? And I seen you walking this evenin' by the lake justlike two robins. And yet you don't get ahead any!"

"Not a step, " said Sam. 

"Anybody in your light, you think? Hullo there, Dutchy, swei glass. Anyother fellow takin' your wind?" and his furtive eyes darted a keeninterrogation. Sam did not answer at once, and his friend went on:"Why, she don't hardly know anybody but me and you, and, he-he! Iwouldn't stand no chance at all against you--hum?"

"Of course you wouldn't, " said Sam, with slow contempt, which broughtthe muddy blood into the sallow cheek in front of him. "She wouldn'tlook at you. I'm not afraid of no man, Andy Offitt, --I'm afraid ofmoney. "

He flattered his jealous heart by these words. It was too intolerableto think that any mere man should take his sweetheart away from him;and though he felt how hopeless was any comparison between himself andFarnham, he tried to soothe himself by the lie that they were equal inall but money. 

His words startled his friend Offitt. He exclaimed, "Why, who does sheknow that's got money?"

But Sleeny felt a momentary revolt against delivering to even hisclosest confidant the name of the woman he loved coupled with thedegrading suspicions by which he had been tormented all day. He grufflyanswered: "That's none of your business; you can't help me in thisthing, and I ain't agoin' to chin about it any more. "

They sat for awhile in silence, drank their beer, and ordered more. Offitt at last spoke again:

"Well, I'll be hanged if you ain't the best grit of any fellow I know. If you don't want to talk, a team of Morgan horses couldn't make you. Ilike a man that can hold his tongue. "

"Then I'm your huckleberry, " said Sleeny, whose vanity was soothed bythe compliment. 

"That's so, " said Offitt, with an admiring smile. "If I wanted a secretkept, I'd know where to come. " Then changing his manner and tone to anexpression of profound solemnity, and glancing about to guard againstsurprise, he said: "My dear boy, I've wanted to talk to you a longtime, --to talk serious. You're not one of the common kind of cattlethat think of nothin' but their fodder and stall--are you?"

Now, Sam was precisely of the breed described by his friend, but whatman ever lived who knew he was altogether ordinary? He grinned uneasilyand answered:

"I guess not. "

"Exactly!" said Offitt. "There are some of us laboring men that don'tpropose to go on all our lives working our fingers off to please a lotof vampires; we propose to have a little fairer divide than heretofore;and if there is any advantage to be gained, we propose to have it onthe side of the men who do the work. What do you think of that?"

"That's all solid, " said Sleeny, who was indifferently interested inthese abstractions. "But what you goin' to do about it?"

"Do!" cried Offitt. "We are goin' to make war on capital. We are goin'to scare the blood-suckers into terms. We are goin' to get our rights--peaceably, if we can't get them any other way. We are goin' to provethat a man is better than a moneybag. " He rattled off these words as alistless child says its alphabet without thinking of a letter. But hewas closely watching Sam to see if any of these stereotyped phrasesattracted his attention. Sleeny smoked his cigar with the air of politefatigue with which one listens to abstract statements of moralobligations. 

"What are we, anyhow?" continued the greasy apostle of labor. "We areslaves; we are Roosian scurfs. We work as many hours as our ownerslike; we take what pay they choose to give us; we ask their permissionto live and breathe. "

"Oh, that's a lie!" Sleeny interrupted, with unbroken calmness. "OldSaul Matchin and me come to an agreement about time and pay, and bothof us was suited. Ef he's got his heel onto me, I don't feel it"

Offitt darted a glance of scorn upon the ignoble soul who was contentwith his bondage; but the mention of Matchin reminded him that he had afinal shot in reserve, and he let it off at once. 

"Yes, Saul Matchin is a laborin' man himself; but look at his daughter. She would die before she would marry a workman. Why?" and his greeneyes darted livid fire as they looked into the troubled ones of Sleeny. 

"Well, why?" he asked, slowly. 

"Because she loves money more than manhood. Because she puts up herbeauty for a higher bidder than any------"

"Now, shet up, will you?" cried Sam, thoroughly aroused. "I won't sethere and hear her abused by you or any other man. What business is itof yours, anyway?"

Offitt felt that his shot had gone home, and pursued his advantage. 

"It's my business, Sam, because I'm your friend; because I hate to seea good fellow wronged; because I know that a man is better than amoneybag. Why, that girl would marry you in a minute if you was rich. But because you're not she will strike for one of them rose-water snobson Algonquin Avenue. " Sam writhed, and his wheedling tormentorcontinued, watching him like a ferret. "Perhaps she has struck for oneof them already--perhaps--oh, I can't say what may have happened. Ihate the world when I see such doin's. I hate the heartless shams thatgive labor and shame to the toilers and beauty and luxury to thedrones. Who is the best man, " he asked, with honest frankness, "you, orsome high-steppin' snob whose daddy has left him the means to be aloafer all his days? And who would the prettiest girl in Bufflandprefer, you or the loafer? And you intend to let Mr. Loafer have it allhis own way?"

"No, I don't!" Sam roared, like a baited bull. "Ef any man crosses mypath, he can find out which is the best man. "

"There, that's more like you. But what can you do alone? That's wherethey get us foul. The erristocrats, the money power, all hang together. The laborin' men fight singly, and alwuz get whipped. Now, we are goin'to change that. We are goin' to organize. Look here, Sam, I am riskin'my head in tellin' you this--but I trust you, and I like you, and I'lltell you. We _have_ organized. We've got a society in this town pledgedto the cause of honest labor and against capital--for life or death. Wewant you. We want men of sand and men of sense, and you've got both. You must join. "

Sam Sleeny was by this time pretty well filled with beer and wrath. Hefelt himself in a certain sense bound by the weighty secret whichOffitt had imparted to him and flattered by his invitation. A fewtouches more of adroit flattery, and the agitator's victory wascomplete. Sleeny felt sore and tired to the very heart. He had behavedlike a brute to the girl he loved; he had been put clearly in the wrongin his quarrel with her, and yet he was certain that all was not wellwith either of them. The tormenting syllogism ran continually throughhis head: "She is the prettiest woman in the world--rich fellows likepretty women, --therefore--death and curses on him!" Or sometimes theform of it would change to this: "He is rich and handsome--girls likemen who are rich and handsome, --therefore------, " the same rage andimprecations, and the same sense of powerless fury. He knew and carednothing about Offitt's Labor Reform. He could earn a good living by histrade no matter who went to Congress, and he hated these "chinnybummers, " as he called them, who talked about "State help andself-help" over their beer. But to-night he was tormented and badgeredto such a point that he was ready for anything which his tempter mightsuggest. The words of Offitt, alternately wheedling and excoriating, had turned his foolish head. His hatred of Farnham was easily extendedto the class to which he belonged, and even to the money which made himformidable. 

He walked away from the garden with Offitt, and turned down a filthyalley to a squalid tenement house, --called by its proprietor PerryPlace, and by the neighbors Rook's Ranch, --to the lodge-room of theBrotherhood of Bread-winners, which proved to be Offitt's lodging. Theyfound there a half dozen men lounging about the entrance, who scowledand swore at Offitt for being late, and then followed him sulkily uptwo flights of ill-smelling stairs to his room. He turned away theirwrath by soft answers, and hastily lighting a pair of coal-oil lamps, which gave forth odor more liberally than illumination, said briskly:

"Gentlemen, I have brought you a recruit this evenin' that you will allbe glad to welcome to our brotherhood. "

The brothers, who had taken seats where they could find them, on adirty bed, a wooden trunk, and two or three chairs of doubtfulintegrity, grunted a questionable welcome to the new-comer. As helooked about him, he was not particularly proud of the company in whichhe found himself. The faces he recognized were those of the laziest andmost incapable workmen in the town--men whose weekly wages werehabitually docked for drunkenness, late hours, and botchy work. As theroom gradually filled, it seemed like a roll-call of shirks. Among themcame also a spiritual medium named Bott, as yet imperfectly developed, whose efforts at making a living by dark seances too frequentlyresulted in the laughter of skeptics and the confusion of his friends. His forehead and cheek were even then purple with an aniline dye, whichsome cold-blooded investigator had squirted in his face a few nightsbefore while he was gliding through a twilight room impersonating thetroubled shade of Pocahontas. This occurrence gave, for the moment, apeculiarly sanguinary and sinister character to his features, andfilled his heart with a thirst for vengeance against an unbelievingworld. 

After the meeting had been called to order, and Sam had taken an oathof a hot and lurid nature, in which he renounced a good many things hehad never possessed, and promised to do a lot of things of which he hadno idea, Mr. Offitt asked "if any brother had anything to offer for thegood of the order. " This called Mr. Bott to his feet, and he made aspeech, on which he had been brooding all day, against the pride ofso-called science, the arrogance of unrighteous wealth, and thegrovelling superstition of Christianity. The light of the kerosene lampshone full on the decorated side of his visage, and touched it to aferocious purpose. But the brotherhood soon wearied of his oratory, inwhich the blasphemy of thought and phrase was strangely contrasted withthe ecclesiastical whine which he had caught from the exhorters whowere the terror of his youth. The brothers began to guy him withoutmercy. They requested him to "cheese it"; they assisted him withuncalled-for and inappropriate applause, and one of the party gotbehind him and went through the motion of turning a hurdy-gurdy. Buthe persevered. He had joined the club to practise public speaking, andhe got a good half hour out of the brothers before they coughed himdown. 

When he had brought his speech to a close, and sat down to wipe hisstreaming face, a brother rose and said, in a harsh, rasping voice, "Iwant to ask a question. "

"That's in order, Brother Bowersox, " said Offitt. 

The man was a powerful fellow, six feet high. His head was not large, but it was as round as an apple, with heavy cheek-bones, little eyes, close-cut hair, and a mustache like the bristles of a blacking-brush. He had been a driver on a streetcar, but had recently been dismissedfor insolence to passengers and brutality to his horses. 

"What I want to ask is this: I want to know if we have joined thisorder to listen to chin-music the rest of our lives, or to dosomethin'. There is some kind of men that kin talk tell day ofjedgment, lettin' Gabrel toot and then beginnin' ag'in. I ain't thatkind; I j'ined to do somethin';--what's to be done?"

He sat down with his hand on his hip, squarely facing the lucklessBott, whose face grew as purple as the illuminated side of it. But heopened not his mouth. Offitt answered the question:

"I would state, " he said glibly, "the objects we propose to accomplish:the downfall of the money power, the rehabitation of labor, the----"

"Oh, yes!" Bowersox interrupted, "I know all about that, --but what arewe goin' to _do?_"

Offitt paled a little, but did not flinch at the savage tone of thesurly brute. He began again in his smoothest manner:

"I am of the opinion that the discussion of sound principles, such aswe have listened to to-night, is among the objects of our order. Afterthat, organization for mutual profit and protection against the minionsof the money power, --for makin' our influence felt in elections, --forextendin' a helpin' hand to honest toil, --for rousin' our bretherenfrom their lethargy, which, like a leaden pall----"

"I want to know, " growled Bowersox, with sullen obstinacy, "what's tobe done. "

"Put your views in the form of a motion, that they may be properlyconsidered by the meetin', " said the imperturbable president. 

"Well, I motion that we stop talkin' and commence doin'----"

"Do you suggest that a committee be appointed for that purpose?"

"Yes, anything. " And the chairman appointed Bowersox, Bott, and Folgumsuch a committee. 

All breathed more freely and felt as if something practical andenergetic had been accomplished. The committee would, of course, nevermeet nor report, but the colloquy and the prompt action taken upon itmade every one feel that the evening had been interesting andprofitable. Before they broke up, Sleeny was asked for his initiationfee of two dollars, and all the brethren were dunned for their monthlydues. 

"What becomes of this money?" the neophyte bluntly inquired of thehierophant. 

"It pays room rent and lights, " said Offitt, with unabashed front, ashe returned his greasy wallet to his pocket. "The rest goes forpropagatin' our ideas, and especially for influencin' the press. "

Sleeny was a dull man, but he made up his mind on the way home that thequestion which had so long puzzled him--how Offitt made his living--waspartly solved. 

VI. 

TWO MEN SHAKE HANDS. 

Sleeny, though a Bread-winner in full standing, was not yetsufficiently impressed with the wrongs of labor to throw down hishammer and saw. He continued his work upon Farnham's conservatory, under the direction of Fergus Ferguson, the gardener, with the sameinstinctive fidelity which had always characterized him. He had hisintervals of right feeling and common sense, when he reflected thatFarnham had done him no wrong, and probably intended no wrong to Maud, and that he was not answerable for the ill luck that met him in hiswooing, for Maud had refused him before she ever saw Farnham. But, oncein a while, and especially when he was in company with Offitt, anaccess of jealous fury would come upon him, which found vent inimprecations which were none the less fervid for being slowly andhaltingly uttered. The dark-skinned, unwholesome-looking Bread-winnerfound a singular delight in tormenting the powerful young fellow. Hefelt a spontaneous hatred for him, for many reasons. His shapely build, his curly blond hair and beard, his frank blue eye, first attracted hisenvious notice; his steady, contented industry excited in him a desireto pervert a workman whose daily life was a practical argument againstthe doctrines of socialism, by which Offitt made a part of hisprecarious living; and after he had met Maud Matchin and had felt, assuch natures will, the force of her beauty, his instinctive hate becamean active, though secret, hostility. She had come one evening withSleeny to a spiritualist conference frequented by Offitt, and he had atonce inferred that Sleeny and she were either engaged to be married oron the straight road toward it. It would be a profanation of the wordto say that he loved her at first sight. But his scoundrel heart wascompletely captivated so far as was possible to a man of his sort. Hewas filled and fired with a keen cupidity of desire to possess and ownsuch beauty and grace. He railed against marriage, as he did againstreligion and order, as an invention of priests and tyrants to enslaveand degrade mankind; but he would gladly have gone to any altarwhatever in company with Maud Matchin. He could hardly have saidwhether he loved or hated her the more. He loved her much as the hunterloves the fox he is chasing to its death. He wanted to destroy anythingwhich kept her away from him: her lover, if she had one; her pride, hermodesty, her honor, if she were fancy-free. Aware of Sleeny's goodlooks, if not of his own ugliness, he hated them both for thecomeliness that seemed to make them natural mates for each other. Butit was not in his methods to proceed rashly with either. He treatedMaud with distant respect, and increased his intimacy with Sleeny untilhe found, to his delight, that he was not the prosperous lover that hefeared. But he still had apprehensions that Sleeny's assiduity might atlast prevail, and lost no opportunity to tighten the relations betweenthem, to poison and pervert the man who was still a possible rival. Byremaining his most intimate friend, he could best be informed of allthat occurred in the Matchin family. 

One evening, as Sam was about leaving his work, Fergus Ferguson said:

"You'll not come here the morn. You're wanted till the house--a bit o'work in the library. They'll be tellin' you there. "

This was faithfully reported by Sam to his confessor that same night. 

"Well, you are in luck. I wish I had your chance, " said Offitt. 

Sam opened his blue eyes in mute wonder. 

"Well, what's the chance, and what would you do with it, ef you hadit?"

Offitt hesitated a moment before replying. 

"Oh, I was just a jokin'. I meant it was such an honor for common folkslike us to git inside of the palace of a high-toned cuss like Farnham;and the fact is, Sammy, " he continued, more seriously, "I _would_ liketo see the inside of some of these swell places. I am a student ofhuman nature, you know, in its various forms. I consider the lab'rin'man as the normal healthy human--that is, if he don't work too hard. Iconsider wealth as a kind of disease; wealth and erristocracy is a kindof dropsy. Now, the true reformer is like a doctor, --he wants to knowall about diseases, by sight and handlin'! I would like to study thesymptoms of erristocracy in Farnham's house--right in the wards of thehospital. "

"Well, that beats me, " said Sam. "I've been in a lot of fine houses onAlgonquin Avenue, and I never seen anything yet that favored ahospital. "

This dense stupidity was almost more than Offitt could bear. But aready lie came to his aid. 

"Looky here!" he continued, "I'll tell you a secret. I'm writin' astory for the 'Irish Harp, ' and I want to describe the residence ofjess such a vampire as this here Farnham. Now, writin', as I do, in thecause of humanity, I naturally want to git my facts pretty near right. You kin help me in this. I'll call to-morrow to see you while you'rethere, and I'll get some p'ints that'll make Rome howl when they comeout. "

Sam was hardly educated up to the point his friend imagined. His zealfor humanity and the "rehabitation" of labor was not so great as tomake him think it a fine thing to be a spy and a sneak in the houses ofhis employers. He was embarrassed by the suggestion, and made no reply, but sat smoking his pipe in silence. He had not the diplomatist's artof putting a question by with a smile. Offitt had tact enough toforbear insisting upon a reply. 

He was, in fact, possessed of very considerable natural aptitude forpolitical life. He had a quick smile and a ready tongue; he liked totalk and shake hands; he never had an opinion he was not willing tosell; he was always prepared to sacrifice a friend, if required, and toask favors from his worst enemies. He called himself Andrew JacksonOffitt--a name which, in the West, is an unconscious brand. Itgenerally shows that the person bearing it is the son of illiterateparents, with no family pride or affections, but filled with a bitterand savage partisanship which found its expression in a servile worshipof the most injurious personality in American history. But Offitt'sreal name was worse than Andrew Jackson--it was Ananias, and it wasbestowed in this way: When he was about six years old, his father, asmall farmer in Indiana, who had been a sodden, swearing, fightingdrunkard, became converted by a combined attack of delirium tremens andcamp-meeting, and resolved to join the church, he and his household. The morning they were going to the town of Salem for that purpose, hediscovered that his pocket had been picked, and the money it containedwas found on due perquisition in the blue jeans trousers of his sonAndrew Jackson. The boy, on being caught, was so nimble and fertile inhis lies that the father, in a gust of rage, declared that he was notworthy the name of the great President, but that he should be calledAnanias; and he was accordingly christened Ananias that morning in themeeting-house at Salem. As long as the old man lived, he called him bythat dreadful name; but when a final attack of the trembling madnesshad borne him away from earth, the widow called the boy Andrew again, whenever she felt careless about her spiritual condition, and the youthbehaved himself, but used the name of Sapphira's husband when the ladvexed her, or the obligations of the christening came strongly back toher superstitious mind. The two names became equally familiar to youngOffitt, and always afterward he was liable to lapses of memory whencalled on suddenly to give his prenomen; and he frequently causedhateful merriment among his associates by signing himself Ananias. 

When Sam presented himself at Captain Farnham's house the next morning, he was admitted by Budsey, who took him to the library and showed himthe work he was to do. The heat of the room had shrunk the wood of theheavy doors of carved oak so that the locks were all out of position. Farnham was seated by his desk, reading and writing letters. He did notlook up as Sam entered, and paid no attention to the instructionsBudsey was giving him. For the first time in his life, Sleeny foundthat this neglect of his presence was vaguely offensive to him. A weekbefore, he would no more have thought of speaking to Farnham, or beingspoken to by him, than of entering into conversation with one of thebusts on the book-cases. Even now he had no desire to talk with theproprietor of the house. He had come there to do certain work which hewas capable of doing well, and he preferred to do it and not bebothered by irrelevant gossip. But, in spite of himself, he felt arising of revolt in his heart, as he laid out his tools, against thequiet gentleman who sat with his back to him, engaged in his own workand apparently unconscious of Sleeny's presence. A week before, theyhad been nothing to each other, but now a woman had come between them, and there is no such powerful conductor in nature. The quiet in whichFarnham sat seemed full of insolent triumph to the luckless lover, andscraps of Offitt's sounding nonsense went through his mind: "A man ismore than a money-bag"; "the laborer is the true gentleman"; but theydid not give him much comfort. Not until he became interested in hiswork did he recover the even beat of his pulse and the genuineworkmanlike play of his faculties. Then he forgot Farnham's presence inhis turn, and enjoyed himself in a rational way with his files andchisels and screwdrivers. 

He had been at work for an hour at one door, and had finished it to hissatisfaction, and sat down before another, when he heard the bell ring, and Budsey immediately afterward ushered a lady through the hall andinto the drawing-room. His heart stood still at the rustle of thedress, --it sounded so like Maud's; he looked over his shoulder throughthe open door of the library and saw, to his great relief, that therewere two female figures taking their seats in the softly lighted roombeyond. One sat with her back to the light, and her features were notdistinctly visible; the other was where he could see three-quarters ofher face clearly relieved against the tapestry portiere. There is akind of beauty which makes glad every human heart that gazes on it, ifnot utterly corrupt and vile, and it was such a face as this that SamSleeny now looked at with a heart that grew happier as he gazed. It wasa morning face, full of the calm joy of the dawn, of the sweet dreamsof youth untroubled by love, the face of Aurora before she metTithonus. From the little curls of gold on the low brow to the smilethat hovered forever, half formed, on the softly curving lips and overthe rounded chin, there was a light of sweetness, and goodness, andbeauty, to be read of all men, and perhaps in God's good time to beworshipped by one. 

Budsey announced "Mrs. Belding and Miss Halice, " and Farnham hastenedto greet them. 

If Sam Sleeny had few happy hours to enjoy, he could at least boasthimself that one was beginning now. The lovely face bore to his heartnot only the blessing of its own beauty, but also a new and infinitelyconsoling thought. He had imagined till this moment, in allseriousness, that Maud Matchin was the prettiest woman in the world, and that therefore all men who saw her were his rivals, the chief ofwhom was Farnham. But now he reflected, with a joyful surprise, that inthis world of rich people there were others equally beautiful, and thathere, under Farnham's roof, on terms of familiar acquaintance with him, was a girl as faultless as an angel, --one of his own kind. "Why, ofcourse, " he said to himself, with a candid and happy self-contempt, "that's _his_ girl--you dunderheaded fool--what are you botherin'about?"

He took a delight which he could not express in listening to theconversation of these friends and neighbors. The ladies had come over, in pursuance of an invitation of Farnham's, to see the additions whichhad recently arrived from Europe to his collection of bronzes andpottery, and some little pictures he had bought at the Englishwater-color exhibition. As they walked about the rooms, expressing theiradmiration of the profusion of pretty things which filled the cabinetsand encumbered the tables, in words equally pretty and profuse, Sleenylistened to their voices as if it were music played to cheer him at hiswork. He knew nothing of the things they were talking about, but theirtones were gentle and playful; the young lady's voice was especiallysweet and friendly. He had never heard such voices before; they areexceptional everywhere in America, and particularly in our lakecountry, where the late springs develop fine high sopranos, but leavemuch to be desired in the talking tones of women. Alice Belding hadbeen taught to use her fine voice as it deserved and Cordelia'sintonations could not have been more "soft, gentle, and low, --anexcellent thing in woman. "

After awhile, the voices came nearer, and he heard Farnham say:

"Come in here a moment, please, and see my new netsukes; I got them ata funny little shop in Ostend. It was on a Sunday afternoon, and theman of the house was keeping the shop, and I should have got a greatbargain out of him, but his wife came in before we were through, andscolded him for an imbecile and sent him into the back room to tend thebaby, and made me pay twice what he had asked for my little monsters. "

By this time they were all in the library, and the young lady waslaughing, not loudly, but musically, and Mrs. Belding was saying:

"Served you right for shopping on Sunday. But they are adorable littleimages, for all that. "

"Yes, " said Farnham, "so the woman told me, and she added that theywere authentic of the twelfth century. I asked her if she could notthrow off a century or two in consideration of the hard, times, and shelaughed, and said I blagued, and honestly she didn't know how old theywere, but it was _drole, tout de meme, qu'on put adorer un petit bonDieu d'une laideur pareille. _"

"Really, I don't see how they can do it, " said Mrs. Belden, solemnly;at which both the others laughed, and Miss Alice said, "Why, mamma, youhave just called them adorable yourself. "

They went about the room, admiring, and touching, and wondering, withthe dainty grace of ladies accustomed to rare and beautiful things, until the novelties were exhausted and they turned to go. But Budsey atthat moment announced luncheon, and they yielded to Farnham's eagerimportunity, and remained to share his repast. 

They went to the dining-room, leaving Sleeny more than content. Hestill heard their voices, too distant to distinguish words; but hepleased himself by believing that there was a tender understanding inthe tones of Farnham and Miss Belding when they addressed each other, and that it was altogether a family party. He had no longer any feelingof slight or neglect because none of them seemed aware of his presencewhile they were in the room with him. There was, on the contrary, asort of comfort in the thought that he belonged to a different worldfrom them; that he and Maud were shut out--shut out together--from thesociety and the interests which claimed the Beldings and the Farnhams. "You was a dunderheaded fool, " he said, cheerfully apostrophizinghimself again, "to think everybody was crazy after your girl. "

He was brought down to a lower level by hearing the door open, and thevoice of Offitt asking if Mr. Sleeny was in. 

"No one of that name here, " said Budsey. 

"I was told at Matchin's he was here. "

"Oh! the yonng man from Matchin's. He is in the library, " and Offittcame in, looking more disreputable than usual, as he had greased hishair inordinately for the occasion. Budsey evidently regarded him withno favorable eye; he said to Sleeny, "This person says he comes fromMatchin's; do you know him?"

"Yes, it's all right, " said Sam, who could say nothing less; but whenBudsey had left them, he turned to Offitt with anything but welcome inhis eye. 

"Well, you've come, after all. "

"Yes, " Offitt answered, with an uneasy laugh. "Curiosity gets us all, from Eve down. What a lay-out this is, anyhow, " and his small eyesdarted rapidly around the room. "Say, Sam, you know Christy Fore, thathauls for the Safe Company? He was telling me about the safe he putinto this room--said nobody'd ever guess it _was_ a safe. Where thedevil is it?"

"I don't know. It's none of my business, nor yours either. "

"I guess you got up wrong foot foremost, Sam, you're so cranky. Wherecan the ---- thing be? Three doors and two winders and a fire-place, and all the rest book-cases. By Jinx! there it is, I'll swear. " Hestepped over to one of the cases where a pair of oaken doors, rich witharabesque carving, veiled a sort of cabinet. He was fingering at themwhen Sam seized him by the shoulder, and said:

"Look here, Andy, what _is_ your game, anyhow? I'm here on business, and I ain't no fence, and I'll just trouble you to leave. "

Offitt's face turned livid. He growled:

"Of all Andylusian jacks, you're the beat. I ain't agoin' to hurt younor your friend Farnham. I've got all the p'ints I want for my story, and devilish little thanks to you, neither. And say, tell me, ain'tthere a back way out? I don't want to go by the dinin'-room door. There's ladies there, and I ain't dressed to see company. Why, yes, this fits me like my sins, " and he opened the French window, andstepped lightly to the gravel walk below, and was gone. 

Sleeny resumed his work, ill content with himself and his friend. "Andyis a smart fellow, " he thought; "but he had no right to come snoopin'around where I was at work, jist to get points to worry Mr. Farnhamwith. "

The little party in the drawing-room was breaking up. He heard theirpleasant last words, as the ladies resumed their wraps and Farnhamaccompanied them to the door. Mrs. Belding asked him to dinner, "withnobody but ourselves, " and he accepted with a pleased eagerness. Sleenygot one more glimpse of the beautiful face under the gray hat andfeather, and blessed it as it vanished out of the door. As Farnham cameback to the library, he stood for a moment by Sam, and examined what hehad done. 

"That's a good job. I like your work on the green-house, too. I knowgood work when I see it. I worked one winter as a boss carpentermyself. "

It seemed to Sleeny like the voice of a brother speaking to him. Hethought the presence of the young lady had made everything in the housesoft and gentle. 

"Where was you ever in that business?" he asked. 

"In the Black Hills. I sawed a million feet of lumber and built housesfor two hundred soldiers. I had no carpenters; so I had to make some. Iknew more about it when I got through than when I began. "

Sleeny laughed--a cordial laugh that wagged his golden beard and madehis white teeth glisten. 

"I'll bet you did!" he replied. 

The two men talked a few minutes like old acquaintances; then Sleenygathered up his tools and slung them over his shoulder, and as heturned to go both put out their hands at the same instant, with animpulse that surprised each of them, and said "Good-morning. "

VII. 

GHOSTLY COUNSEL. 

A man whose intelligence is so limited as that of Sam Sleeny is alwaystoo rapid and rash in his inferences. Because he had seen Farnham giveMaud a handful of roses, he was ready to believe things about theirrelations that had filled him with fury; and now, because he had seenthe same man talking with a beautiful girl and her mother, theconviction was fixed in his mind that Farnham's affections were placedin that direction, and that he was therefore no longer to be dreaded asa rival. He went home happier, in this belief, than he had been formany a day; and so prompt was his progress in the work of deceivinghimself, that he at once came to the conclusion that little or nothingnow stood between him and the crowning of his hopes. His happiness madehim unusually loquacious, and at the supper-table he excited theadmiration of Matchin and the surprise of Maud by his voluble historyof the events of the day. He passed over Offitt's visit in silence, knowing that the Matchins detested him; but he spoke with energeticemphasis of the beauty of the house, the handsome face and kindlymanners of Farnham, and the wonderful beauty and sweetness of AliceBelding. 

"Did that bold thing go to call on him alone?" cried Miss Maud, thoroughly aroused by this supposed offence against the proprieties oflife. 

"Why, no, Mattie, " said Sam, a little disconcerted. "Her ma was along. "

"Why didn't you say so, then?" asked the unappeased beauty. 

"I forgot all about the old lady, though she was more chinny than theyoung one. She just seemed like she was a-practisin' the mother-in-law, so as to do it without stumblin' when the time come. "

"Hullo! Do you think they are strikin' a match?" cried Saul, in highglee. "That would be first-rate. Keep the money and the property alltogether. There's too many of our rich girls marryin' out of the Statelately--keeps buildin' dull. "

"I don't believe a word of it, " Maud interposed. "He ain't a man to becaught by a simperin' schoolgirl. And as to money, He's got a plentyfor two. He can please himself when he marries. "

"Yes, but may be he won't please you, Mattie, and that would be apity, " said the ironical Saul. 

The old man laughed loudly at his own sarcasm, and pushed his chairback from the table, and Maud betook herself to her own room, where shesat down, as her custom was, by the window, looking over the glowinglake, and striving to read her destiny as she gazed into the crimsonand golden skies. She did not feel at all so sure as she pretended thatthere was no danger of the result that Sleeny had predicted; and nowthat she was brought face to face with it, she was confounded atdiscovering how much it meant to her. She was carrying a dream in herheart which would make or ruin her, according as it should prove trueor false. She had not thought of herself as the future wife of Farnhamwith any clearness of hope, but she found she could not endure thethought of his marrying any one else and passing forever out of herreach. She sat there, bitterly ruminating, until the evening glow haddied away from the lake and the night breeze spread its viewless wingsand flapped heavily in over the dark ridge and the silent shore. Herthoughts had given her no light of consolation; her chin rested on herhands, her elbows on her knees; her large eyes, growing more luminousin the darkness, stared out at the gathering night, scarcely notingthat the sky she gazed at had changed from a pompous scene of red andyellow splendor to an infinite field of tender and dark violet, frettedwith intense small stars. 

"What shall I do?" she thought. "I am a woman. My father is poor. Ihave got no chance. Jurildy is happier to-day than I am, and got moresense. "

She heard a timid rap at her door, and asked, sharply:

"Who's there?"

"It's me, " said Sleeny's submissive voice. 

"What do you want?" she asked again, without moving. 

"Mr. Bott give me two tickets to his seance tonight, "--Sam called it"seeuns, "--"and I thought mebbe you'd like to go. "

There was silence for a moment. Maud was thinking: "At any rate it willbe better than to sit here alone and cry all the evening. " So she said:"I'll come down in a minute. " She heard Sam's heavy step descending thestairs, and thought what a different tread another person had; and shewondered whether she would ever "do better" than take Sam Sleeny; butshe at once dismissed the thought. "I can't do that; I can't put myhand in a hand that smells so strong of sawdust as Sam's. But he is agood soul, and I am sorry for him, every time I look in the glass. "

Looking in the glass, as usual, restored her good humor, and shestarted off to the ghostly rendezvous with her faithful attendant. Theynever talked very much when they were alone together, and this eveningboth were thoughtful. Maud had never taken this commerce with ghostsmuch to heart. She had a feeling, which she could hardly have defined, that it was a common and plebeian thing to believe in it, and if sheever heard it ridiculed she joined in the cry without mercy. But it wasan excitement and an interest in a life so barren of both that shecould not afford to throw it away. She had not intelligence enough tobe disgusted or shocked by it. If pressed to explain the amount of herfaith in the whole business, she would probably have said she thought"there was something in it, " and stopped at that. In minds like hers, there is no clearly drawn line between the unusual and thesupernatural. An apparent miracle pleased her as it would please achild, without setting her to find out how it was done. She wouldconsult a wizard, taking the chances of his having occult sources ofinformation, with the same irregular faith in the unlikely with whichsome ladies call in homoeopathic practitioners. 

All the way to the rooms of Bott, she was revolving this thought in hermind: "Perhaps he could tell me something about Mr. Farnham. I don'tthink much of Bott; he has too many knuckles on his hands. I never sawa man with so many knuckles. I wouldn't mention Mr. Farnham to him tosave his life, but I might get something out of him without telling himanything. He is certainly a very smart man, and whether it's spirits ornot, he knows lots of things. "

It was in this mood that she entered the little apartment where Bottheld what he called his "Intermundane Seances. " The room was small andstuffy. A simulacrum of a chest of drawers in one corner was reallyBott's bed, where the seer reposed at night, and which, tilted upagainst the wall during the day, contained the rank bedclothes, longinnocent of the wash-tub. There were a dozen or so of cane-bottomchairs, a little table for a lamp, but no other furniture. At one sideof the room was a small closet without a door, but with a dark anddirty curtain hung before its aperture. Around it was a wooden railing, breast high. 

A boy with a high forehead, and hair combed behind ears large andflaring like those of a rabbit, sat by the door, and took the ticketsof invited guests and the half-dollars of the casuals. The seerreceived everybody with a nerveless shake of a clammy hand, showed themto seats, and exchanged a word or two about the weather, and the"conditions, " favorable or otherwise, to spiritual activity. When hesaw Maud and Sam his tallowy face flushed, in spots, with delight. Hetook them to the best places the room afforded, and stammered hispleasure that they had come. 

"Oh! the pleasure is all ours, " said Maud, who was alwaysself-possessed when she saw men stammering. "It's a great privilege toget so near to the truth as you bring us, Mr. Bott. "

The prophet had no answer ready; he merely flushed again in spots, andsome new arrivals called him away. 

The room was now pretty well filled with the unmistakable crowd whichalways attend such meetings. They were mostly artisans, of moreintellectual ambition than their fellows, whose love of the marvellouswas not held in control by any educated judgment. They had long, serious faces, and every man of them wore long hair and a soft hat. Their women were generally sad, broken-spirited drudges, to whom thiskind of show was like an opera or a ball. There were two or threeshame-faced believers of the better class, who scoffed a little buttrembled in secret, and a few avowed skeptics, young clerks on a mildspree, ready for fun if any should present itself. 

Bott stepped inside the railing by the closet, and placing his handsupon it, addressed the assembly. He did not know what peculiar shapethe manifestations of the evening might take. They were in search oftruth; all truth was good. They hoped for visitors from the unseenspeers; he could promise nothing. In this very room the spirits of thedeparted had walked and talked with their friends; perhaps they mightdo it again; he knew not. How they mingled in the earth-life, he didnot pretend to say; perhaps they materialized through the mejum;perhaps they dematerialized material from the audience which theyrematerialized in visible forms; as to that, the opinion of another--hesaid with a spacious magnanimity--was as good as his. He would nowrequest two of the audience to step up and tie him. One of thelong-haired ruminant men stood up, and a young fellow, amid muchnudging and giggling among the scorners, was also forced from hischair. They came forward, the believer with a business-like air, whichshowed practice, and the young skeptic blushing and ill at ease. Botttook a chair inside the curtain, and showed them how to tie him. Theybound him hand and foot, the believer testified that the binding wassolid, and the skeptic went to his seat, playfully stepping upon thetoes of his scoffing friends. The curtain was lowered, and the lamp wasturned down. 

In a few moments, a scuffling sound was heard in the closet, and Bott'scoat came flying out into the room. The believer pulled back thecurtain, and Botts sat in his chair, his shirt sleeves gleaming whitein the dust. His coat was laid over his shoulders, and almost as soonas the curtain was lowered he yelled for light, and was disclosedsitting tied as before, clothed in his right coat. 

Again the curtain went down amid a sigh of satisfaction from theadmiring audience, and a choking voice, which tried hard not to soundlike Bott's, cried out from the closet: "Turn down the light; we wantmore power. " The kerosene lamp was screwed down till hardly a sparkillumined the visible darkness, and suddenly a fiery hand appeared atthe aperture of the closet, slowly opening and shutting its longfingers. 

A half dozen voices murmured: "A spirit hand"; but Sam Sleeny whisperedto Maud: "Them are Bott's knuckles, for coin. " The hand was withdrawnand a horrible face took its place--a pallid corpse-like mask, withlambent fire sporting on the narrow forehead and the high cheek-bones. It stayed only an instant, but Sam said, "That's the way Bott will lookin----"

"Hush!" said Maud, who was growing too nervous to smile, for fear oflaughing or crying. 

A sound of sobbing came from a seat to the right of them. A poor womanhad recognized the face as that of her husband, who had died in thearmy, and she was drawing the most baleful inferences from its fieryadjuncts. 

A moment later, Bott came out of the closet, crouching so low that hishead was hardly two feet from the ground. He had a sheet around hisneck, covering his whole person, and a white cap over his head, concealing most of his face. In this constrained attitude he hoppedabout the clear space in front of the audience with a good deal ofdexterity, talking baby-talk in a shrill falsetto. "Howdy, pappa!Howdy, mamma! Itty Tudie tum adin!"

A rough man and woman, between joy and grief, were half hysterical. They talked to the toad-like mountebank in the most endearing tones, evidently believing it was their dead baby toddling before them. Two orthree times the same horrible imposture was repeated. Bott never madehis appearance without somebody recognizing him as a dear departedfriend. The glimmering light, the unwholesome excitement, the servilecredulity fixed by long habit, seemed to produce a sort of passingdementia upon the regular habitues. 

With these performances the first part came to an end. The light wasturned on again, and the tying committee was requested to come forwardand examine the cords with which Bott still seemed tightly bound. Theskeptic remained scornfully in his seat, and so it was left for thebeliever to announce that not a cord had been touched. He then untiedBott, who came out from the closet, stretching his limbs as if glad tobe free, and announced that there would be a short intermission for aninterchange of views. 

As he came toward Maud, Sam rose and said:

"Whew! he smells like a damp match. I'll go out and smoke a minute, andcome back. "

Bott dropped into the seat which Sleeny had left. 

To one who has never attended one of these queer _cenacula_, it wouldbe hard to comprehend the unhealthy and even nauseous character of thefeeling and the conversation there prevalent. The usual decentrestraints upon social intercourse seem removed. Subjects which thecommon consent of civilized creatures has banished from mixed societyare freely opened and discussed. To people like the ordinary run of thebelievers in spiritism, the opera, the ballet, and the annual Zola areunknown, and they must take their excitements where they can find them. The dim light, the unhealthy commerce of fictitious ghosts, theunreality of act and sentiment, the unwonted abandon, form anatmosphere in which these second-hand mystics float away into a spherewhere the morals and the manners are altogether different from those oftheir working days. 

Miss Matchin had not usually joined in these morbid discussions. Shewas of too healthy an organization to be tempted by so rank a mentalfeast as that, and she had a sort of fierce maidenhood about her whichrevolted at such exposures of her own thought. But to-night she wassorely perplexed. She had been tormented by many fancies as she lookedout of her window into the deepening shadows that covered the lake. Thewonders she had seen in that room, though she did not receive them withentire faith, had somewhat shaken her nerves; and now the seer satbeside her, his pale eyes shining with his own audacity, his lank hairdripping with sweat, his hands uneasily rubbing together, his wholeattitude expressive of perfect subjection to her will. 

"Why isn't this a good chance?" she thought. "He is certainly a smartman. Horrid as he looks, he knows lots. May be he could tell me how tofind out. "

She began in her airiest manner: "Oh, Mr. Bott, what a wonderful giftyou have got! How you must look down on us poor mortals!"

Bott grew spotted, and stammered:

"Far from it, Miss Matchin. I couldn't look down on you. "

"Oh, you are flattering. That's not right, because I believe every wordyou say--and that ain't true. "

She rattled recklessly on in the same light tone. 

"I'm going to ask you something very particular. I don't know who cantell me, if you can't. How can a young lady find out whether a younggentleman is in love with her or not? Now, tell me the truth thistime, " she said with a nervous titter, "for it's very important. "

This question from any one else would not have disconcerted Bott in theleast. Queries as absurd had frequently been put to him in perfect goodfaith, and answered with ready and impudent ignorance. But, at thosegiggling words of Maud Matchin, he turned livid and purple, and hisbreath came heavily. There was room for but one thought in that narrowheart and brain. He had long cherished a rather cowardly fondness forMaud, and now that this question was put to him by the agitated girl, his vanity would not suffer him to imagine that any one but himself wasthe subject of her dreams. There was, to him, nothing especially out ofthe way in this sort of indirect proposal on the part of a young woman. It was entirely in keeping with the general tone of sentiment among thepeople of his circle, which aimed at nothing less than the emancipationof the world from its old-fashioned decencies. 

But he would not answer hastily; he had a coward's caution. He looked amoment at the girl's brilliant color, her quick, high breathing, hereager eyes, with a gloating sense of his good luck. But he wanted herthoroughly committed. So he said, with an air in which there wasalready something offensively protecting:

"Well, Miss Matchin, that depends on the speer. If the affection beunilateral, it is one thing; if it be recippercal, it is another. Thecurrents of soul works in different ways. "

"But what I mean is, if a young lady likes a young gentleman prettywell, how is she going to find out for sure whether he likes her?" Shewent intrepidly through these words, though her cheeks were burning, and her eyes would fall in spite of her, and her head was singing. 

There was no longer any doubt in Bott's mind. He was filled with aninsolent triumph, and thought only of delaying as long as possible thelove chase of which he imagined himself the object. He said, slowly andseverely:

"The question is too imperious to be answered in haste. I will putmyself in the hands of the sperruts, and answer it as they choose afterthe intermission. "

He rose and bowed, and went to speak a word or two to his othervisitors. Sam came back and took his seat by Maud, and said:

"I think the fun is about over. Less go home. "

"Go home yourself, if you want to, " was the petulant reply. "I am goingto stay for the inspirational discourse. "

"Oh, my!" said Sam. "That's a beautiful word. You don't know how prettyyour mouth looks when you say that. " Sam had had his beer, and wasbrave and good-natured. 

Bott retired once more behind the railing, but took his seat in a chairoutside the curtain, in full view of the audience. He sat for someminutes motionless, staring at vacancy. He then slowly closed his eyes, and a convulsive shudder ran through his frame. This was repeated atrapid intervals, with more or less violence. He next passed his handsalternately over his forehead, as if he were wiping it, and throwingsome invisible, sticky substance, with a vicious snap, to right andleft. At last, after a final shudder, which stiffened him into theimage of death for a moment, he rose to his feet and, leaning on therailing, began to intone, in a dismal whine, a speech of which we needgive only the opening words. 

"Dear brothers and sisters of the earth-life! On pearly wings ofgossamer-down we float down from our shining speers to bring youmessages of the higher life. Let your earth-soul be lifted to meet oursperrut-soul; let your earth-heart blend in sweet accordion with ourheaven-heart; that the beautiful and the true in this weary earth-lifemay receive the bammy influence of the Eden flowrets, and rise, throughspeers of disclosure, to the plane where all is beautiful and all istrue. "

He continued in this strain for some time, to the evident edificationof his audience, who listened with the same conventional tolerance, thesame trust that it is doing your neighbor good, with which the ordinaryaudience sits under an ordinary sermon. Maud, having a special reasonfor being alert, listened with a real interest. But during his speechproper he made no allusion to the subject on which she had asked forlight. It was after he had finished his harangue, and had gone throughan _entr'acte_ of sighs and shudders, that he announced himself oncemore in the hands of the higher intelligences, and ready to answerquestions. "It does not need, " he whined, "the word of the month or thespeech of the tongue to tell the sperruts what your souls desire. Theburden of your soul is open to the sperrut-eye. There sits in this rooma pure and lovely soul in quest of light. Its query is, How does heartmeet heart in mutual knowledge?"

Maud's cheek grew pale and then red, and her heart beat violently. Butno one noticed her, and the seer went on. "If a true heart longs foranother, there is no rest but in knowledge, there is no knowledge butin trewth, there is no trewth but in trust. Oh, my brother, if you lovea female, tell your love. Oh, my sister, if you love--hum--if youlove--hum--an individual of the opposite sex--oh, tell your love!--Downwith the shams of a false-hearted society; down with the chains ofsilence that crushes your soul to the dust! If the object of yourhearts' throbs is noble, he will respond. Love claims love. Love has aright to love. If he is base, go to a worthier one. But from your braveand fiery heart a light will kindle his, and dual flames will wrap twochosen natures in high-menial melodies, when once the revelating wordis spoke. "

With these words he subsided into a deep trance, which lasted till thefaithful grew tired of waiting, and shuffled slowly out of the door. When the last guest had gone, he rose from his chair, with no pretenceof spiritual dignity, and counted his money and his tickets. Hestretched himself in two chairs, drew his fingers admiringly throughhis lank locks, while a fatuous grin of perfect content spread over hisface, as he said aloud to himself, "She has got it bad. I wonderwhether she will have the nerve to ask me. I'll wait awhile, anyhow. I'll lose nothing by waiting. "

Meanwhile, Maud was walking rapidly home with Sam. She was excited andperplexed, and did not care to answer Sam's rather heavy pleasantriesover the evening's performance. He ridiculed the spirit-lights, thevoices, and the jugglery, without provoking a reply, and at last hesaid:

"Well, what do you think of his advising the girls to pop? This ain'tleap year!"

"What of that?" she answered, hastily. "I don't see why a girl hasn'tas good a right to speak her mind as a man. "

"Why, Mattie, " said Sam, with slow surprise, "no decent girl would dothat. "

They had come to Matchin's gate. She slipped in, then turned and said:

"Well, don't be frightened, Mr. Sleeny; I'm not going to propose toyou, " and she was gone from his sight. 

She went directly to her room, and walked up and down a few momentswithout taking off her hat, moving with the easy grace and thesuppressed passion of an imprisoned panther. Then she lighted her lampand placed it on her bureau at one side of her glass. She searched inher closet and found a candle, which she lighted and placed on theother side of the glass. She undressed with reckless haste, throwingher clothes about on the floor, and sat down before her mirror withbare arms and shoulders, and nervously loosened her hair, watchingevery movement with blazing eyes. The thick masses of her blue-blackcurls fell down her back and over her sloping shoulders, which glowedwith the creamy light of old ivory. The unequal rays of the lamp andcandle made singular effects of shadow on the handsome face, thefloating hair, and the strong and wholesome color of her neck and arms. She gazed at herself with eager eyes and parted lips, in an anxiety toogreat to be assuaged by her girlish pride in her own beauty. "This isall very well, " she said, "but he will not see me this way. Oh! if Ionly dared to speak first. I wonder if it would be as the spirits said. 'If he is noble he will respond!' He _is_ noble, that's sure. 'Loveclaims love, ' they said. But I don't know as I love him. I _would_, ifthat would fetch him, quick enough;" and the hot blood came surging up, covering neck and brow with crimson. 

VIII. 

A BUD AND A BLOSSOM. 

Farnham was sitting the next evening in his library, when Budseyentered and said Mr. Ferguson desired to see him. The gaunt Scotchmancame in and said with feverish haste: "The cereus grandiflorus will begoin' to bloom the night. The buds are tremblin' and laborin' now. "Farnham put on his hat and went to the conservatory, which wasseparated from the house by the entire extent of the garden. Arrivingthere, the gardener took him hurriedly to an inner room, dimlylighted, --a small square piece between the ferns and the grapes, --wherethe regal flower had a wall to itself. Two or three garden chairs weredisposed about the room. Ferguson mounted on one of them, and turned upthe gas so that its full light shone upon the plant. The bud was a verylarge one, perfect and symmetrical; the strong sheath, of a rich andeven brown, as yet showed only a few fissures of its surface, but evennow a faint odor stole from the travailing sphere, as from a crackedbox of alabaster filled with perfume. 

The face of the canny Fergus was lighted up with an eager joy. He hadwatched the growth and progress of this plant from its infancy. He hadleaned above its cradle and taken pride in its size and beauty. He hadtrained it over the wall--from which he had banished every rival--inlarge and graceful curves, reaching from the door of the fernery to thedoor of the grapery, till it looked, in the usual half light of the dimchamber, like a well-regulated serpent maturing its designs upon theneighboring paradise; and now the time was come when he was to see thefruit of his patience and his care. 

"Heaven be thankit, " he murmured devoutly, "that I was to the fore whenit came. "

"I thank you, Fergus, for calling me, " said Farnham, smiling. "I knowit must have cost you an effort to divide such a sight with any one. "

"It's your siller bought it, " the Scotchman answered sturdily; "butthere's nobody knows it, or cares for it, as I do, --and that's thetruth. "

His glance was fixed upon the bud, which seemed to throb and stir as hespoke. The soft explosive force within was at work so strongly that theeye could watch its operation. The fissures of the sheath widenedvisibly and turned white as the two men looked at them. 

"It is a shame to watch this beautiful thing happening for only us, "Farnham said to the gardener. "Go and tell Mrs. Belding, with mycompliments, and ask her and Miss Belding to come down. " But observinghis crestfallen expression, he took compassion on him and said: "No, you had better remain, for fear something should happen in yourabsence. I will go for the ladies. "

"I hope ye'll not miss it, " said Fergus, but his eyes and his heartwere fixed upon the bud, which was slowly gaping apart, showing a fainttinge of gold in its heart. 

Farnham walked rapidly up the garden, and found the Beldings at thedoor, starting for evening service with their prayer-books in theirhands. 

"Do you wish to see the prettiest thing you ever saw in your lives? ofcourse I except your mirrors when in action, " he began, withoutsalutation. "If so, come this moment to my conservatory. Mynight-blooming cereus has her coming-out party tonight. "

They both exclaimed with delight, and were walking with him toward thegarden. Suddenly, Mrs. Belding stopped and said:

"Alice, run and get your sketch-book and pencil. It will be lovely todraw the flower. "

"Why, mamma! we shall not have time for a sketch. "

"There, there! do as I tell you, and do not waste time in disputing. "

The young girl hesitated a moment, and then, with instinctiveobedience, went off to fetch the drawing materials, while her mothersaid to Farnham:

"Madame de Veaudrey says Alice is very clever with her pencil; but sheis so modest I shall have to be severe with her to make her doanything. She takes after me. I was very clever in my lessons, butnever would admit it. "

Alice came down the steps. Farnham, seeing her encumbered by her books, took them from her, and they went down the walks to the conservatory. They found Ferguson sitting, with the same rapt observation, before histropical darling. As the ladies entered, he rose to give them seats, and then retired to the most distant corner of the room, where he spentthe rest of the evening entirely unaware of any one's presence, andgiven up to the delight of his eyes. The bud was so far opened that thecreamy white of the petals could be seen within the riven sheath, whosestrong dark color exquisitely relieved the pallid beauty it had guardedso long. The silky stamens were still curled about the central style, but the splendor of color which was coming was already suggested, and abreath of intoxicating fragrance stole from the heart of the immaculateflower. 

They spoke to each other in low tones, as if impressed with a sort ofawe at the beautiful and mysterious development of fragrant and lovelylife going forward under their sight. The dark eyes of Alice Beldingwere full of that vivid happiness which strange and charming thingsbring to intelligent girlhood. She was looking with all her soul, andher breath was quick and high, and her soft red lips were parted andtremulous. Farnham looked from her to the flower, and back again, gazing on both with equal safety, for the one was as unconscious of hisadmiring glances as the other. 

Suddenly, the sound of bells floated in from the neighboring street, and both of the ladies started. "No, don't you go, " said Mrs. Beldingto her daughter. "I must, because I have to see my 'Rescue thePerishing. ' But you can just as well stay here and make your sketch. Mr. Farnham can take care of you, and I will be back in an hour. "

"But, mamma!" cried Miss Alice, too much scandalized to speak anotherword. 

"I won't have you lose this chance, " her mother continued. "I am sureMr. Farnham will not object to taking care of you a little while; andif he hasn't the time, Fergus will bring you home--hm, Fergus?"

"Ay, madam, with right guid will, " the gardener said, his hard facesoftening into a smile. 

"There, sit down in that chair and begin your sketch. It is lovely justas it is. " She waited until Alice, whose confusion had turned her facecrimson, had taken her seat, opened her sketch-book, and taken herpencils in her trembling hands, and then the brisk and hearty womandrew her shawl about her and bustled to the door. 

"I will walk to the church door with you, " said Farnham, to theinfinite relief of Alice, who regained her composure at the instant, and began with interest to sketch the flower. She thought, while herbusy fingers were at work, that she had perhaps been too prudish inobjecting to her mother's plan. "He evidently thinks nothing of it, andwhy should I?"

By the time Farnham returned, the cereus had attained its full glory ofbloom. Its vast petals were thrown back to their fullest extent, andshone with a luminous beauty in which its very perfume seemed visible;the countless recurved stamens shot forth with the vigorous impulse andvitality of sun rays; from the glowing centre to the dark fringe withwhich the shattered sheath still accented its radiant outline it blazedforth, fully revealed; and its sweet breath seemed the voice of a prideand consciousness of beauty like that of the goddess on Mount Ida, calmly triumphant in the certainty of perfect loveliness. 

Alice had grown interested in her task, and looked up for only aninstant with her frank, clear eyes as Farnham entered. "Now, whereshall I sit?" he asked. "Here, behind your right elbow, where I canlook over your shoulder and observe the work as it goes on?"

"By no means. My hand would lose all its little cunning in that case. "

"Then I will sit in front of you and study the artistic emotions inyour face. "

"That would be still worse, for you would hide my subject. I am sureyou are very well as you are, " she added, as he seated himself in achair beside her, a little way off. 

"Yes, that is very well. I have the flower three-quarters and you inprofile. I will study the one for a panel and the other for a medal. "

Miss Alice laughed gently. She laughed often from sheer good humor, answering the intention of what was said to her better than by words. 

"Can you sketch and talk too?" asked Farnham. 

"I can sketch and listen, " she said. "You will talk and keep meamused. "

"Amusement with malice aforethought! The order affects my spirits likea Dead March. How do the young men amuse young ladies nowadays? Do theybegin by saying, 'Have you been very gay lately?'"

Again Miss Alice laughed. "She is an easy-laughing girl, " thoughtFarnham. "I like easy-laughing girls. When she laughs, she alwaysblushes a very little. It is worth while talking nonsense to see a girllaugh so pleasantly and blush so prettily. "

It is not worth while, however, to repeat all the nonsense Farnhamuttered in the next hour. He got very much interested in it himself, and was so eager sometimes to be amusing that he grew earnest, and thegentle laugh would cease and the pretty lips would come gravelytogether. Whenever he saw this he would fall back upon his triflingagain. He had the soldier's fault of point-blank compliment, but withit an open sincerity of manner which relieved his flattery of anyoffensiveness. He had practised it in several capitals with somesuccess. A dozen times this evening, a neat compliment came to his lipsand stopped there. He could hardly understand his own reserve beforethis laughing young lady. Why should he not say something pretty abouther hair and eyes, about her graceful attitude, about the nimble playof her white fingers over the paper? He had uttered frank flatteries topeeresses without rebuke. But he held his hand before this school-girl, with the open dark-brown eyes and a club of yellow hair at the back ofher neck. He could not help feeling that, if he talked to her with anyforcing of the personal accent, she would stop laughing and the cleareyes would be troubled. He desired anything rather than that, and sothe conversation went rattling on as free from personalities as thetalk of two light-hearted and clever schoolboys. 

At one moment he was describing a bill of fare in a Colorado hotel. 

"With nice bread, though, one can always get on, " she said. 

"True, " Farnham answered; "but this bread was of a ghostly pallor andflatness, as if it had been baked by moonlight on a grave-stone. "

"The Indian women cook well, do they not?" she asked. 

"Some are not so bad as others. One young chief boasted to me of hiswife's culinary accomplishments. He had been bragging all the morningabout his own exploits, of the men he had killed and the horses he hadstolen, and then to establish his standing clearly in my mind, headded: 'My squaw same white squaw--savey pie. '"

"Even there, then, the trail of the pie-crust is over them all. "

"No! only over the aristocracy. "

"I should like so much to see that wonderful country. "

"It is worth seeing, " he said, with a curious sinking of the heart, "ifyou are not under orders. "

He could not help thinking what a pleasant thing a journey through thatBrobdingnaggian fairy-land would be with company like the young girlbefore him. Nature would be twice as lovely reflected from those browneyes. The absurdities and annoyances of travel would be made delightfulby that frank, clear laugh. The thought of his poor Nellie flitted byhim an instant, too gentle and feeble for reproach. Another strongerthought had occupied his mind. 

"You ought to see it. Your mother will need rest before long from herRescue-the-Perishings, and you are overworking yourself dreadfully overthat sketch-book. There is a touch of malaria about the fountain inBluff Park. Colorado will do you both no end of good. I feel as if Ineeded it myself. I haven't energy enough to read Mr. Martin's 'Life ofthe Prince Consort. ' I shall speak to Mrs. Belding as soon as shereturns. "

"Do, by all means. I should like to go, but mamma would not spend threenights in a sleeping-car to see the Delectable Mountains themselves. "

He rose and walked about the room, looking at the flower and the youngartist from different points of view, and seeing new beauties in eachcontinually. There were long lapses of conversation, in which Aliceworked assiduously and Farnham lounged about the conservatory, alwaysreturning with a quick word and a keen look at the face of the girl. Atlast he said to himself: "Look here! She is not a baby. She is nearlytwenty years old. I have been wondering why her face was so steady andwise. " The thought that she was not a child tilled his heart withpleasure and his face with light. But his volubility seemed to diesuddenly away. He sat for a good while in silence, and started a littleas she looked up and said:

"Now, if you will be very gentle, you can see my sketch and tell mewhat to do next. "

It was a pretty and unpretentious picture that she had made. The flowerwas faithfully though stiffly given, and nothing especially remarkablehad been attempted or achieved. Farnham looked at the sketch with eyesin which there was no criticism. He gave Alice a word or two ofheartier praise for her work than she knew she deserved. It was rathermore than she expected, and she was not altogether pleased to be sohighly commended, though she could hardly have said why. Perhaps it wasbecause it made her think less of his critical faculty. This was notagreeable, for her admiration of him from her childhood had been one ofthe greatest pleasures of her life. She had regarded him as childrenregard a brilliant and handsome young uncle. She did not expect fromhim either gallantry or equality of treatment. 

"There! Do not say too much about it--you will make me ashamed of it. What does it lack?"

"Nothing, except something on the right to balance the other side. Youmight sketch in roughly a half-opened flower on the vine about there, "indicating the place. 

She took her pencils and began obediently to do what he had suggested. He leaned over her shoulder, so near her she could feel his breath onthe light curls that played about her ear. She wished he would move. She grew nervous, and at last said:

"I am tired. You put in that flower. "

He took the book and pencils from her, as she rose from her chair andgave him her place, and with a few strong and rapid strokes finishedthe sketch. 

"After all, " she said to herself, with hearty appreciation, "men dohave the advantage of girls. He bothered me dreadfully, and I did notbother him in the least. And yet I stood as near to him as he did tome. "

Mrs. Belding came in a moment later. She was in high spirits. They hadhad a good meeting--had converted a Jew, she thought. She admired thesketch very much; hoped Alice had been no trouble to Farnham. He walkedhome with the ladies, and afterward smoked a cigar with greatdeliberation under the limes. 

Mrs. Belding asked Alice how they had got on. 

"He did not eat you, you see. You must get out of your ideas of men, especially men of Arthur Farnham's age. He never thinks of you. He isold enough to be your father. "

Alice kissed her mother and went to her own room, calculating on theway the difference between her age and Captain Farnham's. 

IX. 

A DRAMA WITH TWO SPECTATORS. 

The words of Bott lingered obstinately in Maud Matchin's mind. She gaveherself no rest from dwelling on them. Her imagination was full, dayafter day, of glowing pictures of herself and Farnham in tete-a-tete;she would seek in a thousand ways to tell her love--but she could neverquite arrange her avowal in a satisfactory manner. Long before she cameto the decisive words which were to kindle his heart to flame in theimaginary dialogue, he would himself take fire by spontaneouscombustion, and, falling on his knees, would offer his hand, his heart, and his fortune to her in words taken from "The Earl's Daughter" or the"Heir of Ashby. "

"Oh, pshaw! that's the way it ought to be, " she would say to herself. "But if he won't--I wonder whether I ever could have the brass to doit? I don't know why I shouldn't. We are both human. Bott wouldn't havesaid that if there was nothing in it, and he's a mighty smart man. "

The night usually gave her courage. Gazing into her glass, she sawenough to inspire her with an idea of her own invincibility; and aftershe had grown warm in bed she would doze away, resolving with a stoutheart that she would try her fate in the morning. But when day came, the enterprise no longer seemed so simple. Her scanty wardrobe struckher with cowardice as she surveyed it. The broad daylight madeeverything in the house seem poor and shabby. When she wentdown-stairs, her heart sank within her as she entered the kitchen tohelp her mother, and when she sat with the family at the breakfast-table, she had no faith left in her dreams of the rosy midnight. Thisalternation of feeling bred in her, in the course of a few days, a sortof fever, which lent a singular beauty to her face, and a petulant tangto her speech. She rose one morning, after a sleepless night, in astate of anger and excitement in which she had little difficulty incharging upon Farnham all responsibility for her trouble of mind. 

"I won't stand it any longer, " she said aloud in her chamber. "I shallgo to him this day and have it out. I shall ask him what he means bytreating me so. "

She sat down by her bureau and began to crimp her hair with grimresolution. Her mother came and knocked at her door. "I'm not coming tobreakfast, I've got a headache, " she said, and added to herself, "Isha'n't go down and get the smell of bacon on me this morning. "

She continued her work of personal adornment for two hours, goingseveral times over her whole modest arsenal of finery before she wasready for the fray. She then went down in her street costume, and madea hasty meal of bread and butter, standing by the pantry. Her mothercame in and found her there. 

"Why, Mattie, how's your head?"

"I'm going to take a walk and see what that will do. "

As she walked rapidly out of Dean Street, the great clock of thecathedral was striking the hour of nine. 

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, "that's too early to call on a gentleman. What shall I do?"

She concluded to spend the time of waiting in the library, and walkedrapidly in that direction, the fresh air flushing her cheeks, andblowing the frizzed hair prettily about her temples. She went straightto the reference rooms, and sat down to read a magazine. The girl whohad prompted her to apply for a place was there on duty. She gave alittle cry of delight when she saw Maud, and said:

"I was just crazy to see you. I have got a great secret for you. I'mengaged!"

The girls kissed each other with giggles and little screams, and theyoung woman told who _he_ was--in the lightning-rod business inKalamazoo, and doing very well; they were to be married almostimmediately. 

"You never saw such a fellow, he just won't wait;" and consequently herplace in the library would be vacant. "Now, you must have it, Maud! Ihaven't told a soul. Even the Doctor don't know it yet. "

Maud left the library and walked up the avenue with an easier mind. Shehad an excuse for her visit now, and need not broach, unless she liked, the tremendous subject that made her turn hot and cold to think of. Shewent rustling up the wide thoroughfare at a quick pace; but beforearriving at Farnham's, moved by a momentary whim, she turned down aside street leading to Bishop's Lane. She said to herself, "I will goin by that little gate once, if I never do again. " As she drew near, she thought, "I hope Sam isn't there. "

Sam was there, just finishing his work upon the greenhouse. Farnham wasthere also; he had come down to inspect the job, and he and Sleeny werechatting near the gate as Maud opened it and came in. Farnham steppedforward to meet her. The unexpected rencounter made her shy, and sheneither spoke to Sam nor looked toward him, which filled him with adull jealousy. 

"Could I have a few moments' conversation with you, sir?" she asked, with stiff formality. 

"Certainly, " said Farnham, smiling. "Shall we go into the house?"

"Thank you, sir, " she rejoined, severely decorous. They walked up thegarden-path together, and Sam looked after them with an unquiet heart. 

She was walking beside Farnham with a stately step, in spite of thescabbard-like narrowness of the dress she wore. She was nearly as tallas he, and as graceful as a young pine blown to and fro by soft winds. The carpenter, with his heart heavy with love and longing, felt abitter sense that she was too fine for him. They passed into the house, and he turned to his work with a sigh, often dropping his busy handsand looking toward the house with a dumb questioning in his eyes. Aftera half hour which seemed endless to him, they reappeared and walkedslowly down the lawn. There was trouble and agitation in the girl'sface, and Farnham was serious also. As they came by the rose-house, Maud paused and looked up with a sorrowful smile and a question. Farnham nodded, and they walked to the open door of the long, lowbuilding. He led the way in, and Maud, looking hastily around, closedthe door behind them. 

"He's goin' to give her some more of them roses, " said Sam, explainingthe matter to himself. But he worked for some time with his blond beardon his shoulder in his impatience to see them come out. At last, hecould resist no longer. He knew a point where he could look through theglass and see whatever was taking place among the roses. He walkedswiftly across the turf to that point. He looked in and saw Maud, whose back was turned toward him, talking as if she were pleading forher life, while Farnham listened with a clouded brow. Sleeny stoodstaring with stupid wonder while Maud laid her hand upon Farnham'sshoulder. At that moment he heard footsteps on the gravel walk at somedistance from him, and he looked up and saw Mrs. Belding approaching. Confused at his attitude of espionage, he walked away from his post, and, as he passed her, Mrs. Belding asked him if he knew where Mr. Farnham was. 

"Yes, " he answered, "he's in there. Walk right in;" and in the midst ofhis trouble of spirit he could hardly help chuckling at his owncleverness as he walked, in his amazement, back to the conservatory. 

While she was in the house, Maud had confined herself to the subject ofthe vacancy in the library. She rushed at it, as a hunter at a hedge, to get away from the other matter which had tormented her for a week. When she found herself alone with Farnham she saw that it would be"horrid" to say what she had so long been rehearsing. "Now I can getthat place, if you will help me. No earthly soul knows anything aboutit, and Minnie said she would give me a good chance before she let itout. "

Farnham tried to show her the difficulties in the way. He was led byher eagerness into a more detailed account of his differences with therest of the board than he had ever given to any one, a fuller narrativethan was perhaps consistent with entire prudence. Whenever he paused, she would insist with a woman's disconcerting directness:

"But they don't know anything about it this time--they can't combine onanybody. You can certainly get one of them. "

Farnham still argued against her sanguine hopes, till he at lastaffected her own spirits, and she grew silent and despondent. As sherose to go, he also took his hat to return to the garden, where he hadleft Sleeny, and they walked over the lawn together. As they approachedthe rose-house, she thought of her former visit and asked to repeat it. The warm breath of the flowers saluted her as she crossed thethreshold, bringing so vivid a reminiscence of the enchantment of thatother day, that there came with it a sudden and poignant desire to trythere, in that bewitched atmosphere, the desperate experiment whichwould decide her fate. There was no longer any struggle in her mind. She could not, for her life, have kept silent now. She walked slowlybeside him to the place where the pots of roses stood ranged on theirframes, filling the air with dense fragrance. Her hands were icy coldand quick flushes passed through her, while her face reddened and paledlike a horizon smitten by heat-lightning in a sultry night of summer. She looked at the moist brick pavement at her feet, her eyelids seemedtoo heavy to lift, and the long lashes nearly touched her cheeks. 

"What sort will you have?" said Farnham, reaching for the gardener'sshears. 

"Never mind the roses, " she said, in a dry voice which she hardlyrecognized as her own. "I have something to say to you. "

He turned and looked at her with surprise. She raised her eyes to hiswith a great effort, and then, blushing fiery red, she said, in aclear, low voice, "I love you. "

Like many another daughter and son of Eve, she was startled at theeffect of these momentous words upon herself. Of all forms of speechthese three words are the most powerful, the most wonderworking uponthe being who utters them. It was the first time they had ever passedher lips, and they exalted and inebriated her. She was suddenly setfree from the bashful constraint which had held her, and with a leapingpulse and free tongue she poured out her heart to the astonished andscandalized young man. 

"Yes, I love you. You think it's horrid that I should say so, don'tyou? But I don't care, I love you. I loved you the first time I sawyou, though you made me so angry about my glasses. But you were mymaster, and I knew it, and I never put them on again. And I thought ofyou day and night, and I longed for the day to come when I might seeyou once more, and I was glad when I did not get that place, so that Icould come again and see you and talk with you. I can tell you overagain every word you ever said to me. You were not like other men. Youare the first real man I ever knew. I was silly and wild when I wantedto be your secretary. Of course, that wouldn't do. If I am not to beyour wife, I must never see you again; you know that, don't you?" and, carried away by her own reckless words, she laid her hand on hisshoulder. His frown of amazement and displeasure shook her composuresomewhat. She turned pale and trembled, her eyes fell, and it seemedfor an instant as if she would sink to the floor at his feet. He puthis arm around her, to keep her from falling and pressed her closely tohim. She threw her head back upon his shoulder and lifted her face tohim. He looked down on her, and the frown passed from his brow as hesurveyed her flushed cheeks, her red full lips parted in breathlesseagerness; her dark eyes were wide open, the iris flecked with goldensparks and the white as clear and blue-tinged as in the eyes of avigorous infant; her head lay on his shoulder in perfect content, andshe put up her mouth to him as simply and as sure of a response as apretty child. He was entirely aware of the ridiculousness of hisposition, but he stooped and kissed her. 

Her work seemed all done; but her satisfaction lasted only a second. Her face broke into happy smiles. 

"You do love me, do you not?" she asked. 

"I certainly do not, " he answered; and at that instant the door openedand Mrs. Belding saw this pretty group of apparent lovers on a richbackground of Jacqueminot roses. 

Startled more at the words of Farnham than at the entry of Mrs. Belding, Maud had started up, like Vivien, "stiff as a viper frozen. "Her first thought was whether she had crushed her hat on his shoulder, and her hands flew instinctively to her head-gear. She then walkedtempestuously past the astonished lady out into the garden and brushedroughly by Sleeny, who tried to detain her. 

"Hold your tongue, Sam! I hate you and all men"; and with this generaldenunciation, she passed out of the place, flaming with rage and shame. 

Mrs. Belding stood for a moment speechless, and then resorted to theuse of that hard-worked and useful monosyllable, "Well!" with a sharp, falling inflection. 

"Well!" returned Farnham, with an easy, rising accent; and then both ofthem relieved the strained situation with a laugh. 

"Come, now, " said the good-natured woman, "I am a sort of guardian ofyours. Give an account of yourself. "

"That is easily given, " said Farnham. "A young woman, whose name Ihardly know, came to me in the garden this morning to ask for help toget some lady-like work to do. After discussing that subjectthreadbare, she came in here for a rose, and, apropos of nothing, mademe a declaration and a proposal of honorable wedlock, _dans toutes lesformes_. "

"The forms were evident as I entered, " said Mrs. Belding, dryly. 

"I could not let her drop on the damp floor, " said Farnham, who wasastonished to find himself positively blushing under the amusedscrutiny of his mother-confessor. "Consider, if you please, my dearmadam, that this is the first offer I have ever received, and I wasnaturally somewhat awkward about declining it. We shall learn bettermanners as we go along. "

"You did decline, then?" said Mrs. Belding, easily persuaded of thesubstantial truth of the story, and naturally inclined, as is the wayof woman, to the man's side. Then, laughing at Arthur's discomfiture, she added, "I was about to congratulate you. "

"I deserve only your commiseration. "

"I must look about and dispose of you in some way. You are evidentlytoo rich and too fascinating. But I came over to-day to ask you what Iought to do about my Lake View farm. I have two offers for it; if I hadbut one, I would take either--well, you know what I mean;" and theconversation became practical. After that matter was disposed of, shesaid, with a keen side-glance at Farnham, "That was a very pretty girl. I hope you will not be exposed to such another attack; I might not beso near the next time. "

"That danger, thanks to you, is over; Mademoiselle will never return, "he answered, with an air of conviction. 

Mrs. Belding went home with no impression left of the scene she hadwitnessed but one of amusement. She thought of it only as "a good jokeon Arthur Farnham. " She kept chuckling to herself over it all day, andif she had had any especial gossip in the town, she would have put onher hat and hurried off to tell it. But she was a woman who lived verymuch at home, and, in fact, cared little for tattling. She was severaltimes on the point of sharing the fun of it with her daughter, but wasprevented by an instinctive feeling that it was hardly the sort ofstory to tell a young girl about a personal acquaintance. So sherestrained herself, though the solitary enjoyment of it irritated her. 

They were sitting on the wide porch which ran around two sides of thehouse just as twilight was falling. The air was full of drowsy callsand twitters from the grass and the trees. The two ladies had beensitting ever since dinner, enjoying the warm air of the early summer, talking very little, and dropping often into long and contentedsilences. Mrs. Belding had condescended to grenadine in considerationof the weather, and so looked less funereal than usual. Alice wasdressed in a soft and vapory fabric of creamy bunting, in the midst ofwhich her long figure lay reclined in an easy chair of Japanese bamboo;she might have posed for a statue of graceful and luxurious repose. There was light enough from the rising moon and the risen stars to showthe clear beauty of her face and the yellow lustre of her hair; and hermother cast upon her from time to time a glance of pride and fondness, as if she were a recovered treasure to which the attraction of noveltyhad just been added anew. 

"They say she looks as I did at her age, " thought the candid lady; "butthey must flatter me. My nose was never so straight as that: her noseis Belding all over. I wonder whom she will care about here? Mr. Furreyis a nice young man, but she is hardly polite to him. There he is now. "

The young man came briskly up the walk, and ran up the steps so quicklythat he tripped on the last one and dropped his hat. He cleverlyrecovered it, however, and made very elaborate bows to both the ladies, hoping that he found them quite well. Mrs. Belding bustled about togive him a chair, at which Alice knitted her pretty brows a little. Shehad scarcely moved her eyelashes to greet her visitor; but when Mrs. Belding placed a light chair near her daughter and invited Mr. Furreyto take it, the young lady rose from her reclining attitude and satbolt upright with a look of freezing dignity. The youth was not at allabashed, but took his seat, with his hat held lightly by the brim inboth hands. He was elegantly dressed, in as faithful and reverent animitation as home talent could produce of the costume of the gentlemenwho that year were driving coaches in New York. His collar was as stiffas tin; he had a white scarf, with an elaborate pin constructed ofwhips and spurs and horseshoes. He wore dog-skin gloves, very tight andred. His hair was parted in the middle with rigorous impartiality andshed rather rank fragrance on the night. He began conversation with aneasy air, in which there was something of pleasurable excitement mixed. 

"I come to receive your congratulations, ladies!"

"What, you are engaged?" said Mrs. Belding, and even the placid face ofMiss Alice brightened with a look of pleased inquiry. 

"Oh, dear, no; how could you think so?" he protested, with an arch lookat Alice which turned her to marble again. "I mean I have this day beenappointed assistant cashier of our bank!" Napoleon, informing Madame deBeauharnais [* - Perhaps Josephine told Napoleon herself, but I thinkshe was clever enough to let him imagine he owed the appointment to hismerits. ] that he was to command the army of Italy, probably made lessado about it. 

Mrs. Belding made haste to murmur her congratulations. "Verygratifying, I am sure, --at your age;" to which Alice responded like achorus, but without any initiative warmth, "Very gratifying, I amsure. "

Furrey went on at some length to detail all the circumstances of theevent: how Mr. Lathers, the president of the bank, had sent for him, and how he complimented him; how he had asked him where he learned towrite such a good hand; and how he had replied that it came sort ofnatural to him to write well, that he could make the American eaglewith pen and ink before he was fifteen, all but the tail-feathers, andhow he discovered a year later that the tail-feathers had to be made byholding the pen between the first and second fingers; with much more tothe like innocent purpose, to which Mrs. Belding listened with nods andmurmurs of approval. This was all the amiable young man needed toencourage him to indefinite prattle. He told them all about the men inthe bank, their habits and their loves and their personal relations tohim, and how he seemed somehow to be a general favorite among them all. Miss Alice sat very still and straight in her chair, with an occasionalsmile when the laughter of Mr. Furrey seemed to require it, but withher eyes turned to the moonlit night in vagrant reverie, and her mindin those distant and sacred regions where we cannot follow the minds ofpure and happy girls. 

"Now, you would hardly understand, if I did not tell you, " said Mr. Furrey, "how it is that I have gained the confidence----"

At this moment Alice, who had been glancing over Mr. Furrey's shoulderfor a moment with a look of interest in her eyes, which he thought wasthe legitimate result of his entertaining story, cried:

"Why, there comes Mr. Farnham, mamma. "

"So it is, " said her mother. "I suppose he wants to see me. Don't move, Mr. Furrey. Mr. Farnham and I will go into the house. "

"By no means, " said that gentleman, who by this time had mounted thesteps. "I was sitting all alone on my porch and saw by the moon thatyours was inhabited; and so I came over to improve my mind and mannersin your society. "

"I will get a chair for you, " said Mrs. Belding. 

"No, thank you; this balustrade will bear my weight, and my ashes willdrop harmless on the flower-bed, if you will let me finish my cigar. "And he seated himself between the chair of Furrey and the willow fabricin which Alice had resumed her place. This addition to the company wasnot at all to the taste of the assistant cashier, who soon took hisleave, shaking hands with the ladies, with his best bow. 

"After all, I do prefer a chair, " said Farnham, getting down from hisbalustrade, and throwing away his cigar. 

He sat with his back to the moonlight. On his left was Alice, who, assoon as Furrey took his departure, settled back in her willow chair inher former attitude of graceful ease. On the right was Mrs. Belding, inher thin, cool dress of gauzy black. Farnham looked from one to theother as they talked, and that curious exercise, so common to young menin such circumstances, went through his mind. He tried to fancy howMrs. Belding looked at nineteen, and how Miss Belding would look atfifty, and the thought gave him singular pleasure. His eyes rested withsatisfaction on the kindly and handsome face of the widow, her fineshoulders and arms, and comfortable form, and then, turning to the pureand exquisite features of the tall girl, who was smiling so freshly andhonestly on him, his mind leaped forward through corning years, and hesaid to himself: "What a wealth of the woman there is there--forsomebody. " An aggressive feeling of disapproval of young Furrey tookpossession of him, and he said, sharply:

"What a very agreeable young man Mr. Furrey is?"

Mrs. Belding assented, and Miss Alice laughed heartily, and his mindwas set at rest for the moment. 

They passed a long time together. At first Mrs. Belding and Arthur"made the expenses" of the conversation; but she soon dropped away, andAlice, under the influence of the night and the moonlight and Farnham'sfrank and gentle provocation, soon found herself talking with as muchfreedom and energy as if it were a girls' breakfast. With far more, indeed, --for nature takes care of such matters, and no girl can talk toanother as she can to a man, under favoring stars. The conversationfinally took a personal turn, and Alice, to her own amazement, began totalk of her life at school, and with sweet and loving earnestness sangthe praises of Madame de Veaudrey. 

"I wish you could know her, " she said to Farnham, with a sudden impulseof sympathy. He was listening to her intently, and enjoying her eager, ingenuous speech as much as her superb beauty, as the moon shone fullon her young face, so vital and so pure at once, and played, as if gladof the privilege, about the curved lips, the flashing teeth, the softeyes under their long lashes, and the hair over the white forehead, gleaming as crisply brilliant as fine-spun wire of gold. 

"By her fruits I know her, and I admire her very much, " he said, andwas sorry for it the moment afterward, for it checked the course of theyoung girl's enthusiasm and brought a slight blush to her cheek. 

"I ought to have known better, " he said to himself with real penitence, "than to utter a stupid commonplace to such a girl when she was talkingso earnestly. " And he tried to make amends, and succeeded in winningback her attention and her slow unconscious smiles by talking to her ofthings a thousand miles away. The moon was silvering the tops of thelinden-trees at the gates before they thought of the flight of time, and they had quite forgotten the presence of Mrs. Belding when heraudible repose broke in upon their talk. They looked at each other, andburst into a frank laugh, full of confidence and comradeship, which thegood lady heard in her dreams and waked, saying, "What are you laughingat? I did not catch that last witticism. "

The young people rose from their chairs. "I can't repeat my own mots, "said Arthur: "Miss Belding will tell you. "

"Indeed I shall not, " replied Alice. "It was not one of his best, mamma. "

She gave him her hand as he said "Good-night, " and it lay in his firmgrasp a moment without reserve or tremor. 

"You are a queer girl, Alice, " said Mrs. Belding, as they walked intothe drawing-room through the open window. "You put on your stiffestcompany manners for Mr. Furrey, and you seem entirely at ease with Mr. Farnham, who is much older and cleverer, and is noted for his sarcasticcriticisms. "

"I do not know why it is, mamma, but I do feel very much at home withMr. Farnham, and I do not want Mr. Furrey to feel at home with me. "

Upon this, Mrs. Belding laughed aloud. Alice turned in surprise, andher mother said, "It is too good to keep. I must tell you. It is such ajoke on Arthur;" and, sitting in a low arm-chair, while Alice stoodbefore her leaning upon the back of another, she told the whole storyof the scene of the morning in the rose-house. She gave it in thefullest detail, interrupting herself here and there for softcachinnations, unmindful of the stern, unsmiling silence with which herdaughter listened. 

She finished, with a loud nourish of merriment, and then asked: "Didyou ever hear anything so funny in your life?"

The young lady was turning white and red in an ominous manner, and wasbiting her nether lip. Her answer to her mother's question was swiftand brief:

"I never heard anything so horrid, " and she moved majestically awaywithout another word. 

Mrs. Belding sat for a moment abashed. "There!" she said to herself, "Iknew very well I ought not to tell her. But it was too good to keep, and I had nobody else to tell. " She went to bed, feeling ratherill-used. As she passed her daughter's door, she said, "Good-night, Alice!" and a voice riot quite so sweet as usual replied, "Good-night, mamma, " but the door was not opened. 

Alice turned down her light and sat upon a cushioned seat in theembrasure of her open window. She looked up at the stars, which swamand glittered in her angry eyes. With trembling lips and clinched handsshe communed with herself. "Why, why, why did mamma tell me that horridstory? To think there should be such women in the world! To take such aliberty with him, of all men! She could not have done it without someencouragement--and he could not have encouraged her. He is not thatkind of a vulgar flirt at all. But what do I know about men? They mayall be--but I did not think--what business have I thinking about it? Ihad better go to bed. I have spent all the evening talking to a manwho--Oh! I wish mamma had not told me that wretched story. I shallnever speak to him again. It is a pity, too, for we are such nearneighbors, and he is so nice, if he were not--But I don't care how nicehe is, she has spoiled him. I wonder who she was. Pretty, was she? Idon't believe a word of it--some bold-faced, brazen creature. Oh! Ishall hate myself if I cry;" but that was past praying for, and sheclosed her lattice and went to bed for fear the stars should witnessher unwelcome tears. 

X. 

A WORD OUT OF SEASON. 

Arthur Farnham awoke the next day with a flight of sweet hopes andfancies singing in his heart and brain. He felt cheerfully and kindlytoward the whole human race. As he walked down into the city totransact some business he had there with his lawyer, he went out of hisway to speak to little children. He gave all his acquaintances aheartier "Good-morning" than usual. He even whistled at passing dogs. The twitter of the sparrows in the trees, their fierce contentions onthe grass, amused him. He leaned over the railing of the fountain inthe square with the idlers, and took a deep interest in the turtles, who were baking their frescoed backs in the warm sun, as they floatedabout on pine boards, amid the bubbles of the clear water. 

As he passed by the library building, Dr. Buchlieber was standing inthe door. "Good luck, " he said; "I was just wishing to see you. One ofour young women resigned this morning, and I think there may be achance for our handsome friend. The meeting, you remember, is thisafternoon. "

Farnham hardly recalled the name of the young lady in whose success hehad been so interested, although recent intimate occurrences might havebeen expected to fix it somewhat permanently in his remembrance. Butall female images except one had become rather vague in his memory. Heassented, however, to what the doctor proposed, and going awaycongratulated himself on the possibility of doing Maud a service andridding himself of the faintest tinge of remorse. He was not fatuous orconceited. He did not for a moment imagine that the girl was in lovewith him. He attributed her demonstration in the rose-house to her"congenital bad breeding, " and thought it only one degree worse thanother match-making manoeuvres of which he had been the object in thedifferent worlds he had frequented. He gave himself no serious thoughtabout it, and yet he was glad to find an apparent opportunity to be ofuse to her. She was poor and pretty. He had taken an interest in herwelfare. It had not turned out very well. She had flung herself intohis arms and been heartily kissed. He could not help feeling there wasa balance against him. 

As he turned the corner of the street which led to the attorney'soffice where he was going, he saw a man standing by the wall with hishat off, bowing to him. He returned the unusual salutation and passedon; it was some moments before he remembered that it was one of hiscolleagues on the Library Board. He regretted not having stopped andmade the effort to engage his vote for Maud; but, on second thought, hereflected that it would be as well to rely upon the surprise of thethree to prevent a combination at the meeting. When he reached theentrance of the building where his lawyer's offices were, he turned, with a sense of being pursued by a shuffling footstep which hadhastened its speed the last few paces, and saw his colleague coming upthe steps after him with a perspiring but resolute face. 

"Hold on, Cap, " he said, coming into the shade of the passage. "I wasthinkin' o' comin' to see you, when I sighted you comin' round thecorner. "

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Pennybaker, " said Arthur, taking the clumsyhand which was held out to him. 

"Gettin' pretty hot, ain't it?" said Pennybaker, wiping his brow withhis forefinger and dexterously sprinkling the floor with the proceedsof the action. 

"No danger of frost, I think, " Arthur assented, admiring the dexterityof Pennybaker, but congratulating himself that the shake-hands wasdisposed of. 

"You bet your life. We're going to have it just sizzling from now on. "

"Were you wishing to see me about anything in particular?" askedFarnham, who saw no other way of putting an end to a meteorologicaldiscussion which did not interest him. 

"Well, yes, " answered Pennybaker, getting around beside Farnham, andgazing at the wall opposite. "I heerd this mornin' that Minnie Bell wasgoin' to get married. My daughter is doing some sewing for her, and itslipped out that way. She was trying to keep it secret. Some girls ismighty funny that way. They will do anything to get engaged, and thenthey will lie like Sam Hill to make believe they ain't. Well, thatmakes a vacancy. " He did not turn his head, but he cast a quick glancesideways at Farnham, who made no answer, and Pennybaker resumed: "So Ithought I would come to you, honor bright, and see if we couldn't agreewhat to do. That's me. I'm open and square like a bottle of bitters. "

Farnham gave no indication of his surprise at this burst of candor, butasked:

"What do you propose?"

"That's it, " said Pennybaker, promptly. "I don't propose nothing--I_ex_pose. You hear me--I _ex_pose. " He said this with great mystery, one eye being shut fast and the other only half open. He perceived thathe had puzzled Farnham, and enjoyed it for a moment by repeating hismot with a chuckle that did not move a muscle of his face. "I'll tellyou the whole thing. There's no use, between gentlemen, of playing thething too fine. " He took his knife from one pocket and from another atwist of tobacco, and, cutting off a mouthful, began his story:

"You see, me and Bud Merritt and Joe Dorman have most generally agreedon paternage, and that was all right. You are well fixed. You don'twant the bother of them little giblets of paternage. We've 'tended to'em for what there was in 'em and for the good of the party. Now Bud hewants to be auditor, and he's got Joe to go in with him, because, if hegits there, Joe's brother-in-law, Tim Dolan, will be his debbity. Budis weak in the Third Ward, and he knows it, and he knows that JakeRunckel can swing that ward like a dead cat; and so they have fixed itall up to give the next vacancy to Jake for his sister. She's beenturned out of the school for some skylarking, and weighs pretty heavyon Jake's hands. Very well. That's the game, and I'm a-kickin'! Do youhear me? I'm a-kickin'!"

Pennybaker pushed up his hat and looked Farnham fairly in the face. Theassertion of his independence seemed to give him great gratification. He said once more, slowly closing one eye and settling back in hisformer attitude against the wall, while he aimed a deluge oftobacco-juice at the base of the wall before him: "I'm a-kickin' like aTexas steer. "

He waited a moment to allow these impressive words to have their fulleffect, while Farnham preserved a serious and attentive face. 

"Well, this bein' the case, " continued Pennybaker, "I comes to you, asone gentleman to another, and I asks whether we can't agree againstthis selfish and corrupt game of Merritt and Dorman. For, you see, Idon't get a smell out of what they're doin'. I'm out in the cold iftheir slate goes through. "

"I don't see that I can be of any service to you, Mr. Pennybaker. If Ihave any influence in the matter, it shall be given to Miss Matchin, whom I proposed once before. "

"Exactly! Now you're talkin'. Miss Matchin shall have it, on one littleproviso that won't hurt you nor me nor nobody. Say the word, and it's awhack. "

And he lifted up his hand to strike the bargain. 

"What is it?" asked Farnham, in a tone which was severe andcontemptuous, in spite of him. 

"Namely, just this, " answered Pennybaker, "You ain't on the make;you're fixed. You don't care about these d---- little things except tohelp a friend once 'n awhile, " he said, in a large and generous way. "But I ain't that kind yet. I've got to look out for myself--prettylively, too. Now, I'll tell you what's my racket. You let me perposeMiss Matchin's name and then go and tell her father that I put itthrough, and it'll be done slick as a whistle. That's all solid, ain'tit?"

Farnham's brow clouded. He did not answer at once. Pennybaker repeatedhis question a little anxiously:

"That's all solid, ain't it?"

"You will excuse me, Mr. Pennybaker, if I do not quite understand yourracket, as you call it. I do not see how you make anything out of this. Matchin is a poor man. You surely do not intend----"

"To strike Saul for a divvy? Nothing of the sort, " said Pennybaker, without the least offence. "The whole thing lies just here. Amonggentlemen there's no use being shy about it. My brother wants to beassessor in Saul Matchin's ward. Saul's got a lot of influence amongthe boys in the planing-mills, and I want his help. You see?"

Farnham thought he saw, and, after assenting to Pennybaker's eagerdemand, "That's all solid?" he walked away, too much relieved by thethought that Maud was provided for to question too closely the moralityof the proceeding which the sordid rascal had exposed to him. 

In the afternoon, at the meeting of the board, the programme agreedupon was strictly carried out. 

Pennybaker proposed Miss Matchin's name as soon as the vacancy wasannounced, to the amazement of his late confederates. They moved apostponement, but to no purpose; Maud was elected; and the angrypoliticians had no better revenge than to say spitefully to Pennybakeron the stairs, as they went away, "How much did the Captain give youfor that sell-out?"--a jeer which he met by a smile of consciousrectitude and a request to be informed the next time they organized afreeze-out against him. It must be said, however, that he lost no timein going to Matchin, informing him that he had succeeded in carryingMaud in by unheard-of exertions, and demanding and receiving on thespot five per cent of her year's salary, which he called "the usualcommission. "

Saul announced the appointment that evening at supper. Maud flushedcrimson, and the tears started to her eyes. She was about to declareshe would not have it, when her father's next words put a differentface on the matter. "And it's no thanks to Cap'n Farnham, neither. Hetried it oncet, and couldn't make the riffle. But me and JoelPennybaker got together and done it. And now I hope, Mattie, you'llbehave yourself and save money. It's like a fortun' comin' to you, ifyou're smart. "

Maud found no reply ready. She could not wholly believe her father'sstory. She still fancied the appointment came from Farnham, and therewas a certain bitterness in it; but, on the whole, she received it notwithout a secret complacency. Mrs. Matchin's pleasure was checked byher daughter's morose confusion. Sam made no pretence of being pleased, but sat, unmoved by Matchin's speech, in scowling silence, and soonwent out without a word of comment. The scene he had witnessed in therose-house had poisoned his mind; yet, whenever he looked at Maud, ortried to speak to her, he was met with an air of such fierce andbeautiful defiance, that his eyes fell and his voice stuck in histhroat. So the piece of good fortune, so anxiously awaited in thehousehold, brought little delight when it came. Maud reported for dutynext day, and soon learned the routine of her work; but she grew moreand more silent at home, and Saul's hope of a wedding in the familydied away. 

Arthur Farnham walked away from the meeting with the feeling of aschool-boy who has finished a difficult task and who thinks he deservessome compensating pleasure. The day had been fine and warm, but thebreeze of the late afternoon was already blowing in from the lake, lending freshness and life to the air. The sky was filled with softgray clouds, which sailed along at a leisurely rate, evidently on verygood terms with the breeze. As Farnham walked up the avenue, he castabout in his mind for the sort of dissipation with which he wouldreward himself for the day's work and he decided for a ride. 

But as he was drawing on his boots, it occurred to him, for the firsttime in his life, that it was a churlish and unneighborly proceedingfor him to go riding alone day after day, and that he would be doing nomore than his duty to offer his escort to Miss Belding. He said MissBelding to his own thought--making it as formal and respectful aspossible. So, sending an order to his groom to keep his horse at thestable for a moment, he walked over the lawn to the Belding cottage andasked for the ladies. 

"I believe they are upstairs, sir. Walk into the drawing-room, and Iwill see, " said the neat housemaid, smiling at Farnham, as indeed wasthe general custom of women. He took his seat in the cool and darkenedroom facing the door-way, which commanded a view of the stairs. He satin a large willow chair very much at his ease, looking about the prettysalon, enjoying its pictures and ornaments and the fragrance of theroses in the vases, as if he had a personal interest in them. The maidcame back and said the ladies would be down in a moment. 

She had announced Farnham to Mrs. Belding, who had replied, "Tell him, in a moment. " She was in the summer afternoon condition which theladies call "dressing-sack, " and after an inspection at the glass, which seemed unsatisfactory, she walked across the hall to herdaughter's room. She found Alice standing by the window, looking outupon the lake. 

"There, I am glad you are all dressed. Arthur Farnham has called, andyou must go down and excuse me. I said I would come, but it will takeme so long to dress, he will get tired of waiting. You run down and seehim. I suppose there is nothing particular. "

"Oh, mamma, " said Alice, "I don't want to see him, and especially notalone. "

Mrs. Belding made large eyes in her surprise. "Why, Alice, what has gotinto you?"

Alice blushed and cast down her eyes. "Mamma, " she said, in a lowvoice, "do not ask me to go down. You know what you told me lastnight. "

"There, that will do, " said the mother, with a tone of authority. "Perhaps I was foolish to tell you that silly little story, but I amthe judge of who shall visit this house. You are too young to decidethese questions for me, and I insist that what I told you shall make nodifference in your treatment of Mr. Farnham. You think too much of yourown part in the matter. He has come to see me, and not you, and I wishyou to go down and make my excuses for keeping him waiting. Will yougo?"

"Yes, I will go, " said the young girl. The blush had left her cheek andshe had become a trifle pale. She had not raised her eyes from thefloor during her mother's little speech; and when it was over and hermother had gone back to her room, Alice cast one glance at her mirror, and with a firm face walked down the stairs to the drawing-room. Farnham heard the rustle of her dress with a beating of the heart whichfilled him with a delicious surprise. "I am not past it, then, " was thethought that came instantly to his mind, and in that one second was asingular joy. When she came in sight on the stairs, it was like asudden enchantment to him. Her beautiful head, crowned with its massesof hair drawn back into a simple Greek knot; her tall, strong figure, draped in some light and clinging stuff which imposed no check on hernatural grace and dignity, formed a charming picture as she came downthe long stairs; and Farnham's eyes fastened eagerly upon her whitehand as it glided along the dark walnut baluster. His heart went out tomeet her. He confessed to himself, with a lover's instantaneousconviction, that there was nothing in the world so utterly desirable asthat tall and fair-haired girl slowly descending the stairs. In themidst of his tumultuous feeling a trivial thought occurred to him: "Iam shot through the heart by the blind archer, " he said to himself; andhe no longer laughed at the old-fashioned symbol of the sudden andfatal power of love. 

But with all this tumult of joy in the senses waking up to theirallegiance, there came a certain reserve. The goddess-like creature whohad so suddenly become the mistress of his soul was a very seriouspersonage to confront in her new majesty. He did not follow the impulseof his heart and rush forward as she entered the room. He merely roseand bowed. She made the faintest possible salutation, and, withouttaking a seat, conveyed her mother's excuses in a tone of such studiedcoldness that it amused Farnham, who took it as a school-girl'sassumption of a grand and ceremonious manner suitable to a tete-a-tetewith man. 

"Thank you, " he said, "but I did not come especially to see yourmother. My object was rather to see you. " She did not smile or reply, and he went on, with a slight sensation of chill coming upon him fromthis stony dignity, which, the more he observed it, seemed less andless amusing and not at all artificial. "I came to ask if you would notlike to go to ride this afternoon. It is just gray enough for comfort. "

"I thank you very much for being so kind as to think of me, " shereplied, "but it will not be convenient for me to go. "

"Perhaps the morning will suit better. I will come to-morrow at anyhour you say. "

"I shall not be able to go to-morrow either, I think. "

Even while exchanging these few words, Alice felt herself growingslightly embarrassed, and it filled her with dismay. "I am a poorcreature, " she thought, "if I cannot get this self-satisfied gentlemanout of the house without breaking down. I can't stand here foreverthough, " and so she took a seat, and as Arthur resumed his willow chairwith an air of content, she could not but feel that as yet the skirmishwas not in her favor. She called her angry spirit to her aid, andnerved herself to say something which would promptly close theinterview. 

His next words gave her the opportunity. 

"But you surely do not intend to give up riding altogether?"

"Certainly not. I hope to ride a good deal. Andrews will go with me. "

"Ah! Your objection to me as a groom is entirely personal, then. "

"Now for it!" she thought to herself, and she said firmly, "Yes. "

But the effort was too great, and after the word was launched her mouthbroke up into a nervous smile, for which she despised herself, butwhich she could not control for her life. 

Farnham was so pleased with the smile that he cared nothing for theword, and so he continued in a tone of anxious and coaxing good-nature, every word increasing her trouble:

"You are wrong as you can be. I am a much better groom than Andrews. Hehas rather more style, I admit, on account of his Scotch accent and hisrheumatism. But I might acquire these. I will be very attentive andrespectful. I will ride at a proper distance behind you, if you willoccasionally throw a word and a smile over your shoulder at me. "

As he spoke, a quick vision flashed upon him of the loveliness of thehead and shoulder, and the coil of fair hair which he should havebefore him if he rode after her, and the illumination of the smile andthe word which would occasionally be thrown back to him from theseperfect lips and teeth and eyes. His voice trembled with love andeagerness as he pleaded for the privilege of taking her servant'splace. Alice no longer dared to interrupt him, and hardly ventured tolift her eyes from the floor. She had come down with the firm purposeof saying something to him which would put an end to all intimacy, andhere, before she had been five minutes in his presence, he was talkingto her in a way that delighted her ears and her heart. He went rattlingon as if fearful that a pause might bring a change of mood. As sherarely looked up, he could feast his eyes upon her face, where now thecolor was coming and going, and on her shapely hands, which wereclasped in her lap. He talked of Colorado as if it were settled thatthey were to go there together, and they must certainly have somepreliminary training in rough riding; and then, merely to makeconversation, he spoke of other places that should only be visited onhorseback, always claiming in all of them his post of groom. Alice felther trouble and confusion of spirit passing away as the light stream oftalk rippled on. She took little part in it at first, but frommonosyllables of assent she passed on to a word of reply from time totime; and before she knew how it happened she was engaged in a frankand hearty interchange of thoughts and fancies, which brought her bestfaculties into play and made her content with herself, in spite of theoccasional intrusion of the idea that she had not been true to herselfin letting her just anger die so quickly away. 

If Farnham could have seen into the proud and honest heart of the younggirl he was talking to, he would have rested on the field he had won, and not tempted a further adventure. Her anger against him had beendissipated by the very effort she had made to give it effect, and shehad fallen insensibly into the old relation of good neighborhood andunreserved admiration with which she had always regarded him. She hadsilenced her scruples by the thought that in talking pleasantly withhim she was obeying her mother, and that after all it was not herbusiness to judge him. If he could have known his own best interest, hewould have left her then, when her voice and her smile had become gayand unembarrassed according to their wont, with her conscience at easeabout his faults, and her mind filled with a pleasant memory of hisvisit. 

But such wisdom was beyond his reach. He had felt suddenly, and oncefor all, in the last hour, the power and visible presence of his love. He had never in his life been so moved by any passion as he was by thejoy that stirred his heart when he heard the rustle of her dress in thehall and saw her white hand resting lightly on the dark wood of thestairs. As she walked into the parlor, from her face and her hair, fromevery movement of her limbs, from every flutter of her soft and gauzygarments, there came to him an assertion of her power over him thatfilled him with a delicious awe. She represented to him, as he hadnever felt it before, the embodied mystery and majesty of womanhood. During all the long conversation that had followed, he had beenconscious of a sort of dual operation of his mind, like that familiarto the eaters of hashish. With one part of him he had been carrying ona light and shallow conversation, as an excuse to remain in herpresence and to keep his eyes upon her, and with all the more activeenergies of his being he had been giving himself up to an act ofpassionate adoration of her. The thoughts that uttered themselves tohim, as he chatted about all sorts of indifferent things, weresomething like these: How can it have ever happened that such beauty, such dignity, such physical perfection could come together in oneperson, and the best and sweetest heart have met them there? If sheknew her value, her pride would ruin her. In her there is everything, and everything else beside: Galatea, the statue, with a Christian soul. She is the best that could fall to any man, but better for me than forany one else. Anybody who sees her must love her, but I was made fornothing else but to love her. This is what mythologies meant. She isVenus: she loves laughter, and her teeth and lips are divine. She isDiana: she makes the night beautiful; she has the eye and the arm of anathlete goddess. But she is a woman: she is Mrs. Belding's daughterAlice. Thank heaven, she lives here. I can call and see her. To-morrow, I shall ride with her. She will love and marry some day like otherwomen. Who is the man who shall ever kiss her between those straightbrows? And fancies more audacious and extravagant fed the fever of hisheart as he talked deliberate small talk, still holding his hat andwhip in his hand. 

He knew it was time he should go, but could not leave the joy of hiseyes and ears. At last his thoughts, like a vase too full, ran overinto speech. It was without premeditation, almost without consciousintention. The under-tone simply became dominant and overwhelmed thefrivolous surface talk. She had been talking of her mother's plans ofsummer travel, and he suddenly interrupted her by saying in the mostnatural tone in the world: "I must see your mother before she decides. I hope you will make no plans without me. I shall go where you go. Ishall never be away from you again, if I can help it. No, no, do notfrown about it. I must tell you. I love you; my whole life is yours. "

She felt terribly shocked and alarmed, not so much at his words as ather own agitation. She feared for a moment she could not rise from herseat, but she did so with an effort. He rose and approached her, evidently held in check by her inflexible face; for the crisis hadbrought a momentary self-control with it, and she looked formidablewith her knit brows and closed lips. 

"Do not go, " he pleaded. "Do not think I have been wanting in respectand consideration. I could not help saying what I did. I cannot livewithout you any more than I can without light and sunshine. I ought tohave waited and not startled you. But I have only begun to live since Iloved you, and I feel I must not waste time. "

She was deeply disturbed at these wild and whirling words, but stillbore herself bravely. She felt her heart touched by the vibration ofhis ardent speech, but her maiden instinct of self defence enabled herto stand on her guard. Though beaten by the storm of his devotion, shesaid to herself that she could get away if she could keep from cryingor sobbing, and one thought which came to her with the swiftness oflightning gave her strength to resist. It was this: "If I cry, he willtake me in his arms, and we shall repeat the tableau mamma saw in therose-house. "

Strong in that stimulating thought, she said: "I am too sorry to hearyou say these things. You know how much we have always thought of you. If you forget all this, and never repeat it, we may still be friends. But if you renew this subject, I will never speak to you again alone, as long as I live. "

He began to protest; but she insisted, with the calm cruelty of a womanwho sees her advantage over the man she loves. "If you say anotherword, it is the end of our acquaintance, and perhaps it is best that itshould end. We can hardly be again as we were. "

Farnham was speechless, like one waked in the cold air out of atropical dream. He had been carried on for the last hour in a whirlwindof emotion, and now he had met an obstacle against which it seemed thatnothing could be done. If he had planned his avowal, he might have beenprepared for rejection; but he had been hurried into it with no thoughtof what the result would be, and he was equally unprovided for eitherissue. In face of the unwavering voice and bearing of Alice, who seemedten times more beautiful than ever as she stood before him as steadyand unresponsive as a young Fate, his hot speech seemed suddenlysmitten powerless. He only said:

"It shall be as you wish. If I ever offend you again, I will take mypunishment upon myself and get out of your way. "

She did not dare to say another word, for fear it would be too kind. She gave him her hand; it was soft and warm as he pressed it; and if hehad only known how much softer and warmer her heart was, he would havecovered her hand with a thousand kisses. But he bowed and took hisleave, and she stood by the lattice and saw him go away, with eyes fullof tears and a breast filled with the tenderest ruth and pity--for himand for herself. 

XI. 

THE SANTA RITA SHERRY. 

Farnham walked down the path to the gate, then turned to go to his ownhouse, with no very definite idea of what direction he was taking. Theinterview he had just had was still powerfully affecting his senses, hewas conscious of no depression from the prompt and decided refusal hehad received. He was like a soldier in his first battle who has got asharp wound which does not immediately cripple him, the perception ofwhich is lost in the enjoyment of a new, keen, and enthrallingexperience. His thoughts were full of his own avowal, of the beauty ofhis young mistress, rather than of her coldness. Seeing his riding-whipin his hand, he stared at it an instant, and then at his boots, with asudden recollection that he had intended to ride. He walked rapidly tothe stable, where his horse was still waiting, and rode at a brisk trotout of the avenue for a few blocks, and then struck off into a sandypath that led to the woods by the river-side. 

As he rode, his thoughts were at first more of himself than of Alice. He exulted over the discovery that he was in love as if some great andunimagined good fortune had happened to him. "I am not past it, then, "he said to himself, repeating the phrase which had leaped from hisheart when he saw Alice descending the stairs. "I hardly thought thatsuch a thing could ever happen to me. She is the only one. " Histhoughts ran back to a night in Heidelberg, when he sat in the shadowof the castle wall with a German student of his acquaintance, andlooked far over the valley at the lights of the town and the ripplingwaves of the Neckar, silvered by the soft radiance of the summer moon. 

"Poor Hammerstein! How he raved that night about little Bertha vonEichholz. He called her _Die Einzige_ something like a thousand times. It seemed an absurd thing to say; I knew dozens just like her, withblue eyes and Gretchen braids. But Hammerstein meant it, for he shothimself the week after her wedding with the assessor. But mine _is_ theOnly One--though she is not mine. I would rather love her without hopethan be loved by any other woman in the world. "

A few days before he had been made happy by perceiving that she was nolonger a child; now he took infinite pleasure in the thought of heryouth; he tilled his mind and his senses with the image of herfreshness, her clear, pure color, the outline of her face and form. "She is young and fragrant as spring; she has every bloom and charm ofbody and soul, " he said to himself, as he galloped over the shadywoodland road. In his exalted mood, he had almost forgotten how he hadleft her presence. He delighted in his own roused and wakened passion, as a devotee in his devotions, without considering what was to come ofit all. The blood was surging through his veins. He was too strong, hislove was too new and wonderful to him, to leave any chance for despair. It was not that he did not consider himself dismissed. He felt that hehad played a great stake foolishly, and lost. But the love was there, and it warmed and cheered his heart, like a fire in a great hall, making even the gloom noble. 

He was threading a bridle-path which led up a gentle ascent to a hilloverlooking the river, when his horse suddenly started back with asnort of terror as two men emerged from the thicket and grasped at hisrein. He raised his whip to strike one of them down; the man dodged, and his companion said, "None o' that, or I'll shoot your horse. " Thesun had set, but it was yet light, and he saw that the fellow had acocked revolver in his hand. 

"Well, what do you want?" he asked. 

"I want you to stop where you are and go back, " said the man sullenly. 

"Why should I go back? My road lies the other way. You step aside andlet me pass. "

"You can't pass this way. Go back, or I'll make you, " the man growled, shifting his pistol to his left hand and seizing Farnham's rein withhis right. His intention evidently was to turn the horse around andstart him down the path by which he had come. Farnham saw hisopportunity and struck the hand that held the pistol a smart blow. Theweapon dropped, but went off with a sharp report as it fell. The horsereared and plunged, but the man held firmly to the rein. His companion, joined by two or three other rough-looking men who rushed from thethicket, seized the horse and held him firmly, and pulled Farnham fromthe saddle. They attempted no violence and no robbery. The man who hadheld the pistol, a black-visaged fellow with a red face and dyedmustache, after rubbing his knuckles a moment, said: "Let's take it outo' the ---- whelp!" But another, to whom the rest seemed to look as aleader, said: "Go slow, Mr. Bowersox; we want no trouble here. "

Farnham at this addressed the last speaker and said, "Can you tell mewhat all this means? You don't seem to be murderers. Are youhorse-thieves?"

"Nothing of the kind, " said the man. "We are Reformers. "

Farnham gazed at him with amazement. He was a dirty-looking man, youngand sinewy, with long and oily hair and threadbare clothes, shiny andunctuous. His eyes were red and furtive, and he had a trick of passinghis hand over his mouth while he spoke. His mates stood around him, listening rather studiedly to the conversation. They seemed of the lowerclass of laboring men. Their appearance was so grotesque, in connectionwith the lofty title their chief had given them, that Farnham could nothelp smiling, in spite of his anger. 

"What is your special line of reform?" he asked, --"spelling, or civilservice?"

"We are Labor Reformers, " said the spokesman. "We represent the toilingmillions against the bloated capitalists and grinding monopolies; webelieve that man is better----"

"Yes, no doubt, " interrupted Farnham; "but how are you going to helpthe toiling millions by stopping my horse on the highway?"

"We was holding a meeting which was kep' secret for reasonssatisfactory to ourselves. These two gentlemen was posted here to keepout intruders from the lodge. If you had 'a' spoke civil to them, therewould have been no harm done. None will be done now if you want to go. "

Farnham at once mounted his horse. "I would take it as a great favor, "he said, "if you would give me your name and that of the gentleman withthe pistol. Where is he, by the way?" he continued. The man they calledBowersox had disappeared from the group around the spokesman. Farnhamturned and saw him a little distance away directly behind him. He hadrepossessed himself of his pistol and held it cocked in his hand. 

"What do you want of our names?" the spokesman asked. 

Farnham did not again lose sight of Bowersox. It occurred to him thatthe interview might as well be closed. He therefore said, carelessly, without turning:

"A man has a natural curiosity to know the names of new acquaintances. But no matter, I suppose the police know you, " and rode away. 

Bowersox turned to Offitt and said, "Why in ---- did you let him go? Icould have knocked his head off and nobody knowed it. "

"Yes, " said Offitt, coolly. "And got hung for it. "

"It would have been self-defence, " said Bowersox. "He hit me first. "

"Well, gentlemen, " said Offitt, "that closes up Greenwood Lodge. Wecan't meet in this grass any more. I don't suppose he knows any of usby sight, or he'd have us up to-morrow. "

"It was a piece of ---- nonsense, comin' out here, anyhow, " growledBowersox, unwilling to be placated. "You haven't done a ---- thing butlay around on the grass and eat peanuts and hear Bott chin. "

"Brother Bott has delivered a splendid address on 'The Religion ofNature, ' and he couldn't have had a better hall than the Canopy to giveit under, " said Offitt. "And now, gentlemen, we'd better get back ourown way. "

As Farnham rode home he was not much puzzled by his adventure in thewoods. He remembered having belonged, when he was a child of ten, to aweird and mysterious confraternity called "Early Druids, " which met inthe depths of groves, with ill-defined purposes, and devoted the hoursof meeting principally to the consumption of confectionery. He hadheard for the past few months of the existence of secret organizationsof working-men--wholly outside of the trades-unions and unconnectedwith them--and guessed at once that he had disturbed a lodge of one ofthese clubs. His resentment did not last very long at the treatment towhich he had been subjected; but still he thought it was not a matterof jest to have the roads obstructed by ruffians with theories in theirheads and revolvers in their hands, neither of which they knew how touse. He therefore promised himself to consult with the chief of policethe next morning in regard to the matter. 

As he rode along, thinking of the occurrence, he was dimly conscious ofa pleasant suggestion in something he had seen among the hazel brush, and searching tenaciously in his recollection of the affair, it all atonce occurred to him that, among the faces of the men who came out ofthe thicket in the scuffle, was that of the blonde-bearded, blue-eyedyoung carpenter who had been at work in his library the day Mrs. Belding and Alice lunched with him. He was pleased to find that thepleasant association led him to memories of his love, but for a momenta cloud passed over him at the thought of so frank and hearty a fellowand such a good workman being in such company. "I must see if I cannotget him out of it, " he said to himself, and then reverted again tothoughts of Alice. 

Twilight was falling, and its melancholy influence was beginning toaffect him. He thought less and less of the joy of his love and more ofits hopelessness. By the time he reached his house he had begun toconfront the possibility of a life of renunciation, and, after themanner of Americans of fortune who have no special ties, his mindturned naturally to Europe. "I cannot stay here to annoy her, " hethought, and so began to plot for the summer and winter, and, in fancy, was at the second cataract of the Nile before his horse's hoofs, ringing on the asphalt of the stable-yard, recalled him to himself. 

The next day, he was compelled to go to New York to attend to somematters of business. Before taking the train, he laid his complaint ofbeing stopped on the road before the chief of police, who promised tomake vigorous inquisition. Farnham remained several days in New York, and on his return, one warm, bright evening, he found his tableprepared and the grave Budsey waiting behind his chair. 

He ate his dinner hastily and in silence, with no great zest. "You havenot forgot, sir, " said Budsey, who was his external conscience insocial matters, "that you are going this evening to Mrs. Temple's?"

"I think I shall not go. "

"Mr. Temple was here this afternoon, sir, which he said it was mostparticular. I asked him would he call again. He said no, he was sure ofseeing you to-night. But it was most particular, he said. "

Budsey spoke in the tone of solemn and respectful tyranny which healways assumed when reminding Farnham of his social duties, and whichconveyed a sort of impression to his master that, if he did not do whatwas befitting, his butler was quite capable of picking him up anddeferentially carrying him to the scene of festivity, and depositinghim on the door-step. 

"What could Temple want to see me about 'most particular'?" Farnhamasked himself. "After all, I may as well pass the evening there asanywhere. "

Mr. Temple was one of the leading citizens of Buffland. He was thevice-president of the great rolling-mill company, whose smoke darkenedthe air by day and lighted up the skies at night as with the flames ofthe nether pit. He was very tall and very slender, with reddish-brownhair, eyes and mustache. Though a man of middle age, his trim figure, his fashionable dress, and his clean shaven cheek and chin gave him anappearance of youth. He was president of the local jockey club, and thejoy of his life was to take his place in the judges' stand, and swaythe destinies of the lean, keen-faced trainers who drove the trottinghorses. He had the eye of a lynx for the detection of any crookednessin driving, and his voice would ring out over the track like the trumpof doom, conveying fines and penalties to the luckless trickster whowas trying to get some unfair advantage in the start. His voice, a deepbasso, rarely was heard, in fact, anywhere else. Though excessivelysocial, he was also extremely silent. He gave delightful dinner-partiesand a great many of them, but rarely spoke, except to recommend anespecially desirable wine to a favored guest. When he did speak, however, his profanity was phenomenal. Every second word was an oath. To those who were not shocked by it there was nothing more droll andincongruous than to hear this quiet, reserved, well-dressed, gentleman-like person pouring out, on the rare occasions when he talkedfreely, in a deep, measured, monotonous tone, a flood of imprecationswhich would have made a pirate hang his head. He had been, as a boy, clerk on a Mississippi River steamboat, and a vacancy occurring in theoffice of mate, he had been promoted to that place. His youthful faceand quiet speech did not sufficiently impose upon the rough deck-handsof that early day. They had been accustomed to harsher modes of address, and he saw his authority defied and in danger. So he set himselfseriously to work to learn to swear; and though at first it made hisheart shiver a little with horror and his cheek burn with shame, hepersevered, as a matter of business, until his execrations amazed theroustabouts. When he had made a fortune, owned a line of steamboats, andfinally retired from the river, the habit had been fastened upon him, and oaths became to him the only form of emphatic speech. The hardestwork he ever did in his life was, while courting his wife, a Miss FloraBallston, of Cincinnati, to keep from mingling his ordinary forms ofemphasis in his asseverations of affection. But after he was married, and thrown more and more into the company of women, that additionalsense, so remarkable in men of his mould, came to him, and he neverlapsed, in their presence, into his natural way of speech. Perhaps thiswas the easier, as he rarely spoke at all when they were by--not thathe was in the least shy or timid, but because they, as a rule, knewnothing about stocks, or pig-iron, or wine, or trotting horses, --theonly subjects, in his opinion, which could interest any reasonablecreature. 

When Farnham arrived at his house, it was already pretty well filledwith guests. Mr. And Mrs. Temple were at the door, shaking hands withtheir friends as they arrived, she with a pleasant smile and word fromher black eyes and laughing mouth, and he in grave and speechlesshospitality. 

"Good-evening, Mr. Farnham!" said the good-natured lady. "So glad tosee you. I began to be alarmed. So did the young ladies. They wereafraid you had not returned. Show yourself in the drawing-room anddispel their fears. Oh, Mr. Harrison, I am so glad you resolved to stayover. "

Farnham gave way to the next comer, and said to Mr. Temple, who hadpressed his hand in silence:

"Did you want to see me for anything special to-day?"

Mrs. Temple looked up at the word, and her husband said:

"No; I merely wanted you to take a drive with me. "

Another arrival claimed Mrs. Temple's attention, and as Farnham movedaway, Temple half-whispered in his ear, "Don't go away till I get achance to speak to you. There is merry and particular bloom of h---- topay. "

The phrase, while vivid, was not descriptive, and Farnham could notguess what it meant. Perhaps something had gone wrong in the jockeyclub; perhaps Goldsmith Maid was off her feed; perhaps pig-iron hadgone up or down a dollar a ton. These were all subjects of profoundinterest to Temple and much less to Farnham; so he waited patiently thehour of revelation, and looked about the drawing-room to see who wasthere. 

It was the usual drawing-room of provincial cities. The sofas andchairs were mostly occupied by married women, who drew a scantyentertainment from gossip with each other, from watching theproceedings of the spinsters, and chiefly, perhaps, from aconsciousness of good clothes. The married men stood grouped in cornersand talked of their every-day affairs. The young people clusteredtogether in little knots, governed more or less by natural selection--only the veterans of several seasons pairing off into the discreetretirement of stairs and hall angles. At the further end of the longdrawing-room, Farnham's eyes at last lighted upon the object of hisquest. Alice sat in the midst of a group of young girls who hadintrenched themselves in a corner of the room, and defied all theefforts of skirmishing youths, intent upon flirtation, to dislodgethem. They seemed to be amusing themselves very well together, and thecorrect young men in white cravats and pointed shoes came, chatted, anddrifted away. They were the brightest and gayest young girls of theplace; and it would have been hard to detect any local color in them. Young as they were, they had all had seasons in Paris and inWashington; some of them knew the life of that most foreign of allcapitals, New York. They nearly all spoke French and German better thanthey did English, for their accent in those languages was very sweetand winning in its incorrectness, while their English was high-pitchedand nasal, and a little too loud in company. They were as pretty asgirls are anywhere, and they wore dresses designed by Mr. Worth, or hisNew York rivals, Loque and Chiffon; but they occasionally looked acrossthe room with candid and intelligent envy at maidens of lesspretensions, who were better dressed by the local artists. 

Farnham was stopped at some distance from the pretty group by a buxomwoman standing near the open window, cooling the vast spread of herbare shoulders in a current of air, which she assisted in its officewith a red-and-gold Japanese fan. 

"Captain Farnham, " she said, "when are you going to give thatlawn-tennis party you promised so long ago? My character for veracitydepends on it. I have told everybody it would be soon, and I shall bedisgraced if it is delayed much longer. "

"That is the common lot of prophets, Mrs. Adipson, " replied Farnham. "You know they say in Wall Street that early and exclusive informationwill ruin any man. But tell me, how is your club getting on?" hecontinued disingenuously, for he had not the slightest interest in theclub; but he knew that once fairly started on the subject, Mrs. Adipsonwould talk indefinitely, and he might stand there and torture his heartand delight his eyes with the beauty of Alice Belding. 

He carried his abstraction a little too far, however, for the good ladysoon perceived, from his wandering looks and vague replies, that shewas not holding his attention. So she pettishly released him afterfollowing the direction of his eyes, and said, "There, I see you arecrazy to go and talk to Miss Dallas. I won't detain you. She _is_awfully clever, I suppose, though she never took the trouble to bebrilliant in my presence; and she is pretty when she wears her hairthat way--I never liked those frizzes. "

Farnham accepted his release with perhaps a little more gratitude thancourtesy, and moved away to take a seat which had just been vacatedbeside Miss Dallas. He was filled with a boyish delight in Mrs. Adipson's error. "That she should think I was worshipping Miss Dallasfrom afar! Where do women keep their eyes? To think that anybody shouldlook at Miss Dallas when Alice Belding was sitting beside her. " It waspleasant to think, however, that the secret of his unhappy love wassafe. Nobody was gossiping about it, and using the name of his belovedin idle conjectures. That was as it should be. His love was sacred fromrude comment. He could go and sit by Miss Dallas, so near his belovedthat he could see every breath move the lace on her bosom. He couldwatch the color come and go on her young cheek. He could hear everyword her sweet voice uttered, and nobody would know he was conscious ofher existence. 

Full of this thought, he sat down by Miss Dallas, who greeted himwarmly and turned her back upon her friends. By looking over hershining white shoulder, he could see the clear, pure profile of Alicejust beyond, so near that he could have laid his hand on the crinkledgold of her hair. He then gave himself up to that duplex act to whichall unavowed lovers are prone--the simultaneous secret worship of onewoman and open devotion to another. It never occurred to him that therewas anything unfair in this, or that it would be as reprehensible tothrow the name of Miss Dallas into the arena of gossip as that of MissBelding. That was not his affair; there was only one person in theuniverse to be considered by him. And for Miss Dallas's part, she wasthe last person in the world to suspect any one of being capable of thetreason and bad taste of looking over her shoulder at another woman. She was, by common consent, the belle of Buffland. Her father was awidowed clergyman, of good estate, of literary tendencies, of enormouspersonal vanity, who had abandoned the pulpit in a quarrel with hissession several years before, and now occupied himself in writing poemsand sketches of an amorous and pietistic nature, which in his opinionembodied the best qualities of Swinburne and Chalmers combined, butwhich the magazines had thus far steadily refused to print. 

He felt himself infinitely superior to the society of Buffland, --withone exception, --and only remained there because his property was noteasily negotiable and required his personal care. The one exception washis daughter Euphrasia. He had educated her after his own image. Infact, there was a remarkable physical likeness between them, and he hadimpressed upon her every trick of speech and manner and thought whichcharacterized himself. This is the young lady who turns her bright, keen, beautiful face upon Farnham, with eyes eager to criticise, atongue quick to flatter and to condemn, a head stuffed full of poetryand artificial passion, and a heart saved from all danger by itsidolatry of her father and herself. 

"So glad to see you--one sees so little of you--I can hardly believe mygood fortune--how have I this honor?" All this in hard, rapidsentences, with a brilliant smile. 

Farnham thought of the last words of Mrs. Adipson, and said, intrepidly, "Well, you know the poets better than I do, Miss Euphrasia, and there is somebody who says, 'Beauty draws us by the simple way shedoes her hair'--or something like it. That classic fillet was the firstthing I saw as I entered the room, and _me voici!_"

We have already said that the fault of Farnham's conversation withwomen was the soldier's fault of direct and indiscriminate compliment. But this was too much in Euphrasia's manner for her to object to it. She laughed and said, "You deserve a _pensum_ of fifty lines for such amisquotation. But, _dites-donc, monsieur_"--for French was one of herfavorite affectations, and when she found a man to speak it with, sherode the occasion to death. There had been a crisis in the Frenchministry a few days before, and she now began a voluble conversation onthe subject, ostensibly desiring Farnham's opinion on the crisis, butreally seizing the opportunity of displaying her familiarity with thenames of the new cabinet. She talked with great spirit and animation, sometimes using her fine eyes point-blank upon Farnham, sometimesglancing about to observe the effect she was creating; which gaveFarnham his opportunity to sigh his soul away over her shoulder towhere Alice was sweetly and placidly talking with her friends. 

She had seen him come in, and her heart had stood still for a moment;but her feminine instinct sustained her, and she had not once glancedin his direction. But she was conscious of every look and action ofhis; and when he approached the corner where she was sitting, she feltas if a warm and embarrassing ray of sunshine was coming near her, Shewas at once relieved and disappointed when he sat down by Miss Dallas. She thought to herself: "Perhaps he will never speak to me again. It isall my fault. I threw him away. But it was not my fault. It was his--itwas hers. I do not know what to think. He might have let me alone. Iliked him so much. I have only been a month out of school. What shall Ido if he never speaks to me again?" Yet such is the power which, forself-defence, is given to young maidens that, while these tumultuousthoughts were passing through her mind, she talked and laughed with thegirls beside her, and exchanged an occasional word with the young menin pointed shoes, as if she had never known a grief or a care. 

Mr. Furrey came up to say good-evening, with his most careful bow. Lowering his voice, he said:

"There's Miss Dallas and Captain Farnham flirting in Italian. "

"Are you sure they are flirting?"

"Of course they are. Just look at them!"

"If you are sure they are flirting, I don't think it is right to lookat them. Still, if you disapprove of it very much, you might speak tothem about it, " she suggested, in her sweet, low, serious voice. 

"Oh, that would never do for a man of my age, " replied Furrey, in goodfaith. He was very vain of his youth. 

"What I wanted to speak to you about was this, " he continued. "There isgoing to be a Ree-gatta on the river the day after to-morrow, and Ihope you will grant me the favor of your company. The Wissagewissamettsare to row with the Chippagowaxems, and it will be the finest race thisyear. Billy Raum, you know, is stroke of the------"

Her face was still turned to him, but she had ceased to listen. She waslost in contemplation of what seemed to her a strange and tragicsituation. Farnham was so near that she could touch him, and yet so faraway that he was lost to her forever. No human being knew, or everwould know, that a few days ago he had offered her his life, and shehad refused the gift. Nobody in this room was surprised that he did notspeak to her, or that she did not look at him. Nobody dreamed that heloved her, and she would die, she resolved deliberately, before shewould let anybody know that she loved him. "For I do love him with mywhole heart, " she said to herself, with speechless energy, which sentthe blood up to her temples, and left her, in another instant, as paleas a lily. 

Furrey at that moment had concluded his enticing account of theregatta, and she had quietly declined to accompany him. He moved away, indignant at her refusal, and puzzled by the blush which accompaniedit. 

"What did that mean?" he mused. "I guess it was because I said thecrews rowed in short sleeves. "

Farnham also saw the blush, in the midst of a disquisition which MissDallas was delivering upon a new poem of Francois Coppee. He saw theclear, warm color rise and subside like the throbbing of an aurorallight in a starry night. He thought he had never seen anything solovely, but he wondered "what that oaf could have said to make herblush like that. Can it be possible that he----" His brow knitted withanger and contempt. 

"_Mais, qu'est-ce que vous avez donc?_" asked Euphrasia. 

Farnham was saved from the necessity of an explanation by Mr. Temple, who came up at that moment, and, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder, said:

"Now we will go into my den and have a glass of that sherry. I know noless temptation than Tio Pepe could take you away from Miss Dallas. "

"Thank you awfully, " said the young lady. "Why should you not give MissDallas herself an opportunity to decline the Tio Pepe?"

"Miss Dallas shall have some champagne in a few minutes, which she willlike very much better. Age and wickedness are required to appreciatesherry. "

"Ah! I congratulate your sherry; it is about to be appreciated, " saidthe deserted beauty, tartly, as the men moved away. 

They entered the little room which Temple called his den, which was alitter of letter-books, stock-lists, and the advertising pamphlets ofwine-merchants. The walls were covered with the portraits of trottinghorses; a smell of perpetual tobacco was in the air. Temple unlocked acupboard, and took out a decanter and some glasses. He filled two, andgave one to Arthur, and held the other under his nose. 

"Farnham, " he said, with profound solemnity, "if you don't call thatthe"--(I decline to follow him in the pyrotechnical combination ofoaths with which he introduced the next words)--"best sherry you eversaw, then I'm a converted pacer with the ringbone. "

Arthur drank his wine, and did not hesitate to admit all that its ownerhad claimed for it. He had often wondered how such a man as Temple hadacquired such an unerring taste. 

"Temple, " he said, "how did you ever pick up this wine; and, if youwill excuse the question, how did you know it when you got it?"

Temple smiled, evidently pleased with the question. "You've been inSpain, haven't you?"

"Yes, " said Farnham. 

"You know this is the genuine stuff, then?"

"No doubt of it. "

"_How_ do you know?"

"The usual way--by seeing and drinking it at the tables of men who knowwhat they are about. "

"Well, I have never been out of the United States, and yet I havelearned about wine in just the same way. I commenced in New Orleansamong the old Spanish and French Creoles, and have kept it up since, here and there. I can see in five minutes whether a man knows anythingabout his wine. If he does, I remember every word he says--that is mystrong point--head and tongue. I can't remember sermons and speeches, but I can remember every syllable that Sam Ward said one night at yourgrandfather's ten years ago; and if I have once tasted a good wine, Inever forget its fashion of taking hold. "

This is an expurgated edition of what he said; his profanity kept up arunning accompaniment, like soft and distant rolling thunder. 

"I got this wine at the sale of the Marquis of Santa Rita. I heard youspeak of him, I don't know how long ago, and the minute I read in thepaper that he had turned up his toes, I cabled the consul at Cadiz--youknow him, a wild Irishman named Calpin--to go to the sale of hiseffects and get this wine. He cabled back, 'What shall I pay?' Ianswered, 'Head your dispatch again: Get means get!' Some men have gotno sense. I did not mind the price of the wine, but it riled me to haveto pay for the two cables. "

He poured out another glass and drank it drop by drop, getting, as hesaid, "the worth of his money every time. "

"Have some more?" he said to Farnham. 

"No, thank you. "

"Then I'll put it away. No use of giving it to men who would prefersixty-cent whiskey. "

Having done this, he turned again to Farnham, and said, "I told you theOld Boy was to pay. This is how. The labor unions have ordered ageneral strike; day not fixed; they are holding meetings all over townto-night. I'll know more about it after midnight. "

"What will it amount to?" asked Farnham. 

"Keen savey?" replied Temple, in his Mississippi River Spanish. "Thefirst thing will be the closing of the mills, and putting anywhere fromthree thousand to ten thousand men on the streets. Then, if the strikegains the railroad men, we shall be embargoed, ---- boiling, andsafety-valve riveted down. "

Farnham had no thought of his imperilled interests. He began instantlyto conjecture what possibility of danger there might be of adisturbance of public tranquillity, and to wish that the Beldings wereout of town. 

"How long have you known this?" he asked. 

"Only certainly for a few hours. The thing has been talked about moreor less for a month, but we have had our own men in the unions and didnot believe it would come to an extremity. To-day, however, theybrought ugly reports; and I ought to tell you that some of them concernyou. "

Farnham lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. 

"We keep men to loaf with the tramps and sleep in the boozing kens. Oneof them told me to-day that at the first serious disturbance a lot ofbad eggs among the strikers--not the unionists proper, but a lot ofloose fish--intend to go through some of the principal houses onAlgonquin Avenue, and they mentioned yours as one of them. "

"Thank you. I will try to be ready for them, " said Farnham. But, cooland tried as was his courage, he could not help remembering, withsomething like dread, that Mrs. Belding's house was next to his own, and that in case of riot the two might suffer together. 

"There is one thing more I wanted to say, " Mr. Temple continued, with aslight embarrassment. "If I can be of any service to you, in case of arow, I want to be allowed to help. "

"As to that, " Farnham said with a laugh, "you have your own house andstables to look after, which will probably be as much as you canmanage. "

"No, " said Temple, earnestly, "that ain't the case. I will have toexplain to you"--and a positive blush came to his ruddy face. "Theywon't touch me or my property. They say a man who uses such good horsesand such bad language as I do--that's just what they say--is one ofthem, and sha'n't be racketed. I ain't very proud of my popularity, butI am willing to profit by it and I'll come around and see you ifanything more turns up. Now, we'll go and give Phrasy Dallas that glassof champagne. "

XII. 

A HOLIDAY NOT IN THE CALENDAR. 

The next morning while Farnham was at breakfast he received a note fromMr. Temple in these words:

"Strikes will begin to-day, but will not be general. There will be nodisturbance, I think. They don't seem very gritty. "

After breakfast he walked down to the City Hall. On every street cornerhe saw little groups of men in rather listless conversation. He met anacquaintance crossing the street. 

"Have you heard the news?" The man's face was flushed with pleasure athaving something to tell--"The firemen and stokers have all struck, andrun their engines into the round-house at Riverley, five miles out. There won't be a train leave or come in for the present. "

"Is that all?"

"No, that ain't a start. The Model Oil men have struck, and are allover the North End, shutting up the other shops. They say there won'tbe a lick of work done in town the rest of the week. "

"Except what Satan finds for idle hands, " Farnham suggested, andhastened his steps a little to the municipal buildings. 

He found the chief of police in his office, suffering from nervousnessand a sense of importance. He began by reminding him of the occurrenceof the week before in the wood. The chief waited with an absentexpression for the story to end, and then said, "My dear sir, I cannotpay any attention to such little matters with anarchy threatening ourcity. I must protect life and property, sir--life and property. "

"Very well, " rejoined Farnham, "I am informed that life and propertyare threatened in my own neighborhood. Can you detail a few policemento patrol Algonquin Avenue, in case of a serious disturbance?"

"I can't tell you, my dear sir; I will do the best I can by allsections. Why, man, " he cried, in a voice which suddenly grew a shrillfalsetto in his agitation, "I tell you I haven't a policeman for everyten miles of street in this town. I can't spare but two for my ownhouse!"

Farnham saw the case was hopeless, and went to the office of the mayor. That official had assumed an attitude expressive of dignified anddauntless energy. He sat in a chair tilted back on its hind feet; theboots of the municipal authority were on a desk covered with officialpapers; a long cigar adorned his eloquent lips; a beaver hat shaded hiseyes. 

He did not change his attitude as Farnham entered. He probably thoughtit could not be changed for the better. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Quinlin. "

"Good-morning, sirr, to you. " This salutation was uttered through teethshut as tightly as the integrity of the cigar would permit. 

"There is a great deal of talk of possible disturbance to-night, incase the strikes extend. My own neighborhood, I am told, has beendirectly threatened. I called to ask whether, in case of trouble, Icould rely on any assistance from the city authorities, or whether wemust all look out for ourselves. "

The mayor placed his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, andthrew his head back so that he could stare at Farnham from below hishat brim. He then said, in a measured voice, as if addressing anassembly: "Sirr! I would have you to know that the working-men ofBuffland are not thieves and robbers. In this struggle with capitalthey have my profound sympathy. I expect their conduct to be that ofperr-fect gentlemen. I, at least, will give no orders which may tend toarray one class of citizens against another. That is my answer, sirr; Ihope it does not disappoint you. "

"Not in the least, " said Farnham, putting on his hat. "It is preciselywhat I should have expected of you. "

"Thank you, sirr. Call again, sirr. "

As Farnham disappeared, the chief magistrate of the city tilted his hatto one side, shut an eye with profoundly humorous significance, andsaid to the two or three loungers who had been enjoying the scene:

"That is the sort of T-rail I am. That young gentleman voted agin me, on the ground I wasn't high-toned enough. "

Farnham walked rapidly to the office of the evening newspaper. He founda man in the counting-room, catching flies and trimming their wingswith a large pair of office shears. He said, "Can you put anadvertisement for me in your afternoon editions?"

The man laid down his shears, but held on to his fly, and looked at hiswatch. 

"Have you got it ready?"

"No, but I will not be a minute about it. "

"Be lively! You haven't got but a minute. "

He picked up his scissors and resumed his surgery, while Farnham wrotehis advertisement. The man took it, and threw it into a tin box, blew awhistle, and the box disappeared through a hole in the ceiling. A fewminutes later the boys were crying the paper in the streets. Theadvertisement was in these words:

"Veterans, Attention! All able-bodied veterans of the Army of thePotomac, and especially of the Third Army Corps, are requested to meetat seven this evening, at No. -- Public Square. "

From the newspaper office Farnham went to a gunsmith's. The dealer wasa German and a good sportsman, whom Farnham knew very well, havingoften shot with him in the marshes west of the city. His name wasLeopold Grosshammer. There were two or three men in the place whenFarnham entered. He waited until they were gone, and then said:

"Bolty, have you two dozen repeating rifles?"

"Ja wohl! Aber, Herr Gott, was machen Sie denn damit?"

"I don't know why I shouldn't tell you. They think there may be a riotin town, and they tell me at the City Hall that everybody must look outfor himself. I am going to try to get up a little company of oldsoldiers for patrol duty. "

"All right, mine captain, and I will be the first freiwilliger. But Idon't dink you wants rifles. Revolvers and clubs--like the pleecemen--dat's de dicket. "

"Have you got them?"

"Oh, yes, and the belts thereto. I got der gondract to furnish 'em tode city. "

"Then you will send them, wrapped up in bundles, to my office in theSquare, and come yourself there at seven. "

"Freilich, " said Leopold, his white teeth glistening through his yellowbeard at the prospect of service. 

Farnham spent an hour or two visiting the proprietors of the largeestablishments affected by the strikes. He found, as a rule, greatannoyance and exasperation, but no panic. Mr. Temple said, "Thepoor ------ fools! I felt sorry for them. They came up here to me thismorning, --their committee, they called it, --and told me they hated it, but it was orders! 'Orders from where?' I asked. 'From the chiefs ofsections, ' they said; and that was all I could get out of them. Some ofthe best fellows in the works were on the committee. They put 'em thereon purpose. The sneaks and lawyers hung back. "

"What will they do if the strike should last?" asked Farnham. 

"They will be supported for awhile by the other mills. Our men are theonly ones that have struck so far. They were told off to make the move, just as they march out a certain regiment to charge a battery. If wegive in, then another gang will strike. "

"Do you expect to give in?"

"Between us, we want nothing better than ten days' rest. We want torepair our furnaces, and we haven't a ---- thing to do. What I told youthis morning holds good. There won't be any riot. The whole thing issolemn fooling, so far. "

The next man Farnham saw was in a far less placid frame of mind. It wasJimmy Nelson, the largest grocer in the city. He had a cargo ofperishable groceries at the station, and the freight hands would notlet them be delivered. "I talked to the rascals, " he said. "I askedthem what they had against _me_; that they was injuring Trade!" a deityof which Mr. Nelson always spoke with profound respect. "They laughedin my face, sir. They said, 'That's just our racket. We want to squeezeyou respectable merchants till you get mad and hang a railroadpresident or two!' Yes, sir; they said that to me, and five thousanddollars of my stuff rotting in the depot. "

"Why don't you go to the mayor?" asked Farnham, though he could notsuppress a smile as he said it. 

"Yes, I like that!" screamed Jimmy. "You are laughing at me. I supposethe whole town has heard of it. Well, it's a fact. I went and askedthat infernal scoundrel what he was going to do. He said his functionwas to keep the peace, and there wasn't a word in the statutes aboutNorth Carliny water-melons. If I live till he gets out of office, I'lllick him. "

"Oh, I think you won't do that, Jimmy. "

"You think I won't!" said Nelson, absolutely incandescent with thestory of his wrongs. "I'll swear by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, thatI will thrash the hide off him next spring--if I don't forget it. "

Farnham went home, mounted his horse, and rode about the city to seewhat progress the strike was making. There was little disorder visibleon the surface of things. The "sections" had evidently not ordered ageneral cessation of labor; and yet there were curious signs ofdemoralization, as if the spirit of work was partially disintegratingand giving way to something not precisely lawless, but rather listless. For instance, a crowd of workmen were engaged industriously and, to allappearance, contentedly upon a large school-building in construction. Agroup of men, not half their number, approached them and ordered themto leave off work. The builders looked at each other and then at theirexhorters in a confused fashion for a moment, and ended by obeying thesummons in a sullen and indifferent manner. They took off their aprons, went to the hydrant and washed their hands, then put on their coats andwent home in silence and shamefacedness, amid the angry remonstrancesof the master-builder. A little farther on Farnham saw what seemed likea burlesque of the last performance. Several men were at work in a holein the street; the tops of their heads were just visible above thesurface. A half-grown, ruffianly boy, with a boot-black's box slungover his shoulder, came up and shouted, "You ---- ---- rats, come outof that, or we'll knock the scalps off'n you. " The men, without evenlooking to see the source of the summons, threw down their tools andgot out of the hole. The boy had run away; they looked about for amoment, as if bewildered, and then one of them, a gray-headed Irishman, said, "Well, we'd better be a lavin' off, if the rest is, " and they allwent away. 

In this fashion it came about that by nightfall all the squares andpublic places were thronged with an idle and expectant crowd, notactively mischievous or threatening, but affording a vast mass ofinflammable material in case the fire should start in any quarter. Theygathered everywhere in dense groups, exchanging rumors and surmises, inwhich fact and fiction were fantastically mingled. 

"The rolling-mills all close to-morrow, " said a sallow and hollow-eyedtailor. "That'll let loose twenty thousand men on the town, --big, brawny fellows. I'm glad my wife is in Clairfield. "

"All you know about it! Clairfield is twice as bad off as here. Themachine shops has all struck there, and the men went through the armorythis afternoon. They're camped all along Delaware street, every manwith a pair of revolvers and a musket. "

"You don't say so!" said the schneider, turning a shade more sallow. "I'd better telegraph my wife to come home. "

"I wouldn't hurry, " was the impassive response. "You don't know wherewe'll be to-morrow. They have been drilling all day at Riverley, threethousand of 'em. They'll come in to-morrow, mebbe, and hang all therailroad presidents. That may make trouble. "

Through these loitering and talking crowds Farnham made his way in theevening to the office which he kept, on the public square of the town, for the transaction of the affairs of his estate. He had givendirections to his clerk to be there, and when he arrived found thatsome half-dozen men had already assembled in answer to hisadvertisement. Some of them he knew; one, Nathan Kendall, a powerfulyoung man, originally from the north of Maine, now a machinist inBuffland, had been at one time his orderly in the army. BoltyGrosshammer was there, and in a very short time some twenty men were inthe room. Farnham briefly explained to them his intention. "I wantyou, " he said, "to enlist for a few days' service under my orders. Icannot tell whether there will be any work to do or not; but it islikely we shall have a few nights of patrol at least. You will get tendollars apiece anyhow, and ordinary day's wages besides. If any of youget hurt, I will try to have you taken care of. "

All but two agreed to the proposition. These two said "they hadfamilies and could not risk their skins. When they saw theadvertisement they had thought it was something about pensions, or thecounty treasurer's office. They thought soldiers ought to have thefirst chance at good offices. " They then grumblingly withdrew. 

Farnham kept his men for an hour longer, arranging some details oforganization, and then dismissed them for twenty-four hours, feelingassured that there would be no disturbance of public tranquillity thatnight. "I will meet you here to morrow evening, " he said, "and you canget your pistols and sticks and your final orders. "

The men went out one by one, Bolty and Kendall waiting for a whileafter they had gone and going out on the sidewalk with Farnham. Theyhad instinctively appointed themselves a sort of bodyguard to their oldcommander, and intended to keep him in sight until he got home. As theyreached the door, they saw a scuffle going on upon the sidewalk. Awell-dressed man was being beaten and kicked by a few rough fellows, and the crowd was looking on with silent interest. Farnham sprangforward and seized one of the assailants by the collar; Bolty pulledaway another. The man who had been cuffed turned to Kendall, who wasstanding by to help where help was needed, and cried, "Take me awaysomewhere; they will have my life;" an appeal which only excited thejeers of the crowd. 

"Kendall, take him into my office, " said Farnham, which was done in aninstant, Farnham and Bolty following. A rush was made, --not veryvicious, however, --and the three men got safely inside with theirprize, and bolted the door. A few kicks and blows shook the door, butthere was no movement to break it down; and the rescued man, when hefound himself in safety, walked up to a mirror there was in the roomand looked earnestly at his face. It was a little bruised and bloody, and dirty with mud, but not seriously injured. 

He turned to his rescuers with an air more of condescension thangratitude. "Gentlemen, I owe you my thanks, although I should have gotthe better of those scoundrels in a moment. Can you assist me inidentifying them?"

"Oh! it is Mayor Quinlin, I believe, " said Farnham, recognizing thatfunctionary more by his voice than by his rumpled visage. "No, I do notknow who they were. What was the occasion of this assault?"

"A most cowardly and infamous outrage, sir, " said the Mayor. "I waswalking along the sidewalk to me home, and I came upon this gang ofruffians at your door. Impatient at being delayed, --for my time is muchoccupied, --I rebuked them for being in me way. One of them turned to meand insolently inquired, 'Do you own this street, or have you just gota lien on it?' which unendurable insult was greeted with a loud laughfrom the other ruffians. I called them by some properly severe name, and raised me cane to force a passage, --and the rest you know. Now, gentlemen, is there anything I can do?"

Farnham did not scruple to strike while the iron was hot. He said:"Yes, there is one thing your Honor may do, not so much for us as forthe cause of order and good government, violated to-night in your ownperson. Knowing the insufficiency of the means at your disposal, a fewof us propose to raise a subsidiary night-patrol for the protection oflife and property during the present excitement. We would like you togive it your official sanction. "

"Do I understand it will be without expense to my--to the citygovernment?" Mr. Quinlin was anxious to make a show of economy in hisannual message. 

"Entirely, " Farnham assured him. 

"It is done, sir. Come to-morrow morning and get what papers you want. The sperrit of disorder must be met and put down with a bold anddefiant hand. Now, gentlemen, if there is a back door to thisestablishment, I will use it to make me way home. "

Farnham showed him the rear entrance, and saw him walking homeward upthe quiet street; and, coming back, found Bolty and Kendall writhingwith merriment. 

"Well, that beats all, " said Kendall. "I guess I'll write home like thefellow did from Iowa to his daddy, 'Come out here quick. Mighty meanmen gits office in this country. '"

"Yes, " assented Bolty. "Dot burgermeister ish better as a circus mit adrick mule. "

"Don't speak disrespectfully of dignitaries, " said Farnham. "It's a badhabit in soldiers. "

When they went out on the sidewalk the crowd had dispersed. Farnhambade his recruits good night and went up the avenue. They waited untilhe was a hundred yards away, and then, without a word to each other, followed him at that distance till they saw him enter his own gate. 

XIII. 

A BUSY SUNDAY FOR THE MATCHINS. 

Matters were not going on pleasantly in the Matchin cottage. Maud'ssuccess in gaining an eligible position, as it was regarded among herfriends, made her at once an object of greater interest than ever; buther temper had not improved with her circumstances, and she showedherself no more accessible than before. Her father, who naturally felta certain satisfaction at having, as he thought, established her sowell, regarded himself as justified in talking to her firmly andseriously respecting her future. He went about it in the only way heknew. "Mattie, " he said one evening, when they happened to be alonetogether, "when are you and Sam going to make a match?"

She lifted her eyes to him, and shot out a look of anger and contemptfrom under her long lashes that made her father feel very small and oldand shabby. 

"Never!" she said, quietly. 

"Come, come, now, " said the old man; "just listen to reason. Sam is agood boy, and with what he makes and what you make----"

"That has nothing to do with it. I won't discuss the matter anyfurther. We have had it all out before. If it is ever mentioned again, Sam or I will leave this house. "

"Hoity-toity, Missy! is that the way you take good advice----" but shewas gone before he could say another word. Saul walked up and down theroom a few moments, taking very short steps, and solacing his mind bymuttering to himself: "Well, that's what I get by having a scholar inthe family. Learning goes to the head and the heels--makes 'em proudand skittish. "

He punctually communicated his failure to Sam, who received the newswith a sullen quietness that perplexed still more the puzzledcarpenter. 

On a Sunday afternoon, a few days later, he received a visit from Mr. Bott, whom he welcomed, with great deference and some awe, as anambassador from a ghostly world of unknown dignity. They talked in astiff and embarrassed way for some time about the weather, the prospectof a rise in wages, and other such matters, neither obviously takingany interest in what was being said. Suddenly Bott drew nearer andlowered his voice, though the two were alone in the shop. 

"Mr. Matchin, " he said, with an uneasy grin, "I have come to see youabout your daughter. "

Matchin looked at him with a quick suspicion. 

"Well, who's got anything to say against my daughter?"

"Oh, nobody that I know of, " said Bott, growing suspicious in his turn. "Has anything ever been said against her?"

"Not as I know, " said Saul. "Well, what _have_ you got to say?"

"I wanted to ask how you would like me as a son-in-law?" said Bott, wishing to bring matters to a decision. 

Saul stood for a moment without words in his astonishment. He hadalways regarded Bott as "a professional character, " even as a "litraryman"; he had never hoped for so lofty an alliance. And yet he could notsay that he wholly liked it. This was a strange creature--highlygifted, doubtless, but hardly comfortable. He was too "thick" withghosts. One scarcely knew whether he spent most of his time "on earthor in hell, " as Saul crudely phrased it. The faint smell of phosphorusthat he carried about with him, which was only due to his imperfectablutions after his seances, impressed Saul's imagination as going toshow that Bott was a little too intimate with the under-ground powers. He stood chewing a shaving and weighing the matter in his mind a momentbefore he answered. He thought to himself, "After all, he is making aliving. I have seen as much as five dollars at one of his seeunses. "But the only reply he was able to make to Bott's point-blank questionwas:

"Well, I dunno. "

The words were hardly encouraging, but the tone was weakly compliant. Bott felt that his cause was gained, and thought he might chaffer alittle. 

"Of course, " he said, "I would like to have a few things understood, tostart with. I am very particular in business matters. "

"That's right, " said Saul, who began to think that this was a verysystematic and methodical man. 

"I am able to support a wife, or I would not ask for one, " said Bott. 

"Exactly, " said Saul, with effusion; "that's just what I was saying tomyself. "

"Oh, you was!" said Bott, scowling and hesitating. "You was, was you?"Then, after a moment's pause, in which he eyed Saul attentively, hecontinued, "Well--that's so. At the same time, I am a business man, andI want to know what you can do for your girl. "

"Not much of anything, Mr. Bott, if you must know. Mattie is makin' herown living. "

"Yes. That's all right. Does she pay you for her board?"

"Look here, Mr. Bott, that ain't none of your business yet, anyhow. Shedon't pay no board while she stays here; but that ain't nobody'sbusiness. "

"Oh, no offence, sir, none in the world. Only I am a business man, anddon't want misunderstandings. So she don't. And I suppose you don'twant to part with your last child--now, do you? It's like breaking yourheart-strings, now, ain't it?" he said, in his most sentimental lecturevoice. 

"Well, no, I can't say it is. Mattie's welcome in my house while Ilive, but of course she'll leave me some day, and I'll wish her joy. "

"Why should that be? My dear sir, why should that be?" Bott's voicegrew greasy with sweetness and persuasion. "Why not all live together?I will be to you as a son. Maud will soothe your declining years. Letit be as it is, Father Saul. "

The old carpenter looked up with a keen twinkle of his eye. 

"You and your wife would like to board with us when you are married?Well, mebbe we can arrange that. "

This was not quite what Bott expected, but he thought best to say nomore on that subject for the moment. 

Saul then asked the question that had all along been hovering on hislips. 

"Have you spoke to Mattie yet?"

The seer blushed and simpered, "I thought it my duty to speak first toyou; but I do not doubt her heart. "

"Oh! you don't, " said Saul, with a world of meaning. "You better findout. You'll find her in the house. "

Bott went to the house, leaving Saul pondering. Girls were queercattle. Had Mattie given her word to this slab-sided, lanky fellow? Hadshe given Sam Sleeny the mitten for him? Perhaps she wanted the gloryof being Mrs. Professor Bott. Well, she could do as she liked; but Saulswore softly to himself, "If Bott comes to live offen me, he's got topay his board. "

Meanwhile, the seer was walking, not without some inward perturbation, to the house, where his fate awaited him. It would have been hard tofind a man more confident and more fatuous; but even such fools as hehave their moments of doubt and faltering when they approach the notaltogether known. He had not entertained the slightest question ofMaud's devotion to him, the night she asked from him the counsel of thespirits. But he had seen her several times since that, and she hadnever renewed the subject. He was in two minds about it. Sometimes heimagined she might have changed her purpose; and then he would comforthimself with the more natural supposition that maiden modesty had beentoo much for her, and that she was anxiously awaiting his proffer. Hehad at last girded up his loins like a man and determined to know hisdoom. He had first ascertained the amount of Maud's salary at thelibrary, and then, as we see, had endeavored to provide for hissubsistence at Saul's expense; and now nothing was wanting but themaiden's consent. He trembled a little, but it was more with hope thanfear. He could not make himself believe that there was any danger--buthe wished it were over and all were well. He paused as he drew near thedoor. He was conscious that his hands were disagreeably cold and moist. He took out his handkerchief and wiped them, rubbing them brisklytogether, though the day was clear and warm, and the perspiration stoodbeaded on his forehead. But there was no escape. He knocked at thedoor, which was opened by Maud in person, who greeted him with a freeand open kindness that restored his confidence. They sat down together, and Maud chatted gayly and pleasantly about the weather and the news. ANew York girl, the daughter of a wealthy furrier, was reported in thenewspaper as about to marry the third son of an English earl. Mauddiscussed the advantages of the match on either side as if she had beenthe friend from childhood of both parties. 

Suddenly, while she was talking about the forthcoming wedding, thethought occurred to Bott, "Mebbe this is a hint for me, " and he plungedinto his avowal. Turning hot and cold at once, and wringing his moisthands as he spoke, he said, taking everything for granted:

"Miss Maud, I have seen your father and he gives his consent, and youhave only to say the word to make us both happy. "

"What?"

Anger, surprise, and contempt were all in the one word and in theflashing eyes of the young woman, as she leaned back in herrocking-chair and transfixed her unhappy suitor. 

"Why, don't you understand me? I mean----"

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean. But I _don't_ mean; and if you had cometo me, I'd have saved you the trouble of going to my father. "

"Now, look here, " he pleaded, "you ain't a-going to take it that way, are you? Of course, I'd have come to you first if I had 'a' thoughtyou'd preferred it. All I wanted was----"

"Oh, " said Maud, with perfect coolness and malice, --for in the lastmoment she had begun heartily to hate Bott for his presumption, --"Iunderstand what _you_ want. But the question is what _I_ want--and Idon't want you. "

The words, and still more the cold monotonous tone in which they wereuttered, stung the dull blood of the conjurer to anger. His mud-coloredface became slowly mottled with red. 

"Well, then, " he said, "what did you mean by coming and consulting thesperrits, saying you was in love with a gentleman------"

Maud flushed crimson at the memory awakened by these words. Springingfrom her chair, she opened the door for Bott, and said, "Greatgoodness! the impudence of some men! You thought I meant _you?_"

Bott went out of the door like a whipped hound, with pale face andhanging head. As he passed by the door of the shop, Saul hailed him andsaid with a smile, "What luck?"

Bott did not turn his head, he growled out a deep imprecation andwalked away. Matchin was hardly surprised. He mused to himself, "Ithought it was funny that Mattie should sack Sam Sleeny for thatfellow. I guess he didn't ask the sperrits how the land lay, " chucklingover the discomfiture of the seer. Spiritualism is the most convenientreligion in the world. You may disbelieve two-thirds of it and yet beperfectly orthodox. Matchin, though a pillar of the faith, alwayskeenly enjoyed the defeat and rout of a medium by his tricksy andrebellious ghosts. 

He was still laughing to himself over the retreat of Bott, thinkingwith some paternal fatuity of the attractiveness and spirit of hisdaughter, when a shadow fell across him, and he saw Offitt standingbefore him. 

"Why, Offitt. Is that you? I did not hear you. You always come up assoft as a spook!"

"Yes, that's me. Where's Sam?"

"Sam's gone to Shady Creek on an excursion with his lodge. My wife wentwith him. "

"I wanted to see him. I think a heap of Sam. "

"So do I. Sam is a good fellow. "

"Excuse my making so free, Mr. Matchin, but I once thought Sam wasgoing to be a son-in-law of yours. "

"Well, betwixt us, Mr. Offitt, I hoped so myself. But you know whatgirls is. She jest wouldn't. "

"So it's all done, is it? No chance for Sam?" Offitt asked eagerly. 

"Not as much as you could hold sawdust in your eye, " the carpenteranswered. 

"Well, now, Mr. Matchin, I have got something to say. " ("Oh, Lordy, "groaned Saul to himself, "here's another one. ") "I wouldn't take noadvantage of a friend; but if Sam's got no chance, as you say, whyshouldn't I try? With your permission, sir, I will. "

"Now look ye here, Mr. Offitt. I don't know as I have got anythingagainst you, but I don't know nothing _fur_ you. If it's a fairquestion, how do you make your livin'?"

"That's all right. First place, I have got a good trade. I'm alocksmith. "

"So I have heard you say. But you don't work at it. "

"No, " Offitt answered; and then, assuming a confidential air, hecontinued, "As I am to be one of the family, I'll tell you. I don'twork at my trade, because I have got a better thing. I am a Reformer. "

"You don't say!" exclaimed Saul. "I never heard o' your lecturin'. "

"I don't lecture. I am secretary of a grand section of Labor Reformers, and I git a good salary for it. "

"Oh, I see, " said Saul, not having the least idea of what it all meant. But, like most fathers of his kind, he made no objection to the man'sproposal, and told him his daughter was in the house. As Offitt walkedaway on the same quest where Bott had so recently come to wreck, Saulsat smiling, and nursing his senile vanity with the thought that therewere not many mechanics' daughters in Buffland that could get twooffers in one Sunday from "professional men. " He sat with the contentedinertness of old men on his well-worn bench, waiting to see what wouldbe the result of the interview. 

"I don't believe she'll have him, " he thought. "He ain't half the manthat Sam is, nor half the scholar that Bott is. "

It was well he was not of an impatient temperament. He sat quietlythere for more than an hour, as still as a knot on a branch, wonderingwhy it took Offitt so much longer than Bott to get an answer to a plainquestion; but it never once occurred to him that he had a right to gointo his own house and participate in what conversation was going on. To American fathers of his class, the parlor is sacred when thedaughter has company. 

There were several reasons why Offitt stayed longer than Bott. 

The seer had left Maud Matchin in a state of high excitement and anger. The admiration of a man so splay and ungainly was in itself insulting, when it became so enterprising as to propose marriage. She felt as ifshe had suffered the physical contact of something not clean orwholesome. Besides, she had been greatly stirred by his reference toher request for ghostly counsel, which had resulted in so frightful afailure and mortification. After Bott had gone, she could not dismissthe subject from her mind. She said to herself, "How can I live, hatinga man as I hate that Captain Farnham? How can I breathe the same airwith him, blushing like a peony whenever I think of him, and turningpale with shame when I hear his name? That ever I should have beenrefused by a living man! What _does_ a man want, " she asked, with herhead thrown back and her nostrils dilated, "when he don't want me?"

As she was walking to and fro, she glanced out of the window and sawOffitt approaching from the direction of the shop. She knew instantlywhat his errand would be, though he had never before said a word to herout of the common. "I wonder if father has sent him to me--and how manymore has he got in reserve there in the shop? Well, I will make shortwork of this one. "

But when he had come in and taken his seat, she found it was not soeasy to make short work of him. 

Dealing with this one was very different from dealing with the other--about the difference between handling a pig and a panther. Offitt was ahuman beast of prey--furtive, sly, and elusive, with all his facultiesconstantly in hand. The sight of Maud excited him like the sight ofprey. His small eyes fastened upon her; his sinewy hands tingled to layhold of her. But he talked, as any casual visitor might, of immaterialthings. 

Maud, while she chatted with him, was preparing herself for theinevitable question and answer. "What shall I say to him? I do not likehim. I never did. I never can. But what shall I do? A woman is of nouse in the world by herself. He is not such a dunce as poor Sam, and isnot such a gawk as Bott. I wonder whether he would make me mind? I amafraid he would, and I don't know whether I would like it or not. Isuppose if I married him I would be as poor as a crow all my days. Icouldn't stand that. I won't have him. I wish he would make his littlespeech and go. "

But he seemed in no hurry to go. He was talking volubly about himself, lying with the marvellous fluency which interest and practice give tosuch men, and Maud presently found herself listening intently to hisstories. He had been in Mexico, it seemed. He owned a silver minethere. He got a million dollars out of it, but took it into his headone day to overturn the Government, and was captured and his moneytaken; barely escaped the garrote by strangling his jailer; owned themine still, and should go back and get it some day, when he hadaccomplished certain purposes in this country. There were plenty ofpeople who wished he was gone now. The President had sent for him tocome, to Washington; he went, and was asked to breakfast; nobody therebut them two; they ate off gold plates like he used to in Mexico; thePresident then offered him a hundred thousand to leave, was afraid hewould make trouble; told the President to make it a million and then hewouldn't. His grandfather was one of the richest men in Europe; hisfather ran away with his mother out of a palace. "You must have heardof my father, General Offitt, of Georgy? No? He was the biggestslaveholder in the State. I have got a claim against the Government, now, that's good for a million if it's worth a cent; going toWashington next winter to prosecute it. "

Maud was now saying to herself, "Why, if half this is true, he is aremarkable man, " like many other credulous people, not reflecting that, when half a man says is false, the other half is apt to be also. Shebegan to think it would be worth her while, a red feather in her cap, to refuse such a picturesque person; and then it occurred to her thathe had not proposed to marry her, and possibly had no such intention. As his stream of talk, dwelling on his own acts of valor and craft, ranon, she began to feel slightly piqued at its lack of reference toherself. Was this to be a mere afternoon call after all, with no combatand no victory? She felt drawn after awhile to bring her smallresources of coquetry into play. She interrupted him with saucy doubtsand questions; she cast at him smiles and glances, looking up that hemight admire her eyes, and down that her lashes might have their dueeffect. 

He interpreted all these signs in a favorable sense, but stillprudently refrained from committing himself, until directly challengedby the blush and simper with which she said:

"I suppose you must have seen a great many pretty ladies in Mexico?"

He waited a moment, looking at her steadily until her eyelids trembledand fell, and then he said, seriously and gravely:

"I used to think so; but I never saw there or anywhere else as pretty alady as I see at this minute. "

This was the first time in her life that Maud had heard such words froma man. Sam Sleeny, with all his dumb worship, had never found words totell her she was beautiful, and Bott was too grossly selfish and dullto have thought of it. Poor Sleeny, who would have given his life forher, had not wit enough to pay her a compliment. Offitt, whose love wasas little generous as the hunger of a tiger, who wished only to get herinto his power, who cared not in the least by what means he shouldaccomplish this, who was perfectly willing to have her find out all hisfalsehoods the day after her wedding, relying upon his brute strengthto retain her then, --this conscienceless knave made more progress bythese words than Sam by months of the truest devotion. Yet theimpression he made was not altogether pleasant. Thirsting foradmiration as she did, there was in her mind an indistinct consciousness that the man was taking a liberty; and in the sudden rush of colorto her cheek and brow at Offitt's words, there was at first almost asmuch anger as pleasure. But she had neither the dignity nor thetraining required for the occasion, and all the reply she found was:

"Oh, Mr. Offitt, how can you say so?"

"I say so, " he answered, with the same unsmiling gravity, "because it'sthe fact. I have been all over the world. I have seen thousands ofbeautiful ladies, even queens and markisses, and I never yet saw and Inever expect to see such beauty as yours, Miss Maud Matchin, ofBuffland. "

She still found no means to silence him or defend herself. She said, with an uneasy laugh, "I am sure I don't see where the wonderful beautyis. "

"That's because your modesty holds over your beauty. But I see where itis. It's in your eyes, that's like two stars of the night; in yourforehead, that looks full of intellect and sense; in your rosy cheeksand smiling lips; in your pretty little hands and feet----" Here shesuddenly rolled up her hands in her frilled white apron, and, sittingup straight, drew her feet under her gown. At this performance, theyboth laughed loud and long, and Maud's nerves were relieved. 

"What geese we are, " she said at last. "You know I don't believe a wordyou say. "

"Oh, yes, you do. You've got eyes and a looking-glass. Come now, behonest. You know you never saw a girl as pretty as yourself, and younever saw a man that didn't love you on sight. "

"I don't know about that. "

"Don't all the men you know love you?"

"There is one man I know hates me, and I hate him. "

"Who is it? This is very interesting. "

Maud was suddenly seized with a desire to tell an adventure, somethingthat might match Offitt's tales of wonder. 

"You'll never tell?"

"Hope I may die. "

"It's Arthur Farnham!" She had succeeded in her purpose, for Offittstared at her with looks of amazement. "He once wanted to be rather tooattentive to me, and I did not like it. So he hates me, and has triedto injure me. "

"And you don't like him very well?"

"I don't. I would owe a good deal to the man who would give him abeating. "

"All right. You give me--what?--a kiss, or a lock of your hair, and heshall have his thrashing. "

"You do it and bring me the proofs, and we will talk about it. "

"Well, I must be off, " he said, picking tip his hat. He saw on her facea slight disappointment. He put out his hand to take leave. She foldedher arms. 

"You needn't be in such a hurry, " she said, poutingly. "Mother won't beback for ever so long, and I was half asleep over my book when you camein. "

"Oh, very well, " he said. "That suits me. " He walked deliberatelyacross the room, picked up a chair, and seated himself very near toMaud. She felt her heart beat with something like terror, and regrettedasking him to stay. He had been very agreeable, but she was sure he wasgoing to be disagreeable now. She was afraid that if he grewdisagreeable she could not manage him as she could the others. Herworst fears were realized with his first words. 

"Miss Matchin, if you ask me to stay longer, you must take theconsequences. I am going to say to you what I never said to mortalwoman before: I love you, and I want you for my wife. "

She tried to laugh. "Oh, you do?" but her face grew pale, and her handstrembled. 

"Yes, I do; and I am going to have you, too. "

He tried to speak lightly, but his voice broke in spite of him. 

"Oh, indeed!" she replied, recovering herself with an effort. "Perhaps_I'll_ have something to say about that, Mr. Confidence. "

"Of course; excuse me for talking like a fool. Only have me, and youshall have everything else. All that wealth can buy shall be yours. We'll leave this dull place and go around the world seeking pleasurewhere it can be found, and everybody will envy me my beauteous bride. "

"That's very pretty talk, Mr. Offitt; but where is all this wealth tocome from?"

He did not resent the question, but heard it gladly, as imposing acondition he might meet. "The money is all right. If I lay the money atyour feet, will you go with me? Only give me your promise. "

"I promise nothing, " said Maud; "but when you are ready to travel, perhaps you may find me in a better humor. "

The words seemed to fire him. "That's promise enough for me, " he cried, and put out his arms toward her. She struck down his hands, andprotested with sudden, cattish energy:

"Let me alone. Don't you come so near me. I don't like it. Now you cango, " she added. "I have got a lot to think about. "

He thought he would not spoil his success by staying. "Good-by, then, "he said, kissing his fingers to her. "Good-by for a little while, myown precious. "

He turned at the door. "This is between us, ain't it?"

"Yes, what there is of it, " she said, with a smile that took all stingfrom the words. 

He walked to the shop, and wrung the old man's hand. His look ofexultation caused Saul to say, "All settled, eh?"

"No, " said Offit; "but I have hopes. And now, Mr. Matchin, you knowyoung ladies and the ways of the world. I ask you, as a gentleman, notto say nothing about this, for the present, to nobody. "

Saul, proud of his secret, readily promised. 

XIV. 

CAPTAIN FARNHAM SEES ACTIVE SERVICE AGAIN. 

Farnham lost no time in calling upon the Mayor to fulfil hisengagement. He found his Honor a little subdued by the news of themorning. None of the strikers of the day before had gone back to work, and considerable accessions were reported from other trades. The worstsymptoms seemed to be that many shops were striking without orders. Thecessation of work was already greater than seemed at first contemplatedby the leading agitators themselves. They seemed to be losing their owncontrol of the workingmen, and a few tonguey vagrants and convicts fromthe city and from neighboring towns, who had come to the surface fromnobody knew where, were beginning to exercise a wholly unexpectedauthority. They were going from place to place, haranguing the workmen, preaching what they called socialism, but what was merely riot andplunder. They were listened to without much response. In some placesthe men stopped work; in others they drove out the agitators; in othersthey would listen awhile, and then shout, "Give us a rest!" or "Hire ahall!" or "Wipe off your chir!" But all the while the crowds graduallyincreased in the streets and public places; the strike, if it promisednothing worse, was taking the dimensions of a great, sad, anxiousholiday. There was not the slightest intention on the part of theauthorities to interfere with it, and to do them justice, it is hard tosee what they could have done, with the means at their disposal. TheMayor, therefore, welcomed Farnham with great cordiality, made him acaptain of police, for special duty, on the spot, and enrolled his listof recruits of the night before as members of the police force of thecity, expressly providing that their employment should cost the citynothing, now or hereafter. 

Farnham again made his rounds of the city, but found nothing especiallynoteworthy or threatening. The wide town, in spite of the large crowdsin the streets, had a deserted look. A good many places of businesswere closed. There was little traffic of vehicles. The whistle of thelocomotives and the rush of trains--sounds which had grown so familiarin that great railroad centre that the ear ceased to be affected bythem--being suddenly shut off, the silence which came in their placewas startling to the sense. The voices of the striking employees, whoretained possession of the Union Passenger Depot, resounded strangelythrough the vast building, which was usually a babel of shrill andstrident sounds. 

On the whole, the feature which most struck him in this violent andunnatural state of things was the singular good-nature of almost allclasses. The mass of the workingmen made no threats; the greater numberof employers made no recriminations. All hoped for an arrangement, though no one could say how it was to come. The day passed away infruitless parleys, and at night the fever naturally rose, as is the wayof fevers. 

When nightfall came, the crowd had become so great, in the publicsquare that Farnham thought it might be better not to march hisimprovised policemen in a body up-town. He therefore dispatched ordersto Kendall to send them up with their arms, singly or by twos andthrees, to his house. By eight o'clock they were all there, and hepassed an hour or so in putting them through a rude form of drill andgiving them the instructions which he had prepared during the day. Hisintention was to keep them together on his own place during the earlypart of the night, and if, toward midnight, all seemed quiet, toscatter them as a patrol about the neighborhood; in case of seriousdisturbance anywhere else, to be ready to take part in restoring order. 

About nine o'clock a man was seen coming rapidly from the house to therear garden, where Farnham and his company were. The men were dispersedabout the place; some on the garden seats, some lying on the grass inthe clear moonlight. Farnham was a little apart, talking with Kendalland Grosshammer. He started up to meet the intruder; it was Mr. Temple. 

"What's all this?" said Temple. 

"The manly art of self-defence, " said Farnham, smiling. 

"I see, and I am glad to see it, too, " answered Temple, warmly. "One ofmy men told me an hour ago that in the Tramps' Lodging House, lastnight, it was the common talk that there would be a rush on the housesin this region to-night. I went to the Mayor and tried to see him, buthe was hiding, I think. I went to the Chief of Police, and he was in ablue funk. So I thought I would come up myself and see you. I knew youcould raise a few men among your servants over here, and I would bringhalf a dozen, and we could answer for a few tramps, anyhow. But you areall right, and there is nothing to do but wait for them. "

"Yes, thank you!" said Farnham, "though I am a thousand times obligedto you for your good-will. I won't forget it in a hurry, old man. Areyou going home now? I will walk a block or two with you. "

"No, I am not going home--not by"--[we draw the veil over Temple'slanguage at this point]. "I have come to spend the evening. Have youany tools for me?"

"Nonsense, my dear fellow! there is not the least use of it. There isnot one chance in a million that there will be anything to do. "

The two men were walking toward the house. Temple said: "Don't be toosure of it. As I passed by the corner of the Square ten minutes ago, there was a fellow in front of Mouchem's gin-mill, a longhaired, sallow-looking pill, who was making as ugly a speech to a crowd ofruffians as I ever heard. One phrase was something like this: 'Yes, myfellow-toilers'--he looked like he had never worked a muscle in hislife except his jaw-tackle, --'the time has come. The hour is at hand. The people rule. Tyranny is down. Enter in and take possession of thespoilers' gains. Algonquin Avenue is heaped with riches wrung from thesweat of the poor. Clean out the abodes of blood guiltiness. ' And youought to have heard the ki-yi's that followed. That encouraged him, andhe went on: 'Algonquin Avenue is a robbers' cave, It's very handsome, but it needs one thing more. ' 'What's that?' some fellows yelled. 'Anaristocrat hung to every lamppost. ' This was very popular too, you canbet your boots. On that I toddled off, so as to get you a chance to sayyour peccavy, anyhow. "

Walking and talking together, they had passed the house and come to thegate opening on the Avenue. 

"You might shut these wide gates, " said Temple. 

"I do not think they have been shut in ten years, " Farnham answered. "Let's try it. "

The effort was unsuccessful. The heavy gates would not budge. Suddenlya straggling, irregular cheer was heard from the direction of theSquare. "There!" said Temple, "my friend the orator has got off anothergood thing. "

But Farnham, who had stepped outside at the sound and gazed on themoon-lighted avenue, said, "There they come now!"

They both ran back to the house, Farnham blowing his watchman'swhistle. "See here, " said Temple, "I must have some tools. You have aclub and revolver. Give me the club, " which he took without moreceremony. The men came up from the garden in an instant, and quicklyfell in at Farnham's word of command. Masked by the shadows of thetrees and the shrubbery, they were not discernible from the street. 

"Remember, " said Farnham. "Use your clubs as much as you see fit, ifyou come to close quarters; but do not fire without orders, unless tosave your own lives. I don't think it is likely that these fellows arearmed. "

The clattering of feet grew louder on the sidewalk, and in a moment theleaders of the gang--it could hardly be called a mob--stopped by thegates. "Here's the place. Come along boys!" one of them shouted, but noone stirred until the whole party came up. They formed a dense crowdabout the gates and half-filled the wide avenue. There was evidently amoment of hesitation, and then three or four rushed through the gate, followed by a larger number, and at last by the bulk of the crowd. Theyhad come so near the porch that it could now be seen by the light ofthe moon that few of them carried arms. Some had sticks; one or two mencarried heavy stones in their hands; one young man brandished an axe;one had a hammer. There was evidently no attempt at organizationwhatever. 

Farnham waited until they were only a few feet away, and then shouted:

"Forward! Guide right! Double time! March!"

The men darted out from the shadow and began to lay about them withtheir clubs. A yell of dismay burst from the crowd. Those in frontturned and met those behind, and the whole mass began striking outwildly at each other. Yelling and cursing, they were forced back overthe lawn to the gate. Farnham, seeing that no shots had been fired, wasconfirmed in his belief that the rioters were without organization and, to a great extent, without arms. He therefore ordered his men to theright about and brought them back to the house. This movement evidentlyencouraged the mob. Loud voices were distinctly heard. 

"Who's afraid of half a dozen cops?" said a burly ruffian, who carrieda slunfg-shot. "There's enough of us to eat 'em up. "

"That's the talk, Bowersox, " said another. "You go in and get the firstbite. "

"That's my style, " said Bowersox. "Come along, Offitt. Where's Bott? Iguess he don't feel very well. Come along, boys! We'll slug 'em thistime!" And the crowd, inspirited by this exhortation and the apparentweakness of the police force, made a second rush for the house. 

Temple was standing next to Farnham. "Arthur, " he whispered, "let'schange weapons a moment, " handing Farnham his club and taking therevolver from his hand. Farnham hardly noticed the exchange, sointently was he watching the advance of the crowd, which he saw, in amoment, was far more serious than the first. They were coming up moresolidly, and the advantage of the surprise was now gone. He waited, however, until they were almost as near as they had been before, andthen gave the order to charge, in the same words as before, but in amuch sharper and louder tone, which rang out like a sudden blast from atrumpet. 

The improvised policemen darted forward and attacked as vigorously asever, but the assailants stood their ground. There were blows given aswell as taken this time. There was even a moment's confusion on theextreme right of the line, where the great bulk of Bowersox bore downone of the veterans. Farnham sprang forward and struck the burlyruffian with his club; but his foot slipped on the grass, and hedropped on one knee. Bowersox raised his slung-shot; a single report ofa pistol rang out, and he tumbled forward over Farnham, who sprang tohis feet and shouted, "Now, men, drive 'em!" Taking the right himselfand profiting by the momentary shock of the shot, they got the crowdstarted again, and by vigorous clubbing drove them once more into thestreet. 

Returning to the shadow by the house, Farnham's first question was, "Isanybody hurt?"

"I've got a little bark knocked off, " said one quiet fellow, who cameforward showing a ghastly face bathed in blood from a wound in hisforehead. Farnham looked at him a moment, and then, running to hisdoor, opened it and called Budsey, who had been hiding in the cellar, praying to all his saints. 

"Here, Budsey, take this man down to the coachman's house, and then goround the corner and bring Dr. Cutts. If he isn't there, get somebodyelse. It does not amount to much, but there will be less scar if it isattended to at once. "

The man was starting away with Budsey, when Temple said, "Look here!You won't need that arsenal any more to-night. Pass it over, " and tookthe man's belt, with club and pistol, and buckled them around his ownslim waist. Handing Farnham his own pistol, he said: "Thanks, Arthur. Iowe you one cartridge. "

"And I owe you, God knows how much!"

Farnham then briefly announced to his men that the shot which had justbeen fired was not by a member of the company, and was, therefore, nota disobedience of orders. Catching sight of Bowersox lying motionlesson the grass, he ordered, "Two file-closers from the right, go and bring in that man!"

But at that moment Bowersox moved, sat up and looked about him, and, suddenly remembering where he was, struggled to his feet and half-ran, half staggered to his friends in the street. They gathered about himfor a moment, and then two of them were seen supporting him on his wayinto the town. 

Farnham was standing behind his men, and a little apart. He wasthinking whether it might not be best to take them at once into thestreet and disperse the crowd, when he felt a touch at his elbow. Heturned, and saw his gardener, Ferguson. 

"If I might speak a word, sir!"

"Certainly--what is it? But be quick about it. "

"I think all is not right at the Widow Belding's. I was over there butnow, and a dozen men--I did not count them, --but--"

"Heavens! why did I not think of that? Kendall, you take command ofthese men for a moment. Bolty, you and the three files on the left comewith me. Come, Temple, --the back way. " And he started at a pace sorapid that the others could hardly keep him in sight. 

After the first repulse of the crowd, Offitt, Bott, and a few more ofthe Bread-winners, together with some of the tramps and jail-birds whohad come for plunder, gathered together across the street and agreedupon a diversion. It was evident, they said, that Farnham had aconsiderable police force with him to protect his property; it wasuseless to waste any more time there; let the rest stay there andoccupy the police; they could have more fun and more profit in some ofthe good houses in the neighborhood. "Yes, " one suggested, "JairusBelding's widder lives just a step off. Lots o' silver and things. Lessgo there. "

They slipped away in the confusion of the second rush, and made theirway through the garden to Mrs. Belding's. They tried the door, and, finding it locked, they tore off the shutters and broke the windows, and made their way into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Belding and Alicewere sitting. 

They had been alarmed by the noise and tumult in front of Farnham'shouse, and had locked and bolted their own doors in consequence. Passing through the kitchen in their rounds, they found Ferguson therein conversation with the cook. "Why, Fergus!" said the widow: "why areyou not at home? They are having lively times over there, are theynot?"

"Yes, " said the gardener; "but they have a plenty of men with arms, andI thought I'd e'en step over here and hearten up Bessie a bit. "

"I'm sure she ought to be very much obliged, " responded Mrs. Belding, dryly, though, to speak the truth, she was not displeased to have a manin the house, however little she might esteem his valor. 

"I have no doubt he sneaked away from the fuss, " she said to Alice;"but I would rather have him in the kitchen than nothing. "

Alice assented. "That is what they mean by moral support, I suppose. "

She spoke with a smile, but her heart was ill at ease. The man sheloved was, for all she knew, in deadly danger, and she could not showthat she cared at all for him, for fear of showing that she cared toomuch. 

"I am really anxious about Arthur Farnham, " continued Mrs. Belding. "Ihope he will not get himself into any scrape with those men. "

The tumult on the street and on the lawn had as yet presented itself toher in no worse light than as a labor demonstration, involving cheersand rude language. "I am afraid he won't be polite enough to them. Hemight make them a little speech, complimenting Ireland and the Americanflag, and then they would go away. That's what your father did, in thatstrike on the Wabash. It was in the papers at the time. But thesesoldiers--I'm afraid Arthur mayn't be practical enough. "

"Fortunately, we are not responsible for him, " said Alice, whose heartwas beating violently. 

"Why, Alice! what a heartless remark!"

At this instant the windows came crashing in, and a half-dozen ruffiansburst into the room. Alice sprang, pale and silent, to the side of hermother, who sat, paralyzed with fright, in her rocking-chair. 

A man came forward from the group of assailants. His soft hat was drawndown over his eyes, and a red handkerchief concealed the lower part ofhis face. His voice was that of Offitt, as he said, "Ladies, we don'twant to do no violence; but, in the name of the RevolutionaryCommittee, we have called to collect an assessment on you. " Thismachinery was an invention of the moment, and was received with greatsatisfaction by the Bread-winners. 

"That's what's the matter, " they said, in chorus. "Your assessment, andbe lively about it. All you've got handy. "

"I have no money in the house, " Mrs. Belding cried. "What shall I do?"

"You forget, mamma, " said Alice. "There is some upstairs. If thesegentlemen will wait here a moment, I will go and get it. "

Offitt looked at her sharply. "Well, run and get it. Bott, you go withher. "

Bott turned angrily upon his chief. "What's the use of calling names?What if I said your name was----"

"There, there, don't keep the lady waiting. "

Alice turned from the room, closely followed by Bott. Reaching thestairs, she swept up the long flight with the swift grace of a swallow. Bott hurried after her as fast as he could; but she gained her bedroomdoor enough in advance to shut and lock it between them, leaving himkicking and swearing in the hall. She ran to her open window, whichlooked toward Farnham's, and sent the voice of her love and her troubletogether into the clear night in one loud cry, "Arthur!"

She blushed crimson as the word involuntarily broke from her lips, andcried again as loudly as she could, "Help!"

"I hope he did not hear me at first, " she said, covering her face withher hands, and again she cried, "Help!"

"Shut up that noise, " said Bott, who was kicking violently at the door, but could not break it down. "Shut up, or I'll wring your neck. "

She stopped, not on account of his threats, which suddenly ceased, butbecause she heard the noise of footsteps on the porch, and of a shortbut violent scuffle, which showed that aid of some sort had arrived. Ina few moments she heard Bott run away from her door. He started towardthe stairs, but finding his retreat cut off ran to the front window, closely pursued. She heard a scramble. Then a voice which made herheart beat tumultuously said. "Look out below there. "

A moment after, the same voice said, "Have you got him?" and then, "Allright! keep him. "

A light knock on her door followed, and Farnham said, "Miss Belding. "

Alice stood by the door a moment before she could open it. Her heartwas still thumping, her voice failed her, she turned white and red in amoment. The strongest emotion of which she was conscious was the hopethat Arthur had not heard her call him by his name. 

She opened the door with a gravity which was almost ludicrous. Herfirst words were wholly so. 

"Good-evening, Captain Farnham, " was all she could find to say. Then, striving desperately to add something more gracious, she stammered, "Mamma will be very----"

"Glad to see me in the drawing room?" Farnham laughed. "I have no doubtof it. She is quite safe there; and your visitors have gone. Will youjoin her now?"

She could not help perceiving the slight touch of sarcasm in his tone. She saw he was hurt by her coldness and shyness, and that made herstill more cold and shy. Without another word she walked before him tothe drawing-room, where Mrs. Belding still sat in her rocking-chair, moaning and wringing her hands. Mr. Temple was standing beside hertrying to soothe her, telling her it was all over. Bolty was tying thearms of one of the ruffians behind him, who lay on the floor on hisface. There was no one else in the room. 

Alice knelt on the floor by her mother and took her in her arms. "Youare not hurt, are you, mamma dear?" she said, in a soft, tender tone, as if she were caressing a crying child. 

"Oh, no! I suppose not, " said the widow; "but I am not used to suchdoings at this time of night, and I don't like them. Captain Farnham, how shall I ever thank you? and you, Mr. Temple? Goodness knows what weshould have done without you. Alice, the moment you left the room, someof them ran to the sideboard for the silver, another one proposed toset the house afire, and that vile creature with the red handkerchiefasked me for my ear-rings and my brooch. I was trying to be as long asI could about getting them off, when these gentlemen came in. I tellyou they looked like angels, and I'll tell your wife so when I see her, Mr. Temple; and as for Arthur----"

At this moment Bolty, having finished the last knot to hissatisfaction, rose and touched his prisoner with his foot. "Captain, "he said, saluting Farnham, "vot I shall do mit dis schnide?"

"They have got the one I dropped from the window?"

"Jawohl! on de gravel-walk draussen!"

"Very well. Take them both to the stable behind my house for thepresent, and make them fast together. Then come back here and standguard awhile with the men on the porch, till I relieve you. "

"All right. Git up mid yourself, " he said, touching his prostrate foenot so gently, "and vorwaerts. "

As they went out, Farnham turned to Mrs. Belding, and said, "I thinkyou will have no more trouble. The men I leave as a guard will be quitesufficient, I have no doubt. I must hurry back and dismiss the friendswho have been serenading me. "

She gazed at him, not quite comprehending, and then said, "Well, if youmust go, good-night, and thank you a thousand times. When I have mywits about me I will thank you better. "

Arthur answered laughingly as he shook hands. "Oh, that is of noconsequence. It was merely neighborly. You would have done as much forme, I am sure. " And the gentlemen took their leave. 

When the ladies were alone, Mrs. Belding resumed her story of the greattransaction. "Why, it will be something to tell about as long as Ilive, " she said. "You had hardly got upstairs when I heard a noise offighting outside on the walk and the porch. Then Arthur and Mr. Templecame through that window as if they were shot out of a cannon. Thethief who stood by me, the red handkerchief one, did not stop, butburst through the hall into the kitchen and escaped the back way. ThenMr. Temple took another one and positively threw him through thewindow, while Arthur, with that policeman's club, knocked the one downwhom you saw the German tying up. It was all done in an instant, and Ijust sat and screamed for my share of the work. Then Arthur came andcaught me by the shoulder, and almost shook me, and said, 'Where isAlice?' Upon my word, I had almost forgotten you. I said you wereupstairs, and one of those wretches was there too. He looked as blackas a fury, and went up in about three steps. I always thought he hadsuch a sweet temper, but to-night he seemed just to _love_ to fight. Now I think of it, Alice, you hardly spoke to him. You must not let himthink we are ungrateful. You must write him a nice note to-morrow. "

Alice laid her head upon her mother's shoulder, where her wet eyescould not be seen. "Mamma, " she asked, "did he say 'Where is Alice?'Did he say nothing but 'Alice'?"

"Now, don't be silly, " said Mrs. Belding. "Of course he said 'Alice. 'You wouldn't expect a man to be Miss Beldinging you at such a time. Youare quite too particular. "

"He called me Miss Belding when he came upstairs, " said Alice, stillhiding her face. 

"And what did you say to him--for saving this house and all our lives?"

The girl's overwrought nerves gave way. She had only breath enough tosay, "I said 'Good evening, Captain Farnham!' Wasn't it too perfectlyridiculous?" and then burst into a flood of mingled laughter and tears, which nothing could check, until she had cried herself quiet upon hermother's bosom. 

XV. 

THE WHIP OF THE SCYTHIANS. 

Farnham and Temple walked hastily back to where they had left Kendallwith the rest of the company. They found him standing like a statutejust where he had been placed by Farnham. The men were ranged in theshadow of the shrubbery and the ivy-clad angle of the house. The moonshone full on the open stretch of lawn, and outside the gates a blackmass on the sidewalk and the street showed that the mob had not leftthe place. But it seemed sluggish and silent. 

"Have they done anything new?" asked Farnham. 

"Nothin', but fire a shot or two--went agin the wall overhead; and oncethey heaved a lot of rocks, but it was too fur--didn't git more'n halfway. That's all. "

"We don't want to stand here looking at each other all night, " saidFarnham. 

"Let's go out and tell them it's bed-time, " suggested Temple. 

"Agreed!" said Farnham. He turned to his men, and in a voice at firstso low that it could not have been heard ten feet away, yet so clearthat every syllable was caught by his soldiers, he gave the words ofcommand. 

"Company, attention! Eight, forward. Fours right. Double time. March!"

The last words rang out clear and loud, and startled the sullen crowdin the street. There was a hurried, irresolute movement among them, which increased as the compact little corps dashed out of the shadowinto the clear moonlight, and rushed with the rapid but measured paceof veterans across the lawn. A few missiles were thrown, withouteffect. One or two shots were heard, followed by a yell in the street--which showed that some rioter in his excitement had wounded one of hisown comrades. Farnham and his little band took only a moment to reachthe gate, and the crowd recoiled as they burst through into the street. At the first onslaught the rioters ran in both directions, leaving thestreet clear immediately in front of the gates. 

The instant his company reached the middle of the avenue, Arthur, seeing that the greater number of the divided mob had gone to the left, shouted:

"Fours left. March--guide right. "

The little phalanx wheeled instantly and made rapid play with theirclubs, but only for a moment. The crowd began to feel the mysteriouspower which discipline backed by law always exerts, and they ran atfull speed up the street to the corner and there dispersed. Theformation of the veterans was not even broken. They turned at Farnham'sorder, faced to the rear, and advanced in double time upon the smallercrowd which still lingered a little way beyond the gate. 

In this last group there was but one man who stood his ground andstruck out for himself. It was a tall young fellow with fair hair andbeard, armed with a carpenter's hammer, with which he maintained soformidable an attitude that, although two or three policemen wereopposed to him, they were wary about closing in upon him. Farnham, seeing that this was all there was left of the fight, ordered the mento fall back, and, approaching the recalcitrant, said sharply:

"Drop that hammer, and surrender! We are officers of the law, and ifyou resist any longer you'll be hurt. "

"I don't mind that. I was waiting for _you_, " the man said, and made aquick and savage rush and blow at Farnham. In all his campaigns, he hadnever before had so much use for his careful broadsword training asnow. With his policeman's club against the workman's hammer, hedefended himself with such address, that in a few seconds, before hismen could interfere, his adversary was disarmed and stretched on thesidewalk by a blow over the head. He struggled to rise, but was seizedby two men and held fast. 

"Don't hit him, " said Farnham. "I think I have seen this mansomewhere. "

"Why, " said Kendall, "that's Sam Sleeny, a carpenter in Dean Street. Heorter be in better business. "

"Yes, I remember, " said Farnham; "he is a Reformer. Put him with theothers. "

As they were tying his hands, Sam turned to Farnham and said, in amanner which was made dignified by its slow, energetic malice, "You'vebeat me to-night, but I will get even with you yet--as sure as there'sa God. "

"That's reasonably sure, " said Farnham; "but in the meanwhile, we'llput you where you can cool off a little. "

The street was now cleared; the last fugitives were out of sight. Farnham returned to his garden, and then divided his men into squadsfor patrolling the neighborhood. They waited for half an hour, and, finding all was still quiet, then made arrangements for passing thenight. Farnham made Temple go into the house with him, and asked Budseyto bring some sherry. "It is not so good as your Santa Rita, " he said;"but the exercise in the night air will give it a relish. "

When the wine came, the men filled and drank, in sober Americanfashion, without words; but in the heart of each there was the thoughtof eternal friendship, founded upon brave and loyal service. 

"Budsey, " said Farnham, "give all the men a glass of this wine. "

"Not this, sir?" said Budsey, aghast. 

"I said this, " replied Farnham. "Perhaps they won't enjoy it, but Ishall enjoy giving it to them. "

Farnham and Temple were eating some bread and cheese and talking overthe evening, when Budsey came back with something which approached asmile upon his grave countenance. 

"Did they like it?" asked Farnham. 

"Half of 'em said they was temperance and wouldn't 'ave any. Some ofthe rest said--you will excuse me, sir--as it was d---- poor cider, "and Budsey went out of the room with a suspicious convulsion of theback. 

"I'll go on that, " said Mr. Temple. "Goodnight. I think we will havegood news in the morning. There will be an attack made on those men atRiverley to-morrow which will melt them like an iceberg in Tartarus. "Mr. Temple was not classical, and, of course, did not say Tartarus. 

Farnham was left alone. The reaction from the excitement of the lastfew hours was settling upon him. The glow of the fight and his successin it were dying away. Midnight was near, and a deep silence wasfalling upon the city. There was no sound of bells, of steam-whistles, or of rushing trains. The breeze could be heard in the quiet, stirringthe young, soft leaves. Farnham felt sore, beaten, discomfited. Hesmiled a little bitterly to himself when he considered that the causeof his feeling of discouragement was that Alice Belding had spoken tohim with coldness and shyness when she opened her door. He could nothelp saying to himself, "I deserved a kinder greeting than she gave me. She evidently wished me to understand that I am not to be permitted anyfurther intimacy. I have forfeited that by presuming to love her. Buthow lovely she is! When she took her mother in her arms, I thought ofall the Greek heroines I ever read about. Still, 'if she be not fairfor me'--if I am not to be either lover or friend--this is no place forme. "

The clock on the mantel struck midnight. "A strange night, " he mused. "There is one sweet and one bitter thing about it. I have done her aservice, and she did not care. "

He went to the door to speak to Kendall. "I think our work is over forto-night. Have our prisoners taken down to the Refrigerator and turnedover to the ordinary police. I will make charges to-morrow. Then dividethe men into watches and make yourself as comfortable as you can. Ifanything happens, call me. If nothing happens, good-night. "

He returned to his library, turned down the gas, threw himself on thesofa, and was soon asleep; even before Alice, who sat, unhappy, asyouth is unhappy, by an open window, her eyes full of tears, her heartfull of remorse. "It is too wretched to think of, " she bemoanedherself. "He is the only man in the world I could ever care for, and Ihave driven him away. It never can be made right again; I am punishedjustly. If I thought he would take me, I believe I could go this minuteand throw myself at his feet. But he would smile, and raise me up, andmake some pretty speech, very gentle, and very dreadful, and bring meback to mamma, and then I should die. "

But at nineteen well-nourished maidens do not pass the night inmourning, however heavy their hearts may be, and Alice slept at last, and perhaps was happier in her innocent dreams. 

The night passed without further incident, and the next day, though itmay have shown favorable signs to practised eyes, seemed very much, tothe public, like the day which had preceded it. There were fewer shopsclosed in the back streets; there were not so many parties of wanderingapostles of plunder going about to warn laborers away from their work. But in the principal avenues and in the public squares there were thesame dense crowds of idlers, some listless and some excited, ready tobelieve the wildest rumors and to applaud the craziest oratory. Speakers were not lacking; besides the agitators of the town, severalhad come in from neighboring places, and they were preaching, withfervor and perspiration, from street corners and from barrel-heads inthe beer-houses, the dignity of manhood and the overthrow of tyrants. 

Bott, who had quite distinguished himself during the last few days, wasnot to be seen. He had passed the night in the station-house, and, onbrief examination before a police-justice at an early hour of themorning, on complaint of Farnham and Temple, had been, together withthe man captured in Mrs. Belding's drawing-room, bound over to standhis trial for house-breaking at the next term of court. He displayedthe most abject terror before his trial, and would have made a fullconfession of the whole affair had Offitt not had the address to conveyto him the assurance that, if he stood firm, the Brotherhood ofBread-winners would attend to his case and be responsible for his safety. Relying upon this, he plucked up his spirits and bore himself withcharacteristic impudence in the presence of the police-justice, insisting upon being called Professor Bott, giving his profession asinspirational orator, his religion the divinity of humanity. When boundover for trial, he rose and gained a round of applause from the idlersin the court-room by shouting, "I appeal from this outrage to the powerof the people and the judgment of history. "

This was his last recorded oration; for we may as well say at oncethat, a month later, he stood his trial without help from anyBrotherhood, and passed away from public life, though not entirely frompublic employment, as he is now usefully and unobtrusively engaged inmaking shoes in the State penitentiary--and is said "to take seriousviews of life. "

The cases of Sleeny and the men who were taken in the street byFarnham's policemen were also disposed of summarily through hisintervention. He could not help liking the fair-bearded carpenter, although he had been caught in such bad company, and so charged himmerely with riotous conduct in the public streets, for which thepenalty was a light fine and a few days' detention. Sleeny seemedconscious of his clemency, but gave him no look or expression ofgratitude. He was too bitter at heart to feel gratitude, and tooawkward to feign it. 

About noon, a piece of news arrived which produced a distinctimpression of discouragement among the strikers. It was announced inthe public square that the railway blockade was broken in Clairfield, acity to the east of Buffland about a hundred miles. The hands hadaccepted the terms of the employers and had gone to work again. Anorator tried to break the force of this announcement by depreciatingthe pluck of the Clairfield men. "Why, gentlemen!" he screamed, "aten-year-old boy in this town has got twice the sand of a Clairfieldman. They just leg the bosses to kick 'em. When they are fired out ofa shop door, they sneak down the chimbley and whine to be took onagain. We ain't made of that kind of stuff. "

But this haughty style of eloquence did not avail to inspirit thecrowd, especially as the orator was just then interrupted to allowanother dispatch to be read, which said that the citizens of a town tothe south had risen in mass and taken the station there from the handsof the strikers. This news produced a feeling of isolation anddiscouragement which grew to positive panic, an hour later, on thereport that a brigade of regular troops was on its way to Buffland torestore order. The report was of course unfounded, as a brigade ofregular troops could not be got together in this country in much lesstime than it would take to build a city; but even the name of thephantom army had its effect, and the crowds began to disperse from thattime. The final blow was struck, however, later in the day. 

Farnham learned it from Mr. Temple, at whose counting-room he hadcalled, as usual, for news. Mr. Temple greeted him with a volley ofexulting oaths. 

"It's all up. You know what I told you last night about the attack thatwas preparing on Riverley. I went out there myself, this forenoon. Iknew some of the strikers, and I thought I would see ifthe -- -- -- -- would let me send my horse Blue Ruin through toRochester to-morrow. He is entered for the races there, you know, and Ididn't want, by -- -- -- --, to miss my engagements, understand? Well, as I drove out there, after I got about half way, it began to occur tome that I never saw so many women since the Lord made me. The road wasfull of them in carts, buggies, horseback, and afoot. I thought acommittee of 'em was going; but I suppose they couldn't trust acommittee, and so they all went. There were so many of 'em I couldn'tdrive fast, and so I got there about the same time the head of thecolumn began to arrive. You never saw anything like it in your life. The strikers had been living out there in a good deal of style--withsentries and republican government and all that. By the greathokey-pokey! they couldn't keep it up a minute when their wives came. They knew 'em too well. They just bulged in without rhyme or rule. Every woman went for her husband and told him to pack up and go home. Some of 'em--the artful kind--begged and wheedled and cried; said theywere so tired--wanted their sweethearts again. But the bigger parttalked hard sense, --told 'em their lazy picnic had lasted long enough, that there was no meat in the house, and that they had got to come homeand go to work. The siege didn't last half an hour. The men brazened itout awhile; some were rough; told their wives to dry up, and one bigfellow slapped his wife for crying. By jingo! it wasn't half a flashbefore another fellow slapped _him_, and there they had it, rollingover and over on the grass, till the others pulled them apart by thelegs. It was a gone case from the start. They held a meeting off-hand;the women stayed by to watch proceedings, and, not to make a long storyabout it, when I started back a delegation of the strikers came with meto see the president of the roads, and trains will run through to-nightas usual. I am devilish glad of it, for my part. There is nothing inRochester of any force but Rosin-the-Bow, and my horse can show him theway around the track as if he was getting a dollar an hour as a guide. "

"That _is_ good news certainly. Is it generally known in the city?"

"I think not. It was too late for the afternoon papers. I told JimmyNelson, and he tore down to the depot to save what is left of hisfruit. He swore so about it that I was quite shocked. "

"What about the mill hands?" asked Farnham. 

"The whole thing will now collapse at once. We shall receive theproposition of the men who left us to-morrow, and re-engage on our ownterms, next day, as many as we want. We shan't be hard on them. But oneor two gifted orators will have to take the road. They are fit fornothing but Congress, and they can't all go from this district. If Iwere you, Arthur, by the way, I wouldn't muster out that army of yourstill to-morrow. But I don't think there will be any more calls in yourneighborhood. You are too inhospitable to visitors. "

The sun was almost setting as Farnham walked through the public squareon his way home. He could hardly believe so sudden a change could havefallen upon the busy scene of a few hours before. The square was almostdeserted. Its holiday appearance was gone. A few men occupied thebenches. One or two groups stood beneath the trees and conversed inunder-tones. The orators had sought their hiding-places, unnecessarily--too fearful of the vengeance which never, in this happycountry, attends the exercise of unbridled "slack jaw. " As Arthurwalked over the asphalt pavement there was nothing to remind him ofthe great crowds of the last few days but the shells of the pea-nutscrunching under his feet. It seems as if the American workman cannever properly invoke the spirit of liberty without a pocketful ofthis democratic nut. 

As he drew near his house, Farnham caught a glimpse of light draperyupon Mrs. Belding's piazza, and went over to relieve her from anxietyby telling her the news of the day. When he had got half way across thelawn, he saw Alice rise from beside her mother as if to go. Mrs. Belding signed for her to resume her seat. Farnham felt a slightsensation of anger. "It is unworthy of her, " he thought, "to avoid mein that manner. I must let her see she is in no danger from me. "

He gave his hand cordially to Mrs. Belding and bowed to Alice without aword. He then briefly recounted the news to the elder lady, and assuredher that there was no probability of any farther disturbance of thepeace. 

"But we shall have our policemen here all the same to-night, so thatyou may sleep with a double sense of security. "

"I am sure you are very good, " she said. "I don't know what we shouldhave done without you last night, _and_ Mr. Temple. When it comes toear-rings, there's no telling what they wouldn't have done. "

"Two of your guests are in jail, with good prospects of their remainingthere. The others, I learn, were thieves from out of town; I doubt ifwe shall capture them. "

"For goodness' sake, let them run. I never want to see them again. Thatugly creature who went up with Alice for the money--you caught him? Iam so glad. The impudence of the creature! going upstairs with mydaughter, as if she was not to be trusted. Well, " she added candidly, "she wasn't that time, but it was none of _his_ business. "

Here Alice and Farnham both laughed out, and the sound of the other'svoice was very pleasant to each of them, though they did not looktoward each other. 

"I am beginning to think that the world is growing too wicked forsingle women, " Mrs. Belding continued, philosophically. "Men can takecare of themselves in so many ways. They can use a club as you do----"

"Daily and habitually, " assented Arthur. 

"Or they can make a speech about Ireland and the old flag, as Mr. Belding used to; or they can swear like Mr. Temple. By the way, Alice, you were not here when Mr. Temple swore so at those thieves. I wasscandalized, but I had to admit it was very appropriate. "

"I was also away from the room, " said Farnham; "but I can readilybelieve the comminatory clauses must have been very cogent. "

"Oh, yes! and such a nice woman _she_ is. "

"Yes, Mrs. Temple is charming, " said Farnham, rising. 

"Arthur, do not go! Stay to dinner. It will be ready in one moment. Itwill strengthen our nerves to have a man dine with us, especially aliberating hero like you. Why, you seemed to me last night like Perseusin the picture, coming to rescue What's-her-name from the rock. "

Farnham glanced at Alice. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground; herfingers were tightly clasped. She was wishing with all her energy thathe would stay, waiting to catch his first word of assent, but unable toutter a syllable. 

"Alice, " said Mrs. Belding rather sharply, "I think Arthur does notregard my invitation as quite sufficient. Will you give it yourapproval?"

Alice raised her face at these words and looked up at Farnham. It was abeautiful face at all times, and now it was rosy with confusion, andthe eyes were timid but kind. She said with lips that trembled alittle: "I should be very glad to have Captain Farnham stay to dinner. "

She had waited too long, and the words were a little too formal, andArthur excused himself on the plea of having to look out for hiscohort, and went home to a lonely dinner. 

XVI. 

OFFITT DIGS A PIT. 

A week had passed by; the great strike was already almost forgotten. Afew poor workmen had lost their places. A few agitators had beendismissed for excellent reasons, having no relation with the strike. The mayor had recovered from his panic, and was beginning to work for arenomination, on the strength of his masterly dealing with the labordifficulties, in which, as he handsomely said in a circular composed byhimself and signed by his friends, he "nobly accomplished the dutyallotted him of preserving the rights of property while respecting therights of the people, of keeping the peace according to his oath, andkeeping faith with the masses, to which he belonged, in their struggleagainst monopoly. "

The rich and prosperous people, as their manner is, congratulatedthemselves on their escape, and gave no thought to the questions whichhad come so near to an issue of fire and blood. In this city of twohundred thousand people, two or three dozen politicians continued asbefore to govern it, to assess and to spend its taxes, to use it astheir property and their chattel. The rich and intelligent kept onmaking money, building fine houses, and bringing up children to hatepolitics as they did, and in fine to fatten themselves as sheep whichshould be mutton whenever the butcher was ready. There was hardly amillionaire on Algonquin Avenue who knew where the ward meetings of hisparty were held. There was not an Irish laborer in the city but knewhis way to his ward club as well as to mass. 

Among those who had taken part in the late exciting events and had nowreverted to private life was Sam Sleeny. His short sentence hadexpired; he had paid his fine and come back to Matchin's. But he wasnot the quiet, contented workman he had been. He was sour, sullen, anddiscontented. He nourished a dull grudge against the world. He hadtried to renew friendly relations with Maud, but she had repulsed himwith positive scorn. Her mind was full of her new prospects, and shedid not care to waste time with him. The scene in the rose-houserankled in his heart; he could not but think that her mind had beenpoisoned by Farnham, and his hate gained intensity every hour. 

In this frame of mind he fell easily into the control of Offitt. Thatworthy had not come under the notice of the law for the part he took inthe attack on the Belding house; he had not been recognized byFarnham's men, nor denounced by his associates; and so, after a day ortwo of prudential hiding, he came to the surface again. He met Sam atthe very door of the House of Correction, sympathized with him, flattered him, gained his full confidence at last, and held him readyfor some purpose which was vague even in his own brain. He wasdetermined to gain possession of Maud, and he felt it must be throughsome crime, the manner of which was not quite clear to him. If he coulduse Sam to accomplish his purpose and save his own skin, that would bebest. His mind ran constantly upon theft, forgery, burglary, andmurder; but he could frame no scheme which did not involve risks thatturned him sick. If he could hit upon something where he might furnishthe brains, and Sam the physical force and the risk! He dwelt upon thisday and night. He urged Sam to talk of his own troubles; of theMatchins; at last, of Maud and his love, and it was not long before thetortured fellow had told him what he saw in the rose-house. Strangelyenough, the thought of his fiancee leaning on the shoulder of anotherman did not in the least diminish the ardor of Offitt. His passion wasentirely free from respect or good-will. He used the story to whet theedge of Sam's hatred against Farnham. 

"Why, Sam, my boy, " he would say, "your honor is at stake. "

"I would as soon kill him as eat, " Sam answered. "But what good wouldthat do me? She cares no more for me than she does for you. "

Offitt was sitting alone in his room one afternoon; his eyes werestaring blankly at the opposite wall; his clinched hands were cold asice. He had been sitting in that way motionless for an hour, a prey toa terrible excitement. 

It had come about in this way. He had met in one of the shops hefrequented a machinist who rented one of Farnham's houses. Offitt hadasked him at noon-time to come out and drink a glass of beer with him. The man complied, and was especially careful to bring his waistcoatwith him, saying with a laugh, "I lose my shelter if I lose that. "

"What do you mean?" asked Offitt. 

"I've got a quarter's rent in there for Cap. Farnham. "

"Why are you carrying it around all day?"

"Well, you know, Farnham is a good sort of fellow, and to keep us fromlosing time he lets us come to his house in the evening, after workinghours, on quarter-day, instead of going to his office in the day-time. You see, I trot up there after supper and get rid of this wad. "

Offitt's eyes twinkled like those of an adder. 

"How many of you do this?"

"Oh, a good many, --most everybody in our ward and some in theNineteenth. "

"A good bit of money?" said Offitt carelessly, though his mouth workednervously. 

"You bet your boots! If I had all the cash he takes in to-night, I'dbuy an island and shoot the machine business. Well, I must be gettin'back. So long. "

Offitt had walked directly home after this conversation, lookingneither to the right nor the left, like a man asleep. He had gone tohis room, locked his door behind him, and sat down upon the edge of hisbed and given himself up to an eager dream of crime. His heart beat, now fast, now slow; a cold sweat enveloped him; he felt from time totime half suffocated. 

Suddenly he heard a loud knocking at his door--not as if made by thehand, but as if some one were hammering. He started and gasped with achoking rattle in his throat. His eyes seemed straining from theirsockets. He opened his lips, but no sound came forth. 

The sharp rapping was repeated, once and again. He made no answer. Thena loud voice said:

"Hello, Andy, you asleep?"

He threw himself back on his pillow and said yawningly, "Yes. That you, Sam? Why don't you come in?"

"'Cause the door's locked. "

He rose and let Sleeny in; then threw himself back on the bed, stretching and gaping. 

"What did you make that infernal racket with?"

"My new hammer, " said Sam. "I just bought it to day. Lost my old onethe night we give Farnham the shiveree. "

"Lemme see it. " Offitt took it in his hand and balanced and tested it. "Pretty good hammer. Handle's a leetle thick, but--pretty good hammer. "

"Ought to be, " said Sam. "Paid enough for it. "

"Where d'you get it?"

"Ware & Harden's. "

"Sam, " said Offitt, --he was still holding the hammer and giving himselflight taps on the head with it, --"Sam. "

"Well, you said that before. "

Offitt opened his mouth twice to speak and shut it again. 

"What are you doin'?" asked Sleeny. "Trying to catch flies?"

"Sam, " said Offitt at last, slowly and with effort, "if I was you, thefirst thing I did with that hammer, I'd crack Art Farnham's cocoa-nut. "

"Well, Andy, go and crack it yourself if you are so keen to have itdone. You're mixing yourself rather too much in my affairs, anyhow, "said Sam, who was nettled by these too frequent suggestions of Offittthat his honor required repair. 

"Sam Sleeny, " said Offitt, in an impressive voice, "I'm one of the kindthat stands by my friends. If you mean what you have been saying to me, I'll go up with you this very night, and we will together take it outof that aristocrat. Now, that's business. "

Sleeny looked at his friend in surprise and with some distrust. Theoffer was so generous and reckless, that he could not help askinghimself what was its motive. He looked so long and so stupidly atOffitt, that the latter at last divined his feeling. He thought that, without telling Sleeny the whole scheme, he would test him one stepfarther. 

"I don't doubt, " he said carelessly, "but what we could pay ourselveswell for the job, --spoil the 'Gyptians, you know, --forage on the enemy. Plenty of portables in them houses, eh!"

"I never said"--Sam spoke slowly and deliberately--"I wanted to'sassinate him, or rob him, or burgle him. If I could catch him andlick him, in a fair fight, I'd do it; and I wouldn't care how hard Ihit him, or what with. "

"All right, " said Offitt, curtly. "You met him once in a fair fight, and he licked you. And you tried him another way, --courtin' the samegirl, --and he beat you there. But it's all right. I've got nothin'against him, if you hain't. Lemme mark your name on this hammer, " and, turning the conversation so quickly that Sleeny had no opportunity toresent the last taunt, he took his knife and began dexterously andswiftly to cut Sam's initials in the handle of his hammer. Before, however, he had half completed his self-imposed task, he exclaimed, "This is dry work. Let's go out and get some beer. I'll finish yourhammer and bring it around after supper. "

"There's one S on it, " said Sam; "that's enough. "

"One S enough! It might mean Smith, or Schneider, or Sullivan. No, sir. I'll put two on in the highest style of art, and then everybody willknow and respect Sam Sleeny's tool. "

They passed out of the room together, and drank their beer at aneighboring garden. They were both rather silent and preoccupied. Asthey parted, Offitt said, "I've got a scheme on hand for raising thewind, I want to talk to you about. Be at my room to-night between nineand ten, and wait till I come, if I am out. Don't fail. " Sam stared alittle, but promised, asking no questions. 

When Offitt came back, he locked the door again behind him. He bustledabout the room as if preparing to move. He had little to pack; a fewshabby clothes were thrown into a small trunk, a pile of letters andpapers were hastily torn up and pitched into the untidy grate. All thiswhile he muttered to himself as if to keep himself in company. He said:"I had to take the other shoot--he hadn't the sand to help--I couldn'ttell him any more. . . . I wonder if she will go with me when I cometonight--ready? I shall feel I deserve her anyhow. She don't treat meas she did him, according to Sam's story. She makes me keep mydistance. She hasn't even shook hands with me since we was engaged. I'll pay her for that after awhile. " He walked up and down his roombreathing quick and hard. "I shall risk my neck, I know; but it won'tbe the first time, and I never will have such a reason again. She beatsanything I ever saw. I've _got_ to have the money--to suit such awoman. . . . I'm almost sorry for Sam--but the Lord made some men to beother men's fools. . . . "

This was the staple of his musings; other things less edifying stillmay be omitted. 

While he was engaged in this manner he heard a timid knock at his door. "Another visitor? I'm getting popular, " he said, and went to open thedoor. 

A seedy, forlorn-looking man came in; he took off his shabby hat andheld it under his arm. 

He said, "Good-evenin', " in a tone a little above a whisper. 

"Well, what's the matter?" asked Offitt. 

"Have you heered about Brother Bowersox?"

"Never mind the brothering--that's played out. What is there aboutBowersox?"

"He's dangerous; they don't think he'll live through the night. "

"Well, what of it?"

This was not encouraging, but the poor Bread-winner ventured to say, "Ithought some of the Brothers----"

But Offitt closed the subject by a brutal laugh. "The Brothers arelooking out for themselves these times. The less said about theBrotherhood the better. It's up the spout, do you hear?"

The poor fellow shrunk away into his ragged clothes, and went out witha submissive "Good-evenin'. "

"I'll never found another Brotherhood, " Offitt said to himself. "It'smore trouble than it brings in. "

It was now growing dark. He took his hat and went down the stairs andout into the street. He entered a restaurant and ordered a beefsteak, which he ate, paid for, and departed after a short chat with thewaiter, whom he knew. He went around the corner, entered anothereating-house, called for a cup of coffee and a roll. There also he wascareful to speak with the man who served him, slapping him on theshoulder with familiarity. He went into a drug store a little later andbought a glass of soda-water, dropping the glass on the marble floor, and paying for it after some controversy. He then walked up to DeanStreet. He found the family all together in the sitting-room. Hechatted awhile with them, and asked for Sleeny. 

"I don't really know where Sam is. He ain't so reg'lar in his hours ashe used to be, " said Saul. "I hope he ain't gettin' wild. "

"I hope not, " said Offitt, in a tone of real distress--then, after apause, "You needn't mention my havin' asked for him. He may besensitive about it. "

As he came away, Maud followed him to the door. He whispered, "Beready, my beauty, to start at a moment's notice. The money is on theway. You shall live like a queen before many days are gone. "

"We shall see, " she answered, with a smile, but shutting the doorbetween them. 

He clinched his fists and muttered, "I'll figure it all up and take mypay, Missy. She's worth it. I will have to do some crooked things toget her; but by ----, I'd kill a dozen men and hang another, just tostand by and see her braid her hair. "

Returning to his house, he ran nimbly up the stairs, half fearing tofind Sleeny there, but he had not yet arrived. He seized the hammer, put it in his pocket, and came down again. Still intent upon accountingfor as much of the evening as possible, he thought of a variety-show inthe neighborhood, and went there. He spoke to some of the loafers atthe door. He then walked to the box-office and asked for a ticket, addressing the man who sold it to him as "Jimmy, " and asking howbusiness was. The man handed him his ticket without any reply, butturned to a friend beside him, and said, "Who is that cheeky brotherthat knows me so well?"

"Oh! that's a rounder by the name of Offitt. He is a sort of Reformer--makes speeches to the puddlers on the rights of man. "

"Seems rather fresh, " said Jimmy. 

"A little brine wouldn't hurt him. "

Offitt strolled into the theatre, which was well filled. The curtainwas down at the moment, and he walked the full extent of the centreaisle to the orchestra, looking about him as if in search of some one. He saw one or two acquaintances and nodded to them. He then walked backand took a seat near the door. The curtain rose, and the star of theevening bounded upon the stage, --a strapping young woman in the dressof an army officer. She was greeted with applause before she began hersong, and with her first notes Offitt quietly went out. He looked atthe clock on the City Hall, and saw that he had no more time to kill. He walked, without hurrying or loitering, up the shady side of thestreet till he came to the quarter where Farnham lived. He then crossedinto the wide avenue, and, looking swiftly about him, approached theopen gates of Farnham's place. Two or three men were coming out, one ortwo were going in. He waited till the former had turned down thestreet, and the latter were on the door-step. He then walked briskly upthe path to the house; but instead of mounting the steps, he turned tothe left and lay down under the library windows behind a clump oflilacs. 

"If they catch me here, " he thought, "they can only take me for a trampand give me the grand bounce. "

The windows opened upon a stone platform a few feet from the ground. Hecould hear the sound of voices within. At last he heard the men rise, push back their chairs, and say "Good-night. " He heard their heavyshoes on the front steps. "Now for it, " he whispered. But at thatmoment a belated tenant came in. He wanted to talk of some repairs tohis house. Offitt lay down again, resting his head on his arm. The softturf, the stillness, the warmth of the summer night lulled him intodrowsiness. In spite of the reason he had for keeping awake, his eyeswere closing and his senses were fading, when a shrill whistle startledhim into broad wakefulness. It was the melancholy note of awhippoorwill in the branches of a lime-tree in the garden. Offittlistened for the sound of voices in the library. He heard nothing. "CanI have slept through----no, there is a light. " A shadow fell across thewindow. The heavy tread of Budsey approached. Farnham's voice washeard: "Never mind the windows, Budsey. I will close them and the frontdoor. I will wait here awhile; somebody else may come. You can go tobed. "

"Good-night, sir. "

"Good-night. "

Offitt waited only a moment. He rose and looked cautiously in at thewindow. Farnham was seated at his desk. He had sorted, in themethodical way peculiar to men who have held command in the army, thepapers which he had been using with his tenants and the money he hadreceived from them. 

They were arranged on the desk before him in neat bundles, ready to betransferred to the safe, across the room. He had taken up his pen tomake some final indorsement. 

Offitt drew off his shoes, leaped upon the platform, and entered thelibrary as swiftly and noiselessly as a panther walking over sand. 

XVII. 

IN AND OUT OF WINDOWS. 

Alice Belding was seated before her glass braiding her long hair. Hermother had come in from her own room, as her custom often was, to chatwith her daughter in the half hour before bed-time. It gratified atonce her maternal love and her pride to watch the exquisite beauty ofher child, as she sat, dressed in a white wrapper that made her seemstill taller than she was brushing and braiding the luxuriant tressesthat gave under the light every tint and reflection of which gold iscapable. The pink and pearl of the round arm as the loose sleeve wouldslip to the elbow, the poise of the proud head, the full white columnof the neck, the soft curve of cheek and chin, --all this delighted heras it would have delighted a lover. But with all her light-headedness, there was enough of discretion, or perhaps of innate New Englandreserve, to keep her from ever expressing to Alice her pleasure in herbeauty. So the wholesome-minded girl never imagined the admiration ofwhich she was the object, and thought that her mother only liked tochat a little before sleeping. They talked of trivial matters, of thetea at Mrs. Hyson's, of Formosa Hyson's purple dress which made hersallower than ever, of rain and fair weather. 

"I think, " said Mrs. Bekling, "that Phrasy Dallas gets more and morestylish every day. I don't wonder at Arthur Farnham's devotion. Thatwould make an excellent match--they are both so dreadfully clever. Bythe way, he has not been here this week. And I declare! I don't believeyou have ever written him that note of thanks. "

"No, " said Alice, smiling--she had schooled herself by this time tospeak of him carelessly. "I was too much frightened to thank him on thespot, and now it would be ancient history. We must save our thanks tillwe see him. "

"I want to see him about other things. You must write and ask him todinner to-morrow or next day. "

"Don't you think he would like it better if you would write?"

"There you are again--as if it mattered. Write that 'Mamma bids me. 'There, your hair is braided. Write the note now, and I will send itover in the morning before he gets away. "

Alice rose and walked to her escritoire, her long robe trailing, herthick braids hanging almost to the floor, her fair cheek touched with adelicate spot of color at the thought of writing a formal note to theman she worshipped. She took a pen and wrote "My dear Mr. Farnham, " andthe conventional address made her heart flutter and her eyes grow dim. While she was writing, she heard her mother say:

"What a joke!"

She looked up, and saw that Mrs. Belding, having pushed open theshutters, had picked up her opera-glass and was looking through it atsomething out of the window. 

"Do you know, Alice, " she said, laughing, "since that ailantus tree wascut down, you can see straight into his library from here. There he isnow, sitting at his desk. "

"Mamma!" pleaded Alice, rising and trying to take the glass away fromher. "Don't do that, I beg!"

"Nonsense, " said her mother, keeping her away with one hand and holdingthe glass with the other. "There comes Budsey to close the blinds. Theshow is over. No; he goes away, leaving them open. "

"Mamma, I will leave the room if----"

"My goodness! look at that!" cried the widow, putting the glass in herdaughter's hand and sinking into a chair with fright. 

Alice, filled with a nameless dread, saw her mother was pale andtrembling, and took the glass. She dropped it in an instant, andleaning from the window sent forth once more that cry of love andalarm, which rang through the stillness of night with all the power ofher young throat:

"Arthur!"

She turned, and sped down the stairs, and across the lawn like an arrowshot for life or death from a long-bow. 

Farnham heard the sweet, strong voice ringing out of the stillness likethe cry of an angel in a vision, and raised his head with a startledmovement from the desk where he was writing. Offitt heard it, too, ashe raised his hand to strike a deadly blow; and though it did notwithhold him from his murderous purpose, it disturbed somewhat theprecision of his hand. The hammer descended a little to the right ofwhere he had intended to strike. It made a deep and cruel gash, andfelled Farnham to the floor, but it did not kill him. He rose, giddyand faint with the blow and half-blinded with the blood that poureddown over his right eye. He clapped his hand, with a soldier'sinstinct, to the place where his sword-hilt was not, and thenstaggered, rather than rushed, at his assailant, to grapple him withhis naked hands. Offitt struck him once more, and he fell headlong onthe floor, in the blaze of a myriad lights that flashed all at onceinto deep darkness and silence. 

The assassin, seeing that his victim no longer moved, threw down hisreeking weapon, and, seizing the packages of money on the desk, thrustthem into his pockets. He stepped back through the open window andstooped to pick up his shoes. As he rose, he saw a sight which for aninstant froze him with terror. A tall and beautiful form, dressed allin white, was swiftly gliding toward him over the grass. It drew near, and he saw its pale features set in a terrible expression of pity andhorror. It seemed to him like an avenging spirit. He shut his eyes fora moment in abject fright, and the phantom swept by him and leaped likea white doe upon the platform, through the open window, and out of hissight. He ran to the gate, quaking and trembling, then walked quietlyto the nearest corner, where he sat down upon the curb-stone and put onhis shoes. 

Mrs. Belding followed, as rapidly as she could, the swift flight of herdaughter; but it was some minutes after the young girl had leapedthrough the window that her mother walked breathlessly through thefront door and the hall into the library. She saw there a sight whichmade her shudder and turn faint. Alice was sitting on the floor, holding in her lap the blood-dabbled head of Farnham. Beside her stooda glass of water, a pitcher, and several towels. Some of them were redand saturated, some were still fresh and neatly folded. She wascarefully cleansing and wiping the white forehead of the lifeless manof the last red drop. 

"Oh, Alice, what is this?" cried her mother. 

"He is dead!" she answered, in a hoarse, strained voice. "I feared sowhen I first came in. He was lying on his face. I lifted him up, but hecould not see me. I kissed him, hoping he might kiss me again. But hedid not. Then I saw this water on the stand over there. I rememberedthere were always towels there in the billiard-room. I ran and gotthem, and washed the blood away from his face. See, his face is nothurt. I am glad of that. But there is a dreadful wound in his head. "She dropped her voice to a choking whisper at these words. 

Her mother gazed at her with speechless consternation. Had the shockdeprived her of reason?

"Alice, " she said, "this is no place for you. I will call the servantsand send for a surgeon, and you must go home. "

"Oh, no, mamma. I see I have frightened you, but there is no need to befrightened. Yes, call the servants, but do not let them come in herefor awhile, not till the doctors come. They can do no good. He isdead. "

Mrs. Belding had risen and rung the bell violently. 

"Do, mamma, see the servants in the hall outside. Don't let them comein for a moment. Do! I pray! I pray! I will do anything for you. "

There was such intensity of passion in the girl's prayer that hermother yielded, and when the servants came running in, half-dressed, inanswer to the bell, she stepped outside the door and said, "CaptainFarnham has been badly hurt. Two of you go for the nearest doctors. Youneed not come in at present. My daughter and I will take care of him. "

She went back, closing the door behind her. Alice was smiling. "There, you are a dear! I will love you forever for that! It is only for amoment. The doctors will soon be here, and then I must give him up. "

"Oh, Alice, " the poor lady whimpered, "why do you talk so wildly? Whatdo you mean?"

"Don't cry, mamma! It is only for a moment. It is all very simple. I amnot crazy. He was my lover!"

"Heaven help us!"

"Yes, this dear man, this noble man offered me his love, and I refusedit. I may have been crazy then, but I am not now. I can love him now. Iwill be his widow--if I was not his wife. We will be two widowstogether--always. Now you know I am doing nothing wrong or wild. He ismine. 

"Give me one of those towels, " she exclaimed, suddenly. "I can tie uphis head so that it will stop bleeding till the doctors come. "

She took the towels, tore strips from her own dress, and in a fewmoments, with singular skill and tenderness, she had stopped the flowof blood from the wound. 

"There! He looks almost as if he were asleep, does he not? Oh, my love, my love!"

Up to this moment she had not shed one tear. Her voice was strained, choked, and sobbing, but her eyes were dry. She kissed him on his browand his mouth. She bent over him and laid her smooth cheek to his. Shemurmured:

"Good-by, good-by, till I come to you, my own love!"

All at once she raised her head with a strange light in her eyes. "Mamma!" she cried, "see how warm his cheek is. Heaven is merciful!perhaps he is alive. "

She put both arms about him, and, gently but powerfully lifting hisdead weight of head and shoulders, drew him to her heart. She held himto her warm bosom, rocking him to and fro. "Oh, my beloved!" shemurmured, "if you will live, I will be so good to you. "

She lowered him again, resting his head on her lap. A drop of blood, from the napkin in which his head was wrapped, had touched the bosom ofher dress, staining it as if a cherry had been crushed there. She sat, gazing with an anguish of hope upon his pale face. A shudder ranthrough him, and he opened his eyes--only for a moment. He groaned, andslowly closed them. 

The tears could no longer be restrained. They fell like a summer showerfrom her eyes, while she sobbed, "Thank God! my darling is not dead. "

Her quick ear caught footsteps at the outer door. "Here, mamma, take myplace. Let me hide before all those men come in. "

In a moment she had leaped through the window, whence she ran throughthe dewy grass to her home. 

An hour afterward her mother returned, escorted by one of the surgeons. She found Alice in bed, peacefully sleeping. As Mrs. Belding approachedthe bedside, Alice woke and smiled. "I know without your telling me, mamma. He will live. I began to pray for him, --but I felt sure he wouldlive, and so I gave thanks instead. "

"You are a strange girl, " said Mrs. Belding, gravely. "But you areright. Dr. Cutts says, if he escapes without fever, there is nothingvery serious in the wound itself. The blow that made that gash in hishead was not the one which made him unconscious. They found another, behind his ear; the skin was not broken. There was a bump about as bigas a walnut. They said it was concussion of the brain, but no fractureanywhere. By the way, Dr. Cutts complimented me very handsomely on theway I had managed the case before his arrival. He said there waspositively a professional excellence about my bandage. You may imagineI did not set him right. "

Alice, laughing and blushing, said, "I will allow you all the credit. "

Mrs. Belding kissed her, and said, "Good-night, " and walked to thedoor. There she paused a moment, and came back to the bed. "I think, after all, I had better say now what I thought of keeping tillto-morrow. I thank you for your confidence to-night, and shall respectit. But you will see, I am sure, the necessity of being verycircumspect, under the circumstances. If you should want to doanything for Arthur while he is ill, I should feel it my duty to forbidit. "

Alice received this charge with frank, open eyes. "I should not dreamof such a thing, " she said. "If he had died, I should have been hiswidow; but, as he is to live, he must come for me if he wants me. I wasvery silly about him, but I must take the consequences. I can't nowtake advantage of the poor fellow, by saving his life and establishinga claim on it. So I will promise anything you want. I am so happy thatI will promise easily. But I am also very sleepy. "

The beautiful eyelids were indeed heavy and drooping. The night'sexcitement had left her wearied and utterly content. She fell asleepeven as her mother kissed her forehead. 

The feeling of Offitt as he left Algonquin Avenue and struck into aside street was one of pure exultation. He had accomplished the boldestact of his life. He had shown address, skill, and courage. He had donea thing which had appalled him in the contemplation, merely on accountof its physical difficulties and dangers. He had done it successfully. He had a large amount of money in his pocket--enough to carry his brideto the ends of the earth. When it was gone--well, at worst, he couldleave her, and shift for himself again. He had not a particle of regretor remorse; and, in fact, these sentiments are far rarer than moralistswould have us believe. A ruffian who commits a crime usually glories init. It exalts him in his own eyes, all the more that he is compelled tokeep silent about it. As Offitt walked rapidly in the direction of DeanStreet, the only shadow on his exultation was his sudden perception ofthe fact that he had better not tell Maud what he had done. In all hisplans he had promised himself the pleasure of telling her that she wasavenged upon her enemy by the hands of her lover; he had thought hemight extort his first kiss by that heroic avowal; but now, as hewalked stealthily down the silent street, he saw that nobody in theuniverse could be made his confidant. 

"I'll never own it, in earth or hell, " he said to himself. 

When he reached Matchin's cottage, all was dark and still. He tried toattract Maud's attention by throwing soft clods of earth against herwindow, but her sleep was too sound. He was afraid to throw pebbles forfear of breaking the panes and waking the family. He went into thelittle yard adjoining the shop, and found a ladder. He brought it out, and placed it against the wall. He perceived now for the first timethat his hands were sticky. He gazed at them a moment. "Oh, yes, " hesaid to himself, "when he fell I held out my hands to keep his headfrom touching my clothes. Careless trick! Ought to have washed them, first thing. " Then, struck by a sudden idea, he went to the well-curb, and slightly moistened his fingers. He then rubbed them on thedoor-knob, and the edge of the door of the cottage, and pressed themseveral times in different places on the ladder. "Not a bad scheme, "he said, chuckling. He then went again to the well, and washed hishands thoroughly, afterward taking a handful of earth, and rubbingthem till they were as dirty as usual. 

After making all these preparations for future contingencies, hemounted the ladder, and tried to raise the window. It was already opena few inches to admit the air, but was fastened there, and he could notstir it. He began to call and whistle in as low and penetrating a toneas he could manage, and at last awoke Maud, whose bed was only a fewfeet away. She started up with a low cry of alarm, but saw in a momentwho it was. 

"Well, what on earth are you doing here? Go away this minute, or I'llcall my father. "

"Let me in, and I will tell you. "

"I'll do nothing of the sort. Begone this instant. "

"Maud, don't be foolish, " he pleaded, in real alarm, as he saw that shewas angry and insulted. "I have done as you told me. I have wealth forus both, and I have"--he had almost betrayed himself, but heconcluded--"I have come to take you away forever. "

"Come to-morrow, at a decent hour, and I will talk to you. "

"Now, Maud, my beauty, don't believe I am humbugging. I brought a lotof money for you to look at--I knew you wanted to be sure. See here!"He drew from his pocket a package of bank bills--he saw a glitteringstain on them. He put them in the other pocket of his coat and took outanother package. "And here's another, I've got a dozen like them. Handle 'em yourself. " He put them in through the window. Maud was sonear that she could take the bills by putting out her hand. She sawthere was a large amount of money there--more than she had ever seenbefore. 

"Come, my beauty, " he said, "this is only spending-money for a bridaltour. There are millions behind it. Get up and put on your dress. Iwill wait below here. We can take the midnight train east, be marriedat Clairfield, and sail for Paris the next day. That's the world foryou to shine in. Come! Waste no time. No tellin' what may happentomorrow. "

She was strongly tempted. She had no longer any doubt of his wealth. Hewas not precisely a hero in appearance, but she had never insisted uponthat--her romance having been always of a practical kind. She was aboutto assent--and to seal her doom--when she suddenly remembered that allher best clothes were in her mother's closet, which was larger thanhers, and that she could not get them without passing through the roomwhere her parents were asleep. That ended the discussion. It was out ofthe question that she should marry this magnificent stranger in herevery-day dress and cotton stockings. It was equally impossible thatshe should give that reason to any man. So she said, with dignity:

"Mr. Offitt, it is not proper for me to continue this conversation anylonger. You ought to see it ain't. I shall be happy to see youto-morrow. "

Offitt descended the ladder, grinding out curses between his set teeth. A hate, as keen as his passion, for the foolish girl fired him. "Think, " he hissed, "a man that killed, half an hour ago, the biggestswell in Buffland, to be treated that way by a carpenter's wench. ""Wait awhile, Miss; it'll come my innings. " He lifted up the ladder, carried it carefully around the house, and leaned it against the wallunder the window of the room occupied by Sleeny. 

He hurried back to his lodging in Perry Place, where he found SamSleeny lying asleep on his bed. He was not very graciously greeted byhis drowsy visitor. 

"Why didn't you stay out all night?" Sam growled. "Where have you been, anyhow?"

"I've been at the variety-show, and it was the boss fraud of theseason. "

"You stayed so long you must have liked it. "

"I was waiting to see just how bad a show could be and not spoil. "

"What did you want to see me about tonight?"

"The fact is, I expected to meet a man around at the Varieties who wasto go in with us into a big thing. But he wasn't there. I'll nail himto-morrow, and then we can talk. It's big money, Sammy, and nodiscount. What would you think of a thousand dollars a month?"

"I'd a heap rather see it than hear you chin about it. Give me myhammer, and I'll go home. "

"Why, I took it round to your shop this evening, and I tossed it inthrough the window. I meant to throw it upon the table, but it wentover, I think from the sound, and dropped on the floor. You will findit among the shavings, I reckon, "

"Well, I'm off, " said Sam, by way of good-night. 

"All right. Guess I'll see you to-morrow. "

Offitt waited till he could hear the heavy tread of Sleeny completingthe first flight of stairs and going around to the head of the second. He then shut and locked his door, and hung his hat over the keyhole. Heturned up his lamp and sat down by the table to count his night'sgains. The first package he took from his pocket had a shining stainupon the outside bill. He separated the stained bill carefully from therest, and held it a moment in his hand as if in doubt. He walked to hiswash-stand, but at the moment of touching his pitcher he stopped short. He took out his handkerchief, but shook his head and put it back. Finally, he lighted a match, applied it to the corner of the bill, andwatched it take fire and consume, until his fingers were scorched bythe blaze. "Pity!" he whispered--"good money like that. "

He seated himself again and began with a fierce, sustained delight toarrange and sort the bank-bills, laying the larger denominations bythemselves, smoothing them down with a quick and tender touch, akindling eye and a beating heart. In his whole life, past and future, there was not such another moment of enjoyment. Money is, of course, precious and acceptable to all men except idiots. But, if it means muchto the good and virtuous, how infinitely more it means to thethoroughly depraved--the instant gratification of every savage andhungry devil of a passion which their vile natures harbor. Though thefirst and principal thing Offitt thought of was the possession of MaudMatchin, his excited fancy did not stop there. A long gallery ofvicious pictures stretched out before his flaming eyes, as he reckonedup the harvest of his hand. The mere thought that each bill representeda dinner, where he might eat and drink what he liked, was enough toinebriate a starved rogue whose excesses had always been limited by hispoverty. 

When he had counted and sorted his cash, he took enough for hisimmediate needs and put it in his wallet. The rest he made up intoconvenient packages, which he tied compactly with twine and disposed inhis various pockets. "I'll chance it, " he thought, after somedeliberation. "If they get me, they can get the money, too. But theysha'n't get it without me. "

He threw himself on his bed, and slept soundly till morning. 

XVIII. 

OFFITT PLANS A LONG JOURNEY. 

The bright sun and the morning noises of the city waked Offitt from hissleep. As he dressed himself the weight of the packages in his pocketsgave him a pleasant sensation to begin the day with. He felt as if hewere entering upon a new state of existence--a life with plenty ofmoney. He composed in his mind an elaborate breakfast as he walkeddown-stairs and took his way to a restaurant, which he entered with theassured step of a man of capital. He gave his order to the waiter withmore decision than usual, and told him in closing "not to be all dayabout it, either. "

While waiting for his breakfast, he opened the morning "Bale Fire" tosee if there was any account of "The Algonquin Avenue Tragedy. " Thiswas the phrase which he had arranged in his mind as the probablehead-line of the article. He had so convinced himself of the efficacyof his own precautions, that he anticipated the same pleasure inreading the comments upon his exploit that an author whose incognitois assured enjoys in reading the criticisms of his anonymous work. He was at first disappointed in seeing no allusion to the affair inthe usual local columns; but at last discovered in a corner of thepaper this double-leaded postscript:

"We stop the press to state that an appalling crime was last nightcommitted in Algonquin Avenue. The mansion of Arthur Farnham, Esq. , wasentered by burglars between ten and eleven o'clock, and that gentlemanassaulted and probably murdered. 

"Full particulars in a later edition. "

"LATER. Captain Farnham is still living, and some hopes are entertainedof his recovery. The police have found the weapon with which the almostfatal blow was struck--a carpenter's hammer marked with a letter S. Itis thought this clew will lead to the detection of the guilty parties. "

Offitt was not entirely pleased with the tone of this notice. He hadexpected some reference to the address and daring of the burglar. Buthe smiled to himself, "Why should I care for Sam's reputation?" and atehis breakfast with a good appetite. Before he had finished, however, hegreatly modified his plan, which was to have the threads of evidencelead naturally, of themselves, to the conviction of Sleeny. Hedetermined to frighten Sam, if possible, out of the city, knowing thathis flight would be conclusive evidence of guilt. He swallowed hiscoffee hurriedly and walked down to Dean Street, where by good fortunehe found Sam alone in the shop. He was kicking about a pile of shavingson the floor. He turned as Offitt entered and said: "Oh, there you are. I can't find that hammer anywhere. "

Offitt's face assumed a grieved expression. "Come, come, Sam, don'tstand me off that way. I'm your friend, if you've got one in the world. You mustn't lose a minute more. You've got time now to catch the 8. 40. Come, jump in a hack and be off. "

His earnestness and rapidity confused Sleeny, and drove all thoughts ofthe hammer from his mind. He stared at Offitt blankly, and said, "Why, what are you givin' me now?"

"I'm a-givin' you truth and friendship, and fewest words is best. Come, light out, and write where you stop. I'll see you through. "

"See here, " roared Sam, "are you crazy or am I? Speak out! What's up?"

"Oh! I've got to speak it out, raw and plain, have I? Very well! Art. Farnham was attacked and nearly murdered last night, and if you didn'tdo it who did? Now come, for the Lord's sake, get off before the policeget here. I never thought you had the sand--but I see you've got toomuch. Don't lose time talking any more. I'm glad you've killed him. Youdone just right--but I don't want to see you hung for it. "

His excitement and feigned earnestness had brought the tears to hiseyes. Sam saw them and was convinced. 

"Andy, " he said solemnly. "I know you're my friend, and mean right. I'll swear before God it wasn't me, and I know nothing about it, and Iwon't run away. "

"But how will we prove it, " said Offitt, wringing his hands indistress. "Where was you last night from ten to eleven?"

"You know where I was--in your room. I went there just after nine andfell asleep waiting for you. "

"Yes, of course, but who knows it? Sam, I believe you are innocentsince you say so. But see the circumstances. You _have_ talked aboutgoin' for him. You _have_ had a fight with him, and got put in jail forit, and--" he was about to mention the hammer, but was afraid--"I wishyou would take my advice and go off for a week or so till the truthcomes out. I'll lend you all the money you want. I'm flush this week. "

"No, Andy, " said Sleeny, "nobody could be kinder than you. But I won'trun away. They can't put a man where he wasn't. "

"Very well, " replied Offitt, "I admire your pluck, and I'll swear ablue streak for you when the time comes. And perhaps I had better getaway now so they won't know I've been with you. "

He went without a moment's delay to the chief of police and told himthat he had a disagreeable duty to perform; that he knew the murdererof Captain Farnham; that the criminal was an intimate friend of his, ayoung man hitherto of good character named Sleeny. 

"Ah-ha!" said the chief. "That was the fellow that Captain Farnhamknocked down and arrested in the riot. "

"The same, " said Offitt. "He has since that been furious against theCaptain. I have reasoned with him over and over about it. Yesterday hecame to see me; showed me a hammer he had just bought at Ware &Harden's; said he was going to break Arthur Farnham's skull with it. Ididn't believe he would, he had said it so often before. While we weretalking, I took the hammer and cut his initial on it, a letter S. " Thechief nodded, with a broad smile. "He then left me, and when I cameback to my room a little before midnight, I found him there. He lookedexcited, and wanted me to go and get a drink with him. I declined, andhe went off. This morning when I heard about the murder I said: 'He'sthe man that did the deed. '"

"You have not seen him since last night?"

"No; I suppose, of course, he has run away. "

"Where did he live?"

"Dean Street, at Matchin's the carpenter. "

The chief turned to his telegraphic operator and rapidly gave ordersfor the arrest of Sleeny by the police of the nearest station. He alsosent for the clerks who were on duty the day before at Ware & Harden's. 

"Mr. ----, I did not get your name, " he said to Offitt, who gave himhis name and address. "You have acted the part of a good citizen. "

"The most painful act of my life, " Offitt murmured. 

"Of course. But duty before everything. I will have to ask you to waita little while in the adjoining room till we see whether this man canbe found. "

Offitt was shown into a small room, barely furnished, with two doors;the one through which he had just come, and one opening apparently intothe main corridor of the building. Offitt, as soon as he was alone, walked stealthily to the latter door and tried to open it. It waslocked, and there was no key. He glanced at the window; there was aniron grating inside the sash, which was padlocked. A cold sweat bathedhim from head to foot. He sank into a chair, trembling like a leaf. Hefelt for his handkerchief to wipe his wet forehead. His hand touchedone of the packages of money. He bounded from his chair in sudden joy. "They did not search me, so they don't suspect. It is only to make sureof my evidence that they keep me here. " Nevertheless, the time wentheavily. At last an officer came in and said he was to come to thepolice justice's for the preliminary examination of Sleeny. 

"They have caught him, then?" he asked, with assumed eagerness andsurprise. "He had not got away?"

"No, " the man answered curtly. 

They came to the court-room in a few steps. Sam was there between twopolicemen. As Offitt entered, he smiled and slightly nodded. One or twomen who had been summoned as witnesses were standing near the justice. The proceedings were summary. 

One of the policemen said that he had gone to Matchin's shop to arrestthe prisoner; that the prisoner exhibited no surprise; his first wordswere, "Is Mr. Farnham dead yet?"

Offitt was then called upon, and he repeated, clearly and concisely, the story he had told the chief of police. When he had concluded he wasshown the hammer which had been picked up on the floor at Farnham's, and was asked, "Is that the hammer you refer to?"

"Yes, that is it. "

These words were the signal for a terrible scene. 

When Sleeny saw Offitt step forward and begin to give his evidence, heleaned forward with a smile of pleased expectation upon his face. Hehad such confidence in his friend's voluble cleverness that he had nodoubt Offitt would "talk him free" in a few minutes. He was confused alittle by his opening words, not clearly seeing his drift; but as thestory went on, and Offitt's atrocious falsehood became clear to hismind, he was dumb with stupefaction, and felt a strange curiositywakening in him to see how the story would end. He did not, for themoment, see what object Offitt could have in lying so, until thethought occurred to him: "May be there's a reward out!" But when theblood-stained hammer was shown and identified by Offitt, all doubt wascleared away in a flash from the dull brain of Sleeny. He saw the wholehorrible plot of which he was the victim. 

He rose from his seat before the officer could stop him, and roaredlike a lion in the toils, in a voice filled equally with agony andrage:

"You murdering liar! I'll tear your heart out of you!"

There was a wide table and several chairs between them, but Sleeny wasover them in an instant. Offitt tried to escape, but was so hemmed in, that the infuriated man had him in his hands before the officers couldinterpose. If they had delayed a moment longer all would have beenover, for already Sleeny's hands were at the throat of his betrayer. But two powerful policemen with their clubs soon separated thecombatants, and Sleeny was dragged back and securely handcuffed. 

Offitt, ghastly pale and trembling, had sunk upon a bench. The justice, looking at him narrowly, said: "The man is going to faint; loosen hiscollar. "

"No, " said Offitt, springing to his feet. "I am perfectly well. "

In his struggle with Sleeny a button of his coat had been torn away. Heasked a by-stander for a pin, and carefully adjusted the garment. Thethought in his mind was, "I don't mind being killed; but I thought hemight tear off my coat, and show them my money. " From this moment hekept his hand in such position that he might feel the packages in hispockets. 

Sleeny was still panting and screaming execrations at Offitt. Thejustice turned to him with sternness, and said, "Silence there! Haveyou not sense enough to see how your ferocious attack on the witnessdamages you? If you can't restrain your devilish temper while yourfriend is giving his evidence, it will be all the worse for you. "

"Judge, " cried Sam, now fairly beside himself, "that's the murderer! Iknow it. I can prove it. He ain't fit to live. I'll break his neckyet!"

Offitt raised his hands and eyes in deprecating sorrow. 

"This is the wild talk of a desperate man, " said the justice. "But youmay as well tell us how you passed last evening. "

"Certainly, " said Offitt, consulting his memory. "Let me see. I tooksupper about seven at Duffer's; I went to Glauber's drug-store next andgot a glass of soda water; if they don't know me, they'll remember mybreaking a glass; then I made a visit at Mr. Matchin's on Dean Street;then I went to the Orleans theatre; I come out between the acts and gota cup of coffee at Mouchem's--then I went back and stayed till the showwas over, that was about half-past eleven. Then I went home and foundMr. Sleeny there. "

"You had better go with Mr. Fangwell, and let him verify thisstatement, " said the justice. 

He then called the policeman who arrived first at Farnham's house thenight before. He told his story and identified the hammer which hadbeen shown to Offitt. A young man from Ware & Harden's swore that hehad sold the hammer the day before to Sleeny, whom he knew. The justiceheld this evidence sufficient to justify Sleeny's detention. 

"I should think so, " said some of the by-standers. "If it don't hanghim, there's a loud call for Judge Lynch. "

"Silence!" said the justice. "The prisoner will be taken for thepresent to the city jail. "

Sam was led out, and Offitt accompanied the chief of police back to theroom he had just quitted. He remained there several hours which seemedto him interminable. At last, however, the detective who had been sentto inquire as to the truth of the account he had given of himself, returned with a full confirmation of it, and Offitt was suffered to go, on his own engagement to give further evidence when called upon. 

He left the City Hall with a great load off his mind. It was notwithout an effort that he had sworn away the character, the freedom, and perhaps the life of his comrade. If he could have accomplished hispurpose without crushing Sleeny he would have preferred it. But theattack which his goaded victim had made upon him in the court-room wasnow a source of lively satisfaction to him. It created a strongprejudice against the prisoner; it caused the justice at once tobelieve him guilty, and gave Offitt himself an injured feeling that wasextremely comforting in view of what was to happen to Sleeny. 

He went along the street tapping his various pockets furtively as hewalked. He was hungry. His diverse emotions had given him an appetite. He went into an eating-house and commanded a liberal supper. He had anodd fancy as he gave his order. "That's the sort of supper I wouldhave, if it was my last--if I was to be hanged tomorrow. " He thought ofSleeny and hoped they would treat him well in jail. He feltmagnanimously toward him. "Who would have thought, " he mused, "that Samhad such a devil of a temper? I most hope that Farnham won't die--itwould be rough on Sam. Though perhaps that would be best all round, " headded, thinking of Sam's purple face in the court-room and the eagergrip of his fingers. 

He came out of the eating-house into the gathering twilight. The lampswere springing into light in long straight lines down the duskystreets. The evening breeze blew in from the great lake tempering thestale heat of the day. Boys were crying the late editions of thenewspapers with "Full account arrest o' the Farnham burglar!" He boughtone, but did not stop to open it. He folded it into the smallestpossible compass, and stuffed it into his pocket, "along with the otherdocuments in the case, " as he chuckled to himself; "I'll read all aboutit in the train to-morrow--business before pleasure, " he continued, pleased with his wit. 

Every moment he would put his hand into his side pocket and feel thepackage containing the largest bills. He knew it was imprudent--that itmight attract the attention of thieves or detectives; but to save hislife he could not have kept from doing it. At last he scratched hishand on the pin which was doing duty for the button he had lost in hisscuffle with Sleeny. "Ah!" he said to himself, with humorous banter, "it won't do to be married in a coat with the buttons off. "

He went into a little basement shop where a sign announced that"Scouring and Repairing" were done. A small and bald Hamburger steppedforward, rubbing his hands. Offitt told him what he wanted, and the mangot a needle and thread and selected from a large bowl of buttons on ashelf one that would suit. While he was sewing it on, he said:

"Derrible news apout Gabben Farnham. "

"Yes, " said Offitt. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know off he ish tet. Dey say he ish oud mid his het, und tatlooksh mighty pad. But one ting ish goot; dey cotch de murterer. "

"They have?" asked Offitt, with languid interest. "What sort of fellowis he?"

"Mutter Gottes!" said the little German. "De vorst kind. He wouldradder gill a man as drink a glass bier. He gome mighty near gillin'his pest vrient to-day in de gourt-house droben, ven he vas dellin' vathe knowed apout it alleweil. "

"A regular fire-eater, " said Offitt. "So you've finished, have you? Howmuch for the job!"

The German was looking at a stain on the breast of the coat. 

"Vot's dish?" he said. "Looksh like baint. Yust lemme take your coatoff a minute and I gleans dot up like a nudel soup. "

"Say, mind your own business, won't you?" growled Offitt. "Here's yourmoney, and when I want any of your guff I'll let you know. "

He hurried out, leaving the poor German amazed at the ill result of hiseffort to turn an honest penny and do a fellow-creature a service. 

"Vunny beebles!" he said to himself. "But I got a kevarter off a tollarfor a den-cent chob. "

Offitt came out of the shop and walked at a rapid pace to Dean Street. He was determined to make an end at once of Maud's scruples andcoquetry. He said to himself: "If we are both alive to-morrow, we shallbe married. " He believed if he could have her to himself for half anhour, he could persuade her to come with him. He was busy all the wayplotting to get her parents out of the house. It would be easy enoughto get them out of the room; but he wanted them out of hearing, out ofreach of a cry for help even. 

He found them all together in the sitting-room. The arrest of Sleenyhad fallen heavily upon them. They had no doubt of his guilt, from thereports they had heard, and their surprise and horror at his crime werenot lessened but rather increased by their familiar affection for him. 

"To think, " said Saul to his wife, "that that boy has worked at thesame bench, and slept in the same house with me for so many years, andI never knowed the Satan that was in him!"

"It's in all of us, Saul, " said Mrs. Matchin, trying to improve theoccasion for the edification of her unbelieving husband. 

Maud had felt mingled with her sorrow a suspicion of remorse. She couldnot help remembering that Sam considered Farnham his rival, with howlittle reason she knew better than any one. She could understand howher beauty might have driven him to violence; but when the story of therobbery transpired also--as it did in the course of the morning, --shewas greatly perplexed. When she joined in the lamentations of herparents and said she never could have believed that of Sam Sleeny, shewas thinking of the theft, and not of the furious assault. When theyhad all, however, exhausted their limited store of reflections, a thingtook place which increased the horror and the certainty of Mr. And Mrs. Matchin, and left Maud a prey to a keener doubt and anxiety than ever. Late in the afternoon a sharp-faced man, with a bright eye and a redmustache, came to the house and demanded in the name of the law to beshown Sam's bedroom. He made several notes and picked up some triflingarticles, for which he gave Mr. Matchin receipts. Corning out of theroom, he looked carefully at the door-knob. "Seems all right, " he said. Then turning to Matchin, he said, with professional severity, "Whatdoor did he generally come in by?"

"Sometimes one and sometimes another, " said Saul, determined not togive any more information than he must. 

"Well, I'll look at both, " the detective said. 

The first one stood his scrutiny without effect, but at the second hiseye sparkled and his cheek flushed with pleasure, when he saw thefaint, red-dish-brown streaks which Offitt had left there the nightbefore. He could not express his exultation; turning to Saul, "There'swhere he came in last night, any way. "

"He didn't do no such a thing, " replied Saul. "That door I lockedmyself last night before he came in. "

"Oh, you did? So you're sure he came in at the other door, are you. Wewill see if he could get in any other way. "

Walking around the corner, he saw the ladder where Offitt had left it. 

"Hello! that's his window, ain't it?"

Without waiting for an answer the detective ran up the ladder, studyingevery inch of its surface as he ran. He came down positively radiant, and slapped Saul heartily on the shoulder. 

"All right, old man. I'll trouble you to keep that ladder and that doorjust as they are. They are important papers. Why don't you see?" hecontinued--"bless your innocent old heart, he comes home with his handsjust reg'larly dripping with murder. He fumbles at that door, finds itlocked, and so gets that ladder, histes it up to the window, and hopsinto bed as easy as any Christian schoolboy in town, and he thinks he'sall right--but he never thinks of Tony Smart, your humble servant. "

This view of the case was perfectly convincing to Saul and also to hiswife when he repeated it at the supper-table; but it struck Maud with asudden chill. She remembered that when she had dismissed Offitt fromthat midnight conference at her casement, he had carefully taken theladder away from her window, and had set it against the house somedistance off. She had admired at the time his considerate chivalry, andthought how nice it was to have a lover so obedient and so careful ofher reputation. But now, the detective's ghastly discovery turned herthought in a direction which appalled her. Could it be possible--andall that money--where did it come from? As she sat with her parents inthe gathering darkness, she kept her dreadful anxiety to herself. Shehad been hoping all day to see her lover--now she feared to have himcome, lest her new suspicions might be confirmed. She quickly resolvedupon one thing: she would not go away with him that night--not untilthis horrible mystery was cleared up. If she was worth having she wasworth waiting for a little while. 

They all three started as the door opened and Offitt came in. He wastedno time in salutations, but said at once, "It's a funny thing, but Ihave got a message for each of you. The district attorney saw me comingup this way, Mr. Matchin, and asked me to tell you to come down asquick as you can to his office--something very important, he said. And, stranger than that, I met Mr. Wixham right out here by the corner, andhe asked me if I was comin' here, and if I would ask you, Mrs. Matchin, to come right up to their house. Jurildy is sick and wants to see you, and he has run off for the doctor. "

Both the old people bustled up at this authoritative summons, andOffitt as they went out said, "I'll stay a while and keep Miss Maudfrom gettin' lonesome. "

"I wish you would, " said Mrs. Matchin. "The house seems creepy-likewith Sam where he is. "

Maud felt her heart sink at the prospect of being left alone with theman she had been longing all day to see. She said, "Mother, I think Iought to go with you!"

"No, indeed, " her mother replied. "You ain't wanted, and it wouldn'tbe polite to Mr. Offitt. "

The moment they were gone, Offitt sprang to the side of Maud, andseized her hands. 

"Now, my beauty, you will be mine. Put on your hat and we will go. "

She struggled to free her hands. 

"Let go, " she said, "you hurt me. Why are you in such a terriblehurry?"

"Why can you ask? Your parents will be back in a few minutes. Ofcourse you know that story was only to get them out of our way. Come, my beautiful Maud! my joy, my queen! To-morrow New York! next day thesea, and then Europe and love and pleasure all your life. "

"I want to talk with you a minute, " said Maud, in a voice whichtrembled in spite of her efforts. "I can't talk in the dark. Wait here, till I get a lamp. "

She slipped from the room before he could prevent her and left himpacing the floor in a cold rage. It was only a moment, however, untilshe returned, bringing a lamp, which she placed on a table, and thenasked him to be seated, in a stiff, formal way, which at once irritatedand enchanted him. He sat down and devoured her with his eyes. He wasangry when she went for the lamp; but, as its light fell on her rich, dark hair, her high color, and her long, graceful figure, as she leanedback in her chair, he felt that the tenderest conversation with her inthe darkness would lose something of the pleasure that the eyes took inher. This he said to her, in his coarse but effective way. 

She answered him with coquettish grace, willing to postpone the serioustalk she dreaded so. But the conversation was in stronger hands thanhers, and she found herself forced, in a few minutes, to either go withhim, or give a reason why. 

"The fact is, then, " she stammered, with a great effort, "I don't knowyou well enough yet. Why cannot you wait a while?"

He laughed. 

"Come with me, and you will know me better in a day than you would herein a year. Do not waste these precious moments. Our happiness dependsupon it. We have everything we can desire. I cannot be myself here. Icannot disclose my rank and my wealth to these people who have onlyknown me as an apostle of labor. I want to go where you will be a greatlady. Oh, come!" he cried, with an outburst of pent-up fire, throwinghimself on the floor at her feet, and laying his head upon her knee. She was so moved by this sudden outbreak, which was wholly new to herexperience, that she almost forgot her doubts and fears. But a remnantof practical sense asserted itself. She rose from her chair, commandedhim once more to be seated, and said:

"I am afraid I am going to offend you, but I must ask you something. "

"Ask me anything, " he said, with a smile, "except to leave you. "

She thought the phrase so pretty that she could hardly find courage toput her question. She blushed and stammered, and then, rushing at itwith desperation, she said:

"That money--where did you get it?"

"I will tell you when we are married. It is a secret. "

He tried still to smile, but she saw the laughter dying away from hisface. 

Her blood turned cold in her veins, but her heart grew stronger, andshe determined to know the worst. She was not a refined or cleverwoman; but the depth of her trouble sharpened her wits, and sheinstinctively made use of her woman's wiles to extort the truth fromthe man who she knew was under the spell of her beauty, whatever elsehe was. 

"Come here!" she said. Her face was pale, but her lips were smiling. "Get down there where you were!" she continued, with tenderimperiousness. He obeyed her, hardly daring to trust his senses. "Nowput your hands between my hands, " she said, still with that pale, singular smile, which filled him with unquiet transports, "and tell methe truth, you bad boy!"

"The truth, " with a beating of the heart which made his utterancethick, "the truth is, that you are the most glorious woman in theworld, and that you will be mine to-morrow. "

"Perhaps, " she almost whispered. "But you must tell me something else. I am afraid you are a naughty boy, and that you love me too much. Ionce told you I had an enemy, and that I wanted somebody to punish him. Did you go and punish him for me--tell me that?"

Her voice was soft and low and beguiling. She still smiled on him, leaving one hand in his, while she raised the forefinger of the otherin coquettish admonition. The ruffian at her feet was inebriated withher beauty and her seductive playfulness. He thought she had divinedhis act--that she considered it a fine and heroic test of love to whichshe had subjected him. He did not hesitate an instant, but said:

"Yes, my beauty, and I am ready to do the same for anybody who givesyou a cross look. "

Now that she had gained the terrible truth, a sickening physical fearof the man came over her, and she felt herself growing faint. His voicesounded weak and distant as he said:

"Now you will go with me, won't you?"

She could make no answer. So he continued:

"Run and get your hat. Nothing else. We can buy all you want. Andhurry. They may come back any moment. "

She perceived a chance of escape and roused herself. She thought if shecould only get out of the room she might save herself by flight or byoutcry. 

"Wait here, " she whispered, "and be very quiet. "

He kissed his fingers to her without a word. She opened the door intothe next room, which was the kitchen and dining-room of the family, andthere, not three feet from her, in the dim light, haggard and wan, bareheaded, his clothes in rags about him, she saw Sam Sleeny. 

XIX. 

A LEAP FOR SOMEBODY'S LIFE. 

When Sleeny was led from the room of the police justice in theafternoon, he was plunged in a sort of stupor. He could not recoverfrom the surprise and sense of outrage with which he had listened toOffitt's story. What was to happen to him he accepted with a despairwhich did not trouble itself about the ethics of the transaction. Itwas a disaster, as a stroke of lightning might be. It seemed to him thework had been thoroughly and effectually done. He could see no way outof it; in fact, his respect for Offitt's intelligence was so great thathe took it for granted Andy had committed no mistakes, but that he hadmade sure of his ruin. He must go to prison; if Farnham died, he mustbe hanged. He did not weary his mind in planning for his defence whenhis trial should come on. He took it for granted he should beconvicted. But if he could get out of prison, even if it were only fora few hours, and see Andy Offitt once more--he felt the blood tinglingthrough all his veins at the thought. This roused him from his lethargyand made him observant and alert. He began to complain of hishandcuffs; they were in truth galling his wrists. It was not difficultfor him to twist his hands so as to start the blood in one or twoplaces. He showed these quietly to the policemen, who sat with him in asmall anteroom leading to the portion of the city jail, where he was tobe confined for the night. He seemed so peaceable and quiet that theytook off the irons, saying good-naturedly, "I guess we can handle you. "They were detained in this room for some time waiting for the warden ofthe jail to come and receive their prisoner. There were two windows, both giving view of a narrow street, where it was not bright atnoonday, and began to grow dark at sunset with the shade of the highhouses and the thick smoke of the quarter. The windows were open, asthe room was in the third story, and was therefore consideredabsolutely safe. Sleeny got up several times and walked first to onewindow and then to another, casting quick but searching glances at thestreet and the walls. He saw that some five feet from one of thewindows a tin pipe ran along the wall to the ground. The chances wereten to one that any one risking the leap would be dashed to pieces onthe pavement below. But Sleeny could not get that pipe out of his head. "I might as well take my chance" he said to himself. "It would be noworse to die that way than to be hanged. " He grew afraid to trusthimself in sight of the window and the pipe: it exercised so strong afascination upon him. He sat down with his back to the light and leanedhis head on his hands. But he could think of nothing but his leap forliberty. He felt in fancy his hands and knees clasping that slenderladder of safety; he began to think what he would do when he struck thesidewalk, if no bones were broken. First, he would bide from pursuit, if possible. Then he would go to Dean Street and get a last look atMaud, if he could; then his business would be to find Offitt. "If Ifind him, " he thought, "I'll give them something to try me for. " Butfinally he dismissed the matter from his mind, --for this reason. Heremembered seeing a friend, the year before, fall from a scaffoldingand break his leg. The broken bone pierced through the leg of histrousers. This thought daunted him more than death on the gallows. 

The door opened, and three or four policemen came in, each leading aman by the collar, the ordinary riffraff of the street, charged withpetty offences. One was very drunk and abusive. He attracted theattention of everybody in the room by his antics. He insisted ondancing a breakdown which he called the "Essence of Jeems' River"; andin the scuffle which followed, first one and then the other policemanin charge of Sleeny became involved. Sleeny was standing with his backto the window, quite alone. The temptation was too much for him. Heleaped upon the sill, gave one mighty spring, caught the pipe, and slidsafely to the ground. One or two passers-by saw him drop lightly to thesidewalk, but thought nothing of it. It was not the part of the jail inwhich prisoners were confined, and he might have been taken for acarpenter or plumber who chose that unusual way of coming from theroof. His hat blew off in his descent, but he did not waste time inlooking for it. He walked slowly till he got to the corner, and thenplunged through the dark and ill-smelling streets of the poor andcrowded quarter, till he came by the open gate of a coal-yard. Seeinghe was not pursued he went in, concealed himself behind a pile ofboards and lay there until it was quite dark. 

He then came out and walked through roundabout ways, avoiding thegas-lights and the broad thoroughfares, to Dean Street. He climbed thefence and crept through the garden to the back door of the house. Hehad eaten nothing since early morning, and was beginning to be hungry. He saw there were no lights in the rear of the house, and thought if hecould enter the kitchen he might get a loaf of bread without alarmingthe household. He tried the back door and found it fastened. Butknowing the ways of the house, he raised the cellar door, went down thesteps, shut the door down upon himself, groped his way to the innerstairs, and so gained the kitchen. He was walking to the cupboard whenthe door opened and he saw Maud coming toward him. 

She did not seem in the least startled to see him there. In theextremity of her terror, it may have seemed to her that he had beensent especially to her help. She walked up to him, laid her hands onhis shoulders and whispered, "Oh, Sam, I am so glad to see you. Saveme! Don't let him touch me! He is in there. "

Sam hardly knew if this were real or not. A wild fancy assailed him foran instant--was he killed in jumping from the window? Surely this couldnever happen to him on the earth; the girl who had always been so coldand proud to him was in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her warmbreath on his cheek. She was asking his help against some danger. 

"All right, Mattie, " he whispered. "Nobody shall hurt you. Who is it?"He thought of no one but the police. 

"Offitt, " she said. 

He brushed her aside as if she had been a cobweb in his path, and witha wild cry of joy and vengeance he burst through the half-open door. Offitt turned at the noise, and saw Sam coming, and knew that the endof his life was there. His heart was like water within him. He made afeeble effort at defence; but the carpenter, without a word, threw himon the floor, planted one knee on his chest, and with his bare handsmade good the threat he uttered in his agony in the court-room, twisting and breaking his neck. 

Sleeny rose, pulled the cover from the centre-table in the room, andthrew it over the distorted face of the dead man. 

Maud, driven out of her wits by the dreadful scene, had sunk in arocking-chair, where, with her face in her hands, she was sobbing andmoaning. Sam tried to get her to listen to him. 

"Good-by, Mattie, I shall never see you again, I suppose. I must runfor my life. I want you to know I was innocent of what they charged mewith----"

"Oh, I know that, Sam, " she sobbed. 

"God bless you, Mattie, for saying so. I don't care so much for whathappens, now. I am right glad I got here to save you from that----" hepaused, searching for a word which would be descriptive and yet notimproper in the presence of a lady, but his vocabulary was not rich andhe said at last, "that snide. But I should have done that to himanyhow; so don't cry on that account. Mattie, will you tell megood-by?" he asked with bashful timidity. 

She rose and gave him her hand; but her eyes happening to wander to theshapeless form lying in the corner, she hid her face again on hisshoulder and said with a fresh burst of tears. "Oh, Sam, stay with me alittle while. Don't leave me alone. "

His mind travelled rapidly through the incidents that would result fromhis staying--prison, trial, and a darker contingency still, rearing itshorrible phantom in the distance. But she said, "You will stay tillfather comes, won't you?" and he answered simply:

"Yes, Mattie, if you want me to. "

He led her to a seat and sat down beside her, to wait for his doom. 

In a few minutes, they heard a loud altercation outside the door. Thevoice of Saul Matchin was vehemently protesting, "I tell ye he ain'there, " and another voice responded, "He was seen to climb the fence and to enter the house. We've got itsurrounded, and there's no use for you to get yourself into troubleaidin' and abettin'. "

Sam walked to the door and said to the policeman, with grim humor, "Come in! you'll find two murderers here, and neither one will show anyfight. "

The policemen blew their whistles to assemble the rest, and then camein warily, and two of them seized him at once. 

"It's all very well to be meek and lowly, my friend, " said one of them, "but you'll not play that on us twice--least ways, " he added withsarcastic intention, "not twice the same day. See here, Tony Smart, "addressing a third, who now entered, "lend a hand with thesebracelets, " and in a moment Sam was handcuffed and pinioned. 

"Where's the other one you was talking about?" asked the policeman. 

Sam pointed with his foot in the direction where Offitt lay. Thepoliceman lifted the cloth, and dropped it again with a horror whichhis professional phlegm could not wholly disguise. 

"Well, of all the owdacious villains ever I struck ---- Who do youthink it is?" he asked, turning to his associates. 

"Who?"

"The witness this afternoon, --Offitt. Well, my man, " he said, turningto Sam, "you wanted to make a sure thing of it, I see. If you couldn'tbe hung for one, you would for the other. "

"Sam!" said Saul Matchin who, pale and trembling, had been a silentspectator of the scene so far, "for heaven's sake, tell us what allthis means. "

"Mind now, " said the officer, "whatever you say will be reported. "

"Very well, I've got nothing to hide, " said Sam. "I'll tell you andMother Matchin" (who had just come in and was staring about her withconsternation, questioning Maud in dumb show) "the whole story. I owethat to you for you've always used me well. It's a mighty short one. That fellow Offitt robbed and tried to murder Captain Farnham lastnight, and then swore it onto me. I got away from the officersto-night, and come round here and found him 'saulting Mattie, and Itwisted his neck for him. If it's a hanging matter to kill snakes, I'llhave to stand it--that's all. "

"Now, who do you think is going to believe that?" said the captain ofthe squad. 

Maud rose and walked up to where Sam was standing and said, "I knowevery word he has said is true. That man was the burglar at CaptainFarnham's. He told me so himself to-night. He said he had the money inhis pocket and wanted to make me go with him. "

She spoke firmly and resolutely, but she could not bring herself to sayanything of previous passages between them; and when she opened herlips to speak of the ladder, the woman was too strong within her, andshe closed them again. "I'll never tell that unless they go to hangSam, and then I won't tell anybody but the Governor, " she swore toherself. 

"It's easy to see about that story, " said the officer stillincredulous. 

They searched the clothing of Offitt, and the face of the officer, asone package of money after another was brought to light, was a singularstudy. The pleasure he felt in the recovery of the stolen goods washardly equal to his professional chagrin at having caught the wrongman. He stood for a moment silent, after tying up all the packages inone. 

"It's no use dodging, " he said at last. "We have been barking up thewrong tree. "

"I don't know about that, " said the one called Tony Smart. "Who hasidentified this money? Who can answer for this young lady? How aboutthem marks on the door and the ladder? Anyhow there's enough to holdour prisoner on. "

"Of course there is, " said the captain. "He hadn't authority to gotwisting people's necks in this county. "

At this moment the wagon which had been sent for arrived. The body ofOffitt was lifted in. The captain gathered up the money, notifiedMatchin that he and his family would be wanted as witnesses in themorning, and they all moved toward the door. Sam turned to say"Farewell. " Pinioned as he was, he could not shake hands, and his voicefaltered as he took leave of them. Maud's heart was not the mostfeeling one in the world, but her emotions had been deeply stirred bythe swift succession of events; and as she saw this young fellow goingso bravely to meet an unknown fate, purely for her sake, the tears cameto her eyes. She put out her hand to him; but she saw that his handswere fastened and, seized with sudden pity, she put her arms about hisneck and kissed him, whispering, "Keep up a good heart, Sam!" and hewent away, in all his danger and ignominy happier than he had been formany a day. 

The probabilities of the case were much discussed that night at policehead-quarters, in conferences from which the reporters were rigorouslyexcluded, and the next morning the city newspapers revelled in thesensation. They vied with each other in inventing attractive head-linesand startling theories. The _Bale-Fire_ began its leader with theimpressive sentence: "Has a carnival of crime set in amongst us? Lastnight the drama of Algonquin Avenue was supplemented by the tragedy ofDean Street, and the public, aghast, demands 'What next?' A secondmurder was accomplished by hands yet dripping with a previous crime. The patriotic witness who, yesterday, with a bleeding heart, denouncedthe criminality of his friend, paid last night with his life for hisfidelity. " In another column called for a "monument, by popularsubscription for Andrew Jackson Offitt, who died because would not tella lie. " On the other hand, _The Morning Astral_, representing theconservative opinion of the city, called for a suspension of judgmenton the part of its candid readers; said that there were shadycircumstances about the antecedents of Offitt, and intimated thatdocuments of a compromising character had been found on his person;congratulated the city on the improved condition of Captain Farnham;and, trusting in the sagacity and diligence of the authorities, confidently awaited from them a solution of the mystery. Each of them, nevertheless, gave free space and license to their reporters, andOffitt was a saint, a miscreant, a disguised prince, and an escapedconvict, according to the state of the reporter's imagination or hisdigestion; while the stories told of Sleeny varied from cannibalism tofeats of herculean goodness. They all agreed reasonably well, however, as to the personal appearance of the two men, and from this fact itcame about that, in the course of the morning, evidence was broughtforward, from a totally unexpected quarter, which settled the questionas to the burglary at Farnham's. 

Mrs. Belding had been so busy the day before, in her constantattendance upon Farnham, that she had paid no attention to the story ofthe arrest. She had heard that the man had been caught and his crimeclearly established, and that he had been sent to jail for trial. Herfirst thought was, "I am glad I was not called upon to give evidence. It would have been very disagreeable to get up before a court-room fullof men and say I looked with an opera-glass out of my daughter's windowinto a young man's house. I should have to mention Alice's name, too, --and a young girl's name cannot be mentioned too seldom in thenewspapers. In fact, twice in a life-time is often enough, and one ofthem should be a funeral notice. "

But this morning, after calling at Farnham's and finding that he wasgetting on comfortably, she sat down to read the newspapers. Alice wassitting near her, with hands and lap full of some feminine handiwork. Ahappy smile played about her lips, for her mother had just repeated toher the surgeon's prediction that Captain Farnham would be well in aweek or two. "He said the scalp wound was healing 'by the firstintention, ' which I thought was a funny phrase. I thought the maxim wasthat second thoughts were best. " Alice had never mentioned Farnham'sname since the first night, but he was rarely out of her mind, and thethought that his life was saved made every hour bright and festal. "Hewill be well, " she thought. "He will have to come here to thank mammafor her care of him. I shall see him again and he shall not complain ofme. If he should never speak to me again, I shall love him and be goodto him always. " She was yet too young and too innocent to know howimpossible was the scheme of life she was proposing to herself, but shewas thoroughly happy in it. 

Mrs. Belding, as she read, grew perplexed and troubled. She threw downone newspaper and took up another, but evidently got no more comfortout of that. At last she sighed and said, "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shallhave to go down there after all. They have got the wrong man!"

Alice looked up with wondering eyes. 

"These accounts all agree that the assassin is a tall, powerful youngman, with yellow hair and beard. The real man was not more than mediumheight, very dark. Why, he was black and shiny as a cricket. I must goand tell them. I wonder who the lawyer is that does the indicting ofpeople?"

"It must be the prosecuting attorney, Mr. Dalton, " said Alice. "I heardhe was elected this spring. You know him very well. You meet himeverywhere. "

"That elegant young fellow who leads germans? Well, if that is not tooabsurd! I never should have thought of him, outside of a dress-coat. Idon't mind a bit going to see _him_. Order the carriage, while I get mythings on. "

She drove down to the City Hall, and greatly astonished Mr. Dalton bywalking into his office and requesting a moment's private conversationwith him. Dalton was a dapper young man, exceedingly glib and welldressed, making his way in political and official, as he had alreadymade it in social life. He greeted Mrs. Belding with effusion, and wasanxious to know how he might serve her, having first cleared the roomof the half-dozen politicians who did their lounging there. 

"It is a most delicate matter for a lady to appear in, and I must askyou to keep my name as much in reserve as possible. "

"Of course, you may count upon me, " he answered, wondering where thisstrange exordium would lead to. 

"You have got the wrong man. I am sure of it. It was not the blondeone. He was black as a cricket. I saw him as plainly as I see you. Youknow we live next door to Captain Farnham----"

"Ah!" Dalton cried. "Certainly. I understand. This is most important. Pray go on. "

With a few interruptions from him, full of tact and intelligence, shetold the whole story, or as much of it as was required. She did nothave to mention Alice's name, or the opera-glass; though the cleveryoung man said to himself, "She is either growing very far-sighted, orshe was scouring the heavens with a field-glass that night--perhapslooking for comets. "

He rang his bell and gave a message to an usher who appeared. "I willnot ask you to wait long, " he said, and turned the conversation uponthe weather and social prospects for the season. In a few minutes thedoor opened, and Sleeny was brought into the room by an officer. 

"Was this the man you saw, Mrs. Belding?" asked Dalton. 

"Not the slightest resemblance. This one is much taller, and entirelydifferent in color. "

"That will do"; and Sleeny and the officer went out. 

"Now may I ask you to do a very disagreeable thing? To go with me tothe Morgue and see the remains of what I am now sure is the realcriminal?" Dalton asked. 

"Oh, mercy! I would rather not. Is it necessary?"

"Not positively necessary, but it will enable me to dismiss theburglary case absolutely against young Sleeny. "

"Very well. I'll go. I am so glad, " she said to herself, "that I didnot bring Alice. "

They went in her carriage to the Morgue. Dalton said, "I want to makeit as easy as I can for you. Please wait a moment in your carriage. " Hewent in and arranged that the face of Offitt, which was horrible, should be turned away as much as possible; the head, and shoulders andback being left exposed, and the hat placed on the head. He thenbrought Mrs. Belding in. 

"That is the man, " she said, promptly, "or at least some one exactlylike him. "

"Thank you, " he said, reconducting her to her carriage. "The firstcharge against Sleeny will be dismissed, though of course he must beheld for this homicide. "

A few weeks later Sleeny was tried for the killing of Offitt, on whichoccasion most of the facts of this history were given in evidence. Mrs. Belding had at last to tell what she knew in open court, and she had anevil quarter of an hour in the hands of Mr. Dalton, who seemed alwayson the point of asking some question which would bring her opera-glassinto the newspapers; but he never proceeded to that extremity, and shecame away with a better opinion of the profession than she had everbefore entertained. "I suppose leading germans humanizes even a lawyersomewhat, " she observed, philosophically. 

Maud Matchin was, however, the most important witness for the defence. She went upon the stand troubled with no abstract principles in regardto the administration of justice. She wanted Sam Sleeny to be set free, and she testified with an eye single to that purpose. She was perhaps atrifle too zealous--even the attorney for the defence bit his lipoccasionally at her dashing introduction of wholly irrelevant matter inSleeny's favor. But she was throughout true to herself also, and nevergave the least intimation that Offitt had any right to consider himselfa favored suitor. Perhaps she had attained the talent, so common inmore sophisticated circles than any with which she was familiar, offorgetting all entanglements which it is not convenient to remember, and of facing a discarded lover with a visage of insolent unconcern anda heart unstirred by a memory. 

The result of it all was, of course, that Sleeny was acquitted, thoughit came about in a way which may be worth recording. The jury found averdict of "justifiable homicide, " upon which the judge very properlysent them back to their room, as the verdict was flatly against the lawand the evidence. They retired again, with stolid and unabashedpatience, and soon reappeared with a verdict of acquittal, on theground of "emotional insanity. " But this remarkable jury determined todo nothing by halves, and fearing that the reputation of being queermight injure Sam in his business prospects, added to their verdictthese thoughtful and considerate words, which yet remain on the record, to the lasting honor and glory of our system of trial by jury:

"And we hereby state that the prisoner was perfectly sane up to themoment he committed the rash act in question, and perfectly sane themoment after, and that, in our opinion, there is no probability thatthe malady will ever recur. "

After this memorable deliverance, Sam shook hands cordially and gravelywith each of the judicious jurymen, and then turned to where Maud waswaiting for him, with a rosy and happy face and a sparkling eye. Theywalked slowly homeward together through the falling shadows. 

Their lives were henceforth bound together for good or evil. We may notsay how much of good or how much of evil was to be expected from awedlock between two natures so ill-regulated and untrained, where thewoman brought into the partnership the wreck of ignoble ambitions andthe man the memory of a crime. 

XX. 

"NOW DO YOU REMEMBER?"

Farnham's convalescence was rapid. When the first danger of fever wasover, the wound on the head healed quickly, and one morning Mrs. Belding came home with the news that he was to drive out thatafternoon. Alice sat in the shade by the front porch for an hour, waiting to see him pass, and when at last his carriage appeared, sherose and waved her handkerchief by way of greeting and congratulation. He bowed as he went by, and Alice retired to her own room, where sheused her handkerchief once more to dry her wet and happy eyes. 

It was not long after, that Farnham came to dine with them. They bothlooked forward to this dinner as an occasion of very considerableimportance. Each felt that much depended upon the demeanor of theother. Each was conscientiously resolved to do and to say nothing whichshould pain or embarrass the other. Each was dying to fall into theother's arms, but each only succeeded in convincing the other of his orher entire indifference and friendship. 

As Farnham came in, Mrs. Belding went up to him with simple kindliness, kissed him, and made him sit down. "You dear boy, " she said, "you donot know how glad I am to see you here once more. "

Alice looked on, almost jealous of her mother's privilege. Then sheadvanced with shy grace and took Arthur's hand, and asked: "Do youbegin to feel quite strong again?"

Farnham smiled, and answered, "Quite well, and the strength will sooncome. The first symptom of returning vitality, Mrs. Belding, was myhostility to gruel and other phantom dishes. I have deliberately cometo dinner to-day to dine. "

"I am delighted to hear of your appetite, " said Mrs. Belding; "but Ithink you may bear a little watching at the table yet, " she added, in atone of kindly menace. She was as good as her word, and exercisedrather a stricter discipline at dinner than was agreeable to theconvalescent, regulating his meat and wine according to ladylike ideas, which are somewhat binding on carnivorous man. But she was so kindlyabout it, and Alice aided and abetted with such bashful prettiness, that Farnham felt he could endure starvation with such accessories. Yethe was not wholly at ease. He had hoped, in the long hours of hisconfinement, to find the lady of his love kinder in voice and mannerthan when he saw her last; and now, when she was sweeter and moretender than he had ever seen her before, the self-tormenting mind ofthe lover began to suggest that if she loved him she would not be sokind. He listened to the soft, caressing tones of her voice as shespoke to him, which seemed to convey a blessing in every syllable; hemet the wide, clear beauty of her glance, so sweet and bright that hisown eyes could hardly support it; he saw the ready smile that came tothe full, delicate mouth whenever he spoke; and instead of being madehappy by all this, he asked himself if it could mean anything exceptthat she was sorry for him, and wanted to be very polite to him, as shecould be nothing more. His heart sank within him at the thought; hebecame silent and constrained; and Alice wondered whether she had notgone too far in her resolute kindness. "Perhaps he has changed hismind, " she thought, "and wishes me not to change mine. " So these twopeople, whose hands and hearts were aching to come together, sat in thesame drawing-room talking of commonplace things, while their spiritsgrew heavy as lead. 

Mrs. Belding was herself conscious of a certain constraint, and todispel it asked Alice to sing, and Farnham adding his entreaties, shewent to the piano, and said, as all girls say, "What shall I sing?"

She looked toward Farnham, but the mother answered, "Sing'Douglas'----"

"Oh, no, Mamma, not that. "

"Why not? You were singing it last night. I like it better than anyother of your songs. "

"I do not want to sing it to-night. "

Mrs. Belding persisted, until at last Alice said, with an oddexpression of recklessness, "Oh, very well, if you must have it, I willsing it. But I hate these sentimental songs, that say so much and meannothing. " Striking the chords nervously she sang, with a voice at firsttremulous but at last full of strong and deep feeling, that wail ofhopeless love and sorrow:

 "Could you come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, In the old likeness that I knew, I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas, Douglas, Douglas, tender and true. "

There had been tears of vexation in her eyes when her mother had forcedher to sing this song of all others; but after she had begun, the musictook her own heart by storm, and she sang as she had never sungbefore--no longer fearing, but hoping that the cry of her heart mightreach her lover and tell him of her love. Farnham listened in transport;he had never until now heard her sing, and her beautiful voice seemed tohim to complete the circle of her loveliness. He was so entranced bythe full rich volume of her voice, and by the rapt beauty of her faceas she sang, that he did not at first think of the words; but thesignificance of them seized him at last, and the thought that she wassinging these words to him ran like fire through his veins. For amoment he gave himself up to the delicious consciousness that theirsouls were floating together upon that tide of melody. As the song diedaway and closed with a few muffled chords, he was on the point ofthrowing himself at her feet, and getting the prize which was waitingfor him. But he suddenly bethought himself that she had sung the songunwillingly and had taken care to say that the words meant nothing. Herose and thanked her for the music, complimented her singing warmly, and bidding both ladies good night, went home, thrilled through andthrough with a deeper emotion than he had yet known, but painfullypuzzled and perplexed. 

He sat for a long time in his library, trying to bring some order intohis thoughts. He could not help feeling that his presence was anembarrassment and a care to Alice Belding. It was evident that she hada great friendship and regard for him, which he had troubled anddisturbed by his ill-timed declaration. She could no longer be easy andnatural with him; he ought not to stay to be an annoyance to her. Itwas also clear that he could not be himself in her presence; sheexercised too powerful an influence upon him to make it possible thathe could go in and out of the house as a mere friend of the family. Hewas thus driven to the thought which always lay so near to the surfacewith him, as with so many of his kind; he would exile himself for ayear or two, and take himself out of her way. The thought gave him nocontent. He could not escape a keen pang of jealousy when he thought ofleaving her in her beautiful youth to the society of men who were soclearly inferior to her. 

"I am inferior to her myself, " he thought with genuine humility; "but Ifeel sure I can appreciate her better than any one else she will everbe likely to meet. "

By and by he became aware that something was perplexing him, which wasfloating somewhere below the surface of his consciousness. A thousandthoughts, more or less puzzling, had arisen and been disposed of duringthe hour that had elapsed since he left Mrs. Belding's. But still hebegan to be sure that there was one groping for recognition which asyet he had not recognized. The more ho dwelt upon it, the more itseemed to attach itself to the song Alice had sung, but he could notgive it any definiteness. After he had gone to bed, this undefinedimpression of something significant attaching itself to the songbesieged him, and worried him with tantalizing glimpses, until he wentto sleep. 

But Farnham was not a dreamer, and the morning, if it brought littlecomfort, brought at least decision. He made up his mind while dressingthat he would sail by an early steamer for Japan. He sent a telegram toSan Francisco, as soon as he had breakfasted, to inquire aboutaccommodations, and busied himself during the day with arranging oddsand ends of his affairs. Coming and going was easy to him, as he rarelyspeculated and never touched anything involving anxious risks. But inthe afternoon an irresistible longing impelled him to the house of hisneighbor. 

"Why should I not allow myself this indulgence?" he thought. "It willbe only civil to go over there and announce my departure. As all isover, I may at least take this last delight to my eyes and heart. And Iwant to hear that song again. "

All day the song had been haunting him, not on account of anything initself, but because it vaguely reminded him of something else--something of infinite importance, if he could only grasp it. It hungabout him so persistently, this vague glimmer of suggestion, that hebecame annoyed, and said at last to himself, "It is time for me to bechanging my climate, if a ballad can play like that on my nerves. "

He seized his hat and walked rapidly across the lawn, with the zest ofair and motion natural to a strong man in convalescence. The prettymaidservant smiled and bowed him into the cool, dim drawing-room, whereAlice was seated at the piano. She rose and said instinctively to theservant, "Tell mamma Captain Farnham is here, " and immediately repentedas she saw his brow darken a little. He sat down beside her, and said:

"I come on a twofold errand. I want to say good-by to you, and I wantyou to sing 'Douglas' for me once more. "

"Why, where are you going?" she said, with a look of surprise andalarm. 

"To Japan. "

"But not at once, surely?"

"The first steamer I can find. "

Alice tried to smile, but the attempt was a little woful. 

"It will be a delightful journey, I am sure, " she faltered, "but Ican't get used to the idea of it, all at once. It is the end of theworld. "

"I want to get there before the end comes. At the present rate ofprogress there is not more than a year's purchase of bric-a-brac leftin the empire. I must hurry over and get my share. What can I do foryou?" he continued, seeing that she sat silent, twisting her whitefingers together. "Shall I not bring you the loot of a temple or two?They say the priests have become very corruptible since ourmissionaries got there--the false religion tumbling all to piecesbefore the true. "

Still she made no answer, and the fixed smile on her face looked as ifshe hardly heard what he was saying. But he went on in the same light, bantering tone. 

"Shall I bring you back a Jinrickishaw?"

"What in the world is that--but, no matter what it is--tell me, are youreally going so soon?"

If Farnham had not been the most modest of men, the tone in which thisquestion was asked would have taught him that he need not exilehimself. But he answered seriously:

"Yes, I am really going. "

"But why?" The question came from unwilling lips, but it would have itsway. The challenge was more than Farnham could endure. He spoke outwith quick and passionate earnestness:

"Must I tell you then? Do you not know? I am going because you sendme. "

"Oh, no, " she murmured, with flaming cheeks and downcast eyes. 

"I am going because I love you, and I cannot bear to see you day byday, and know that you are not for me. You are too young and too goodto understand what I feel. If I were a saint like you, perhaps I mightrejoice in your beauty and your grace without any selfish wish--but Icannot. If you are not to be mine, I cannot enjoy your presence. Everycharm you have is an added injury, if I am to be indifferent to you. "

Her hands flew up and covered her eyes. She was so happy that shefeared he would see it and claim her too soon and too swiftly. 

He mistook the gesture, and went on in his error. 

"There! I have made you angry, or wounded you again. It would be socontinually, if I should stay. I should be giving you offence everyhour in the day. I cannot help loving you, any more than I can helpbreathing. This is nothing to you or worse than nothing, but it is allmy life to me. I do not know how it will end. You have filled everythought of my mind, every vein of my body. I am more you than myself. How can I separate myself from you?"

As he poured out these words, and much more, hot as a flood of moltenmetal, Alice slowly recovered her composure. She was absolutely andtranquilly happy--so perfectly at rest that she hardly cared for thepain her lover was confessing. She felt she could compensate him foreverything, and every word he said filled her with a delight which shecould not bear to lose by replying. She sat listening to him withhalf-shut eyes, determined not to answer until he had made an end ofspeaking. But she said to herself, with a tenderness which made herheart beat more than her lover's words, "How surprised he will be whenI tell him he shall not go. "

The rustling of Mrs. Belding's ample approach broke in upon her tranceand Farnham's litany. He rose, not without some confusion, to greether, and Alice, with bright and even playful eyes, said, "Mamma, whatdo you think this errant young cavalier has come to say to us?"

Mrs. Belding looked with puzzled inquiry from one to the other. 

"Simply, " continued Alice, "that he is off for Japan in a day or two, and he wants to know if we have any commissions for him. "

"Nonsense! Arthur, I won't listen to it. Come over to dinner thisevening and tell me all about it. I've got an appointment this veryminute at our Oriental Gospel rooms and cannot wait to talk to you now. But this evening, you must tell me what it all means, and I hope youwill have changed your mind by that time. "

The good lady did not even sit down, but rustled briskly away. Perhapsshe divined more of what was toward than appeared--but she did as shewould have wished to be done by, when she was young, and left the youngpeople to their own devices. 

Farnham turned to Alice, who was still standing, and said, "Alice, myown love, can you not give me one word of hope to carry with me? Icannot forget you. My mind cannot change. Perhaps yours may, when theocean is between us, and you have time to reflect on what I have said. I spoke too soon and too rashly. But I will make amends for that bylong silence. Then perhaps you will forgive me--perhaps you will recallme. I will obey your call from the end of the world. "

He held out his hand to her. She gave him hers with a firm warm grasp. He might have taken courage from this, but her composure and herinscrutable smile daunted him. 

"You are not going yet, " she said. "You have forgotten what you camefor. "

"Yes--that song. I must hear it again. You must not think I am growingdaft, but that song has haunted me all day in the strangest way. Thereis something in the way _you_ sing it--the words and your voicetogether--that recall some association too faint for me to grasp. I canneither remember what it is, nor forget it. I have tried to get it outof my mind, but I have an odd impression that I would better cherishit--that it is important to me--that life or death are not moreimportant. There! I have confessed all my weakness to you, and now youwill say that I need a few weeks of salt breeze. "

"I will sing you the song first. Perhaps we may pluck out its mystery. "

She preluded a moment and sang, while Farnham waited with a strainedsense of expectancy, as if something unspeakably serious was impending. She sang with far more force and feeling than the night before. Herheart was full of her happy love, as yet unspoken, and her fancy waspleased with that thought that, under the safe cover of her music, shecould declare her love without restraint. She sang with the innocentrapture of a mavis in spring, in notes as rich and ardent as her ownmaiden dreams. Farnham listened with a pleasure so keen that itbordered upon pain. When she came to the line, "I would be so tender, so loving, Douglas, "

he started and leaned forward in his chair, holding his hands to histemples, and cried, "Can't you help me to think what that reminds me of?"

Alice rose from the piano, flushing a pink as sweet and delicate asthat of the roses in her belt. She came forward a few paces and thenstopped, bent slightly toward him, with folded hands. In her long, white, clinging drapery, with her gold hair making the dim room bright, with her red lips parted in a tender but solemn smile, with somethinglike a halo about her of youth and purity and ardor, she was a sight sobeautiful that Arthur Farnham as he gazed up at her felt his heart growheavy with an aching consciousness of her perfection that seemed toremove her forever from his reach. But the thought that was setting herpulses to beating was as sweetly human as that of any bride since Eve. She was saying to herself in the instant she stood motionless beforehim, looking like a pictured angel, "I know now what he means. He lovesme. I am sure of him. I have a right to give myself to him. "

She held out her hands. He sprang up and seized them. 

"Come, " she said, "I know what you are trying to remember, and I willmake you remember it. "

He was not greatly surprised, for love is a dream, and dreams havetheir own probabilities. She led him to a sofa and seated him besideher. She put her arms around his neck and pressed his head to herbeating heart, and said in a voice as soft as a mother's to an ailingchild, "My beloved, if you will live, I will be so good to you. " Shekissed him and said gently, "Now do you remember?"

THE END. 

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