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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19288-8.txt b/19288-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0c8062 --- /dev/null +++ b/19288-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8573 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bohemian Days, by Geo. Alfred Townsend + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bohemian Days + Three American Tales + +Author: Geo. Alfred Townsend + +Release Date: September 15, 2006 [EBook #19288] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOHEMIAN DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Dave Macfarlane and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +BOHEMIAN DAYS + +*Three American Tales* + +BY +GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND +_"GATH"_ + + + "And David arose and fled to Gath. And he changed his behavior. And + every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and + every one that was discontented gathered themselves unto him. And + the time that David dwelt in the country of the Philistines was a + full year and four months." + + +H. CAMPBELL & CO., Publishers, +NO. 21 PARK ROW, +NEW YORK + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, +By GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND, +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + +THE BURR PRINTING HOUSE +AND STEAM TYPE-SETTING OFFICE, +Cor. Frankfort and Jacob Sts., +NEW YORK. + + + + +TO TEN FRIENDS AT DINNER, + +GILSEY HOUSE, NEW YORK, + +APRIL 21, 1879; + +WHO MADE THIS PUBLICATION + +_A PROMISE AND AN OBLIGATION_. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +So far from the first tale in this book being of political motive, it +was written among the subjects of it, and read to several of them in +1864. Perhaps the only _souvenir_ of refugee and "skedaddler" life +abroad during the war ever published, its preservation may one day be +useful in the socialistic archives of the South, to whose posterity +slavery will seem almost a mythical thing. With as little bias in the +second tale, I have etched the young Northern truant abroad during the +secession. The closing tale, more recently written, in the midst of +constant toil and travel, is an attempt to recall an old suburb, now +nearly erased and illegible by the extension of a great city, and may be +considered a home American picture about contemporary with the European +tales. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +SHORT NOVELS. + +THE REBEL COLONY IN PARIS 13 + +MARRIED ABROAD 99 + +THE DEAF MAN OF KENSINGTON 155 + + +CHORDS. + +BOHEMIA 9 + +LITTLE GRISETTE 93 + +THE PIGEON GIRL 149 + +THE DEAD BOHEMIAN 279 + + + + +BOHEMIA. + + + The farther I do grow from _La Bohème_, + The more I do regret that foolish shame + Which made me hold it something to conceal, + And so I did myself expatriate; + For in my pulses and my feet I feel + That wayward realm was still my own estate; + Wise wagged our tongues when the dear nights grew late, + And quainter, clearer, rose our quick conceits, + And pure and mutual were our social sweets. + Oh! ever thus convivial round the gate + Of Letters have the masters and the young + Loitered away their enterprises great, + Since Spenser revelled in the halls of state, + And at his tavern rarest Jonson sung. + + + + +THE REBEL COLONY IN PARIS. + + * * * * * + + + + +I. + +THE EXILES. + + +In the latter part of October, 1863, seven very anxious and dilapidated +personages were assembled under the roof of an old, eight-storied +tenement, near the church of St. Sulpice, in the city of Paris. + +The seven under consideration had reached the catastrophe of their +decline--and rise. They had met in solemn deliberation to pass +resolutions to that effect, and take the only congenial means for +replenishment and reform. This means lay in miniature before a caged +window, revealed by a superfluity of light--a roulette-table, whereon +the ball was spinning industriously from the practised fingers of Mr. +Auburn Risque, of Mississippi. + +Mr. Auburn Risque had a spotted eye and a bluishly cold face; his +fingers were the only movable part of him, for he performed respiration +and articulation with the same organ--his nose; and the sole words +vouchsafed by this at present were: +"Black--black--black--white--black--white--white--black"--etc. + +The five surrounding parties were carefully noting upon fragments of +paper the results of the experiment, and likewise Master Lees, the +lessee of the chamber--a pale, emaciated youth, sitting up in bed, and +ciphering tremulously, with bony fingers; even he, upon whom disease had +made auguries of death, looked forward to gold, as the remedy which +science had not brought, for a wasted youth of dissipation and +incontinence. + +They were all representatives of the recently instituted Confederacy. +Most of them had dwelt in Paris anterior to the war, and, habituated to +its luxuries, scarcely recognized themselves, now that they were forlorn +and needy. Note Mr. Pisgah, for example--a Georgian, tall, shapely and +handsome, with the gray hairs of his thirtieth year shading his working +temples; he had been the most envied man in Paris; no woman could resist +the magnetism of his eye; he was almost a match for the great Berger at +billiards; he rode like a centaur on the Boulevards, and counterfeited +Apollo at the opera and the masque. His credit was good for fifty +thousand francs any day in the year. He had travelled in far and +contiguous regions, conducted intrigues at Athens and Damascus, and +smoked his pipe upon the Nile and among the ruins of Sebastopol. Without +principle, he was yet amiable, and with his dashing style and address, +one forgot his worthlessness. + +How keenly he is reminded of it now! He cannot work, he has no craft nor +profession; he knew enough to pass for an educated gentleman; not enough +to earn a franc a day. He is the _protégé_ at present of his +washerwoman, and can say, with some governments, that his debts are +impartially distributed. He has only two fears--those of starvation in +France, and a soldier's death in America. + +The prospect of a debtor's prison at Clichy has long since ceased to be +a terror. There, he would be secure of sustenance and shelter, and of +these, at liberty, he is doubtful every day. + +Still, with his threadbare coat, he haunts the Casino and the Valentino +of evenings; for some mistresses of a former day send him billets. + +He lies in bed till long after noon, that he may not have pangs of +hunger; and has yet credit for a dinner at an obscure _cremery_. When +this last confidence shall have been forfeited, what must result to +Pisgah? + +He is striving to anticipate the answer with this experiment at +roulette; for he has a "system" whereby it is possible to break any +gambling bank--Spa, Baden, Wisbaden or Homburg. The others have systems +also, from Auburn Risque to Simp, the only son of the richest widow in +Louisiana, who disbursed of old in Paris ten thousand dollars annually. + +His house at Passy was a palace in miniature, and his favorite a tragedy +queen. She played at the Folies Dramatiques, and drove three horses of +afternoons upon the Champs Elysées. She had other engagements, of +course, when Mr. Lincoln's "paper blockade" stopped Master Simp's +remittances, and he passed her yesterday upon the Rue Rivoli, with the +Russian ambassador's footman at her back, but she only touched him with +her silks. + +Simp studied a profession, and was a volunteer counsel in the memorable +case of Jeems Pinckney against Jeems Rutledge. His speech, on that +occasion, occupied in delivery just three minutes, and set the +court-room in a roar. He paid the village editor ten dollars to compose +it, and the same sum to publish it. + +"If you could learn it for me," said Simp, anxiously, "I would give you +twenty dollars." + +This, his first and last public appearance, was conditional to the +receipt from his mother, of six thousand acres of land and eighty +negroes. It might have been a close calculation for a mathematician to +know how many black sweat-drops, how many strokes of the rawhide, went +into the celebrated dinner at the Maison Dorée, wherein Master Simp and +only his lady had thirty-four courses, and eleven qualities of wine, and +a bill of eight hundred francs. + +In that prosperous era, his inalienable comrade had been Mr. Andy Plade, +who now stood beside him, intensely absorbed. + +Of late Mr. Plade's affection had been transferred to Hugenot, the only +possessor of an entire franc in the chamber. Hugenot was a short-set +individual, in pumps and an eye-glass, who had been but a few days in +the city. He was decidedly a man of sentiment. He called the Confederacy +"ow-ah cause," and claimed to have signed the call for the first +secession meeting in the South. + +He asserted frankly that he was of French extraction, but only hinted +that he was of noble blood. He had been a hatter, but carefully ignored +the fact; and, having run the blockade with profitable cargoes fourteen +times, had settled down to be a respectable trader between Havre and +Nassau. Mr. Plade shared much of the sentiment and some of the money of +this illustrious personage. + +There were rumors abroad that Plade himself had great, but embarrassed, +fortunes. + +He was one of the hundred thousand chevaliers who hail the advent of war +as something which will hide their nothingness. + +"I knew it," said Auburn Risque, at length, pinching the ball between +his hard palms as if it were the creature of his will. "My system is +good; yours do not validate themselves. You are novices at gambling; I +am an old blackleg." It was as he had said; the method of betting which +he proposed had seemed to be successful. He staked upon colors; never +upon numbers; and alternated from white to black after a fixed, +undeviating routine. + +Less by experiment than by faith, the others gave up their own theories +to adopt his own. They resolved to collect every available sou, and, +confiding it to the keeping of Mr. Risque, send him to Germany, that he +might beggar the bankers, and so restore the Southern Colony to its +wonted prosperity. + +Hugenot delivered a short address, wishing "the cause" good luck, but +declining to subscribe anything. He did not doubt the safety of "the +system" of course, but had an hereditary antipathy to gaming. The +precepts of all his ancestry were against it. + +Poor Lees followed in a broken way, indicating sundry books, a guitar, +two pairs of old boots, and a canary bird, as the relics of his fortune. +These, Andy Plade, who possessed nothing, but thought he might borrow a +trifle, volunteered to dispose of, and Freckle, a Missourian, who was +tolerated in the colony only because he could be plucked, asserted +enthusiastically, and amid great sensation, that he yet had three +hundred francs at the banker's, his entire capital, all of which he +meant to devote to the most reliable project in the world. + +At this episode, Pisgah, whose misfortunes had quite shattered his +nerves, proposed to drink at Freckle's expense to the success of the +system, and Hugenot was prevailed upon to advance twenty-one sous, while +Simp took the order to the adjacent _marchand du vin_. + +When they had all filled, Hugenot, looking upon himself in the light of +a benefactor, considered it necessary to do something. + +"Boys," he said, wiping his eves with the lining of a kid glove, "will +you esteem it unnatural, that a Suth Kurlinian, who sat--at an early +age, it is true--at the feet of the great Kulhoon, should lift up his +voice and weep in this day of ou-ah calamity?" + +(Sensation, aggrieved by the sobs of Freckle, who, unused to spirits and +greatly affected--chokes.) + +"When I cast my eye about this lofty chambah" (here Lees, who hasn't +been out of it for a year, hides himself beneath the bed-clothes); "when +I see these noble spih-its dwelling obscu' and penniless; when I +remembah that two short years ago, they waih of independent +fohtunes--one with his sugah, anotha with his cotton, a third with his +tobacco, in short, all the blessings of heaven bestowed upon a free +people--niggars, plantations, pleasures!--I can but lay my pooah hand +upon the manes of my ancestry, and ask in the name of ou-ah cause, is +there justice above or retribution upon the earth!" + +A profound silence ensued, broken only by Mr. Plade, who called Hugenot +a man of sentiment, and slapped his back; while Freckle fell upon +Pisgah's bosom, and wished that his stomach was as full as his heart. + +Mr. Simp, who had been endeavoring to recollect some passages of his +address, in the case of the Jeemses, for that address had an universal +application, and might mean as much now as on the original occasion, +brought down one of those decayed boots which the _marchand des habits_ +had thrice refused to buy, and said, stoutly: + +"'By Gad! think of it, hyuh am I, a beggah, by Gad, without shoes to my +feet, suh! The wuth of one nigga would keep me now for a yeah. At home, +by Gad, I could afford to spend the wuth of a staving field hand every +twenty-fouah houahs. I'll sweah!" cried Simp in conclusion, "I call this +hard." + +"I suppose the Yankees have confiscated my stocks in the Havre +steamers," muttered Andy Plade. "I consider they have done me out of +twenty thousand dollars." + +"Brotha writes to me, last lettah," continued Freckle, who had +recovered, "every tree cut off the plantation--every nigga run off, down +to old Sim, a hundred years old--every panel of fence toted away--no +bacon in smoke-house--not an old rip in stable--no corn, coon, possum, +rabbit, fox, dog or hog within ten miles of the place--house stands in a +mire--mire stands in desert--Yankee general going to conscrip brotha. I +save myself, sp'ose, for stahvation." + +"Wait till you come down to my condition," faltered the proprietor, +making emphasis with his meagre finger--"I have been my own enemy; the +Yankees will but finish what is almost consummated now. I tell you, +boys, I expect to die in this room; I shall never quit this bed. I am +offensive, wasted, withered, and would look gladly upon Père la +Chaise,[A] if with my bodily maladies my mind was not also diseased. I +have no fortitude; I am afraid of death!" + +[Footnote A: The great Cemetery of Paris.] + +The room seemed to grow suddenly cold, and the faces of all the inmates +became pale; they looked more squalid than ever--the threadbare +curtains, the rheumatic chairs, the soiled floor, sashes and wallpaper. + +Mr. Hugenot fumbled his shirt-bosom nervously, and his diamond pin, +glaring like a lamp upon the worn garbs and faces of his compatriots, +showed them still wanner and meaner by contrast. + +"Put the blues under your feet!" cried Auburn Risque, in his hard, +practical way; "my system will resurrect the dead. You shall have +clothes upon your backs, shoes upon your feet, specie in your pockets, +blood in your veins. Let us sell, borrow and pawn; we can raise a +thousand francs together. I will return in a fortnight with fifty +thousand!" + + + + +II. + +RAISING THE WIND. + + +The million five hundred thousand folks in Paris, who went about their +pleasures that October night, knew little of the sorrows of the Southern +Colony. + +Pisgah dropped in at the Chateau des Fleurs to beg a paltry loan from +some ancient favorite. The time had been, when, after a nightly debauch, +he had placed two hundred francs in her morning's coffee-cup. It was +mournful now to mark his premature gray hairs, as, resting his soiled, +faded coat-sleeve upon her _manteau de velour_, he saw the scorn of his +poverty in the bright eyes which had smiled upon him, and made his +request so humbly and so feverishly. + +"Give me back, Feefine," he faltered, "only that fifty francs I once +tied in a gold band about your spaniel's neck. I am poor, my dear--that +will not move you, I know, but I am going to Germany to play at the +banks; if I win, I swear to pay you back ten francs for one!" + +There was never a _lorette_ who did not love to gamble. She stopped a +passing gentleman and borrowed the money; the other saw it transferred +to Pisgah, with an expression of contempt, and, turning to a friend, +called him aloud a withering name. + +Poor Pisgah! he would have drawn his bowie-knife once, and defied even +the emperor to stand between the man and himself after such an +appellation. He would have esteemed it a favor now to be what he was +named, and only lifted his creased beaver gratefully, and hobbled +nervously away, and stopping near by at a café drank a great glass of +absinthe, with almost a prayerful heart. + +At Mr. Simp's hotel in the Rue Monsieur Le Prince much business was +transacted after dark. Monsieurs Freckle and Plade were engaged in +smuggling away certain relics of furniture and wearing apparel. + +Mr. Simp already owed his landlord fifteen months' rent, for which the +only security was his diminishing effects. + +If the mole-eyed concierge should suspect foul play with these, Simp +would be turned out of doors immediately and the property confiscated. + +Singly and in packages the collateral made its exit. A half-dozen regal +chemises made to order at fifty francs apiece; a musical clock picked up +at Genoa for twelve louis; a patent boot-jack and an ebony billiard cue; +a Paduan violin; two statuettes of more fidelity than modesty, to be +sold pound for pound at the current value of bronze; divers +pipes--articles of which Mr. Simp had earned the title of connoisseur, +by investing several hundred dollars annually--a gutta-percha +self-adjusting dog-muzzle, the dog attached to which had been seized by +H. M. Napoleon III. in lieu of taxes, etc., etc. + +Everything passed out successfully except one pair of pantaloons which +protruded from Freckle's vest, and that unfortunate person at once fell +under suspicion of theft. All went in the manner stated to Mr. Lees' +chamber, he being the only colonist who did not hazard the loss of his +room, chiefly because nobody else would rent it, and in part because his +landlady, having swindled him for six or eight years, had compunctions +as to ejecting him. + +Thence in the morning, true to his aristocratic instincts, Mr. Simp +departed in a _voiture_ for the central bureau of the Mont de Piete,[B] +in the Rue Blanc Manteau. His face had become familiar there of late. He +carried his articles up from the curb, while the _cocher_ grinned and +winked behind, and taking his turn in the throng of widows, orphans, +ouvriers, and profligates and unfortunates of all loose conditions, Simp +was a subject of much unenviable remark. He came away with quite an +armful of large yellow certificates, and the articles were registered to +Monsieur Simp, a French subject; for with such passports went all his +compatriots. + +[Footnote B: The government pawnbroking shop.] + +Andy Plade spent twenty-four hours, meanwhile, at the Grand Hotel, +enacting the time-honored part of all things to all men. + +He differed from the other colonists, in that they were weak--he was +bad. He spoke several languages intelligibly, and knew much of many +things--art, finances, geography--just those matters on which newly +arrived Americans desire information. His address was even fascinating. +One suspected him to be a leech, but pardoned the motive for the manner. +He called himself a broken man. The war had blighted his fair fortunes. +For a time he had held on hopefully, but now meant to breast the current +no longer. His time was at the service of anybody. Would monsieur like +to see the city? He knew its every cleft and den. So he had lived in +Paris five years--in the same manner, elsewhere, all his life. + +A few men heard his story and helped him--one Northern man had given him +employment; his gratitude was defalcation. + +To day he has sounded Hugenot; but that man of sentiment alluded to the +business habits of his ancestry, and intimated that he did not lend. + +"Ou-ah cause, Andy," he says, with a flourish, "is now negotiating a +loan. When ou-ah beloved country is reduced to such straits, that she +must borow from strangers, I cannot think of relieving private +indigence." + +Later in the day, however, Mr. Plade made the acquaintance of an +ingenuous youth from Pennsylvania, and obtaining a hundred francs, for +one day only, sent it straightway to Mr. Auburn Risque. + +A second meeting was held at Lees' the third day noon, when the +originator of the "system" sat icily grim behind a table whereon eleven +hundred francs reposed; and the whole colony, crowding breathlessly +around, was amazed to note how little the space taken up by so great a +sum. + +They opened a crevice that Lees might be gladdened with the sight of the +gold; for to-day that invalid was unusually dispirited, and could not +quit his bed. + +"We are down very low, old Simp," said Pisgah, smilingly, "when either +the possession or the loss of that amount can be an event in our lives." + +"You will laugh that it was so, a week hence," answered Auburn +Risque--"when you lunch at Peters' while awaiting my third check for a +thousand dollars apiece." + +"I don't believe in the system," growled Lees, opening a cold draft from +his melancholy eyes: "I don't feel that I shall ever spend a sou of the +winnings. No more will any of you. There will be no winnings to spend. +Auburn Risque will lose. He always does." + +"If you were standing by at the play I should," cried Risque, while the +pock-marks in his face were like the thawings of ice. "You would croak +like an old raven, and I should forget my reckoning." + +"Come now, Lees," cried all the others; "you must not see bad omen for +the Colony;" and they said, in undertone, that Lees had come to be quite +a bore. + +They were all doubtful, nevertheless. Their crisis could not be +exaggerated. Their interest was almost devout. Three thousand miles from +relief; two seas between, one of water and one of fire; at home, +conscription, captivity, death: the calamity of Southerners abroad would +merit all sympathy, if it had not been induced by waste, and unredeemed +by either fortitude or regret. + +The unhappy Freckle, whose luckless admiration of the rest had been his +ruin, felt that a sonorous prayer, such as his old father used to make +in the Methodist meeting-house, would be a good thing wherewith to +freight Auburn Risque for his voyage. When men stake everything on a +chance, it is natural to look up to somebody who governs chances; but +Andy Plade, in his loud, bad way, proposed a huge toast, which they took +with a cheer, and quite confused Hugenot, who had a sentiment _apropos_. + +Then they escorted Auburn Risque to the Chemin de fer du Nord,[C] and +packed him away in a third-class carriage, wringing his hand as if he +were their only hope and friend in the world. + +[Footnote C: Northern Railway Station.] + + + + +III. + +DEATH IN EXPATRIATION. + + +It was a weary day for the Southern Colony. They strolled about town--to +the Masque, the Jardin des Plantes, the Champ des Mars, the Marché aux +Chevaux, and finally to Freckle's place, and essayed a lugubrious hour +at whist. + +"It is poor fun, Pisgah," said Mr. Simp, at last, "if we remember that +afternoon at poker when you won eight thousand francs and I lost six +thousand." + +The conversation forever returned to Spa and Baden-Baden, and many +wagers were made upon the amount of money which Risque would gain--first +day--second day--first week, and so forth. + +At last they resolved to send to Lees' chamber for the roulette-board, +and pass the evening in experiment. They drew Jacks for the party who +should fetch it, and Freckle, always unfortunate, was pronounced the +man. He went cheerfully, thinking it quite an honor to serve the Colony +in any capacity--for Freckle, representing a disaffected State, had +fallen under suspicion of lukewarm loyalty, and was most anxious to +clear up any such imputation. + +His head was full of odd remembrances as he crossed the Place St. +Sulpice: his plain old father at the old border home, close and +hard-handed, who went afield with his own negroes, and made his sons +take the plough-handles, and marched them all before him every Sunday to +the plank church, and led the singing himself with an ancient +tuning-fork, and took up the collection in a black velvet bag fastened +to a pole. + +He had foreseen the war, and sent his son abroad to avoid it. He had +given Freckle sufficient money to travel for five years, and told him in +the same sentence to guard his farthings and say his prayers. Freckle +could see the old man now, with a tear poised on his tangled eyelashes, +asking a farewell benediction from the front portico, upon himself +departing, while every woolly-head was uncovered, and the whole +assembled "property" had groaned "Amen" together. + +That was patriarchal life; what was this? Freckle thought this much +finer and higher. He had not asked himself if it was better. He was +rather ashamed of his father now, and anxious to be a dashing gentleman, +like Plade or Pisgah. + +Why did he play whist so badly? How chanced it that, having dwelt +eighteen months in Paris, he could speak no French? His only _grisette_ +had both robbed him and been false to him. He knew that the Colony +tolerated him, merely. Was he indeed verdant, as they had said--obtuse, +stupid, lacking wit? + +After all, he repeated to himself, what had the Colony done for him? He +had not now twenty francs to his name, and was a thousand francs in +debt; he had essayed to study medicine, but balked at the first lesson. +Yet, though these suggestions, rather than convictions, occurred to him, +they stirred no latent ambition. If he had ever known one high +resolution, the Southern Colony had pulled it up, and sown the place +with salt. + +So he reached Master Lees' tenement; it was a long ascent, and toward +the last stages perilous; the stairs had a fashion of curving round +unexpectedly and bending against jambs and blank walls. He was quite out +of breath when he staggered against Lees' door and burst it open. + +The light fell almost glaringly upon the bare, contracted chamber; for +this was next to the sky and close up to the clouds, and the window +looked toward the west, where the sun, sinking majestically, was +throwing its brightest smiles upon Paris, as it bade adieu. + +And there, upon his tossed, neglected bed, in the full blaze of the +sunset, his sharp, sallow jaws dropped upon his neck, his cheeks +colorless and concave, his great eyes open wide and his hair unsmoothed, +Master Lees lay dead, with the roulette table upon his breast! + + * * * * * + +When Freckle had raised himself from the platform at the base of the +first flight of stairs, down which he had fallen in his fright, he +hastened to his own chamber and gave the Colony notice of the depletion +of its number. + +A deep gloom, as may be surmised, fell upon all. Lees had been no great +favorite of late, and it had been the trite remark for a year that he +was looking like death; but at this juncture the tidings came ominously +enough. One member, at least, of the Southern Colony would never share +the winnings of Auburn Risque, and now that they referred to his +forebodings of the morning, it was recalled that with his own demise, he +had prophesied the failure of "the system." + +His end seemed to each young exile a personal admonition; they had known +him strong and spirited, and with them he had grown poor and unhappy. +Poverty is a warning that talks like the wind, and we do not heed it; +but death raps at our door with bony knuckles, so that we grow pale and +think. + +They shuddered, though they were hardened young men, so unfeeling, even +after this reprimand, that they would have left the corpse of their +companion to go unhonored to its grave; separately they wished to do +so--in community they were ashamed; and Pisgah had half a hope that +somebody would demur when he said, awkwardly: + +"The Colony must attend the funeral, I suppose. God knows which of us +will take the next turn." + +Freckle cried out, however, that he should go, if he were to be buried +alive in the same tomb, and on this occasion only he appeared in the +light of an influential spirit. + + + + +IV. + +THE DESPERATE CHANCE. + + +During all this time Mr. Auburn Risque, packed away in the omnibus +train, with a cheap cigar between his lips, and a face like a +refrigerator, was scudding over the rolling provinces of France, +thinking as little of the sunshine, and the harvesters of flax, and the +turning leaves of the woods, and the chateaux overawing the thatched +little villages, as if the train were his mail-coach, and France were +Arkansas, and he were lashing the rump of the "off" horse, as he had +done for the better part of his life. + +Risque's uncle had been a great Mississippi jobber; he took U. S. postal +contracts for all the unknown world; route of the first class, six +horses and daily; route of the second class, semi-weekly and four +horses; third class, two horses and weekly; fourth class, one horse, one +saddle, and one small boy. + +The young Auburn had been born in the stable, and had taken at once to +the road. His uncle found it convenient to put him to work. He can never +be faithfully said to have learned to _walk_; and recalls, as the first +incident of his life, a man who carried a baby and two bowie knives, +teaching him to play old sledge on the cushions of a Washita stage. + +Thenceforward he was a man of one idea. He held it to be one of the +decrees, that he was to grow rich by gaming. As he went, by day or +night, in rain or fog or burning sun, by the margins of turgid +south-western rivers, where his "leaders" shied at the alligators asleep +in the stage-road; through dreary pine woods, where the owls hooted at +silence; over red, reedy, slimy causeways; in cane-breaks and bayous; +past villages where civilization looked westward with a dirk between its +teeth, and cracked its horsewhip; past rich plantations where the +negroes sang afield, and the planter in the house-porch took off his hat +to bow--here, there, always, everywhere, with his cold, hard, +pock-marked face, thin lips and spotted eye, Auburn Risque sat brooding +behind the reins, computing, calculating, overreaching, waiting for his +destiny to wrestle with Chance and bind it down while its pockets were +picked. + +His whole life might have been called a game of cards. He carried a +deck forever next his heart. Sometimes he gambled with other +vehicles--stocks, shares, currency--but the cards were still his +mainstay, and he was well acquainted with every known or obsolete game. +There was no trick, nor fraud, nor waggery which he had not at his +fingers-ends. + +It was his favorite theory that there was method in what seemed chance; +principles underlying luck; measures for infinity; clues to all +combinations. + +Given one pack of cards, one man to shuffle, one to cut, one to deal, +and fair play, and it was yet possible to know just how many times in a +given number of games each card would fall to each man. + +Given a roulette circle of one hundred numbered spaces and a blindfolded +man to spin the ball; it could be counted just how many times in one +thousand said ball would come to rest upon any one number. + +No searcher for perpetual motion, no blind believer in alchemy, clung to +his one idea closer than Auburn Risque. He had shut all themes, +affections, interests, from his mind. He neither loved nor hated any +living being. He was penurious in his expenditures--never in his wagers. +He would stake upon anything in nature--a trot, an election, a battle, a +murder. + +"Will you play picquet for one sou the game, one hundred and fifty +points?" says a soldier near by. + +He accepts at once; the afternoon passes to night, and the lamps in the +roof are lighted. The cards flicker upon the seat; the boors gather +round to watch; they pass the French frontier, and see from their +windows the forges of Belgium, throwing fire upon the river Meuse. +Still, hour after hour, though their eyes are weary, and all the folks +are gone or sleeping, the cards fall, fall, fall, till there comes a jar +and a stop, and the guard cries, "Cologne!" + +"You have won," says the soldier, laying down his money. "Good-night." + +The Rhine is a fine stream, though our German friends will build +mock-castles upon it, and insist that it is the only real river in the +world. + +Auburn Risque pays no more regard to it than though he were treading the +cedars and sands of New Jersey or North Carolina. He speaks with a +Franco-Russian, who has lost in play ten thousand francs a month for +three successive years, and while they discuss chances, expedients and +experiences, the Siebern-gebierge drifts by, they pass St. Goar and +Bingen, and the wonderful Rhine has been only a time, nothing of a +scene, as they stop abreast Biberich, and, rowed ashore in a flagboat, +make at once for the railway. + +At noon, on the third day, Mr. Risque having engaged a frugal bed at a +little distance from Wisbaden, enters the grand saloon of the Kursaal, +and turning to the right, sees before him a perspective, to which not +all the marvels of art or nature afford comparison: a snug little room, +with a table of green baize in the centre of the floor, and about the +table sundry folks of various ages and degrees, before each a heap of +glittering coins, and in the midst of all a something which moves +forever, with a hurtle and a hum--the roulette. + +Mark them! the weak, the profligate, the daring. There is old age, +watching the play, with its voice like a baby's cry; and the paper +whereon it keeps tremulous tally swimming upon eyes of perpetual +twilight. + +The boy ventures his first gold piece with the resolve that, win or +lose, he will stake no more. He wins, and lies. At his side stands +beautiful Sin, forgetting its guilt and coquetry for its avarice. The +pale defaulter from over the sea hazards like one whose treasure is a +burden upon his neck, and the _roué_--blank, emotionless, +remorseless--doubling at every loss, walks penniless away to dinner with +a better appetite than he who saves a nation or dies for a truth. + +The daintily dressed _coupeurs_ are in their chairs, eyeless, but +omniscient; the ball goes heedlessly, slaying or anointing where it +stays, and the gold as it is raked up clinks and glistens, as if it +struck men's hearts and found them as hard and sounding. + +Mr. Risque advanced to the end of the table, and stood motionless a +little while, drinking it all into his passionless eyes, which, like +sponges, absorbed whatever they saw, but nothing revealed. At last his +right hand dropped softly to his vest pocket, as though it had some +interest in deceiving his left hand. + +Apparently unconscious of the act, the right hand next slid over the +table edge, and silently deposited a five-franc piece upon the black +compartment. + +"Whiz-z-z-z" started the ball from the fingers of the coupeurs--"click" +dropped the ball into a black department of the board; "clink! tingle!" +cried the money, changing hands; but not a word said Auburn Risque, +standing like a stalagmite with his eyes upon ten francs. + +"Whiz-z-z!"--"click!" "click!" "tingle!" + +Did he see the fifteen francs at all, half trance-like, half +corpse-like, as he stood, waiting for the third revolution, and waiting +again, and again, and again? + +His five francs have grown to be a hundred; his cold hand falls +freezingly upon them; five francs replace the hundred he took +away--"Whizz!" goes the ball; "click!" stops the ball; the coupeur +seizes Mr. Risque's five francs, and Mr. Risque walks away like a +somnambulist. + + + + +V. + +BURIED IN THE COMMON DITCH. + + +It would have been a strange scene for an American public, the street +corridor of the lofty house near the church of Saint Sulpice, on the +funeral afternoon. + +The coffin lay upon a draped table, and festoons of crape threw phantom +shadows upon the soiled velvet covering. Each passing pedestrian and +cabman took off his hat a moment. The Southern Colony were in the +landlady's bureau enjoying a lunch and liquor, and precisely at three +o'clock they came down stairs, not more dilapidated than usual, while at +the same moment the municipal hearse drove up, attended by one _cocher_ +and two _croquemorts_.[D] + +[Footnote D: Literally, "parasites of death."] + +The hearse was a cheap charity affair, furnished by the _Maire_ of the +_arrondissement_, though it was sprucely painted and decked with funeral +cloth. The driver wore a huge black chapeau, a white cotton cravat, and +thigh-boots, which, standing up stiffly as he sat, seemed to engulf him +to the ears. + +When the _croquemorts_, in a business way, lifted the velvet from the +coffin, it was seen to be constructed of strips of deal merely, +unpainted, and not thicker than a Malaga raisin box. + +There was some fear that it would fall apart of its own fragility, but +the chief _croquemort_ explained politely that such accidents never +happened. + +"We have entombed four of them to-day," he said; "see how nicely we +shall lift the fifth one." + +There was, indeed, a certain sleight whereby he slung it across his +shoulder, but no reason in the world for tossing it upon the hearse with +a slam. They covered its nakedness with velvet, and the _cocher_, having +taken a cigar from his pocket, and looking much as if he would like to +smoke, put it back again sadly, cracked his whip, and the cortege went +on. The _croquemorts_ kept a little way ahead, sauntering upon the +sidewalk, and their cloaks and oil-cloth hats protected them from a +drizzling rain, which now came down, to the grief of the mourners, +walking in the middle of the street behind the body. They were seven in +number, Messrs. Plade, Pisgah and Simp, going together, and apparently a +trifle the worse for the lunch; Freckle followed singly, having been +told to keep at a distance to render the display more imposing; the +landlady and her niece went arm in arm after, and behind them trode a +little old hunchback gentleman, neatly clothed, and bearing in his hand +a black, wooden cross, considerably higher than himself, on which was +painted, in white letters, this inscription: + + CHRISTOPHER LEES, + CAROLINA DU NORD, + ÉTATS CONFÉDÉRE + AMERIQUE. + AGE VINGT-QUATRE. + +A wreath of yellow immortelles, tied to the crosspiece, was interwoven +with these spangled letters: + + "R-E-G-R-E-T-S;" + +and the solemn air of the old man seemed to evidence that they were not +meaningless. + +The hunchback was Lees' principal creditor. He kept a small restaurant, +where the deceased had been supplied for two years, and his books showed +indebtedness of twenty-eight hundred francs, not a sou of which he +should ever receive. He could ill afford to lose the money, and had +known, indeed, that he should never be paid, a year previous to the +demise. But the friendlessness of the stranger had touched his heart. +Twice every day he sent up a basket of food, which was always returned +empty, and every Sunday climbed the long stairway with a bottle of the +best wine--but never once said, "Pay my bill." + +Here he was at the last chapter of exile, still bearing his creditor's +cross. + +"Give the young man's friends a lunch," he had said to the landlady: "I +will make it right;"--and in the cortege he was probably the only honest +mourner. + +Not we, who know Frenchmen by caricature merely, as volatile, fickle, +deceitful, full of artifice, should sit in judgment upon them. He has +the least heart of all who thinks that there is not some heart +everywhere! The charity which tarrieth long and suffereth much wrong, +has been that of the Parisians of the Latin Quarter, during the American +war. + +Along all the route the folks lifted their hats as the hearse passed by, +and so, through slush and mist and rain, the little company kept +straight toward the barriers, and turned at last into the great gate of +the cemetery of Mt. Parnasse. + +They do not deck the cities of the dead abroad as our great sepulchres +are adorned. + +Père la Chaise is famed rather for its inmates than its tombs, and Mont +Parnasse and Monte Martre, the remaining places of interment, are even +forbidding to the mind and the eye. + +A gate-keeper, in semi-military dress, sounded a loud bell as the hearse +rolled over the curb, and when they had taken an aisle to the left, with +maple trees on either side, and vistas of mean-looking vaults, a +corpulent priest, wearing a cape and a white apron, and attended by a +civil assistant of most villainous physiognomy, met the cortege and +escorted it to its destination. + +This was the _fosse commune_--in plain English, the _common trench_--an +open lot adjacent to the cemetery, appropriated to bodies interred at +public expense, and presenting to the eye a spectacle which, considered +either with regard to its quaintness or its dreariness, stood alone and +unrivalled. + +Nearest the street the ground had long been occupied, trench parallel +with trench, filled to the surface level, sodded green, and each grave +marked by a wooden cross. There was a double layer of bodies beneath, +lying side by side; no margin could of course be given at the surface; +the thickly planted crosses, therefore, looked, at a little distance, +like a great waste of heath or bramble, broken now and then by a dwarf +cedar, and hung to the full with flowers and tokens. The width of the +trenches was that of the added height of two full-grown men, and the +length a half mile perhaps; a narrow passage-way separated them, so +that, however undistinguishable they appeared, each grave could be +indentified and visited. + +Close observation might have found much to cheer this waste of flesh, +this economy of space; but to this little approaching company the scene +was of a kind to make death more terrible by association. + +A rough wall enclosed the flat expanse of charnel, over which the +scattered houses of the barriers looked widowed through their mournful +windows; and now and then a crippled crone, or a bereaved old pauper, +hobbled to the roadway and shook her white hairs to the rain. + +It seemed a long way over the boggy soil to the newly opened trench, +where the hearse stopped with its wheels half-sunken, and the chief +_croquemort_, without any ado, threw the coffin over his shoulder and +walked to the place of sepulture. Five _fossoyeurs_, at the remote end +of the trench, were digging and covering, as if their number rather than +their work needed increase, and a soldier in blue overcoat, whose hands +were full of papers, came up at a commercial pace, and cried: + +"_Corps trente-deux!_" + +Which corresponded to the figures on the box, and to the number of +interments for the day. + +The delvers made no pause while the priest read the service, and the +clods fell faster than the rain. The box was nicely mortised against +another previously deposited, and as there remained an interstice +between it and that at its feet, an infant's coffin made the space +complete. + +The Latin service was of all recitations the most slovenly and +contemptuous; the priest might have been either smiling or sleeping; for +his very red face appeared to have nothing in common with his scarcely +moving lips; and the assistant looked straight at the trench, half +covetously, half vindictively, as if he meant to turn the body out of +the box directly, and run away with the grave-clothes. It took but two +minutes to run through the text; the holy water was dashed from the +hyssop; and the priest, with a small shovel, threw a quantity of clods +after it. "_Requiescat in pace!_" he cried, like one just awakened, and +now for the first time the grave-diggers ceased; they wanted the +customary fee, _pour boire_. + +The exiles never felt so destitute before; not a sou could be found in +the Colony. But the little hunchback stepped up with the cross, and gave +it to the chief _fossoyeur_, dropping a franc into his hand; each of the +women added some sous, and the younger one quietly tied a small round +token of brass to the wood, which she kissed thrice; it bore these +words: + +"_A mon ami._" + +"A little more than kin and less than kind!" whispered Andy Plade, who +knew what such souvenirs meant, in Paris. + +The Colony went away disconsolate; but the little hunchback stopped on +the margin, and looked once more into the pit where the box was fast +disappearing. + +"Pardon our debts, _bon Dieu!_" he said, "as we pardon our debtors." + +Shall we who have followed this funeral be kind to the stranger that is +within our gates? The quiet old gentleman standing so gravely over the +_fosse commune_ might have attracted more regard from the angels than +that Iron Duke who once looked down upon the sarcophagus of his enemy in +the Hotel des Invalides. + +And so Lees was at rest--the master's only son, the heir to lands and +houses, and servants, and hopes. He had escaped the bullet, but also +that honor which a soldier's death conferred--and thus, abroad and +neglected, had existed awhile upon the charity of strangers, to expire +of his own wickedness, and accept, as a boon, this place among the bones +of the wretched. + +How beat the hearts which wait for the strife to be done and for him to +return! The field-hands sleep more honored in their separate mounds +beneath the pine trees. The landlady's daughter may come sometimes to +fasten a flower upon his cross; but, like that cross, her sorrow will +decay, and Master Lees will mingle with common dust, passing out of the +memory of Europe--ay! even of the Southern Colony. + +How bowed and wounded they threaded the way homeward, those young men, +whom the world, in its bated breath, had called rich and fortunate! Now +that they thought it over, how absurd had been this gambling venture! +They should lose every sou. They had, for a blind chance, exhausted the +patience of their creditors, and made away with their last +collateral--their last crust, and bed, and drink. + +"I wish," said Simp, bitterly, "that I had been born one of my mother's +niggers. Bigad! a cabin, a wood fire, corn meal and a pound of pork per +diem, would keep me like a duke next winter." + +Here they stopped at Simp's hotel, and, as he was afraid to enter alone, +the loss of his baggage being detected, the Colony consented to ascend +to his chamber. + +"Monsieur Simp," said the fierce concierge, "here is a letter, the last +which I shall ever receive for you! You will please pay my bill +to-night, or I shall go to the office of the _prud'homme_; you are of +the _canaille_, sir! Where are your effects?" + +"Whoop!" yelled Mr. Simp, in the landlady's face. "Yah-ah-ah! hoora +ah-ah! three cheers! we have news of our venture! This is a telegram!" + + "WISBADEN, Oct. 30. + + "The system wins! To-day and yesterday I took seven thousand one + hundred francs. I have selected the 4th of November to break the + bank. + + "AUBURN RISQUE." + + + + +VI. + +THE OLD REVELRY REVIVED. + + +The Colony would have shouted over Master Lees' coffin at the receipt of +such intelligence. They gave a genuine American cheer, nine times +repeated, with the celebrated "tiger" of the Texan Rangers, as it had +been reported to them. Mr. Simp read the dispatch to the concierge, who +brightened up, begged his pardon, and hoped that he would forget words +said in anger. + +"Madam," said Mr. Simp, with some dignity, "I have suffered and +forgotten much in this establishment; we have an aphorism, relative to +the last feather, in the English tongue. But lend me one hundred francs +till my instalment arrives from Germany, and I will forgive even the +present insult." + +"Boys!" cried Andy Plade, "let us have a supper! We--that is, you--can +take the telegram to our several creditors, and raise enough upon it to +pass a regal night at the _Trois Frères_." + +This proposition was received with great favor; the concierge gave Simp +a hundred francs; he ordered cigars and a gallon of punch, and they +repaired to his room to arrange the details of the celebration. + +Freckle gave great offence by wishing that "Poor Lees" were alive to +enjoy himself; and Simp said, "Bigad, sir! Freckle, living, is more of a +bore than Lees, dead." + +They resolved to attend supper in their dilapidated clothes, so that +what they had been might be pleasantly rebuked by what they were. "And +but for this feature," said Andy Plade, "it would have been well to +invite Ambassador Slidell." But Pisgah and Simp, who had applied to +Slidell several times by letter for temporary loans, were averse, just +now, to the presence of one who had forgotten "the first requisite of a +Southern Gentleman--generosity." + +So it was settled that only the Colony and Hugenot were to come, each +man to bring one lady. Simp, Pisgah, and Freckle thought Hugenot a +villain. He had not even attended the obsequies of the lamented Lees. +But Andy Plade forcibly urged that Hugenot was a good speaker, and would +be needed for a sentiment. + +In the evening a lunch was served by Mr. Simp, of which some young +ladies of the Paris _demi-monde_ partook; the "Bonnie Blue Flag" was +sung with great spirit, and Freckle became so intoxicated at two in the +morning that one of the young ladies was prevailed upon to see him to +his hotel. + +There was great joy in the Latin Quarter when it was known that the +Southern Colony had won at Wisbaden, and meant to pay its debts. The +tailors, shoemakers, tobacconists, publicans, grocers and hosiers met in +squads upon corners to talk it over; all the gentlemen obtained loans, +and, as evidence of how liberal they meant to be, commenced by giving +away whatever old effects they had. + +A _cabinet_ or small saloon of the most expensive restaurant in Paris +was pleasantly adorned for the first reunion of the Confederate exiles. + +The ancient seven-starred flag, entwined with the new battle-flag, hung +in festoons at the head of the room, and directly beneath was the +portrait of President Davis. A crayon drawing of the C. S. N. V. +Florida, from the portfolio of the amateur Mr. Simp, was arched by two +crossed cutlasses, hired for the occasion; and upon an enormous iced +cake, in the centre of the table, stood a barefooted soldier, with his +back against a pine tree, defying both a Yankee and a negro. + +At eleven o'clock P.M. the scrupulously dressed attendants heard a buzz +and a hurried tramp upon the stairs. They repaired at once to their +respective places, and after a pause the Southern Colony and convoy made +their appearance upon the threshold. With the exception of Pisgah and +Hugenot, all were clothed in the relics of their poverty, but their +hairs were curled, and they wore some recovered articles of jewelry. +They had thus the guise of a colony of barbers coming up from the gold +diggings, full of nuggets and old clothes. + +By previous arrangement, the chair was taken by Andy Plade, supported by +two young ladies, and, after saying a welcome to the guests in elegant +French, he made a significant gesture to the chief waiter. The most +luscious Ostend oysters were at once introduced; they lifted them with +bright silver _fourchettes_ from plates of Sevres porcelain, and each +guest touched his lips afterward with a glass of refined _vermeuth_. +Three descriptions of soup came successively, an amber _Julien_, in +which the microscope would have been baffled to detect one vegetable +fibre, yet it bore all the flavors of the garden; a tureen of _potage à +la Bisque_, in which the rarest and tiniest shell-fish had dissolved +themselves; and at the last a _tortue_, small in quantity, but so +delicious that murmurs of "_encore_" were made. + +Morsels of _viande_, so alternated that the appetite was prolonged--each +dish seeming a better variation of the preceding--were helped toward +digestion by the finest vintages of Burgundy; and the luscious _patés de +foie gras_--for which the plumpest geese in Bretagne had been invalids +all their days, and, if gossip be true, submitted in the end to a slow +roasting alive--introduced the fish, which, by the then reformed +Parisian mode, must appear after, not before, the _entrée_. + +A _sole au vin blanc_ gave way to a regal _mackerel au sauce +champignon_, and after this dish came confections and fruits _ad +libitum_, ending with the removal of the cloth, the introduction of +cigars, and a _marquise_ or punch of pure champagne. + +It was a pleasant evening within and without; the windows were raised, +and they could see the people in the gardens strolling beneath the lime +trees; the starlight falling on the plashing fountain and the gray, +motionless statues; the pearly light of the lines of lamps, shining down +the long arcades; the glitter of jewelry and precious merchandise in the +marvellous _boutiques_; the groups which sat around the café beneath +with _sorbets_ and _glacés_, and sparkling wines; the old women in +Normandie caps and green aprons, who flitted here and there to take the +hire of chairs, and break the hum of couples, talking profane and sacred +love; around and above all, the Cardinal's grand palace lifting its +multitudinous pilasters, and seeming to prop up the sky. + +It was Mr. Simp and his lady who saw these more particularly, as they +had withdrawn from the table, to exchange a memory and a sentiment, and +Hugenot had joined them with his most recent mistress; for the latter +was particularly unfortunate in love, being cozened out of much money, +and yet libelled for his closeness. + +All the rest sat at the table, talking over the splendor of the supper, +and proposing to hold a second one at the famous Philippe's, in the Rue +Montorgueil. But Mr. Freckle, being again emboldened by wine, and +affronted at the subordinate position assigned him, repeatedly cried +that, for his part, he preferred the "old Latin Quarter," and challenged +the chairman to produce a finer repast than Magny's in the Rue +Counterscarp. + +Pisgah, newly clothed _cap-à-pie_, was drinking absinthe, and with his +absent eyes, worn face and changing hairs, looked like the spectre of +his former self. Now and then he raised his head to give unconscious +assent to something, but immediately relapsed to the worship of his +nepenthe; and, as the long potations sent strong fumes to his temples, +he chuckled audibly, and gathered his jaws to his eyes in a vacant grin. +The gross, coarse woman at his side, from whom the other females shrank +with frequent demonstrations of contempt, was Pisgah's _blanchisseuse_. + +He was in her debt, and paid her with compliments; she is old and +uninviting, and he owes her eight hundred francs. Hers are the new +garments which he wears to-night. Few knew how many weary hours she +labored for them in the floating houses upon the Seine. But she is in +love with Pisgah, and is quite oblivious of the general regard; for, +strange to such grand occasions, she has both eaten and imbibed +enormously, and it may be even doubted at present whether she sees +anything at all. + +She strokes his cloth coat with her red, swollen hands, and proposes now +and then that he shall visit the wardrobe to look after his new hat; but +Pisgah only passes his arm about her, and drains his absinthe, and +sometimes, as if to reassure the company, shouts wildly at the wrong +places: "'At's so, boys!" "Hoorah for you!" "Ay! capital, gen'l'men, +capital!" And his partner, conscious that something has happened, laughs +to her waist, and leans forward, quite overcome, as if she beheld +something mirthful over her washboard. + +The place was now quite dreamy with tobacco-smoke; Freckle was riotously +sick at the window, and Andy Plade, who had been borrowing small sums +from everybody who would lend, struck the table with a corkscrew, and +called for order. + +"Drire rup!" cried Mr. Freckle, looking very attentively, but seeing +nothing. + +"I have the honor to state, gentlemen of the Colony, that we have with +us to-night an eloquent representative of our country--one whose +business energy and enterprise have been useful both to his own fortunes +and to the South--one who is a friend of yours, and more than a dear +friend to me. We came from the same old Palmetto State, the first and +the last ditch of our revolution. I give you a toast, gentlemen, to +which Mr. Hugenot will respond: + +"'The Mother Country and the Colony--good luck to both!'" + +"Hoorah for you!" cried Pisgah, looking the wrong way. + +The glasses rattled an instant, amid iterations of "Hear! hear!" and Mr. +Hugenot, rising, as it appeared from a bandbox, carefully surveyed +himself in a mirror opposite, and touched his nose with a small nosegay. + +"I feel, my friends, rather as your host than your guest to-night--" + +("It isn't yesternight"--from Freckle--"it's to-morroer night.") + +"For I, gentlemen, stand upon my hereditary, if not my native heath; and +you are, at most, Frenchmen by adoption. That ancestry whose deeds will +live when the present poor representative of its name is departed drew +from this martial land its blood and genius." + +(Loud cries of "Gammon" from Freckle, and disapprobation from Simp.) + +"From the past to the present, my friends, is a short transition. I +found you in Paris a month ago, poor and dejected. You are here +to-night, with that luxury which was your heritage. And how has it been +restored?" + +("'At's so!" earnestly, from Pisgah.) + +"By hard, grovelling work? Never! No contact with vulgar clay has soiled +these aristocratic hands. The cavalier cannot be a mudsill! You are not +like the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin. You +have not toiled, gentlemen, but you have spun!" + +(Great awakening, doubt, and bewilderment.) + +"You have spun the roulette ball, and you have won!" + +(Ferocious and unparalleled cheering.) + +"And it has occurred to me, my friends, that ou-ah cause, in the present +tremendous struggle, has been well symbolized by these, its foreign +representatives. Calamity came upon the South, as upon you. It had +indebtedness, as you have had. Shall I say that you, like the South, +repudiated? No! that is a slander of our adversaries. But the parallel +holds good in that we found ourselves abandoned by the world. Nations +abroad gave us no sympathy; our neighbors at home laughed at our +affliction. They would wrest from us that bulwark of our liberties, the +African." + +"Capital, gentlemen, capital!" from Pisgah. + +"They demanded that we should toil for ourselves. Did we do so? Never! +We appealed to the chances, as you have done; we would fight the Yankee, +but we would not work. You would fight the bank, but you would not +slave; and as you have won at Wisbaden, so have we, in a thousand +glorious contests. Fill, then, gentlemen, to the toast which your +chairman has announced: + +"'The Mother Country and the Colony--good luck to both!'" + +The applause which ensued was of such a nature that the proprietors +below endeavored to hasten the conclusion of the dinner by sending up +the bill. Pisgah and the _blanchisseuse_ were embracing in a spirited +way, and Simp was holding back Freckle, who--persuaded that Hugenot's +remarks were in some way derogatory to himself--wished to toss down his +gauntlet. + +"The next toast, gentlemen of the Colony," said Andy Plade, "is to be +dispatched immediately by the waiter, whom you see upon my right hand, +to the office of the telegraph; thence to Mr. Risque at Wisbaden: + +"'The Southern exiles; doubtless the most immethodical men alive; but +the results prove they have the best system: no _Risque_, no winnings.' + +"You will see, gentlemen," continued Mr. Plade, when the enthusiasm had +subsided, "that I place the toast in this envelope. It will go in two +minutes to Mr. Auburn Risque!" + +The waiter started for the door; it was dashed open in his face, and +splattered, dirty, and travel-worn, Auburn Risque himself stood like an +apparition on the threshold. + +"Perdition!" thundered Plade, staggered and pale-faced; "you were not to +break the bank till to-morrow." + +The Colony, sober or inebriate, clustered about the door, and held to +each other that they might hear the explanation aright. + +Auburn Risque straightened himself and glared upon all the besiegers, +till his pock-marked face grew white as leprosy, and every spot in his +secretive eye faded out in the glitter of his defiance. + +"To-morrow?" he said, in a voice hard, passionless, inflectionless; "how +could one break the bank to-morrow, when all his money was gone +yesterday?" + +"Gone!" repeated the Colony, in a breath rather than a voice, and +reeling as if a galvanic current had passed through the circle--"Gone!" + +"Every sou," said Risque, sinking into a chair. "The bank gave me one +hundred francs to return to Paris; I risked twenty-five of it, hopeful +of better luck, and lost again. Then I had not enough money to get home, +and for forty kilometres of the way I have driven a _charette_. See!" he +cried, throwing open his coat; "I sold my vest at Compiègne last night, +for a morsel of supper." + +"But you had won seven thousand one hundred francs!" + +"I won more--more than eighteen thousand francs; but, enlarging my +stakes with my capital, one hour brought me down to a sou." + +"The 'system' was a swindle," hissed Mr. Simp, looking up through red +eyes which throbbed like pulses. "What right had you to plunder us upon +your speculation?" + +"The 'system' could not fail," answered the gamester, at bay; "it must +have been my manner of play. I think that, upon one run of luck, I gave +up my method." + +"We do not know," cried Simp, tossing his hands wildly; "we may not +accuse, we may not be enraged--we are nothing now but profligates +without means, and beggars without hope!" + +They sobbed together, bitterly and brokenly, till Freckle, not entirely +sober, shouted, "Good God, is it that gammon-head, Hugenot, who has +ruined us? Fetch him out from his ancestry; let me see him, I say! Where +is the man who took my three hundred francs!" + +"I wish," said Simp, in a suicidal way, "that I were lying by Lees in +the _fosse commune_. But I will not slave; the world owes every man a +living!" + +"Ay!" echoed the rest, as desperately, but less resolutely. + +"This noise," said one of the waiters politely, "cannot be continued. It +is at any rate time for the _salon_ to be closed. We will thank you to +pay your bill, and settle your quarrels in the garden." + +"Here is the account," interpolated Andy Plade, "dinner for thirteen +persons, nineteen hundred and fifty francs. + +"Manes of my ancestry!" shrieked Hugenot, overturning the +_blanchisseuse_ in his way, and rushing from the house. + +"We have not the money!" cried the whole Colony in chorus; and, as if by +concert, the company in mass, male and female, cleared the threshold and +disappeared, headed by Andy Plade, who kept all the subscriptions in his +pockets, and terminated by Freckle, who was caught at the base of the +stairs and held for security. + + + + +VII. + +THE COLONY DISBANDED. + + +The Colony, as a body, will appear no more in this transcript. The +greatness of their misfortune kept them asunder. They closed their +chamber-doors, and waited in hunger and sorrow for the moment when the +sky should be their shelter and beggary their craft. + +It was in this hour of ruin that the genius of Mr. Auburn Risque was +manifest. The horse is always sure of a proprietor, and with horses Mr. +Risque was more at home than with men. + +"Man is ungrateful," soliloquized Risque, keeping along the Rue +Mouffetard in the Chiffoniers' Quarter; "a horse is invariably faithful, +unless he happens to be a mule. Confound men! the only excellence they +have is not a virtue--they can play cards!" + +Here he turned to the left, followed some narrow thoroughfares, and +stopped at the great horse market, a scene familiarized to Americans, in +its general features, by Rosa Bonheur's "La Foire du Chevaux." + +Double rows of stalls enclosed a trotting course, roughly paved, and +there was an artificial hill on one side, where draught-horses were +tested. The animals were gayly caparisoned, whisks of straw affixed to +the tails indicating those for sale; their manes and forelocks were +plaited, ribbons streamed over their frontlets, they were muzzled and +wore wooden bits. + +We have no kindred exhibition in the States, so picturesque and so +animated. Boors in blouses were galloping the great-hoofed beasts down +the course by fours and sixes; the ribbons and manes fluttered; the +whips cracked, and the owners hallooed in _patois_. + +Four fifths of French horses are gray; here, there was scarcely one +exception; and the rule extended to the asses which moved amid hundreds +of braying mulets, while at the farther end of the ground the teams were +parked, and, near by, seller and buyer, book in hand, were chaffering +and smoking in shrewd good-humor. + +One man was collecting animals for a celebrated stage-route, and the +gamester saw that he was a novice. + +"Do you choose that for a good horse?" spoke up Risque, in his practical +way, when the man had set aside a fine, sinewy draught stallion. + +"I do!" said the man, shortly. + +"Then you have no eye. He has a bad strain. I can lift all his feet but +this one. See! he kicks if I touch it. Walk him now, and you will remark +that it tells on his pace." + +The man was convinced and pleased. "You are a judge," he said, glancing +down Risque's dilapidated dress; "I will make it worth something to you +to remain here during the day and assist me." + +The imperturbable gamester became a feature of the sale. He was the +best rider on the ground. He put his hard, freckled hand into the jaws +of stallions, and cowed the wickedest mule with his spotted eye. He knew +prices as well as values, and had, withal, a dashing way of bargaining, +which baffled the traders and amused his patron. + +"You have saved me much money and many mistakes," said the latter, at +nightfall. "Who are you?" + +"I am the man," answered Risque, straightforwardly, "to work on your +stage-line, and I am dead broke." + +The man invited Risque to dinner; they rode together on the Champs +Elysées; and next morning at daylight the gamester left Paris without a +thought or a farewell for the Colony. + +It was in the Grand Hotel that Messrs. Hugenot and Plade met by chance +the evening succeeding the dinner. + +"I shall leave Paris, Andy," said Hugenot, regarding his pumps through +his eye-glass. "My ancestry would blush in their coffins if they knew +ou-ah cause to be represented by such individuals as those of last +evening." + +"Let us go together," replied Plade, in his plausible way; "you cannot +speak a word of any continental language. Take me along as courier and +companion; pay my travelling expenses, and I will pay my own board." + +"Can I trust you, Suth Kurlinian?" said Hugenot, irresolutely; "you had +no money yesterday." + +"But I have a plan of raising a thousand francs to-day. What say you?" + +"My family have been wont to see the evidence prior to committing +themselves. First show me the specie." + +"_Voila!_" cried Plade, counting out forty louis; "the day after +to-morrow I guarantee to own eighteen hundred francs." + +It did not occur to Mr. Hugenot to inquire how his friend came to +possess so much money; for Hugenot was not a clever man, and somewhat in +dread of Andy Plade, who, as his school-mate, had thrashed him +repeatedly, and even now that one had grown rich and the other was a +vagabond, the latter's strong will and keen, bad intelligence made him +the master man. + +Hugenot's good fortune was accidental; his cargoes had passed the +blockade and given handsome returns; but he shared none of the dangers, +and the traffic required no particular skill. Hugenot was, briefly, a +favorite of circumstances. The war-wind, which had toppled down many a +long, thoughtful head, carried this inflated person to greatness. + +They are well contrasted, now that they speak. The merchant, elaborately +dressed, varnished pumps upon his effeminate feet, every hair taught its +curve and direction, the lunette perched upon no nose to speak of, and +the wavering, vacillating eye, which has no higher regard than his own +miniature figure. Above rises the vagabond, straight, athletic and +courageous, though a knave. + +He is so much of a man physically and intellectually, that we do not see +his faded coat-collar, frayed cuffs, worn buttons, and untidy boots. He +is so little of a man morally, that, to any observer who looks twice, +the plausibility of the face will fail to deceive. The eye is deep and +direct, but the high, jutting forehead above is like a table of stone, +bearing the ten broken commandments. He keeps the lips ajar in a smile, +or shut in a resolve, to hide their sensuality, and the fine black beard +conceals the massive contour of jaws which are cruel as hunger. + +It was strange that Plade, with his clear conception, should do less +than despise his acquaintance. On the contrary, he was partial to +Hugenot's society. The world asked, wonderingly, what capacities had the +latter? Was he not obtuse, sounding, shallow? Mr. Plade alone, of all +the Americans in Paris, asserted from the first that Hugenot was +far-sighted, close, capable. Indeed, he was so earnest in this +enunciation that few thought him disinterested. + + * * * * * + +It was Master Simp who heard a bold step on the stairs that night, and a +resolute knock upon his own door. + +"Arrest for debt!" cried Mr. Simp, falling tearfully upon his bed; "I +have expected the summons all day." + +"The next man may come upon that errand," answered the ringing voice of +Andy Plade. "Freckle sleeps in Clichy to-night; Risque cannot be found; +the rest are as badly off; I have news for you." + +"I am the man to be mocked," pleaded Simp; "but you must laugh at your +own joke; I am too wretched to help you." + +"The Yankees have opened the Mississippi River; Louisiana is subjugated, +and communication re-established with your neighborhood; you can go +home." + +"What fraction of the way will this carry me?" said the other, holding +up a five-franc piece. "My home is farther than the stars from me." + +"It is a little sum," urged Mr. Plade; "one hundred dollars should pay +the whole passage." + +Mr. Simp, in response, mimicked a man shovelling gold pieces, but was +too weak to prolong the pleasantry, and sat down on his empty trunk and +wept, as Plade thought, like a calf. + +"Your case seems indeed hopeless," said the elder. "Suppose I should +borrow five hundred dollars on your credit, would you give me two +hundred for my trouble?" + +Mr. Simp said, bitterly, that he would give four hundred and ninety-five +dollars for five; but Plade pressed for a direct answer to his original +proffer, and Simp cried "Yes," with an oath. + +"Then listen to me! there is no reason to doubt that your neighbors have +made full crops for two years--cotton, sugar, tobacco. All this remains +at home unsold and unshipped--yours with the rest. Take the oath of +allegiance to the Yankee Government before its _chargé des affaires_ in +Paris. That will save your crops from confiscation, and be your passport +to return. Then write to your former banker here, promising to consign +your cotton to him, if he will advance five hundred dollars to take you +to Louisiana. He knows you received of old ten thousand dollars per +annum. He will risk so small a sum for a thing so plausible and +profitable." + +"I don't know what you have been saying," muttered Simp. "I cannot +comprehend a scheme so intricate; you bewilder me! What is a +consignment? How am I, bigad! to make that clear in a letter? Perhaps my +speech in the case of Rutledge _vs._ Pinckney might come in well at this +juncture." + +"Write!" cried Plade, contemptuously; "write at my dictation." + +That night the letter was mailed; Mr. Simp was summoned to his banker's +the following noon, and at dusk he met Andy Plade in the Place Vendôme, +and paid over a thousand francs with a sigh. + +On the third night succeeding, Messrs. Plade and Hugenot were smoking +their cigars at Nice, and Mr. Simp, without the least idea of what he +meant to do, was drinking cocktails on the Atlantic Ocean. + + * * * * * + +"Francine," said Pisgah, with a woful glance at the dregs of absinthe in +the tumbler, "give me a half franc, my dear; I am poorly to-day." + +"Monsieur Pisgah," answered Madame Francine, "give me nine hundred and +sixty-five francs, seventy-five centimes--that is your bill with me--and +I am poorly also." + +"My love," said Pisgah, rubbing his grizzled beard against the madame's +fat cheek, "you are not hard-hearted. You will pity the poor old exile. +I love you very much, Francine." + +"Stand off!" cried the madame; "_vous m'embate!_ You say you love me; +then marry me!" + +"Nonsense, my angel!" + +"I say marry me!" repeated the madame, stamping her foot. "You are rich +in America. You have slaves and land and houses and fine relatives. You +will get all these when the war closes; but if you die of starvation in +Paris, they amount to nothing. Marry me! I will keep you alive here; you +will give me half of your possessions there! I shall be a grand lady, +ride in my carriage, and have a nasty black woman to wash my fine +clothes." + +"That is impossible, Francine," answered Pisgah, not so utterly degraded +but he felt the stigma of such a proposition from his +_blanchisseuse_--and as he leaned his faded hairs upon his unnerved and +quivering hands, the old pride fluttered in his heart a moment and +painted rage upon his neck and temples. + +"You are insulted, my lord count!" cried Madame Francine; "an alliance +with a poor washerwoman would shame your great kin. Pay me my money, you +beggar! or I shall put the fine gentleman in prison for debt." + +"That would be a kindness to me, madame," said Pisgah, very humbly and +piteously. + +"You are right," she made answer, with a mocking laugh; "I will not save +your life: you shall starve, sir! you shall starve!" + +In truth, this consummation seemed very close, for as Pisgah entered his +creamery soon afterward, the proprietor met him at the threshold. + +"Monsieur Pisgah," he said, "you can have nothing to eat here, until you +pay a part of your bill with me; I am a poor man, sir, and have +children." + +Pisgah kept up the street with heavy forebodings, and turned into the +place of a clothes-merchant, to whom his face had long been familiar. +When he emerged, his handsome habits, the gift of Madame Francine, hung +in the clothes-dealer's window, and Mr. Pisgah, wearing a common blouse, +a cap, and coarse hide shoes, repaired to the nearest wine-shop, and +drank a dead man's portion of absinthe at the zinc counter. Then he +returned to his own hotel, but as he reached to the rack for his key, +the landlady laid her hand upon it and shook her head. + +"You are properly dressed, Monsieur Pisgah," she said; "those who have +no money should work; you cannot sleep in twenty-six to night, sir; I +have shut up the chamber, and seized the little rubbish which you left." + +Pisgah was homeless--a vagabond, an outcast. He walked unsteadily along +the street in the pleasant evening, and the film of tears that shut the +world from his eyes was peopled with far-off and familiar scenes. + +He saw his father's wide acres, with the sunset gilding the fleeces of +his sheep and crowning with fire the stacks of grain and the vanes upon +his granges. Then the twilight fell, and the slaves went homeward +singing, while the logs on the brass andirons lit up the windows of the +mansion, and every negro cabin was luminous, so that in the night the +homestead looked like a village. Then the moon rose above the woods, +making the lawn frosty, and shining upon the long porch, where his +mother came out to welcome him, attended by the two house-dogs, which +barked so loudly in their glee that all the hen-coops were alarmed, and +the peacocks in the trees held their tails to the stars and trilled. + +"Come in, my son," said the mother, looking proudly upon the tall, +straight shape and glossy locks; "the supper is smoking upon the table; +here is your familiar julep, without which you have no appetite; the +Maryland biscuit are unusually good this evening, and there is the +yellow pone in the corner, with Sukey, your old nurse, behind it. Do you +like much cream in your coffee, as you used to? Bless me! the partridge +is plump as a duck; but here is your napkin, embroidered with your name; +let us ask a blessing before we eat!" + +While all this is going on, the cat, which has been purring by the fire, +takes a wicked notion to frighten the canary bird, but the high old +clock in the corner, imported from England before the celebrated +Revolutionary war, impresses the cat as a very formidable object with +its stately stride-stride-stride--so that the cat regarding it a moment, +forgets the canary bird, and mews for a small portion of cream in a +saucer. + +"Halloo! halloo!" says the parrot, awakened by a leap of the fire; for, +the back-log has broken in half, and Pisgah sees, by the increased +light, the very hair-powder gleam on the portrait of General Washington. +But now the cloth is removed, and the old-fashioned table folds up its +leaves; they sip some remarkable sherry, which grandfather regards with +a wheezy sort of laugh, and after they have played one game of draughts, +Mr. Pisgah looks at his gold chronometer, and asks if he has still the +great room above the porch and plenty of bedclothes. + +This is what Mr. Pisgah sees upon the film of his tears--wealth, +happiness, manliness! When he dashes the tears themselves to the +pavement with an oath, what rises upon his eye and his heart? +Paris--grand, luxurious, pitiless, and he, at twilight, flung upon the +world, with neither kindred nor country--a thing unwilling to live, +unfit to die! + +He strolled along the quay to the Morgue; the beautiful water of St. +Michel fell sibilantly cold from the fountain, and Apollyon above, at +the feet of the avenging angel, seemed a sermon and an allegory of his +own prostration. How all the folks upon the bridge were stony faced! It +had never before occurred to him that men were cold-blooded creatures. +He wondered if the Seine, dashing against the quays and piers beneath, +were not their proper element? Ay! for here were three drowned people on +the icy slabs of the Morgue, with half a hundred gazing wistfully at +them, and their fixed eyes glaring fishily at the skylight, as if it +were the surface of the river and they were at rest below. + +So seemed all the landscape as he kept down the quay--the lines of high +houses were ridges only in the sea, and Notre Dame, lifting its towers +and sculptured façade before, was merely a high-decked ship, with +sailors crowding astern. The holy apostles above the portal were more +like human men than ever, with their silicious eyes and pulseless +bosoms; while the hideous gargoyles at the base of each crocheted +pinnacle, seemed swimming in the dusky evening. + +It may have been that this aqueous phenomenon was natural to one +"half-seas over;" but not till he stood on the place of the Hôtel de la +Ville, did Pisgah have any consciousness whatever that he walked upon +the solid world. + +At this moment he was reminded, also, that he held a letter in his hand, +his landlady's gift at parting; it was dated, "Clichy dungeon," and +signed by Mr. Freckle. + + "Dear Pisgah," read the text, "I am here at claim of restaurateur; + shall die to-morrow at or before twelve o'clock, if Andy Plade + don't fork over my subscription of two hundred francs. Andy Plade + damned knave--no mistake! No living soul been to see me, except + letter from Hon. Mr. Slidell. He has got sixteen thousand dollars + in specie for Simp. Where's Simp, dogorn him! Hon. S. sent to + Simp's house; understood he'd sailed for America. Requested Hon. S. + to give me small part of money as Simp's next friend. Hon. S. + declined. Population of prison very great. Damned scrub stock! + Don't object to imprisonment as much as the fleas. Fleas bent on + aiding my escape. If they crawl with me to-morrow night as far + again as last night I'll be clear--no mistake! Live on soup, + chiefly. Abhor soup. Had forty francs here first day, but debtor + with one boot and spectacles won it at _picquet_. Restaurateur says + bound to keep me here a thousand years if I don't sock--shall + die--no mistake! Come see me, _toute suite_. Fetch pocket-comb, + soap, and English Bible. + + "Yours, in deep waters, FRECKLE." + +"The whole world is in deep waters," said Pisgah, dismally. "So much the +better for them; here goes for something stronger!" + +He repaired to the nearest drinking-saloon, and demanded a glass brimful +of absinthe, at which all the garçons and patrons held up their hands +while he drank it to the dregs. + +"Sacristie!" cried a man with mouth wide open, "that gentleman can drink +clear laudanum." + +"I wish," thought Pisgah, with a pale face, "that it had been laudanum; +I should have been dead by this time and all over. Why don't I get the +_delirium tremens_? I should like to be crazy. Oh, ho, ho, ho!" he +continued, laughing wildly, "to be in a hospital--nurses, soft bed, good +food, pity--oh, ho! that would be a fate fit for an emperor." + +Here his eye caught something across the way which riveted it, and he +took half a step forward, exultingly. A great _caserne_, or barrack, +adjoined the Hôtel de Ville, and twice every day, after breakfast and +dinner, the soldiers within distributed the surplus of their rations to +mendicants without. The latter were already assembling--laborers in +neat, common clothing, with idlers and profligates not more forbidding, +while a soldier on guard directed them where to rest and in what order +or number to enter the building. Pisgah halted a moment with his heart +in his throat. But he was very hungry, and his silver was half gone +already; if he purchased a dinner, he might not be left with sufficient +to obtain a bed for the night. + +"Great God!" he said aloud, lifting his clenched hands and swollen eyes +to the stars, "am I, then, among the very dogs, that I should beg the +crumbs of a common soldier?" + +He took his place in the line, and when at length his turn was +announced, followed the rabble shamefacedly. The _chasseurs_ in the +mess-room were making merry after dinner with pipes and cards, and one +of these, giving Pisgah a piece of bread and a tin basin of strong +soup, slapped him smartly upon the shoulder, and cried: + +"My fine fellow! you have the stuff in you for a soldier." + +"I am just getting a soldier's stuff into me," responded Pisgah, +antithetically. + +"Why do you go abroad, hungry, ill-dressed, and houseless, when you can +wear the livery of France?" + +Pisgah thought the soldier a very presuming person. + +"I am a foreigner," he said, "a--a--a French Canadian (we speak +_patois_ there). My troubles are temporary merely. A day or two may make +me rich." + +"Yet for that day or two," continued the _chasseur_, "you will have the +humiliation of begging your bread. What signifies seven years of +honorable service to three days of mendicancy and distress? We are well +cared for by the nation; we are respected over the world. It is a mean +thing to be a soldier in other lands; here we are the gentlemen of +France." + +Pisgah had never looked upon it in that light, and said so. + +"Your poverty may have unmanned you," repeated the other; "to recover +your own esteem do a manly act! We have all feared death as citizens; +but take cold steel in your hand, and you can look into your grave +without a qualm. I say to you," spoke the _chasseur_, clearly and +eloquently, "be one of us. Decide now, before a doubt mars your better +resolve! You are a young man, though the soulless career of a citizen +has anticipated the whitening of your hairs. Plant your foot; throw back +your shoulders; say 'yes!'" + +"I do!" cried Pisgah, with something of the other's enthusiasm; "I was +born a gentleman, I will die a gentleman, or a soldier." + +They put Mr. Pisgah among the conscripts recently levied, and he went +about town with a fictitious number in his hat, joining in their +bacchanal choruses. The next day he appeared in white duck jacket and +pantaloons, looking like an overgrown baker's boy, with a chapeau like a +flat, burnt loaf. He was then put through the manual, which seemed to +indicate all possible motions save that of liquoring up, and when he was +so fatigued that he had not the energy even to fall down, he was clasped +in the arms of Madame Francine, who had traced him to the barracks, but +was too late to avert his destiny. + +"Oh! _mon amant!_" she cried, falling upon his neck. "Why did you go and +do it? You knew that I did not mean to see you starve." + +"You have consigned me to a soldier's grave, woman!" answered Pisgah, in +the deepest tragedy tone. + +"Do not say so, my _bonbon_!" pleaded the good lady, covering him with +kisses. "I would have worn my hands to the bone to save you from this +dreadful life. Suppose you should be sent to Algiers or Mexico, or some +other heathen country, and die there." + +It was Pisgah's turn to be touched. + +"My blood is upon your head, Francine! Have you any money?" + +"Yes, yes! a gentleman, a _noir_, a _naigre_, for whom I have washed, +paid me fifty francs this evening. It is all here; take it, my love!" + +"I do not know, creature! that your conduct permits me to do so," said +Pisgah, drawing back. + +"You will drive me mad if you refuse," shrieked the blanchisseuse. "Oh! +oh! how wicked and wretched am I!" + +"Enough, madame! step over the way for my habitual glass of absinthe. Be +particular about the change. We military men must be careful of our +incomes. Stay! you may embrace me if you like." + +The poor woman came every day to the barracks, bringing some trifle of +food or clothing. She washed his regimentals, burnished his buckles and +boots, paid his losses at cards, and bought him books and tobacco. She +could never persuade herself that Pisgah was not her victim, and he +found it useful to humor the notion. + +Down in the swift Seine, at her booth in the great lavatory, where the +ice rushed by and the rain beat in, she thought of Pisgah as she toiled; +and though her back ached and her hands were flayed, she never wondered +if her lot were not the most pitiable, and his in part deserved. + +How often should we hard, selfish men, thank God for the weaknesses of +women! + + + + +VIII. + +THE MURDER ON THE ALPS. + + +And so, with Mr. Pisgah on the road to glory, Mr. Simp on the smooth +sea, Mr. Freckle in the debtor's jail, Mr. Risque behind his +four-in-hand, and Mr. Lees in the charity grave, let us sit with the two +remaining colonists in the cabriolet at Bellinzona; for it is the month +of April, and they are to cross the great St. Gothard _en route_ for +Paris. Here is the scene: a gloomy stone building for the diligence +company; two great yellow diligences, empty and unharnessed in the area +before; one other diligence, packed full, with the horses' heads turned +northward, and the blue-nosed Swiss clerk calling out the names of +passengers; a half-dozen cabriolets looking at each other irresolutely +and facing all possible ways; two score of unwashed loungers, in red +neck-kerchiefs and velvet jackets, smoking rank, rakish, black cigars; +several streets of equal crookedness and filthiness abutting against a +grimy church, whence beggars, old women, and priests emerge continually; +and far above all, as if suspended in the air, a grim, battlemented +castle, a defence, as it seems, against the snowy mountains which march +upon Bellinzona from every side to crush its orchards and vineyards and +drown it in the marshes of Lago Maggiore. + +"_Diligenza compito!_" cries the clerk, moving toward the waiting +cabriolet--"Signore Hugenoto." + +"Here!" replies a small, consequential-looking person, reconnoitring the +interior of the vehicle. + +"Le Signore Plaèdo!" + +"Ci," responds a dark, erect gentleman, striding forward and saying, in +clear Italian, "Are there no other passengers?" + +"None," answered the clerk; "you will have a good time together; please +remember the guard!" + +The guard, however, was in advance, a tall person, wrapped to the eyes +in fur, wearing a silver bugle in front of his cap, and covered with +buff breeches. + +He flourished his whip like a fencing-master, moved in a cloud of +cigar-smoke, and, as he placed his bare hand upon the manes of his +horses, they reined back, as if it burned or frosted them. + +"My ancestry," says the small gentleman, "encourage no imposition. Shall +we give the fellow a franc?" + +The other had already given double the sum, and it was odd, now that one +looked at him, how pale and hard had grown his features. + +"God bless me, Andy!" cries the little person, stopping short; "you have +not had your breakfast to-day; apply my smelling-bottle to your nose; +you are sick, man!" + +"Thank you," says the other, "I prefer brandy; I am only glad that we +are quite alone." + +The paleness faded out of his cheeks as he drank deeply of the spirits, +but the jaws were set hard, and the eyes looked stony and pitiless. The +man was ailing beyond all doubt. + +The whip cracked in front; the great diligence started with a groan and +a crackling of joints; the little postilion set the cabriolet going with +a chirp and a whistle; the priests and idlers looked up excitedly; the +women rushed to the windows to flutter their handkerchiefs, and all the +beggars gave sturdy chase, dropping benedictions and damnations as they +went. + +The small person placed his boots upon the empty cushion before and +regarded them with some benevolence; then he touched his mustache with a +comb, which he took from the head of his cane. + +"It is surprising, Andy," he said, "how the growth of one's feet bears +no proportion to that of his head. Observe those pedals. One of my +ancestors must have found a wife in China. They have gained no increase +after all these pilgrimages--and I flatter myself that they are in some +sort graceful--ay? Now remark my head. What does Hamlet, or somebody, +say about the front of Jove? This trip to Italy has actually enlarged +the diameter of my head thirteen barleycorns! Thirteen, by measurement!" + +The tall gentleman said not a word, but compressed his tall shoulders +into the corner of the coach, and muffled his face with his coat-collar +and breathed like one sleeping uneasily. + +"It has been a cheap trip!" exclaimed the diminutive person, changing +the theme; "you have been an invaluable courier, Andy. The most ardent +patriot cannot call us extravagant." + +"How much money have you left?" echoed the other in a suppressed tone. +"Count it. I will then tell you to a sou what will carry us to Paris." + +The little person drew a wallet from his side-pocket and enumerated +carefully certain circular notes. "Eleven times twenty is two hundred +and twenty; twenty-five times two hundred and twenty, five thousand five +hundred, plus nine gold louis--total, five thousand seven hundred and +twenty-five francs." + +One eye only of the large gentleman was visible through the folds of his +collar. It rested like a charmed thing upon the roll of gold and paper. +It was only an eye, but it seemed to be a whole face, an entire man. It +was full of thoughts, of hopes, of acts! Had the little person marked +it, thus sinister, and glittering and intense, he would have shrunk as +from a burning-glass. + +He folded up the wallet, however, and slipped it into his inside-pocket, +while the other pushed forward his hat, so that it concealed even the +eye, and sat rigid and still in his corner. + +"You have not named the fare to Paris." + +The tall man only breathed short and hard. + +"Don't you recollect?" + +"No!" + +"I have a 'Galignani' here; perhaps it is advertised. But hallo, Andy!" + +The exclamation was loud and abrupt, but the silent person did not move. + +"_The Confederate Privateer Planter will sail from Dieppe on +Tuesday_--(that is, to-morrow evening)--_she will cruise in the Indian +Ocean, if report be true._" + +The tall man started suddenly and uncovered his face with a quick +gesture. It was flushed and earnest now, and he clutched the journal +almost nervously, though his voice was yet calm and suppressed. + +"To-morrow night, did you say? A cruise on the broad sea--glory without +peril, gold without work; I would to God that I were on the Planter's +deck, Hugenot!" + +"Why not do something for ou-ah cause, Andy?" + +"I am to return to Paris for what? To be dunned by creditors, to be +marked for a parasite at the hotels, to be despised by men whom I serve, +and pitied by men whom I hate. This pirate career suits me. What is +society to me, whom it has ostracised? I was a gentleman once--quick at +books, pleasing in company, shrewd in business. They say that I have +power still, but lack integrity. Be it so! Better a freebooter at sea +than upon the land. I have half made up my mind to evil. Hugenot, listen +to me! I believe that were I to do one bad, dark deed, it would restore +me courage, resolution, energy." + +The little gentleman examined the other with some alarm; but just now +the teams commenced the ascent of a steep hill, and as he beheld the +guard a little way in advance, he forgot the other's earnestness, and +raised his lunette. + +"Andy," he said, "by my great ancestry! I have seen that man before. +Look! the height, the style, the carriage, are familiar. Who is he?" + +His co-voyageur was without curiosity; the former pallidness and +silentness resumed their dominion over him, and the lesser gentleman +settled moodily back to his newspaper. + +No word was interchanged for several hours. They passed through shaggy +glens, under toppled towers and battlements, by squalid villages, and +within the sound of dashing streams. If they descended ever, it was to +gain breath for a longer ascent; for now the mountain snows were above +them on either side, and the Alps rose sublimely impassable in front. +The hawks careened beneath them; the chamois above dared not look down +for dizziness, and Hugenot said, at Ariola, that they were taking lunch +in a balloon. The manner of Mr. Plade now altered marvellously. It might +have been his breakfast that gave him spirit and speech; he sang a +merry, bad song, which the rocks echoed back, and all the goitred women +at the roadside stopped with their pack burdens to listen. He told a +thousand anecdotes. He knew all the story of the pass; how the Swiss, +filing through it, had scattered the Milanese; how Suwarrow and Massena +had made its sterility fertile with blood. + +Hugenot's admiration amounted to envy. He had never known his associate +so brilliant, so pleasing; the exaltation was too great, indeed, to +arise from any ordinary cause; but Hugenot was not shrewd enough to +inquire into the affair. He wearied at length of the talk and of the +scene, and when at last they reached the region of perpetual ice, he +closed the cabriolet windows, and watched the filtering flakes, and +heard the snow crush under the wheels, and dropped into a deep sleep +which the other seemed to share. + +The clouds around them made the mountains dusky, and the interior of the +carriage was quite gloomy. At length the large gentleman turned his +head, so that his ear could catch every breath, and he regarded the dim +outlines of the lesser with motionless interest. Then he took a straw +from the litter at his feet, and, bending forward, touched his comrade's +throat. The other snored measuredly for a while, but the titillation +startled him at length, and he beat the air in his slumber. When the +irritation ceased he breathed tranquilly again, and then the first-named +placed his hand softly into the sleeper's pocket. He drew forth the +wallet with steady fingers, and as coolly emptied it of its contents. +These he concealed in the leg of his boot, but replaced the book where +he had found it. For a little space he remained at rest, leaning against +the back of the carriage, with his head bent upon his breast and his +hands clenched like one at bay and in doubt. + +The slow advance of the teams and the frequent changes of +direction--sometimes so abrupt as almost to reverse the +cabriolet--advised him that they were climbing the mountain by zigzags +or terraces. He knew that they were in the _Val Tremola_, or Trembling +Way, and he shook his comrade almost fiercely, as if relieved by some +idea which the place suggested. + +"Hugenot," he said, "rouse up! The grandeur of the Alps is round about +us; you must not miss this scene. Come with me! Quit the vehicle! I know +the place, and will exhibit it." + +The other, accustomed to obey, leaped to the ground immediately, and +followed through the snow, ankle deep, till they passed the diligence, +which kept in advance. The guard could not be seen--he might have +resorted to the interior; and the two pedestrians at once left the +roadway, climbing its elbows by a path more or less distinctly marked, +so that after a half hour they were perhaps a mile ahead. The agility of +Mr. Plade during this episode was the marvel of his companion. He scaled +the rocks like a goatherd, and his foot-tracks in the snow were long, +like the route of a giant. The ice could not betray the sureness of his +stride; the rare, thin atmosphere was no match for his broad, deep +chest. He shouted as he went, and tossed great boulders down the +mountain, and urged on his flagging comrade by cheer and taunt and +invective. No madman set loose from captivity could be guilty of so +extravagant, exaggerated elation. + +At last they stood upon a little bridge spanning a chasm like a cobweb. +A low parapet divided it from the awful gulf. On the other side the +mountain lifted its jagged face, clammy with icicles, and far over all +towered the sterile peaks, above the reach of clouds or lightnings, +forever in the sunshine--forever desolate. + +"Stand fast!" said the leader, suddenly cold and calm. "Uncover, that +the snow-flakes may give us the baptism of nature! There is no human God +at this vast height; they worship _Him_ in the flat world below. Give me +your hand and look down! You are not dizzy? One should be free from the +baseness of fear, standing here upon St. Gothard." + +"If I had no qualm before," said Hugenot, "your words would make me +shudder." + +"You have heard of the 'valley of the shadow'? Was your ideal like this? +I told you in Florence of the great poet Dante. You have here at a +glance more beauty and dread conjoined than even his mad fancy could +conjure up. That is the Tessino, braining itself in cataracts. Yonder, +where the clouds make a golden lake, laving forests of firs, lies Italy +as the Goths first beheld it, with their spears quivering. See how the +eagles beat the mist beneath!--that was a symbol that the Roman +standards should be rent." + +The other, half in charm, half in awe, listened like one spell-bound, +with his fingers tingling and his eyeballs throbbing. + +"This silence," said the elder, "is more freezing to me than the +bitterness of the cold. The very snow-flakes are dumb; nothing makes +discord but the avalanche; it is always twilight; men lie down in the +snows to die, but they are numb and cannot cry." + +"Be still," replied the other, "your talk is strangely out of place. I +feel as if my ancestors in their shrouds were beside me." + +"You are not wrong," cried the greater, raising his voice till it became +shrill and terrible; "your last moments are passing; that yawning ravine +is your grave. I told you an hour ago how one bad, dark deed would +redeem me. It is done! I have robbed you, and your death is essential to +my safety." + +Hugenot sank upon the snow of the parapet, speechless and almost +lifeless. He clasped his hands, but could not raise his head; the whole +scene faded from his eye. If he had been weak before, he was impotent +now. + +The strong man held him aloft by the shoulders with an iron grasp, and +his cold eye gave evidence to the horrible validity of his words. + +"I do not lie or play, Hugenot," he said, in the same clear voice; "I +have premeditated this deed for many weeks. You are doomed! Only a +miracle can help you. The dangers of the pass will be my exculpation; it +will be surmised that you fell into the ravine. There will be no marks +of violence upon you but those of the sharp stones. We have been close +comrades. Only Omniscience can have seen premeditation. I have brought +you into this wilderness to slay you!" + +The victim had recovered sufficiently to catch a part of this +confession. His lips framed only one reply--the dying man's last straw: + +"After death!" he said; "have you thought of that?" + +"Ay," answered the other, "long and thoroughly. Phantoms, remorses and +hells--they have all had their argument. I take the chances." + +It was only a moment's struggle that ensued. The wretch clung to the +parapet, and called on God and mercy. He was lifted on high in the +strong arms, and whirled across the barrier. The other looked grimly at +the falling burden. He wondered if a dog or a goat would have been so +long falling. The distance was profound indeed; but to the murderer's +sanguine thought the body hung suspended in the air. It would not sink. +The clouds seemed to bear it up for testimony; the cold cliffs held +aloft their heads for justice; the snow-flakes fell like the ballots of +jurymen, voting for revenge--all nature seemed roused to animation by +this one act. An icicle dropped with a keen ring like a knife, and the +stream below pealed a shrill alarum. + +He had done the bad, dark deed. Was he more resolute or courageous now +that he had taken blood upon his hands and shadow upon his soul? + +The body disappeared at length, carried downward by the torrent; but a +wild bird darted after it, as if to reveal the secret of its +concealment, and then a noise like a human footfall crackled in the +snow. + +"I like a man who takes the chances," said a cold, hard voice; "but +Chance, Andy Plade, decides against you to-day." + + + + +IX. + +THE ONE GOOD DEED OF A PRIVATEERSMAN. + + +The murderer turned from his reverie with hands extended and trembling; +the snow was not more bleached than his bloodless face, and his feet +grew slippery and infirm. An alcove, which he had not marked, was hewn +in the brow of the precipice. It had been intended to shelter pilgrims +from the wind and the snow; and there, wrapped in his buff garments, +whose hue, assimilating to that of the rock, absorbed him from +detection, stood a witness to the deed--the guard to the diligence--none +other than Auburn Risque. + +For an instant only the accused shrank back. Then his body grew short +and compact; he was gathering himself up for a life-struggle. + +"Hold off!" said Risque, in his old, hard, measured way; "we guards go +armed; if you move, I shall scatter your brains in the snow; if I miss +you, a note of this whistle will summon my postilions." + +The cold face was never more emotionless; he held a revolver in his +hand, and kept the other in his blank, spotted eye, as if locating the +vital parts with the end to bring him down at a shot. + +"You do not play well," said Risque at length, when the other, ghastly +white, sat speechless upon the parapet; "if you were the student of +chance, that I have been, you would know that at murder the odds are +always against you!" + +"You will not betray me?" pleaded Plade; "so inveterate a gamester can +have no conventional ideas of life or crime. I am ready to pay for your +discretion with half my winnings." + +"I am a gambler," said Risque, curtly; "not an assassin! I always give +my opponents fair show. But I will not touch blood-money." + +"What fair show do you give me?" + +"Two hours' start. I am responsible for my passengers. Go on, unharmed, +if you will. But at Hospice I shall proclaim you. Every moment that you +falter spins the rope for your gallows!" + +Plade did not dally, but took to flight at once. He climbed by the +angles of the terraces, and saw the diligence far below tugging up the +circuitous road. He ran at full speed; no human being was abroad +besides, but yet there were other footfalls in the snow, other sounds, +as of a man breathing hard and pursued upon the lonely mountain. The +fugitive turned--once, twice, thrice; he laughed aloud, and shook his +clenched hand at the sky. Still the flat, dead tramp followed close +behind, and the pace seemed not unfamiliar. It could not be--his blood +ceased to circulate, and stood freezing at the thought--was it the +march, the tread of Hugenot? + +He dropped a loud curse, like a howl, and kept upon his way. The +footfalls were as swift; he saw their impressions at his heels--prints +of a small, lithe, human foot, made by no living man. He shut his eyes +and his ears, but the consciousness remained, the inexplicable +phenomenon of some invisible but familiar thing which would not leave +him; which made its register as it passed; which no speed could +outstrip, no argument exorcise. + +Was it a sick fancy, a probed heart, or did the phantom of the dead man +indeed give chase? + +Ah! there is but one class of folks whose faith in spirits nothing can +shake--the guilty, the bloody-handed. + +He came to a perturbed rest at the huge, half-hospitable Hospice, to the +enthusiasm of the postilions. + +"Will the gentleman have a saddle-horse?" + +"A chariot?" + +"A cabriolet?" + +"Ten francs to Andermatt!" + +"Thirty francs to Fluelen!" + +"One hundred francs," cried Plade, "for the fleetest pony to Andermatt. +Ten francs to the postilion who can saddle him in two minutes. My mother +is dying in Lyons." + +He climbed one of the dark flights of stairs, and an old, uncleanly monk +gave him a glass of Kerschwasser. He descended to the stables, and +cursed the Swiss lackeys into speed. He gave such liberal largess that +there was an involuntary cheer, and as he galloped away the great +diligence appeared in sight to rouse his haste to frenzy. + +The telegraph kept above him--a single line; he knew the tardiness of +foot when pursued by the lightning. In one place, the conductor, +wrenched from the insulators, dropped almost to the ground. There was a +strap upon his saddle; he reined his nag to the side of the road, and, +making a knot about the wire, dashed off at a bound; the iron snapped +behind; his triumphant laugh pealed yet on the twilight, when the cries +of his pursuers rang over the fields of snow. They were aroused; he was +fleetly mounted, but they came behind in sledges. + +The night closed over the road as he caught the wizard bells. The +moonlight turned the peaks to fire. The dark firs shook down their +burdens of snow. There were cries of wild beasts from the ravines below. +The post-houses were red with firelight. The steed floundered through +the snow-drifts driven by blow and halloo. It was a fearful ride upon +the high Alps; the sublimity of nature bowed down to the mystery of +crime! + +Bright noon, on the third day succeeding, saw the fugitive emerge from +the railway station at Dieppe. He had escaped the Swiss frontier with +his life, but had failed to make sure that escape by reaching the harbor +at the appointed time. Broken in spirit, grown old already, he faltered +toward the town, and, stopping on the fosse-bridge, looked sorrowfully +across the shipping in the dock. Something caught his regard amid the +cloud of tri-color; he looked again, shading his eye with a tremulous +palm. There could not be a doubt--it was the Confederate standard--the +Stars and Bars. + +The Planter had been delayed; she waited with steam up and an expectant +crew; her slender masts leaned against the sky; her anchor was lifted; a +knot of idlers watched her from the quay. + +In a moment Mr. Plade was on board. He asked for the commander, and a +short, gristly, sunburnt personage being indicated, he introduced +himself with that plausible speech which had wooed so many to their +fall. + +"I am a Charlestonian," said Plade; "a Yankee insulted me at the Grand +Hotel; we met in the Bois de Boulogne, and I ran him through the body. +His friends in Paris conspire against my life. I ask to save it now, +only to die on your deck, that it may be worth something to my country." + +They went below, and the privateer put the applicant through a rigid +examination. + +"This vessel must get to sea to night," he said. "I will not hazard +trouble with the French authorities by keeping you here. Spend the +afternoon ashore; we sail at eleven o'clock precisely; if at that time +you come aboard, I will take you." + +Plade protested his gratitude, but the skipper motioned him to peace. + +"You seem to be a gentleman," he added; "if I find you so, you shall be +my purser. But, hark!" he looked keenly at the other, and laid his hand +upon his throat--"I am under the espionage of the Yankee ambassador. +There are spies who seek to join my crew for treasonable ends; if I find +you one of these, you shall hang to my yard-arm!" + +The felon walked into the dim old city, and seated himself in a +wine-shop. Some market folks were chanting in _patois_, and their +light-heartedness enraged him. He turned up a crooked street, and +stopped before an ancient church, grotesque with broken buttresses, +pinnacles, and gargoyles. The portal was wide open, and, as he entered, +some scores of school-children burst suddenly into song. It seemed to +him an accusation, shouted by a choir of angels. + +At the end of the city, facing the sea, rose a massive castle. He scaled +its stairs, and passed through the courtyard, and, crossing the farther +moat, stood upon a grassy hill--once an outwork--whence the blue channel +was visible half way to England. + +A knot of soldiers came out to regard him, and his fears magnified their +curiosity; he ran down the parapet, to their surprise, and re-entered +the town by a roundabout way. "I will take a chamber," he said, "and +shun observation." + +An old woman, in a starched cap, who talked incessantly, showed him a +number of rooms in a great stone building. He chose a garret among the +chimney-stacks, and lit a fire, and ordered a newspaper and a bottle of +brandy. He sat down to read in loneliness. As he surmised, the murder +was printed among the "_Faits Divers_;" it gave his name and the story +of the tragedy. His chair rattled upon the tiles as he read, and the +tongs, wherewith he touched the fire, clattered in his nervous fingers. + +The place was not more composed than himself; the flame was the noisiest +in the world; it crackled and crashed and made horrible shadows on the +walls. There were rats under the floor whose gnawings were like human +speech, and the old house appeared to settle now and then with a groan +as if unwilling to shelter guilt. As he looked down upon the clustering +roofs of the town they seemed wonderfully like a crowd of people gazing +up at his retreat. All the dormer-windows were so many pitiless eyes, +and the chimney-pots were guns and cannon to batter down his eyrie. + +When night fell upon the city and sea, his fancies were not less +alarming. He could not rid himself of the idea that the dead man was at +his side. In vain he called upon his victim to appear, and laughed till +the windows shook. It was there, _there_, always THERE! He did not see +it--but it was _there_! He felt its breath, its eye, its influence. It +leaned across his shoulder; it gossiped with the shadows; it laid its +hand heavily upon his pocket where lay the unholy gold. Some prints of +saints and the Virgin upon the wall troubled him; their faces followed +him wherever he turned; he tore them down at length, and tossed them in +the fire, but they blazed with so great flame that he cried out for +fear. + +The town-bells struck the hours; how far apart were the strokes! They +tolled rather than pealed, as if for an execution, and the lamps of some +passing carriages made a journey as of torches upon the ceiling. + +After nine o'clock there was a heavy tread upon the stairs. It kept him +company, and he was glad of its coming; but it drew so close, at length, +that he stood upright, with the cold sweat upon his forehead. + +The steps halted at his threshold; the door swung open; a corporal and a +soldier stood without, and the former saluted formally: + +"Monsieur the stranger, will remain in his chamber under guard. I grieve +to say that he is an object of grave suspicion. _Au revoir!_" + +The corporal retired without waiting for a reply; the soldier entered, +and, leaning his musket against the wall, drew a chair before the door +and sat down. The firelight fell upon his face after a moment, and +revealed to Mr. Plade his old associate, Pisgah! + +The former uttered a cry of hope and surprise; the soldier waved him +back with a menace. + +"I know you," he said; "but I am here upon duty; besides, I have no +friendship with a murderer." + +"We are both victims of a mistake! This accusation is not true. Will you +take my hand?" + +"I am forbidden to speak upon guard," answered Pisgah, sullenly. "Resume +your chair." + +"At least join me in a glass." + +"There is blood in it," said Pisgah. + +"I swear to you, no! Let me ring for your old beverage, absinthe." + +The soldier halted, irresolutely; the liquor came before he could +refuse. When once his lips touched the vessel, Mr. Plade knew that there +was still a chance for life. + +In an hour Mr. Pisgah was impotent from intoxication; his musket was +flung down the stairway, the door was bolted upon him, and the prisoner +was gone. + +He gained the Planter's deck as the screw made its first revolution; +they turned the channel-piles with a good-by gun; the motley crew +cheered heartily as they cleared the mole. + +The pirate was at sea on her mission of plunder--the murderer was free! + +The engines stopped abreast the city; the steamer lay almost motionless, +for there were lights upon the beach; a shrill "Ahoy!" broke over the +intervening waters, and the dip of oars indicated some pursuit. The +crew, half drunken, rallied to the edge of the vessel; knives glittered +amid the confusion of oaths and the click of pistols, while Mr. Plade +hastened to the skipper's side, and urged him for pity and mercy to +hasten seaward. + +The other motioned him back, coldly, and the boatswain piped all hands +upon deck. Lafitte nor Kidd never looked down such desperate faces as +this gristly privateer, when his buccaneers were around him. + +"Seamen," he spoke aloud, "you are afloat! Gold and glory await you; you +shall glut yourselves by the ruin of your enemy, and count your plunder +by the light of his burning merchantmen." + +The knives flickered in the torchlight, and a cheer, like the howl of +the damned, went up. + +"On the brink of such fortune, you find yourselves imperilled; treason +is with you; this pursuit, which we attend, is a part of its programme! +There is, within the sound of my voice, a spy!--a Yankee!" + +The weapons rang again; the desperadoes pressed forward, demanding with +shrieks and imprecations that the man should be named. + +"He is here," answered the captain, turning full upon the astonished +fugitive. "He came to me with a story of distress. I pitied him, and +gave him shelter; but I telegraphed to Paris to test his veracity, and I +find that he lied. No man has been slain in a duel as he states. I +believe him to be a Federal emissary, and he is in our power." + +A dozen rough hands struck Plade to the deck; he staggered up, with +blood upon his face, and called Heaven to witness that he was no +traitor. + +"Did you speak the truth to me to-day?" cried the accuser. + +"I did not; had I done so, you would have refused me relief." + +"What are you then? Speak!" + +The murderer cowered, with a face so blanched that the blood ceased to +flow at its gashes. + +"I cannot, I dare not tell!" he muttered. + +The skipper made a sign to an attendant. A rope from the yard-arm was +flung about the felon's neck, and made fast in a twinkling. He struggled +desperately, but the fierce buccaneers held him down; his clothing was +rent, and his hairs dishevelled; he made three frantic struggles for +speech; but the loud cheers mocked his words as they brandished their +cutlasses in his eyes. + +Then began that strange lifetime of reminiscence; that trooping of sins +and cruelties, in sure, unbroken continuity, through the reeling brain; +that moment of years; that great day of judgment, in a thought; that +last winkful of light, which flashes back upon time, and makes its +frailties luminous. And, higher than all offences, rose that of the fair +young wife deserted abroad, left to the alternatives of shame or +starvation. Her wail came even now, from the bed of the crowded +hospital, to follow him into the world of shadows. + +"Monsieur the Commander," hailed the spokesman in the launch, "the +government of his Imperial Majesty does not wish to interpose any +obstacle to the departure of the Confederate cruiser. It is known, +however, that a person guilty of an atrocious crime is concealed on +board. In this paper, Monsieur the Capitaine will find all the +specifications. The name of the person, Plade. The crime of the person, +murder, with premeditation. The giving up of said person is essential to +the departure of the cruiser from his Imperial Majesty's waters." + +There was blank silence on the deck of the privateer; the torches in the +launch threw a glare upon the water and sky. They lit up something +struggling between both at the tip of the rocking yard-arm. It was the +effigy of a man, bound and suspended, around which swept timidly the +bats and gulls, and the sea wind beat it with a shrill, jubilant cry. + +"I have done justice unconsciously," said the privateer; "may it be +remembered for me when I shall do injustice consciously!" + + + + +X. + +THE SURVIVING COLONISTS. + + +The catastrophe of the Colony and the episode having been attained, we +have only to leave Mr. Pisgah in Algiers, whither court-martial +consigned him, with the penalty of hard labor, and Mr. Risque on the +stage route he was so eminently fitted to adorn. The unhappy Freckle +continued in the prison of Clichy, and, having nothing else to do, +commenced the novel process of thinking. The prison stood high up on +Clichy Hill, walled and barred and guarded, like other jails, but within +it a fair margin of liberty was allowed the bankrupts, just sufficient +to make their fate terrible by temptation. Some good soul had endowed it +with a library; newspapers came every day; a café was attached to it, +where spirituous liquors were prohibited, to the wrath of the dry +throats and raging thirsts of the captives; there was a garden behind +it, and a billiard saloon, but these luxuries were not gratuitous; poor +Freckle could not even pay his one sou per diem to cook his rations, so +that the Prisoners' Relief Association had to make him a present of it. +He spent his time between his bare, cheerless bedroom and the public +hall. There were many Americans in the place; but none of them were +friendly with him when he was found to have no cash. Yet he heard them +speak together of their countrymen who had lain in the same jail years +before. Yonder was the room of Horace Greeley, incarcerated for a debt +which was not his own; here the blood-stains of the Pennsylvania youth +who looked out of the window, heedless of warning, and was shot dead by +the guard; there the ancient chair, in which Hallidore, the Creole, sat +so often, possessor of a million francs, but too obstinate to pay his +tailor's bill and go free. While Freckle thought of these, it was +suggested to him that he was a very wicked man. The tuitions of his +patriarchal father came to mind; he was seen on his knees, to the +infinite amusement of the other debtors, who were, however, quite too +polite to laugh in his face, and he no longer staked his ration of wine +at cards, whereby he had commonly lost it, but held long conversations +with an ardent old priest who visited the jail. The priest gave Freckle +_breviaries_ and catechisms, and told him that there was no peace of +mind outside of the apostolic fold. + +So Freckle diligently embraced the ancient Romish faith, renounced the +tenets of his plain old sire as false and heretical, and earnestly +prepared himself to enter the priesthood. + +In this frame of mind he was found by Mr. Simp, who had unexpectedly +returned to Paris, and, finding himself again prosperous, came to +release Freckle from the toils of Clichy. + +The latter waved him away. "I wish to know none of you," he said. "I +shall serve out this term, and never again speak to an American abroad." + +He was firm, and achieved his purpose. Enthusiasm often answers for +brains, and Freckle's religious zeal made him a changed man. He entered +a Jesuits' school after his discharge, and in another fashion became as +stern, severe, and self-denying as had been his father. He sometimes saw +his old comrade, Simp, driving down the Champs Elysées as Freckle came +from church in Paris, but the gallant did not recognize the young priest +in his dark gown and hose, and wide-rimmed hat. + +They followed their several directions, and in the end, with the +lessening fortunes of the Confederacy, grew more moody, and yet more +ruined by the consciousness that after once suffering the agony of +expatriation, they had not improved the added chance to make of +themselves men, not Colonists. + +It is not the pleasantest phase of our human nature to depict, but since +we have essayed it, let it close with its own surrounding shadow. + +If we have given no light touch of womanhood to relieve its sombre +career, we have failed to be artistic in order to be true. + +But that which made the Colonists weak has passed away. There are no +longer slaves at home--may there be no exiles abroad! + + + + + LITTLE GRISETTE. + + + Little Grisette, you haunt me yet; + My passion for you was long ago, + Before my head was heavy with snow, + Or mine eye had lost its lustre of jet. + In the dim old Quartier Latin we met; + We made our vows one night in June, + And all our life was honeymoon; + We did not ask if it were sin, + We did not go to kirk to know, + We only loved and let the world + Hum on its pelfish way below; + Marked from our castle in the air, + How pigmy its triumphal cars: + Eight stories from the entry stair, + But near the stars! + + Little Grisette, rich or in debt, + We were too fond to chide or sigh-- + Never so poor that I could not buy + A sweet, sweet kiss from my little Grisette. + If I could nothing gain or get, + By hook, or crook, or song, or story, + Along the starving road to glory, + I marvelled how your nimble thimble, + As to a tune, danced fast and fleeting, + And stopped my pen to catch the music, + But only heard my heart a-beating; + The quaint old roofs and gables airy + Flung down the light for you to wear it, + And made my love a queen in faery, + To haunt my garret. + + Little Grisette, the meals you set + Were sweeter to me than banquet feast; + Your face was a blessing fit for a priest, + At your smile the candle went out in a pet; + The wonderful chops I shall never forget! + If the wine was a trifle too sharp or rank, + We kissed each time before we drank. + The old gilt clock, aye wrong, was swinging + The waxen floor your feet reflected; + And dear Béranger's _chansons_ singing, + You tricked at _picquet_ till detected. + You fill my pipe;--is it your eyes + Whereat I light your cigarette? + On all but me the darkness lies + And my Grisette! + + Little Grisette, the soft sunset + Lingered a long while, that we might stay + To mark the Seine from the breezy quay + Around the bridges foam and fret; + How came it that your eyes were wet + When I ambitiously would be + A man renowned across the sea? + I told you I should come again-- + It was but half way round the globe-- + To bring you diamonds for your faith, + And for your gray a silken robe: + You were more wise than lovers are; + I meant, sweetheart, to tell you true, + I said a tearful "_Au revoir_;" + You said, "_Adieu!_" + + Little Grisette, we both regret, + For I am wedded more than wived; + Those careless days in thought revived + But teach me I cannot forget. + Perhaps old age must pay the debt + Young sin contracted long ago-- + I only know, I only know, + That phantoms haunt me everywhere + By busy day, in peopled gloam-- + They rise between me and my prayer, + They mar the holiness of home! + My wife is proud, my boy is cold, + I dare not speak of what I fret: + 'Tis my fond youth with thee I fold, + Little Grisette! + + + + +MARRIED ABROAD. + +AN AMERICAN ROMANCE OF THE QUARTIER LATIN. + + + + +PART I. + +TEMPTATION. + + +To say that Ralph Flare was "lonesome" would convey a feeble idea of his +condition. Four months in England had gone by wearily enough; but in +this great city of Paris, where he might as well have had no tongue at +all, for the uses he could put it to, he pined and chafed--and finally +swore. + +An oath, if not relief in itself, conduces to that effect, and it +happened in this case that a stranger heard it. + +"You are English," said the stranger, turning shortly upon Ralph Flare. + +"I am not," replied that youth, "I am an American." + +"Then we are countrymen," cried the other. "Have you dwelt long in the +Hôtel du Hibou?" + +Ralph Flare stated that he hadn't and that he had, and that he was bored +and sick of it, and had resolved to go back to the Republic, and fling +away his life in its armies. + +"Pooh! pooh!" shouted the other, "I see your trouble--you have no +acquaintances. It is six o'clock; come with me to dinner, and you shall +know half of Paris, men and women." + +They filed down the tortuous Rue Jacob, now thrice gloomy by the closing +shadows of evening, and turning into the Rue de Seine, stopped before +the doorway of a little painted _boutique_, whereon was written +"_Cremery du Quartier Latin_." + +A tall, sallow, bright-eyed Frenchman was seated at a fragment of +counter within the smallest apartment in the world, and addressing this +man as "Père George" the stranger passed through a second sash doorway +and introduced Ralph Flare to the most miscellaneous and democratic +assemblage that he had ever beheld in his life. + +Two long yellow tables reached lengthwise down a long, narrow _salon_, +the floor whereof was made of tiles, and the light whereof fizzed and +flamed from two unruly burners. A door at the farther end opened upon a +cook-room, and the cook, a scorched and meagre woman, was standing now +in the firelight, talking in a high key, as only a Frenchwoman can talk. + +Then there was Madame George, fat and handsome, and gossipy likewise, +with a baby, a boy, and a daughter; and the patrons of the place, twenty +or more in number, were eating and laughing and all speaking at the same +time, so that Ralph Flare was at first stunned and afterward astonished. + +His new acquaintance, Terrapin, went gravely around the table, shaking +hands with every guest, and Ralph was wedged into the remotest corner, +with Terrapin upon his right, and upon his left a creature so naïve and +petite that he thought her a girl at first, but immediately corrected +himself and called her a child. + +Terrapin addressed her as Suzette, and stated that his friend Ralph was +a stranger and quite solitary; whereat Suzette turned upon him a pair of +soft, twinkling eyes, and laughed very much as a peach might do, if it +were possible for a peach to laugh. He could only say a horrible _bon +jour_, and make the superfluous intimation that he could not speak +French; and when Madame George gave him his choice of a dozen +unpronounceable dishes, he looked so utterly blank and baffled that +Suzette took the liberty of ordering dinner for him. + +"You won't get the run of the language, Flare," said Terrapin, +carelessly, "until you find a wife. A woman is the best dictionary." + +"You mean, I suppose," said Flare, "a wife for a time." + +Little Suzette was looking oddly at him as he faced her, and when Ralph +blushed she turned quietly to her _potage_ and gave him a chance to +remark her. + +She had dark, smooth hair, closing over a full, pale forehead, and her +shapely head was balanced upon a fair, round neck. There was an +alertness in her erect ear, and open nostril, and pointed brows which +indicated keen perception and comprehension; yet even more than this +generic quickness, without which she could not have been French, the +gentleness of Suzette was manifest. + +Ralph thought to himself that she must be good. It was the face of a +sweet sister or a bright daughter, or one of those school-children with +whom he had played long ago. And withal she was very neat. If any +commandment was issued especially to the French, it enjoined tidiness; +but this child was so quietly attired that her cleanliness seemed a +matter of nature, not of command. Her cheap coral ear-drops and the thin +band of gold upon her white finger could not have been so fitting had +they been of diamonds; and her tresses, inclosed in a fillet of beads, +were tied in a breadth of blue ribbon which made a cunning lover's-knot +above. A plain collar and wristbands, a bright cotton dress and dark +apron, and a delicate slipper below--these were the components of a +picture which Ralph thought the loveliest and pleasantest and best that +he had ever known. + +In his own sober city of the Middle States he would have been ashamed to +connect with these innocent features a doubt, a light thought, a desire. +Yet here in France, where climate, or custom, or man had changed the +relations though not the nature of woman, he did but as the world, in +blending with Suzette's tranquil face a series of ideas which he dared +not associate with what he had called pure, beautiful, or happy. + +Now and then they spoke together, unintelligibly of course, but very +merrily, and Ralph's appetite was that of the great carnivora; potage, +beef, mutton, pullet, vanished like waifs, and then came the salad, +which he could not make, so that Suzette helped him again with her +sprightly white fingers, contriving so marvellous a dish that Ralph +thought her a little magician, and wanted to eat salad till daybreak. + +"Now for the cards!" cried Terrapin, when they had finished the _café_ +and the _eau-de-vie_; and as the parties ranged themselves about the +greater table, Terrapin, who knew everybody, gave their names and +avocations. + +"That is Boetia, a journalist on the _Siècle_; you will observe that he +smokes his cigars quite down to the stump. The little man beside him, +with a blouse, is Haynau, fellow of the College of Beaux +Arts--dead-broke, as usual; and his friend, the sallow chap, is Moise, +whose father died last week, leaving him ten thousand francs. Moise, you +will see, has a wife, Feefine, though I suspect him of bigamy; and the +tall girl, with hair like midnight and a hard voice, is at present +unmarried. Those four fellows and their dames are students of medicine. +They have one hundred francs a month apiece, and keep house upon it." + +"And Suzette," said Ralph Flare, impatiently. + +"Oh, she is a _couturière_, a dressmaker, but just now a clerk at a +glover's. She has dwelt sagely, generally speaking. She breakfasts upon +five sous; a roll, café, and a bunch of grapes--her dinner costs eighty +centimes, and she makes a franc and a half a day, leaving enough to pay +her room-rent." + +"It is a little sum--seven dollars and a half a month--how is the girl +to dress?" + +Terrapin shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing. + +They played "ramps," an uproarious game; and Suzette was impetuous and +noisy as the rest, with brightened cheeks and eyes and a clear, silvery +voice. The stake was a bottle of Bordeaux. Few women play cards +honestly, and Suzette was the first to go out; but seeing that Ralph +floundered and lost continually, she gave him her attention, looking +over his hand, and talking for him, and counting with so dexterous +deceit that he escaped also, while Terrapin paid for the wine. + +It was not the most reputable amusement in the world; but the hours were +winged, and midnight came untimely. Suzette tied on a saucy brown flat +streaming with ribbons, and bade them good-night, ending with Ralph, in +whose palm her little fingers lay pulsing an instant, bringing the blood +to his hand. + +How mean the _cremery_ and its patrons seemed now that she was gone! The +great clamp at the portal of his hotel sounded very ghostly as he +knocked; the concierge was a hideous old man in gown and nightcap. + +"_Toujours seul, monsieur_," he said, with an ugly grin. + +"What does that mean, Terrapin?" said Ralph. + +"He says that you always come home alone." + +"How else should I come?" said Ralph, dubiously. + +"How, indeed?" answered Terrapin. + +It was without doubt a dim old pile--the Hôtel du Hibou. What murderers, +and thieves, and Jacobins might not have ascended the tiles of the grand +stairway? There was a cumbrous mantel in his chamber, funereal with +griffins, and there were portraits with horribly profound eyes. The sofa +and the chairs were huge; the deep window-hangings were talking together +in a rustling, mocking way; while the bed in its black recess seemed so +very long and broad and high for one person, that Ralph sat down at the +stone table, too lonely or too haunted to sleep. + +Would not even this old grave be made merry with sunlight, if little +Suzette were here? + +He opened the book of familiar French phrases, and began to copy some of +them. He worked feverishly, determinedly, for quite a time. Then he read +the list he had made, half aloud. It was this: + +"Good-morning, my pretty one!" + +"Will you walk with me?" + +"May I have your company to dinner?" + +"What is your name?" + +"I dare say you laugh at my pronunciation." + +"I am lonely in Paris." + +"Are you?" + +"You ought to see my chambers." + +"Let me buy you a bracelet!" + +"I love you!" + +Ralph's voice stopped suddenly. There were deep echoes in the great +room, which made him thrill and shudder. How still and terrible were the +silence and loneliness! + +A pang, half of guilt, half of fear, went keenly to his heart. It seemed +to him that his mother was standing by his shoulder, pointing with her +thin, tremulous fingers to the writing beneath him, and saying: + +"My boy, what does this mean?" + +He held it in the candle-flame, and thought he felt better when it was +burned; but he could not burn all those thoughts of which the paper was +only a copy. + + + + +PART II. + +POSSESSION. + + +If the _cremery_ had seemed lonely by gaslight, what must Ralph Flare +have said of it next morning, as he sat in his old place and watched the +_ouvriers_ at breakfast? They came in, one by one, with their baton of +brown bread, and called for two sous' worth of coffee and milk. The men +wore blouses of blue and white, and jested after the Gallic code with +the sewing-girls. This bread and coffee, and a pear which they should +eat at noon, would give them strength to labor till nightfall brought +its frugal repast. Yet they were happy as crickets, and a great deal +more noisy. + +Here is little Suzette, smiling and skipping, and driving her glances +straight into Ralph Flare's heart. + +"Good-day, sir," she cries, and takes a chair close by him, after the +manner of a sparrow alighting. She smooths back her pure wristbands, +disclosing the grace of the arm, and as she laughs in Ralph's face he +knows what she is saying to herself; it is more doubtful that he loves +her than that she knows it. + +"_Peut-être, monsieur, vous-avez besoin des gants?_" + +She gave him the card of her _boutique_, and laughed like a sunbeam +playing on a rivulet, and went out singing like the witch that she was. + +"I don't want gloves," said Ralph Flare; "I won't go to her shop." + +But he asked Père George the direction, notwithstanding; and though his +conscience seemed to be blocking up the way--a tangible, visible, +provoking conscience--he put his feet upon it and shut his lips, and +found the place. + +Ralph Flare has often remarked since--for he is quite an artist +now--that of all scenes in art or nature that _boutique_ was to him the +rarest. He has tried to put it into color--the miniature counter, the +show-case, the background of boxes, each with a button looking +mischievously at him, or a glove shaking its forefinger, or a shapely +pair of hose making him blush, and the daintiest child in the world, +flushing and flirting and gossiping before him; but the sketch recalls +matters which he would forget, his hands lose command, something makes +his eye very dim, and he lays aside his implements, and takes a long +walk, and wears a sober face all that day. + +We may all follow up the sequence of a young man's thoughts in doing a +strange wrong for the first time. If Ralph's passions of themselves +could not mislead him, there were not lacking arguments and advisers to +teach him that this was no offence, or that the usage warranted the sin. +He became acquainted, through Terrapin, with dozens of his countrymen; +the youngest and the oldest and the most estimable had their open +attachments. So far as he could remark, the married and the unmarried +tradesmen's wives in Paris were nearly equal in consideration. How could +he become perfect in the language without some such incentive and +associate? + +His income was not considerable, but they told him that to double his +expenses was certain economy. He was very lonely, and he loved company. +His age was that at which the affections and the instincts alike impel +the man to know more of woman--the processes of her mind, her +capacities, her emotions, the idiosyncrasies which divided her from his +own sex. + +Hitherto he had been chaste, though once when he had confessed it to +Terrapin, that incredulous person said something about the marines, and +repeated it as a good joke; he felt, indeed, that he was not entirely +manly. He had half a doubt that he was worthy to walk with men, else why +had not his desires, like theirs, been stronger than his virtue; and had +not the very feebleness of desire proved also a feebleness of power? +But, more than all, he had a weakness for Suzette. + +There was old Terrapin, with bonnets and dresses in his wardrobe, and a +sewing-basket on his mantel, and with his own huge boots outside the +door a pair of tapering gaiters, and in his easy-chair a little being to +sing and chatter and mix his punch and make his cigarettes. Ah! how much +more entrancing would be Ralph's chamber with Suzette to garnish it! He +would make a thousand studies of her face; she should be his model, his +professor, his divinity! What was gross in her he would refine; what +dark he would make known. They would walk together by the river side, +into the parks, into the open country. He would know no regrets for the +friends across the sea. Europe would become beautiful to him, and his +art would find inspiration from so much loveliness. No indissoluble tie +would bind them, to make kindness a duty and love necessity. No social +tyranny should prescribe where he should visit, and where she should +not. The hues of the picture deepened and brightened as he imagined it. +He was resolved to do this thing, though a phantom should come to his +bedside every night, and every shadow be his accusation. + +He committed to memory some phrases of French; Terrapin was his +interpreter, and they went together--those three and a sober +_cocher_--to the Bois de Boulogne. Terrapin stated to Suzette in a +shockingly informal way that Ralph loved her and would give her a +beautiful chamber and relieve her from the drudgery of the glove-shop. + +They were passing down the broad, gravelled drive, with the foliage +above them edged with moonlight, the mock cataract singing musically +below, and the _cocher_, half asleep, nodding and slashing his horses. +And while Terrapin turned his head and made himself invisible in +cigar-smoke, Ralph folded Suzette to his breast, and kissed her once so +demonstratively that the _cocher_ awoke with a spring and nearly fell +off the box, but was quite too much of a _cocher_ to turn and +investigate the matter. + +That was the ceremony, and that night the nuptials. Few young couples +make a better commencement. She gave him a list of her debts, and he +paid them. They removed from Ralph's dim quarters to a cheap and +cheerful chamber upon the new Boulevard. It was on the fifth floor; the +room was just adapted for so little a couple. Superficially observed, +the furniture resolved itself into an enormous clock and a monstrously +fine mirror; but after a while you might remark four small chairs and a +great one, a bureau and a wardrobe, a sofa and a canopied bed; and just +without the two gorgeously curtained windows lay a cunning balcony, +where they could sit of evenings, with the old ruin of the Hôtel Cluny +beneath them, the towers of Notre Dame in the middle ground, and at the +horizon the beautifully wooded hill of Père la Chaise. + +Suzette had tristful eyes when they rested upon this cemetery. Her baby +lay there, without a stone--not without a flower. + +"_Pauvre petite Jules!_" she used to say, nestling close to Ralph, and +for a little while they would not speak nor move, but the smoke of his +cigar made a charmed circle around them, and the stars came out above, +and the panorama of the great Boulevard moved on at their feet. + +Their first difficulties were financial, of course. Suzette would have +liked a silken robe, a new bonnet, a paletot, gloves and concomitants +unlimited. She delighted to walk upon the Boulevard, the Rue Rivoli, and +into the Palais Royal, looking into the shop-windows and selecting what +she would buy when Ralph's remittances came. Her hospitality when his +friends visited him did less honor to her purse than to her heart. She +certainly made excellent punches; Terrapin thought her cigarettes +unrivalled; she was fond of cutting a fruit-pie, and was quite a +_connoisseur_ with wines. Ralph did not wonder at her tidiness when the +laundry bills were presented, but doubted that the _coiffeur_ beautified +her hair; and one day, when a cool gentleman in civil uniform knocked at +the door, and insisted upon the immediate payment of a bill for fifty +francs, he lost his temper and said bad words. What could be done? +Suzette was sobbing; Ralph detested "scenes;" he threatened to leave +the hotel and Paris, and frightened her very much--and paid the money. + +"You said, Suzette, that you had rendered a full account of all your +indebtedness. You told me a lie!" + +"Poor boy," she replied, "this debt was so old that I never expected to +hear of it." + +"Have you any more--old or otherwise?" + +Suzette said demurely that she did not owe a sou in the world, but was +able to recall thirty francs in the course of the afternoon, and assured +him, truly, that this was the last. + +Still, she lacked economy. They went to the same _cremery_, but her +meals cost one half more than his. She never objected to a ride in a +_voiture_; she liked to go to the balls, but walked very soberly upon +his arm, recognizing nobody, and exacting the same behavior from Ralph. +Let him look at an unusually pretty girl, through a shop-window, upon +his peril! If a letter came for him signed Lizzie, or Annie, or Mary, +she took the dictionary and tried to interpret it, and in the end called +him a _vilain_ and wept. + +Toward the letters signed "Lizzie" she conceived a deep antipathy. With +a woman's instinct she discerned that "Lizzie" was more to Ralph than +any other correspondent. A single letter satisfied her of this; and when +he was reading it, for the second time, she snatched it from his hand +and flung it fiercely upon the floor. Ralph's eyes blazed menace and her +own cowered. + +"Take up that letter, Suzette!" + +"I won't!" + +"Take it up, I say! I command! instantly!" He had risen to his feet, +and was the master now. She stooped, with pale jealousy lying whitely in +her temples, and gave it to him meekly, and sat down very stricken and +desolate. There was one whom he loved better than her--she felt it +bitterly--a love more respectful, more profound--a woman, perhaps, whom +he meant to make his wife some day, when SHE should be only a shameful +memory! + +It may have been the reproach of this infidelity, or the thought of his +home, or the infatuation of his present guileful attachment, which kept +Ralph Flare from labor. + +There was the great Louvre, filled with the riches of the old masters, +and the galleries of the Luxembourg with the gems of the French school, +so marvellous in color and so superb in composition, and the mighty +museum of Versailles, with its miles of battle pictures--yet the third +month of his tenure in Paris was hastening by, and he had not made one +copy. + +Suzette was a bad model. She _posed_ twice, but changed her position, +and yawned, and said it was ridiculous. He had never made more than a +crayon portrait of her. He found, too, that five hundred francs a month +barely sufficed to keep them, and once, in the interval of a remittance, +they were in danger of hunger. Yet Suzette plied her needle bravely, and +was never so proud as when she had spread the dinner she had earned. In +acknowledgment of this fidelity Ralph took her to a grand _magasin_, +where they examined the goods gravely, as married folks do, consulting +each other, and trying to seem very sage and anxious. + +There probably was never such a bonnet as Suzette's in the world. It was +black, and full of white roses, and floating a defiant ostrich-plume, +and tied with broad red ribbons, whereby she could be recognized from +one end of the Luxembourg gardens to the other. + +The paletot was clever in like manner; she made the dress herself, and +its fit was perfection, showing her plump little figure all the plumper, +while its black color set off the whiteness of her simple collar, and +with those magic gaiters, Ralph's gift also, he used to sit in the big +chair, peering at her, and in a quandary as to whether he had ever been +so happy before, or ever so disquieted. + +"Now, my little woman," said Ralph, "I have redeemed my promises; you +have a chamber, and garments, and subsistence--more than any of your +friends--and I am with you always; few wives live so pleasantly; but +there is one thing which you must do." + +Suzette, sitting upon his knee, protested that he could not command any +impossible thing which she would not undertake. + +"You must work a little; we are both idle, and if we continue so, may +have _ennui_ and may quarrel. After three days I will not pay for your +breakfasts, and every day in which you do not breakfast with me, paying +for yourself, I will give you no dinner. Remember it, Suzette, for I am +in earnest." + +Her color fell a little at this, for she had no love for the needle. It +was merrier in the _boutique_ to chat with customers, yet she started +fairly, and for a week earned a franc a day. The eighth day came; she +had no money. Ralph put on his hat and went down the _Rue L'École de +Médecin_ without her; but his breakfast was unpalatable, indigestible. +Five o'clock came round; she was sitting at the window, perturbedly +waiting to see how he would act. + +It wrung his heart to think that she was hungry, but he tried to be very +firm. + +"I am going to dinner, Suzette! I keep my word, you see." + +"It is well, Ralph." + +That night they said little to each other. The dovecote was quite cold, +for the autumn days were running out, and they lighted a hearth fire. +Suzette made pretence of reading. She had an impenitent look; for she +conceived that she had been cruelly treated, and would not be soothed +nor kissed. Ralph smoked, and said over some old rhymes, and, finally +rising, put on his cloak. + +"I am going out, Suzette; you don't make my room cheerful." + +"_Bien!_" + +He walked very slowly and heavily down the stairs, to convince her that +he was really going or hoping to be recalled, but she did not speak. He +saw the light burning from his windows as he looked up from below. He +was regretful and angry. At Terrapin's room he drank much raw brandy and +sang a song. He even called the astute Terrapin a humbug, and toward +midnight grew quarrelsome. They escorted him to his hotel door; the +light was still burning in his room. He was sober and repentant when he +had ascended the long stairs, though he counterfeited profound +drunkenness when he stood before her. + +She had been weeping, and in her white night-habit, with her dark hair +falling loosely upon her shoulders, she was very lovely. The clock +struck one as they looked at each other. She fell upon his neck and +removed his garments, and wrapped him away between the coverlets; and he +watched her for a long time in the flickering light till a deep sleep +fell upon him, so that he could not feel how closely he was clasped in +her arms. + + + + +PART III. + +CONSCIENCE. + + +Lest it has not been made clear in these paragraphs whether Suzette was +a good or a wicked being, we may give the matured and recent judgment of +Ralph Flare himself. Put to the test of religion, or even of +respectability, this intimacy was baneful. A wild young man had broken +his honor for the companionship of a poor, errant girl. She was poor, +but she hated to work; she had no regard for his money; she did not +share his ambition. Making against her a case thus clear and certain, +Ralph Flare entered for Suzette the plea of _not_ wicked, and this was +his defence! + +_She was educated in France._ Particular sins lose their shame in some +countries. Woman in France had not the high mission and respect which +she fulfilled in his own land. Suzette was one of many children. Her +father was the cultivator of a few acres in Normandy. Her mother died as +the infant was ushered into the world. To her father and brothers she +was of an unprofitable sex, and her sisters disliked her because she +was handsomer than they. Her childhood was cheerless enough, for she had +quick instincts, and her education availed only to teach her how grand +was the world, and how confined her life. She left her home by stealth, +in the night, and alone. In the city of Cherbourg she found occupation. +She dwelt with strangers; she was lonely; her poverty and her beauty +were her sorrows. She was a girl only till her fifteenth year. + +The young mother has but one city of refuge--Paris. Without friends she +passed the bitterness of reminiscence. Through the poverty of skill or +sustenance she lost her boy, and the great city lay all before her where +to choose. Luckily, in France every avenue to struggle was not closed to +her sisterhood; with us such gather only the wages of sin. It was not +there an irreparable disgrace to have fallen. For a full year she lived +purely, industriously, lonely; what adventures ensued Ralph knew +imperfectly. She met, he believed that she loved him. It was not +probable, of course, that she came out of the wrestle unscathed. She +deceived in little things, but he knew when to trust her. She was +quick-tempered and impatient of control, but he understood her, and +their quarrels were harbingers of their most happy seasons. She was +generous, affectionate, artless. He did not know among the similar +attachments of his friends any creature so pliable, so true, so +beautiful. + +It was upon her acquaintances that Ralph placed the blame when she +erred. Fanchette was one of these--the dame of a student from Bretagne, +a worldly, plotting, masculine woman--the only one whom he permitted to +visit her. It was Fanchette who loaned her money when she was indolent, +and who prompted her to ask favors beyond his means. + +Toward the end of every month Ralph's money ran out, and then he was +petulant and often upbraided her. Those were the only times when he +essayed to study, and he would not walk with her of evenings, so +destitute. Then Fanchette amused her: "Sew in my room," she would say; +"Ralph will come for you at eight o'clock." But Ralph never went, and +Fanchette poisoned his little girl's mind. + +"When will you leave Paris, baby?" said Suzette one evening, as she +returned from her friend's and found him sitting moodily by the fire. + +"Very soon," he replied crisply; "that is, if ever I have money or +resolution enough to start." + +"Won't you take me with you, little one?" + +"No!" + +"You don't love me any more!" + +"Pish!" + +"Kiss me, my boy!" + +"Oh, go away, you bother me--you always bother me when my money is low. +Haven't I told you about it before?" + +But the next morning as Suzette made her toilet, older and more +silently, he felt repentant, and called her to him, and they talked a +long while of nothingnesses. He had a cruel way of playing with her +feelings. + +"Suzette," he would say, "would you like me to take you to my country +and live with you forever?" + +"Very much, my child!" + +"My father has a beautiful farm, which he means to give to me. There is +a grand old house upon it, and from the high porch you can see the blue +bay speckled with sails. The orchards are filled with apples and pears. +You must walk an hour to get around the corn-fields, and there is a +picnic ground in the beech-woods, where we might entertain our friends. +I have many friends. How jolly you would look in my big rocking-chair, +before the fireplace blazing with logs, and with your lap full of +chestnuts, telling me of Paris life!" + +She was drinking it all in, and the blood was ripe in her cheeks. + +"Think, little one," he said, "of passing our days there, you and I! I +have made you my wife, for example; I paint great pictures; you are +proud of me; everybody respects you; you have your saddle-horse and your +tea-parties; you learn to be ashamed of what you were; you are anxious +to be better--not in people's eyes only, but in mine, in your own. To do +good deeds; to sit in the church hearing good counsel; to be patted upon +the forehead by my father--his daughter!--and to call my brother your +brother also. Thus honored, contented, good, your hairs turn gray with +mine. We walk along hand in hand so evenly that we do not perceive how +old we are growing. We may forget everything but our love; that remains +when we are gone--a part of our children's inheritance." + +He spoke excellent French now; to her it was eloquence. Her arms were +around his neck. He could feel her heart, beating. He had expressed what +she scarcely dared to conceive--all her holiest, profoundest hopes, her +longing for what she had never been, for what she believed she would try +to be worthy of. + +"Oh, my baby," she cried, half in tears, "you make me think! I have +never thought much or often; I wish I was a scholar, as you are, to tell +you how, since we have dwelt together, something like that has come to +me in a dream. Perhaps it is because you talk to me so that I love you +so greatly. Nobody ever spoke to me so before. That is why I am angry +when your proud friend Lizzie writes to you. All that good fortune is +for her; you are to quit Paris and me. My name will be unworthy to be +mentioned to her. How shall I be in this bad city, growing old; yet I +would try so earnestly to improve and be grateful!" + +"Would you, truly, sweetheart?" + +She only sobbed and waited; he coughed in a dry way and unclasped her +hands. + +"I pity you, poor Suzette," he said, "but it is quite impossible for us +to be more to each other. My people would never speak to me if I behaved +so absurdly. Go to bed now, and stop crying; good-night." + +She staggered up, so crushed and bowed and haggard that his conscience +smote him. He could not have done a greater cruelty to one like +her--teaching her to hope, then to despair. The next day, and the next, +she worked at Fanchette's. His remittance did not come; he was out of +temper, and said in jest that he would set out for Italy within a week. +There was a pale decision in her countenance the fourth morning. She put +on her gray robe and a little cap which she had made. He did not offer +to kiss her, and she did not beseech it. He saw her no more until nine +o'clock, when she came in with Fanchette, and her cheeks were flushed +as with wine. This made him more angry. He said nothing to either of +them and went to sleep silently. + +The fifth day she returned as before. He was sitting up by the +fireplace; his rent was due; he was quite cast down, and said: + +"Dear, when my purse was full you never went away two whole days, +leaving me alone." + +"You are to leave me, Ralph, forever!" But she was touched, and in the +morning said that she would come back at midday. Still no remittance. He +felt like a bear. Twelve o'clock came--Suzette did not appear. It +drifted on to one; he listened vainly for her feet upon the stairs. At +two he sat at the window watching; she entered at three, half mild, half +timorous, and gave him a paper of sugar plums. + +"Where did those come from?" he asked, with a scowl. + +"Fanchette gave them to me." + +"I don't believe it; there is _kirsch wasser_ on your lips; you have +been drinking." + +She drew her handkerchief from her pocket; a little box, gilt-edged, +came out with it, and rolled into the middle of the floor. Suzette +leaped for it with a quick pallor; he wrenched it from her hands after a +fierce struggle, and delving into the soft cotton with which it was +packed, brought out sleeve-buttons of gold and a pearl breastpin. They +were new and glittering, and they flashed a burning suspicion into his +heart. He forced her unresisting into a chair, and flung them far out of +the window, over the house-roofs. Then he sat down a moment to gain +breath, and marked her with eyes in which she saw that she was already +tried and sentenced. + +"Who gave you those things, Suzette?" he asked in a forced, strange +monotone. + +"My ancient _patronne_." + +"What's her name?" + +"I don't know." + +"Where does she live?" + +"I shan't tell you." + +He held her wrist tightly and pressed her back till her eyes were +compelled to mark his white, pinched lips and altogether bloodless +temples. His hand tightened upon her; his full, boyish figure +straightened and heightened beyond nature; his regard was terrible. A +terrible fear and silence fell around about them. + +"These are the gifts of a man," he whispered; "you do not know it better +than I. I shall walk out for one hour; at the end of that time there +must not be even a ribbon of yours in this chamber." + + + + +PART IV. + +REMORSE. + + +He gave the same order to the proprietor as he passed down-stairs, and +hurried at a crazy pace across the Pont des Arts to the rooms of +Terrapin. That philosopher was playing whist with his friends, and gave +as his opinion that Ralph was "spooney." + +Ralph drank much, talked much, chafed more. Somebody advised him to +travel, but he felt that Europe had nothing to show him like that which +he had lost. He told Madame George the story at the _cremery_. + +"Ah, monsieur," she said, "that is the way with all love in Paris." + +He played "ramps" with the French, but the game impressed him as stupid, +and he tried to quarrel with Boetia, who was too polite to be vexed. He +drank pure cognac, to the astonishment of the Gauls, but it had no +visible effect upon him, and Père George held up his hands as he went +away, saying: "Behold these Americans! they do everything with a fever; +brandy affects them no more than water." + +The room in the fifth story was very cold now. He tried to read in bed, +but the novel had no meaning in it. He walked up and down the balcony in +the November night, where he had often explained the motions of the +stars to her. They seemed to miss her now, and peeped inquisitively. He +looked into the bureau and wardrobe, half ashamed of the hope that she +had left some _souvenir_. There was not even a letter. She had torn a +leaf, on which she had written her name, out of his diary. The sketches +he had made of her were gone; if she had only taken her remembrance out +of his heart, it would have been well. Then he reasoned, with himself, +sensibly and consistently. It was a bad passion at first. How would it +have shamed his father and mother had they heard of it! Its continuance +was even more pernicious, making him profligate and idle; introducing +him to light pleasures and companies; enfeebling him, morally and +physically; diverting him from the beautiful arts; weakening his +parental love; divorcing him from grand themes and thoughts. He could +never marry this woman. Their heart-strings must have been wrung by some +final parting; and now that she had been proved untrue, was it not most +unmanly that he should permit her to stand even in the threshold of his +mind? It was a good riddance, he said, pacing the floor in the +firelight; but just then he glanced into the great mirror, and stood +fixed to mark the pallor of his face. Say what he might, laugh as he +did, with a hollow sound, that absent girl had stirred the very +fountains of his feelings. Not learned, not beautiful, not anything to +anybody but him--there was yet the difference between her love and her +deceit, which made him content or wretched. + +He felt this so keenly that he lifted his voice and cursed--himself, +her, society, mankind. Then he cried like a child, and called himself a +calf, and laughed bitterly, and cried again. + +There was no sleep for him that night. He drank brandy again in the +morning, and walked to the banker's. His remittance awaited him, and he +came out of the Rue de la Paix with thirty gold napoleons in his pocket. + +He met all the Americans at breakfast at Trappe's in the Palais Royal, +and strolling to the morgue with a part of them, kept on to Vincennes, +and spent a wretched day in the forest. At the Place de la Bastille, +returning, he got into a cabriolet alone and searched ineffectually +along the Rue Rivoli for a companion who would ride with him. "Go +through the Rue de Beaux Arts!" he said, as they crossed Pont Neuf. This +is a quiet street in the Latin Quarter filled with cheap _pensions_, in +one of which dwelt Fanchette. His heart was wedged in his throat as he +saw at the window little Suzette sewing. She wore one of the dresses he +had given her. Her face was old and piteous; she was red-eyed and worked +wearily, looking into the street like one on a rainy day. + +When she saw him, he thought, by her start and flush, that she was going +to fall from the chair; but then she looked with a dim, absent manner +into his face, like one who essays to remember something that was very +dear but is now quite strange. He was pleased to think that she was +miserable, and would have given much to have found her begging bread, as +she did that night of him. + +He had ridden by on purpose to show that he had money, and she sent him +by Terrapin's word a petition for a few francs to buy her a chamber. +Fanchette's friend had come home from the country, and it would not do +for her to occupy their single bedroom; but Ralph made reply by deputy, +to the effect that the donor of the jewelry would, he supposed, give her +a room. It was a weary week ensuing; he drank spirits all the time, and +made love to an English governess in the Tuileries garden, and when +Sunday came, with a rainy, windy, dismal evening, he went with Terrapin +and Co. to the Closerie des Lilas. + +This is the great ball of the Latin Quarter. It stands near the barriers +upon the Boulevard, and is haunted with students and grisettes. Commonly +it was thronged with waltzers, and the scene on gala nights, when all +the lamps were aflame, and the music drowned out by the thunder of the +dance, was a compromise between Paradise and Pandemonium. To-night there +was a beggarly array of folk; the multitude of _garçons_ contemplated +each other's white aprons, and old Bullier, the proprietor, staggering +under his huge hat, exhibited a desire to be taken out and interred. The +wild-eyed young man with flying, carroty locks, who stood in the set +directly under the orchestra, at that part of the floor called "the +kitchen," was flinging up his legs without any perceptible enjoyment, +and the policemen in helmets, and cuirassiers, who had hard work to keep +order in general, looked like lay figures now, and strolled off into the +embowered and sloppy gardens. There were not two hundred folk under the +roofs. Ralph had come here with the unacknowledged thought of meeting +Suzette, and he walked around with his cigar, leaning upon Terrapin's +arm and making himself disagreeable. + +Suddenly he came before her. She seemed to have arisen from the earth. +She looked so weak and haggard that he was impelled to speak to her; but +he was obdurate and hard-hearted. He could have filled her cup of +bitterness and watched her drink it to the dregs, and would have been +relentless if she was kneeling at his feet. + +"Flare, what makes you tremble so?" said Terrapin; "are you cold? +Confound it, man, you are sick! Sit here in the draft and take some +cognac." + +"No," answered Ralph, "I am all right again. You see my girl there? +(Don't look at her!) You know some of these girls, old fellow? I mean to +treat two of them to a bottle of champagne. She will see it. I mean for +her to do so. Who are these passing? Come with me." + +He walked by Suzette and her friend as if they had been invisible, and +addressed those whom he pursued with such energy that they shrank back. +He made one of them take his arm, and hurried here and there, saying +honeyed words all the time, by which she was affrighted; but every +smile, false as it was, fell into Suzette's heart. + +Weary, wan, wretched, she kept them ever in view, crossing his path now +and then, in the vain thought that she might have one word from him, +though it were a curse. He took his new friends into an alcove. She saw +the wine burst from the bottle, and heard the clink of the glasses as +they drank good health. She did not know that all his laughter was +feigned, that his happiness was delirium, that his vows were lies. She +did not believe Ralph Flare so base as to put his foot upon her, whom he +had already stricken down. + +And he--he was all self, all stone!--he laid no offence at his own door. +He did not ask if her infidelity was real or if it had no warrant in his +own slight and goading. The poor, pale face went after him +reproachfully. Every painful footfall that she made was the patter of a +blood-drop. Such unnatural excitement must have some termination. He +quarrelled with a waiter. Old Bullier ordered a cuirassier to take him +to the door; he would have resisted, but Terrapin whispered: "Don't be +foolish, Flare; if you are put out it will be a triumph for the girl;" +and only this conviction kept him calm. The cyprians whom he wooed +followed him out; he turned upon them bitterly when he had crossed the +threshold, and leaping into a carriage was driven to his hotel, where +he slept unquietly till daybreak. + +See him, at dawn, in deep slumber! his face is sallow, his lips are dry, +his chest heaves nervously as he breathes hard. It is a bad sleep; it is +the sleep of bad children, to whom the fiend comes, knowing that the +older they grow the more surely are they his own. + +This is not, surely, the bashful young man who started at the phantom of +his mother, and sinned reluctantly. Aye! but those who do wrong after +much admonishment are wickeder than those who obey the first bad +impulse. He is ten times more cast away who thinks and sins than he who +only sins and does not think. + +Ralph Flare was one of your reasoning villains. His conscience was not a +better nature rising up in the man, and saying "this is wrong." It was +not conscience at all; it was only a fear. Far down as Suzette might be, +she never could have been unfeeling, unmerciful as he. It is a bad +character to set in black and white, yet you might ask old Terrapin or +any shrewd observer what manner of man was Ralph, and they would say, +"So-so-ish, a little sentimental, spooney likewise; but a good fellow, a +good fellow!" And more curious than all, Suzette said so too. + +He rose at daylight, and dressed and looked at himself in the glass. He +felt that this would not do. His revenge had turned upon himself. He had +half a mind to send for Suzette, and forgive her, and plead with her to +come back again. The door opened: she of whom he thought stood before +him, more marked and meagre than he; and the old tyranny mounted to his +eyes as he looked upon her. He knew that she had come to be pardoned, to +explain, and he determined that she should suffer to the quick. + + + + +PART V. + +TYRANNY. + + +If this history of Ralph Flare that we are writing was not a fiction, we +might make Suzette give way at once under the burden of her grief, and +rest upon a chair, and weep. On the contrary, she did just the opposite. +She laughed. + +Human nature is consistent only in its inconsistencies. She meant to +break down in the end, but wished to intimidate him by a show of +carelessness, so she first said quietly: "Monsieur Ralph, I have come to +see to my washing; it went out with yours; will you tell the proprietor +to send it to me?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"May I sit down, sir? It is a good way up-stairs, and I want to breathe +a minute." + +"As you like, madame." + +He was resting on the sofa; she took a chair just opposite. There was a +table between them, and for a little while she looked with a ghastly +playfulness into his eyes, he regarding her coldly and darkly; and then, +she laughed. It was a terrible laugh to come from a child's lips. It was +a woman's pride, drowning at the bottom of her heart, and in its last +struggle for preservation sending up these bubbles of sound. + +We talk of tragic scenes in common life; this was one of them. The +little room with its waxed, inlaid floor, the light falling bloodily in +at the crimson curtains and throwing unreal shadows upon the spent fire, +the disordered furniture, the unmade bed; and there were the two actors, +suffering in their little sphere what only _seems_ more suffering in +prisons and upon scaffolds, and playing with each other's agonies as not +more refined cruelty plays with racks and tortures. + +"You are pleased, madame," said Ralph. + +"No, I am wondering what has changed you. There are black circles around +your eyes; you have not shaved; the bones of your cheeks are sharp like +your chin, and you are yellow and bent like a dry leaf." + +"I have had an excess of money lately. Being free to do as I like, I +have done so." + +She looked furtively around the room. "Somebody has gone away from here +this morning--is it true?" + +He laughed suggestively. + +"I saw you with two girls last night; the company did you honor; it was +one of them, perhaps." + +"You guess shrewdly," he replied. + +"This is her room now; it may be she will object to see me here." + +"You are right," said Ralph Flare, with mock courtesy, rising up. "When +you lived with me I permitted no one to visit me in your absence. My +late friends will be vexed. You have finished the business which brought +you here, and I must go to breakfast now." + +Ralph was a good actor. Had he thought Suzette really meant to go, he +would have fallen on his knees. + +"Stop, Ralph, my boy," she cried. "I know that you do not love me; I +can't see why I ever believed that you did. But let me sit with you a +little while. You drove me from you once. I know that you have found +one to fill my place; but, _enfant_, I love you. I want to take your +head in my arms as I have done a hundred times, and hear you say one +kind word before we part forever." + +"There was a time," he said slowly, "when you did not need my embraces. +I was eager to give them. I did not give you kindness only; I gave you +nourishment, shelter, clothing, money. You were unworthy and ungrateful. +You are nothing to me now. Do not think to wheedle me back to be your +fool again." + +"Oh! for charity, my child, not for love--I am too wretched to hope +that--for pity, let me sit by your side five minutes. I cannot put it +into words why I beg it, but it is a little thing to grant. If one +starved you, or had stolen from you, and asked it so earnestly, you +would consent. I only want you to think less bitterly of me. You must +needs have some hard thoughts. I have done wrong, my boy, but you do not +know all the cause, and as what I mean to say cannot make place in your +breast for me now, you will know that it is true, because it has no +design. Oh! _Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ It is so hard to have but one deep +love, and yet find that love the greatest sorrow of one's life. It is so +hard to have loved my boy so well, and to know that to the end of his +days he hated me." + +She said this with all the impetuosity of her race; with utter +abandonment of plan or effort, yet with a wild power of love and gesture +which we know only upon the stage, but which in France is life, feeling, +reality. + +She sat down and sobbed, raising her voice till it rolled with a shrill +music which made him quiver, through the parted curtain and into the +turbulent street. There were troops passing beneath the balcony, and the +clangor of drums and bugles climbed between the stone walls, as if to +pour all its mockery into the little room. + +Ralph Flare hated to see a woman cry; it pained him more than her; so he +lifted her in his arms and carried her to the sofa and placed her head +upon his breast. For a long while she sat in that strange luxury of +grief, and she was fearful that he would send her away before her +agitation could pass, and she might speak. His face wore an incredulous +sneer as she spoke, though he knew it was absolute truth. She told him +how wretched she had been, so wretched that even temptation respected +her; how she had never known the intensity of her passion for him till +they were asunder; how all previous attachments were as ice to fire +compared to this; and how the consciousness of its termination should +make her desolate forever. + +"I looked upon you," she said, "as one whom I had trained up. Since I +have lost my little Jules I have needed something to care for. I taught +you to speak my language as if you were a baby. You learned the coinage +of the land, and how to walk through the city, and all customs and +places, precisely as a child learns them from his mother. Alas! you were +wiser than I, and it made me sad to feel it. It was like the mother's +regret that her boy is getting above her, in mind, in stature, so that +he shall be able to do without her. Yet with that fear there is a pride +like mine, when I felt that you were clever. Ah! Ralph, you loved to +make me feel how weak and mean I was. You played with my poor heart, +sick enough before, and little by little I felt your love gliding away +from me, till at last you told me that it was gone. You said you should +leave France, never to return--God forgive you if it was not true!--and +when you treated me worst, I was tempted to hear kind words from +another. Fanchette's friend has a rich cousin who admires me. He is to +live in Paris many years. I never loved him, but I am poor, and many +women marry only for a home. He offered that and more to me. I would not +hear it. Oh! if you had only said one tender word to me in those days of +temptation. I begged you for it. When I was humblest at your feet you +put your heel upon me most. + +"One night when I had the greatest trouble of all he sat beside me and +plied his suit, and was pleasanter, my boy, than you have ever been; and +then, rising, he placed that box of jewelry in my lap and ran away. I +left it upon Fanchette's mantel that night. She filled my head with +false thoughts next day. I never meant while you were in Paris to do you +any wrong; but I put those jewels in my pocket, meaning to give them up +again; you found them, and I was made wretched." + +Ralph made that dry, biting cough which he used to express unbelief. She +only bent her head and wept silently. + +"When all was gone, poor me! I have found much sorrow in my little life, +but we are light-hearted in France, and we live and laugh again. Perhaps +you have made me more like one of your countrywomen. I do not +know--only that I can never be happy any more. + +"Since we have dwelt apart my tempter has been to see me every day. He +has grand chambers which he will give me, and rich wardrobes, and a +watch, and a voiture. It is a dazzling picture for one who toils, going +all her days on foot, and lovely only to be deceived. But I hate that +man now, because he has come between you and me, and I have slept upon +my tears alone." + +She melted again into a long, loud wail, and he proposed nervously that +they should walk into the gardens near by. He said little, and that +contemptuously, tossing his cane at the birds, much interested in a +statue, delighted with the visitors beneath the maroon trees; and she +followed him here and there, very weak, for she had eaten no breakfast, +and not so deceived but she knew that he labored to wound her. He asked +her into a café, cavalierly, and was very careful to make display of his +napoleons as he paid. He did not invite her, but she followed him to his +hotel again, and here, as if with terrible _ennui_, he threw himself +upon his bed and feigned to sleep, while she crouched at his table and +wrote him a contrite letter. It was sweetly and simply worded, and asked +that he should let her return to him for his few remaining days in +Paris. If he could not grant so much, might she speak to him in the +street; come to see him sometimes, if only to be reviled; love him, +though she could not hope to be loved? She gave him this note with her +face turned away, and faltered the request that he would think ere he +replied, and hurried to the balcony without, that she might not trouble +him with the presence of her sorrow. + +How the street beneath her, into which she looked, had changed since the +nights when they talked together upon this balcony! There was bright +sunshine, but it fell leeringly, not laughingly, upon the columns of the +Odean Theatre, upon the crowds on the Boulevard, upon the decrepit baths +of Julian, upon the far heights of Belleville, upon her more cheerlessly +than upon all. + +She listened timorously for his word of recall. She wondered if he were +not writing a reply. Yes, that was his manner; he was cold and sharp of +speech, but he was an artist with his pen. She thought that her long +patience had moved him. Perhaps she should be all forgiven. Aye! they +should dwell together a few days longer. It was a dismal thought that it +must be for a few days, yet that would be some respite, and then they +could part friends; though her heart so clung to his that a parting +should rend it from her, she wanted to live over their brief happiness +again. + +"Oh!" said Suzette, in the end, laying her cheek upon the cold iron of +the balcony, "I wish I had died at my father's home of pining for +something to love rather than to have loved thus truly, and have it +accounted my shame. If I were married to this man I could not be his +fonder wife; but because I am not he despises me. All day I have crawled +in the dust; I have made myself cheap in his eyes. If I were prouder he +might not love me more, but his respect would be something." + +She rallied and took heart. Pride is the immortal part of woman. With a +brighter eye she entered the room. Her letter, blotted with tears, lay +crumpled and torn upon the floor at his bedside, and he, with his face +to the wall, was snoring sonorously. + +"Ralph Flare," cried Suzette, "arise! that letter is the last olive +branch you shall ever see in my hand; _adieu_!" + +He opened his eyes yawningly. Suzette, with trembling lips and nostrils, +clasped the door-knob. It shut behind her with a shock. Her feet were +quick upon the stairs; he pursued her like one suddenly gone mad, and +called her back with something between a moan and a howl. + +"Do not go away, Suzette," he cried; "I only jested. I meant this +morning to search you out and beg you to come back. I would not lose you +for France--for the world. Be not rash or retaliatory! become not the +companion of this Frenchman who has divided us. We will commence again. +I have tested your fidelity. You shall have all the liberty that you +need, everything that I have; say to me, sweetheart, that you will +stay!" + +For a moment her bright eyes were scintillant with wrath and +indignation. He who had racked her all day for his pleasure was bound +and prostrate now. Should she not do as much for her revenge? + +"I have no other friend now," he pleaded; "my nights have been +sleepless, solitary. In the days I have drunk deeply, squandered my +money, tried all dissipations, and proved them disappointments. If you +leave me I swear that I will plague myself and you." + +"Oh! Ralph," said Suzette, "I do not wonder at the artfulness of women +after this day's lesson. Something impels me to return your cruelty; it +is a bad impulse, and I shall disobey it. I thank God, my baby, that I +cannot do as you have done to me." + +She wept again for the last time, but he kissed her tears away, and +wondered where the great shame lay, upon that child or upon him? + + + + +PART VI. + +DESERTION. + + +When the last fresh passion was over, Suzette, whose face had grown +purer and sadder, roused Ralph Flare to his more legitimate ambition. +"My child," she said, "if you will work in the gallery every day I will +sew in one of the great _magasans_." + +To see that he commenced fairly, she went with him into the Louvre, and +he selected a fine Rembrandt--an old man, bearded and scarred, massively +characterized, and clothed in magic light and shadow. + +As Ralph stood at his easel, meditating the master, Suzette now +fluttered around him, now ran off to the far end of the long hall, where +he could see her in miniature, the sweetest portrait in France. At last +he was really absorbed, and she went into the city to fulfil her +promise. She was nimble of finger, and though the work distressed her at +first, she thought of his applause, and persevered. + +Their method was the marvel of the unimaginative Terrapin, who made some +philosophic comments upon the "spooney" socially considered, and cut +their acquaintance. + +They breakfasted at the _cremery_ at seven o'clock with the _ouvriers_, +and dined at one of Duvall's bouillon establishments. Suzette found the +work easier as she progressed. She was finally promoted to the place of +_coupeur_, or cutter, and had the superintendence of a work-room, where +she made four francs a day, and so paid all her expenses. At the end of +the second month he took the money which he otherwise would have +required for board, and bought her a watch and chain at the _Palais +Royale_. At the same time he put the finishing touch to his picture, and +when hung upon his wall, between their photographs, Suzette danced +before it, and took half the credit upon herself. + +Foolish Suzette! she did not know how that old man was her most +dangerous rival. He had done what no beautiful woman in France could +do--weakened her grasp upon Ralph Flare's heart. For now Ralph's old +enthusiasm for his profession reasserted itself. It was his first and +deepest love after all. + +"My baby," he said one night, "there was a great artist named +Raphael--and he had a little mistress, whom I don't think a whit +prettier than mine. She was called the _Fornarina_, just as you may be +called the _Coutouriere_, and he painted her portrait in the characters +of saints and of the Virgin. She will be remembered a thousand years, +because Raphael so loved and painted her. But he was not a great artist +only because he loved the _Fornarina_. He had something that he loved +better, and so have I." + +"One more beloved than Suzette?" she cried. + +"Yes! it is art. I loved you more than my art before; but I am going +back to my first love." + +Suzette tossed her head and said that she could never be jealous of a +picture, and went her way with a simple faith and toiled; and as she +toiled the more, so grew her love the purer and her content the more +equal. She was not the aerial thing she had been. Retaining her +elasticity of spirit, she was less volatile, more silent, more careful, +more anxious. + +It is wiser, not happier, to reach that estate called thought; for now +she asked herself very often how long this chapter of her life would +last. Must the time come when he must leave her forever? She thought it +the bitterest of all to part as they had done before, with anger; but +any parting must be agony where she had loved so well. As he lay +sleeping, he never knew what tears of midnight were plashing upon his +face. He could not see how her little heart was bleeding as it throbbed. +Yet she went right on, though sometimes the tears blinded her, till she +could not see her needle; but the consciousness that this love and labor +had made her life more sanctified was, in some sort, compensation. + +One Sunday she rose before Ralph, and thinking that she was unobserved, +stole out of the hotel and up the Boulevard. He followed her, +suspiciously. She crossed the Place de la Sorbonne, turned the transept +of the Pantheon, and entered the old church of St. Etienne du Mont. + +It was early mass. The tapers which have been burning five hundred years +glistened upon the tomb of the holy St. Genevieve. Here and there old +women and girls were kneeling in the chapels, whispering their sins into +the ears of invisible priests. And beneath the delicate tracery of +screen and staircase, and the gloriously-painted windows, and the image +of Jesus crucified looking down upon all, some groups of poor people +were murmuring their prayers and making the sign of the cross. + +Ralph entered by a door in the choir. He saw Suzette stand pallidly +beside the holy water, and when she had touched it with the tips of her +fingers, and made the usual rites, she staggered, as if in shame, to a +remote chair, and kneeling down covered her face with her missal. Now +and then the organ boomed out. The censers were swung aloft, dispensing +their perfumes, and all the people made obeisance. Ralph did not know +what it all meant. He only saw his little girl penitent and in prayer, +and he knew that she was carrying her sin and his to the feet of the +Eternal Mercy. + +He feigned sleep in the same way each Sunday succeeding, and she +disappeared as before. After a while she spoke of her family, and +wondered if her father would forgive her. She would not have forgiven +him three months ago, but was quite humble now. + +She sent her photograph to the old man, and a letter came back, the +first she had received for two years. + +She felt unwilling, also, to receive further gifts or support from +Ralph. If I were his wife, she said, it might be well, but since it is +not so, I must not be dependent. + +Foolish Suzette again! She did not know that men love best where they +most protect. The wife who comes with a dower may climb as high as her +husband's pocket, but seldom lies snugly at his heart. Her changed +conduct did not draw him closer to her. He felt uneasy and unworthy. He +missed the artfulness which had been so winning. He had jealousies no +longer to keep his passion quick, for he could not doubt her devotion. +There was nothing to lack in Suzette, and that was a fault. She had +become modest, docile, truthful, grave. A noble man might have +appreciated her the better. Ralph Flare was a representative man, and he +did not. + +His friends in America thought his copy from Rembrandt wonderful. Their +flattery made his ambition glow and flame. His mother, whose woman's +instinct divined the cause of his delay in Paris, sent him a pleading +letter to go southward; and thus reprimanded, praised, rewarded, what +was he to do? + +He resolved to leave France--and without Suzette! + +He had not courage to tell her that the separation was final. He spoke +of an excursion merely, and took but a handful of baggage. She had +doubts that were like deaths to her; but she believed him, and after a +feverish night went with him in the morning to the train. He was to +write every day. + +Would she take money? + +"No." + +But she might have unexpected wants--sickness, accident, charity? + +"If so," she said trustfully, "would not her boy come back?" + +He had just time to buy his ticket and gain the platform. He folded her +in his arms, and exchanged one long, sobbing kiss. It seemed to Ralph +Flare that the sound of that kiss was like a spell--the breaking of the +pleasantest link in his life--the passing from sinfulness to a baser +selfishness--the stamp and seal upon his bargain with ambition, whereby +for the long future he was sold to the sorrow of avarice and the +deceitfulness of fame. + +There was a sharp whistle from the locomotive--who invented that whistle +to pierce so many bosoms at parting?--the cars moved one by one till the +last, in which he was seated, sprang forward with a jerk; and though she +was quite blind, he saw her handkerchief waving till all had vanished, +and he would have given the world to have shed one tear. + +He has gone on into the free country, and to-night he will sleep under +the shadow of the mountains. + +She has turned back into the dark city, and she will not sleep at all in +her far-up chamber. + +It is only one heart crushed, and thousands that deserve more sympathy +beat out every day. We only notice this one because it shall lie +bleeding, and get no sympathy at all. + + + + +PART VII. + +DISSOLVING VIEW. + + +That he might not meet with his own countrymen, Ralph halted at Milan, +and in the great deserted gallery of the Brera went steadily to work. +If, as it often happened, Suzette's pale face got between him and the +canvas, he mentioned his own name and said "renown," and took a turn in +the remote corridor where young Raphael's _Sposializo_ hung opposite +that marvel of Guercino's--poor Hagar and her boy Ishmael driven +abroad. These adjuncts and the fiercer passion of self had their effect. + +He never wrote to Suzette, but sent secretly for his baggage, and was +well pleased with the consciousness that he could forget her. After +three months he set out for Florence and studied the masterpieces of +Andrea del Sarto, and tried his hand at the _Flora_ of Titian. + +He went into society somewhat, and was very much afraid his unworthy +conduct in Paris might be bruited abroad. Indeed, he could hardly +forgive himself the fondness he had known, and came to regard Suzette as +a tolerably bad person, who had bewitched him. He burned all her +letters, and a little lock of hair he had clipped while she was asleep +once, and blotted the whole experience out of his diary. The next Sunday +he went to hear the Rev. Mr. Hall preach, and felt quite consoled. + +The summer fell upon Val d'Arno like the upsetting of a Tuscan +_Scaldino_, and Ralph Flare regretfully took his departure northward. +All the world was going to Paris--why not he? Was he afraid? Certainly +not; it had been a great victory over temptation to stay away so long. +He would carry out the triumph by braving a return. + +In accordance with his principles of economy, he took a third-class +ticket at Basle. He could so make better studies of passengers; for, +somehow, your first-class people have not character faces. The only +character you get out of them is the character of wine they consume. + +He left the Alps behind him, and rolled all day through the prosaic +plains of France; startling the pale little towns, down whose treeless +streets the sun shone, oh! so drearily, and taking up boors and +market-folks at every monastic station. There was a pretty young girl +sitting beside Ralph in the afternoon, but he refused to talk to her, +for he was schooling himself, and preferred to scan the features of an +odd old couple who got in at Troyes. + +They were two old people of the country, and they sat together in the +descending shadows of the day, quite like in garb and feature, their +chins a little peakish, and the hairs of both turning gray. The man was +commonplace, as he leaned upon a staff, and between their feet were +paniers of purchases they had been making, which the woman regarded +indifferently, as if her heart reached farther than her eyes, and met +some soft departed scene which she would have none other see. + +"She has a good face," said Flare. "I wish she would keep there a moment +more. By George, she looks like somebody I have known." + +The old man nodded on his staff. The rumble of the carriages subdued to +a lull all lesser talk or murmurs, and the sky afar off brought into +sharp relief the two Gallic profiles, close together, as if they were +used to reposing so; yet in the language of their deepening lines lay +the stories of lives very, very wide apart. + +"The old girl's face is soft," said Ralph Flare. "She has brightened +many a bit of Belgian pike road, and the brown turban on her head is in +clever contrast to the silver shimmer of her hairs. How anomalous are +life and art! How unconscious is this old lady of the narrow escape she +is making from perpetuation! Doubtless she works afield beside that old +Jacques Bonhomme, and drinks sour wine or Normandy cider on Sundays. +That may be the best fate of Suzette, but it must be an amply dry +reformation for any little grisette to contemplate. For such prodigals +going home there is no fatted calf slain. No fathers see them afar off +and run to place the ring upon their fingers. They renounce precarious +gayety for persistent slavery. The keen wit of the student is exchanged +for the pipe and mug and dull oath of the boor. I wish every such girl +back again to so sallow a fate, and pity her when she gets there." + +And so, with much unconscious sentimentality, and the two old market +people silent before him, Ralph Flare's eyes half closed also, and the +lull of the wheels, the long lake streaks of the sedative skies, the +coming of great shadows like compulsions to slumber, made his forehead +fall and the world go up and down and darken. + +It was the old woman who shook him from that repose; she only touched +him, but her touch was like a lost sense restored. He thrilled and sat +stock still, with her withered blue hand on his arm, and heard the +pinched lips say, unclosing with a sort of quiver: + +"Baby!" + +He looked again, and seemed to himself to grow quite old as he looked, +and he said, + +"_Enfant perdu!_" + +The turban kept its place, the peaked chin kept as peaked; there seemed +even more silver in the smooth hair, and the old serge gown drooped as +brownly; but the sweet old face grew soft as a widow's looking at the +only portrait she guards, and a tear, like a drop of water exhumed, ran +to the tip of her nostril. + +"Suzette!" he said, "my early sin; do you come back as well with the +turning of my hairs? Has the first passion a shadow long as forever? Why +have we met?" + +"Not of my seeking was this meeting, Ralph. Speak softly, for my husband +sleeps, and he is old like thee and me. If my face is an accusation, let +my lips be forgiveness. The love of you made my life dutiful; the loss +of you saddened my days, but it was the sadness of religion! I sinned no +more, and sought my father's fields, and delayed, with my hand purified +by his blessing, the residue of his sands of life. I made my years good +to my neighbors, the sick, the bereaved. I met the temptations of the +young with a truer story than pleasure tells, and when I married it was +with the prelude of my lost years related and forgiven. With children's +faces the earnestness and beauty of life returned; for this, for more, +for all, may your reward be bountiful!" + +There is no curse like the dream of old age. Ralph Flare felt, with the +sudden whitening of each separate hair, the sudden remembrance of each +separate folly; and the moments of grief he had wrung from the little +girl of the Quartier Latin revived like one's mean acts seen through +others' eyes. + +"Pardon you, child, Suzette?" he said; "to me you were more than I +hoped, more than I wished. I asked your face only, and you gave me your +heart. For the unfaithfulness, for the wrath, for the unmanliness, for +the tyranny with which I treated you, my soul upbraids me." + +"How thankful am I," she answered; "the terror to me was that you had +learned in the Quartier lessons to make your after-life monotonous. I am +happy." + +Their hands met; to his gray beard fell the smile upon her mouth; they +forget the Quartier Latin; they felt no love but forgiveness, which is +the tenderest of emotions. The whistle blew shrilly; the train stopped; +Ralph Flare awoke from sleep; but the old couple were gone. + +He went to Paris, and, contrary to his purpose, inquired for her. She +had been seen by none since his departure. He wrote to the Maire of her +commune, and this was the reply: + + "_Ralph, Merci! Pardonne!_ + + "SUZETTE." + +He felt no loss. He felt softened toward her only; and he turned his +back on the Quartier Latin with a man's easy satisfaction that he could +forget. + + + + + THE PIGEON GIRL. + + On the sloping market-place, + In the village of Compeigne, + Every Saturday her face, + Like a Sunday, comes again; + Daylight finds her in her seat, + With her panier at her feet, + Where her pigeons lie in pairs; + Like their plumage gray her gown, + To her sabots drooping down; + And a kerchief, brightly brown, + Binds her smooth, dark hairs. + + All the buyers knew her well, + And, perforce, her face must see, + As a holy Raphael + Lures us in a gallery; + Round about the rustics gape, + Drinking in her comely shape, + And the housewives gently speak, + When into her eyes they look, + As within some holy book, + And the gables, high and crook, + Fling their sunshine on her cheek. + + In her hands two milk-white doves, + Happy in her lap to lie, + Softly murmur of their loves, + Envied by the passers-by; + One by one their flight they take, + Bought and cherished for her sake, + Leaving so reluctantly; + Till the shadows close approach, + Fades the pageant, foot and coach, + And the giants in the cloche + Ring the noon for Picardie. + + Round the village see her glide, + With a slender sunbeam's pace! + Mirrored in the Oise's tide, + The gold-fish float upon her face; + All the soldiers touch their caps; + In the cafés quit their naps + Garçon, guest, to wish her back; + And the fat old beadles smile + As she kneels along the aisle, + Like Pucelle in other while, + In the dim church of Saint Jacques. + + Now she mounts her dappled ass-- + He well-pleased such friend to know-- + And right merrily they pass + The armorial château; + Down the long, straight paths they tread + Till the forest, overhead, + Whispers low its leafy love; + In the archways' green caress + Rides the wondrous dryadess-- + Thrills the grass beneath her press, + And the blue-eyed sky above. + + I have met her, o'er and o'er, + As I strolled alone apart, + By a lonely carrefour + In the forest's tangled heart, + Safe as any stag that bore + Imprint of the Emperor; + In the copse that round her grew + Tiptoe the straight saplings stood, + Peeped the wild boar's satyr brood, + Like an arrow clove the wood + The glad note of the cuckoo. + + How I wished myself her friend! + (So she wished that I were more) + Jogging toward her journey's end + At Saint Jean au Bois before, + Where her father's acres fall + Just without the abbey wall; + By the cool well loiteringly + The shaggy Norman horses stray, + In the thatch the pigeons play, + And the forest round alway + Folds the hamlet, like a sea. + + Far forgotten all the feud + In my New World's childhood haunts, + If my childhood she renewed + In this pleasant nook of France; + Might she make the blouse I wear, + Welcome then her homely fare + And her sensuous religion! + To the market we should ride, + In the Mass kneel side by side, + Might I warm, each eventide, + In my nest, my pretty pigeon. + + + + +THE DEAF MAN OF KENSINGTON. + +A TALE OF AN OLD SUBURB. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE MURDER. + + +Between the Delaware River and Girard Avenue, which is the market street +of the future, and east of Frankfort Road, lies Kensington, a +respectable old district of the Quaker City, and occupying the same +relation to it that Kensington in England does to London. Beyond both +Kensingtons is a Richmond, but the English Richmond is a beauteous hill, +with poetical recollections of Pope and Thomson, while our Richmond is +the coal district of Philadelphia, flat to the foot and dingy to the +eye. + +Kensington, however, was once no faint miniature of the staid British +suburb. The river bending to the eastward there conducts certain of the +streets crookedly away from the rectangular Quaker demon who is ever +seeking to square them. Along the water side, or near it, passes a sort +of Quay Street, between ship-yards and fish-houses on the one side, and +shops or small tenements on the other, and this street scarcely +discloses the small monument on the site of the Treaty Tree, where +William Penn in person satisfied the momentary expectations of his +Indian subjects. + +Nearly parallel to the water side street is another, wider and more +aristocratic, and lined with many handsome dwellings of brick, or even +brown-stone, where the successful shipbuilders, fishtakers, coal men, +and professional classes have established themselves or their posterity. +This street was once called Queen, afterward Richmond Street, and it is +crossed by others, as Hanover, Marlborough, and Shackamaxon, which +attest in their names the duration of royal and Indian traditions +hereabout. Pleasant maple, sometimes sycamore and willow trees shade +these old streets, and they are kept as clean as any in this ever-mopped +and rinsed metropolis, while the society, though disengaged from the +great city, had its better and worser class, and was fastidious about +morals and behavior, and not disinclined to express its opinion. + +One winter day in a certain year Kensington had a real sensation. The +Delaware was frozen from shore to shore, and one could walk on the ice +from Smith's to Treaty Island, and from Cooper's Point to the mouth of +the Cohocksink. On the second afternoon of the great freeze fires were +built on the river, and crowds assembled at certain smooth places to see +great skaters like Colonel Page cut flourishes and show sly gallantry to +the buxom housewives and grass widows of Kensington and the Jerseys. A +few horses were driven on the ice, and hundreds of boys ran merrily with +real sleighs crowded down with their friends. A fight or two was +improvised, and unlicensed vendors set forth the bottle that inebriates. +In the midst of the afternoon gayety a small boy, kneeling down to +buckle up to a farther hole the straps on his guttered skates, saw just +at his toe something like human hair. The small boy rose to his feet and +stamped with all his might around that object, not in any apprehension +but because small boys like to know; and when the ice had been well +broken, kneeling down and pulling it out in pieces with his mitten, the +small boy felt something cold and smooth, and then he poked his finger +into a human eye. It was a dead man. No sooner had the urchin found this +out than he bellowed out at the top of his voice, running and falling as +he yelled: "Murder! Murder! Murder!" + +From all parts of the ice, like flies chasing over a silver salver +toward some sweet point of corruption, the hundreds and thousands +swarmed at the news that a dead body had been found. When they arrived +on the spot, spades, picks, and ice-hooks had been procured by those +nearest shore, and the whole mystery brought from the depths of the +river to the surface. + +There lay together on the ice two men, apparently several days in the +water, and with the usual look of drowned people of good +condition--glassy and of fixed expression, as if in the moment of death +a consenting grimness had stolen into their countenances, neither +composed nor terrified. + +The bodies had been already recognized when the main part of the crowd +arrived. Kensington people, generally, knew them both. + +"It's William Zane and his business partner, Sayler Rainey! They own one +of the marine railways at Kensington. Come to think of it, I haven't +seen them around for nearly a week, neighbor!" exclaimed an old man. + +"It's a case of drowning, no doubt," spoke up a little fellow who did a +river business in old chains and junk. "You see they had another +ship-mending place on the island opposite Kinsington, and rowin' +theirselves over was upset and never missed!" + +"Quare enough too!" added a third party, "for yisterday I had a talk +with young Andrew Zane, this one's son (touching the body with his +foot), and Andrew said--a little pale I thought he was--says he, 'Pop's +_about_.'" + +Here a little buzz of mystery--so grateful to crowds which have come far +over slippery surface and expect much--undulated to the outward +boundaries. As the people moved the ice cracked like a cannon shot, and +they dispersed like blackbirds, to rally soon again. + +"Here's a doctor! Now we'll know about it! _He's_ here!" was exclaimed +by several, as an important little man was pushed along, and the +thickest crowd gave him passage. The little man borrowed a boy's cap to +kneel on, adjusted a sort of microscopic glass to his nose, as if plain +eyes had no adequate use to this scientific necessity, and he called up +two volunteers to turn the corpses over, keep back the throng, give him +light, and add imposition to apprehension. Finally he stopped at a place +in the garments of the principal of the twain. "Here is a hole," he +exclaimed, "with burned woollen fibre about it, as if a pistol had been +fired at close quarters. Draw back this woollen under-jacket! There--as +I expected, gentlemen, is a pistol shot in the breast! What is the name +of the person? Ah! thank you! Well, William Zane, gentlemen, was shot +before he was drowned?" + +The great crowd swayed and rushed forward again, and again the ice +cracked like artillery. Before the multitude could swarm to the honey of +a crime a second time, the news was dispersed that both of the drowned +men had bullet wounds in their bodies, and both had been undoubtedly +murdered. Some supposed it was the work of river pirates; others a +private revenge, perpetrated by some following boat's party in the +darkness of night. But more than one person piped shrilly ere the people +wearily scattered in the dusk for their homes on the two shores of the +river: "How did it happen that young Zane, the old un's son, said +yisterday that his daddy was about, when he's been frozen in at least +three days?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE FLIGHT. + + +A handsome residence on the south side of Queen Street had been the home +of the prosperous ship-carpenter, William Zane. His name was on the door +on a silver plate. As the evening deepened and the news spread, the bell +was pulled so often that it aided the universal alarm following a crime, +and a crowd of people, reinforced by others as fast as it thinned out, +kept up the watch on ever-recurring friends, coroner's officers and +newspaper reporters, as they ascended the steps, looked grave, made +inquiries, and returned to dispense their information. + +But there was very little indignation, for Zane had been an insanely +passionate man, rather hard and exacting, and had he been found dead +alone anywhere it would probably have been said at once that he brought +it on himself. His partner, Rainey, however, had conducted himself so +negatively and mildly, and was of such general estimation, that the +murder of the senior member of the film took on some unusual public +sympathy from the reflected sorrow for his fellow-victim. The latter had +been one of Zane's apprentices, raised to a place in the establishment +by his usefulness and sincere love of his patron. Just, forbearing, +soft-spoken, and not avaricious, Sayler Rainey deserved no injury from +any living being. He was unmarried, and, having met with a +disappointment in love, had avowed his intention never to marry, but to +bequeath all the property he should acquire to his partner's only son, +Andrew Zane. + +What, then, was the motive of this double murder? The public +comprehension found but one theory, and that was freely advanced by the +rash and imputative in the community of Kensington: The murderer was he +who had the only known temptation and object in such a crime. Who could +gain anything by it but Andrew Zane, the impulsive, the mischief-making +and oft-restrained son of his stern sire, who, by a double crime, would +inherit that undivided property, free from the control of both parent +and guardian? + +"It is parricide! that's what it is!" exclaimed a fat woman from +Fishtown. "At the bottom of the river dead men tell no tales. The +rebellious young sarpint of a son, who allus pulled a lusty oar, has +chased them two older ones into the deep water of the channel, where a +pistol shot can't be heard ashore, and he expected the property to be +his'n. But there are gallowses yet, thank the Lord!" + +"Mrs. Whann, don't say that," spoke up a deferential voice from the face +of a rather sallow-skinned young man, with long, ringleted, yellow hair. +"Don't create a prejudice, I beg of you. Andrew Zane was my classmate. +He gave his excellent father some trouble, but it shouldn't be +remembered against him now. Suppose, my friends, that you let me ring +the bell and inquire?" + +"Who's that?" asked the crowd. "He's a fine, mature-looking, charitable +young man, anyway." + +"Its the old Minister Van de Lear's son, Calvin. He's going to succeed +his venerable and pious poppy in Kensington pulpit. They'll let him in." + +The door closed when Calvin Van de Lear entered the residence of the +late William Zane. When it reopened he was seen with a handkerchief in +his hand and his hat pulled down over his eyes, as if he had been +weeping. + +"Stop! stop! don't be going off that way!" interposed the fat fishwife. +"You said you would tell us the news." + +"My friends," replied Calvin Van de Lear, with a look of the greatest +pain, "Andrew Zane has not been heard from. I fear your suspicions are +too true!" + +He crossed the street and disappeared into the low and elderly residence +of his parents. + +"Alas! alas!" exclaimed a grave and gentle old man. "That Andrew Zane +should not be here to meet a charge like this! But I'll not believe it +till I have prayed with my God." + +Within the Zane residence all was as in other houses on funeral eves. In +the front parlor, ready for an inquest or an undertaker, lay the late +master of the place, laid out, and all the visitors departed except his +housekeeper, Agnes, and her friend, "Podge" Byerly. The latter was a +sunny-haired and nimble little lady, under twenty years of age, who +taught in one of the public schools and boarded with her former +school-mate, Agnes Wilt. Agnes was an orphan of unknown parentage, by +many supposed to have been a niece or relative of Mr. Zane's deceased +wife, whose place she took at the head of the table, and had grown to be +one of the principal social authorities in Kensington. In Reverend Mr. +Van de Lear's church she was both teacher and singer. The young men of +Kensington were all in love with her, but it was generally understood +that she had accepted Andrew Zane, and was engaged to him. + +Andrew was not dissipated, but was fond of pranks, and so restive under +his father's positive hand that he twice ran away to distant seaports, +and thus incurred a remarkable amount of intuitive gossip, such as +belongs to all old settled suburban societies. This occasional firmness +of character in the midst of a generally light and flexible life, now +told against him in the public mind. "He has nerve enough to do anything +desperate in a pinch," exclaimed the very wisest. "Didn't William Zane +find him out once in the island of Barbadoes grubbing sugar-cane with a +hoe, and the thermometer at 120 in the shade? And didn't he swear he'd +stay there and die unless concessions were made to him, and certain +things never brought up again? Didn't even his iron-shod father have to +give way before he would come home? Ah! Andrew is light-hearted, but he +is an Indian in self-will!" + +To-night Agnes was in the deepest grief. Upon her, and only her, fell +the whole burden of this double crime and mystery, ten times more +terrible that her lover was compromised and had disappeared. + +"Go to bed, Podge!" said Agnes, as the clock in the engine-house struck +midnight. "Oblige me, my dear! I cannot sleep, and shall wait and watch. +Perhaps Andrew will be here." + +"I can't leave you up, Aggy, and with that thing so near." She locked +toward the front parlor, where, behind the folding-doors, lay the dead. + +"I have no fear of _that_. He was always kind to me. My fears are all in +this world. O _darling_!" + +She burst into sobs. Her friend kissed her again and again, and knew +that feelings between love and crime extorted that last word. + +"Aggy," spoke the light-hearted girl, "I know that you cannot help +loving him, and as long as he is loved by you I sha'n't believe him +guilty. Must I really leave you here?" + +Her weeping friend turned up her face to give the mandatory kiss, and +Podge was gone. + +Agnes sat in solitude, with her hands folded and her heart filled with +unutterable tender woe, that so much causeless cloud had settled upon +the home of her refuge. She could not experience that relief many of us +feel in deep adversity, that it is all illusion, and will in a moment +float away like other dreams. Brought to this house an orphan, and twice +deprived of a mother's love, she had only entered woman's estate when +another class of cares beset her. Her beauty and sweetness of +disposition had brought her more lovers than could make her happy. There +was but one on whom she could confer her heart, and this natural choice +had drawn around her the perils which now overwhelmed them all. +Accepting the son, she incurred the father's resentment upon both; for +he, the dead man yonder, had also been her lover. + +"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the anguished woman, kneeling by her chair and +laying her cheek upon it, while only such tears as we shed in supreme +moments saturated her handkerchief, "what have I done to make such +misery to others? How sinful I must be to set son and father against +each other! Yet, Heavenly Father, I can but love!" + +There was a cracking of something, as if the dead man in the great, +black parlor had carried his jealousy beyond his doom and was breaking +from his coffin to upbraid her. A door burst open in the dining-room, +which was behind her, and then the dining-room door also unclosed, and +was followed by a cold, graveyard draft. A moment of superstition +possessed Agnes. "Guard me, Saviour," she murmured. + +At the dining-room threshold, advancing a little over the sill, as if to +rush upon her, was the figure of a man, dressed, head to foot, in +sailor's garments--heavy woollens, comforter, tarpaulin overalls, and +knit cap. He looked at her an instant, standing there, shivering, and +then he retired a pace or two and closed the door to the cellar, by +which he had entered the house. Even this little movement in the +intruder had something familiar about it. He advanced again, directly +and rapidly, toward her, but she did not scream. He threw both arms +around her, and she did not cry. Something had entered with that bold +figure which extinguished all crime and superstition in the monarchy of +its presence--Love. + +A kiss, as fervent and long as only the reunited ever give with purity, +drew the soul of the suspected murderer and his sweetheart into one +temple. + +"Agnes," he whispered hoarsely, when it was given, "they have followed +me hard to-night. Every place I might have resorted to is watched. All +Kensington--my oldest friends--believe me guilty! I cannot face it. With +this kiss I must go." + +"Oh, Andrew, do not! Here is the place to make your peace; here take +your stand and await the worst." + +"Agnes," he repeated, "I have no defence. Nothing but silence would +defend me now, and that would hang me to the gallows. I come to put my +life and soul into your hands. Can you pray for me, bad as I am?" + +"Dear Andrew," answered Agnes, weeping fast, "I have no power to stop +you, and I cannot give you up. Yes, I will pray for you now, before you +start on your journey. Go open those folding-doors and we will pray in +the other room." + +"What is there?" + +"Your father." + +He stopped a long while, and his cheek was blanched. + +"Go first," he whispered finally. "I am not afraid." + +She led the way to the bier, where the body, with the frost hardly yet +thawed from it, lay under the dim light of the chandelier. Turning up +the burners it was revealed in its relentless, though not unhappy, +expression--a large and powerful man, bearded and with tassels of gray +in his hair. + +The young man in his coarse sailor's garb, muffled up for concealment +and disguise, placed his arm around Agnes, and his knees were unsteady +as he gazed down on the remains and began to sob. + +"Dear," she murmured, also weeping, "I know you loved him!" + +The young man's sobs became so loud that Agnes drew him to a chair, and +as she sat upon it he laid his head in her lap and continued there to +express a deep inward agony. + +"I loved him always," he articulated at last, "so help me God, I did! +And a _parricide_! Can you survive it?" + +"Andrew," she replied, "I have taken it all to heaven and laid the sin +there. Forever, my darling, intercession continues for all our offences +only there. It must be our recourse in this separation every day when we +rise and lie down. Though blood-stained, he can wash as white as snow." + +"I will try, I will try!" he sobbed; "but your goodness is my reliance, +dearest. I have always been disobedient to my father, but never thought +it would come to this." + +"Nor I, Andrew. Poor, rash uncle!" + +"Agnes," whispered Andrew Zane, rising with a sudden fear, "I hear +people about the house--on the pavement, on the doorsteps. Perhaps they +are suspecting me. I must fly. Oh! shall we ever meet again under a +brighter sky? Will you cling to me? I am going out, abandoned by all the +world. Nothing is left me but your fidelity. Will it last? You know you +are beautiful!" + +"Oh, sad words to say!" sighed Agnes. "Let none but you ever say them to +me again. Beautiful, and to the end of such misery as this! My only +love, I will never forsake you!" + +"Then I can try the world again, winter as it is. Once more, oh, God! +let me ask forgiveness from these frozen lips. My father! pursue me not, +though deep is my offence! Farewell, farewell forever!" + +He disappeared down the cellar as he had come, and Agnes heard at the +outer window the sound of his escaping. When all was silent she fell to +the floor, and lay there helplessly weeping. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE DEAF MAN. + + +The inquest was held, and the jury pronounced the double crime murder by +persons unknown, but with strong suspicion resting on Andrew Zane and an +unknown laborer, who had left Pettit's or Treaty Island, at night, in an +open boat with William Zane and Sayler Rainey. A reward was offered for +Andrew Zane and the laborer. + +The will of the deceased persons made Andrew Zane full legatee of both +estates, and left a life interest in the Queen Street house, and $2000 a +year to "Agnes Wilt, my ward and housekeeper." The executors of the Zane +estate were named as Agnes Wilt, Rev. Silas Van de Lear, and Duff +Salter. The two dead men were interred together in the old Presbyterian +burial-ground, and after a month or two of diminishing excitement, +Kensington settled down to the idea that there was a great mystery +somewhere; that Andrew Zane was probably guilty; but that the principal +evidence against him was his own flight. + +As to Agnes, there was only one respectable opinion--that she was a +superb work of nature and triumph of womanhood, notwithstanding romantic +and possibly awkward circumstances of origin and relation. All men, of +whatever time of life and for whatsoever reason, admired her--the mean +and earthy if only for her mould, the morally discerning for her +beautiful quality that pitied, caressed, encouraged, or elevated all who +came within her sphere. + +"Preachers of the Gospel ought to have such wives," said the Rev. Silas +Van de Lear, looking at his son Calvin, "as Agnes Wilt. She is the most +handy churchwoman in all my ministration in Kensington, which is now +forty years. Besides being pious, and virtuous, and humble before God, +she is very comely to the eye, and possesses a house and an independent +income. A wife like that would naturally help a young minister to get a +higher call." + +Young Calvin, who was expected to succeed his father in the venerable +church close by, and was studying divinity, said with much cool +maturity: + +"Pa, I've taken it all in. She's the only single girl in Kensington +worth proposing to. It's true that we don't know just who she is, but +it's not that I'm so much afraid of as her, her--in short, her piety." + +"Piety does not stand in the way of marriage," answered the old man, who +was both bold and prudent, wise and sincere. "In the covenant of God +nothing is denied to his saints in righteousness. The sense of wedded +pleasure, the beauty that delights the eye, love, appetite, children, +and financial independence--all are ours, no less as of the Elect than +as worldly creatures. The love of God in the heart warms men and women +toward each other." + +"Oh, as to that!" exclaimed Calvin, "I've been warmed toward Miss Agnes +since I was a boy. I think she is superb. But she is a little too good +for me. She looks at me whenever I talk to her, whereas the proper way +of humility would be to look down. She has been in love with Andrew +Zane, you know!" + +"That," said the preacher, "is probably off; though I never discovered +in Andrew more evil than a light heart and occasional rebellion. If she +loves him still, do not be in haste to jar her sensibility. It is +thoughtfulness which engenders love." + +The young women of Kensington were divided about Agnes Wilt. The poorer +girls thought her perfect. But some marriageable and some married women, +moving in her own sphere of society, criticised her popularity, and said +she must be artful to control so many men. There are no depths to which +jealousy cannot go in a small suburban society. Agnes, as an orphan, had +felt it since childhood, but nothing had ever happened until now to +concentrate slander as well as sympathy upon her. It was told abroad +that she had been the mistress of her deceased benefactor, who had +fallen by the hands of his infuriated son. Even the police authorities +gave some slight consideration to this view. Old people remarked: "If +she has been deceiving people, she will not stop now. She will have +other secret lovers." + +Inquiries had been made for some time as to who the unknown executor, +Duff Salter, might be, when one day Rev. Mr. Van de Lear walked over to +the Zane house with a broad-shouldered, grave, silent-eyed man, who wore +a very long white beard reaching to his middle. As he was also tall and +but little bent, he had that mysterious union of strength and age which +was perfected by his expression of long and absolute silence. + +"Agnes," said Mr. Van de Lear, "this is an old Scotch-Irish friend and +classmate of the late Mr. Zane, Duff Salter of Arkansas. He cannot hear +what I have said, for he is almost stone deaf. However, go through the +motions of shaking hands. I am told he has heard very little of anything +for the past ten years. An explosion in a quicksilver mine broke his +ear-drums." + +Agnes, dressed in deep black, shook hands with the grave stranger +dutifully, and said: + +"I am sure you are welcome, sir." + +Mr. Salter looked at her closely and gently, and seemed to be pleased +with the inspection, for he took a small gold box from his pocket, +unlocked it and sniffed a pinch of snuff, and then gave a sneeze, which +he articulated, plain as speech, into the words: "Jericho! Jericho!" +Then placing the box in the pocket of his long coat, he remarked: + +"Miss Agnes, as one of the executors is a lady, and another is our +venerable friend here, who has no inclination to attend to the +settlement of Mr. Zane's estate, it will devolve upon me to examine the +whole subject. I am a stranger in the East. As Mr. Van de Lear may have +told you, I don't hear anything. Will I be welcome as a boarder under +your roof as long as I am looking into my old friend's books and +papers?" + +"Not only welcome, but a protection to us, sir," answered Agnes. + +He took a set of ivory tablets from his pocket, with a pencil, and +handing it to her politely, said: + +"Please write your answer." + +She wrote "Yes." + +The deaf lodger gave as little trouble as could have been expected. He +had a bedroom, and moved a large secretary desk into it, and sat there +all day looking at figures. If he ever wanted to make an inquiry, he +wrote it on the tablets, and in the evening had it read and answered. +Agnes was a good deal of the time preoccupied, and Podge Byerly, who +wrote as neatly as copper-plate, answered these inquiries, and conducted +a little conversation of her own. Podge was a slender blonde, with fine +blue eyes and a mischievous, sylph-like way of coming and going. Her +freedom of motion and address seemed to concern the stranger. One day +she wrote, after putting down the answer to a business inquiry: + +"Are you married?" + +He hesitated some time and wrote back, "I hope not." + +She retorted, "Could one forget if one was married?" + +He replied on the same tablet: "Not when he tried." + +Podge rubbed it all off, and thought a minute, and then concluded that +evening's correspondence: + +"You are an old tease!" + +The next morning, as usual, she wrapped herself up warmly and took the +omnibus for her school, and saw him watching her out of the upper +window. That night, instead of any inquiries, he stalked down in his +worked slippers--the dead man's--and long dressing gown, and, after +smiling at all, took Podge Byerly's hand and looked at it. This time he +spoke in a sweet, modulated voice, + +"Very pretty!" + +She was about to reply, when he gave her the ivory tablet, and put his +finger on his lip. + +She wrote, "Did you ever fight a duel?" + +He shook his head "No." + +She wrote again, "What else do they do in Arkansas?" + +He replied, "They love." + +Then Mr. Duff Salter sneezed very loudly, "Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" +Podge ran off at such a serious turn of responses, but was too much of a +woman not to be lured back of her own will. He wrote later in the +evening this touching query: + +"How do the birds sing now? Are they all dumb?" + +She answered, "Many can hear who never heard them." + +He wrote again, "Are you suspicious?" + +She replied, "_Very_. Are you?" + +He shook his head "No." + +"I believe he _is_," said Podge, turning to Agnes, who had entered. "He +looks as if he had asked that question of himself." + +Duff Salter seized his handkerchief and sneezed into it, "Jericho-o! +Jericho-wo!" + +Podge was sure he was suspicious the next night when she read on his +tablets the rather imputative remark, + +"Is there anything demoralizing in teaching public schools?" + +She replied tartly, "Yes, stupid old visitors and parents!" + +"Excuse me!" he wrote; "I meant politicians." + +She replied in the same spirit as before, "I think politicians are +divine!" + +Duff Salter looked a little wondering out of those calm gray eyes and +his strong, yet benevolent Scotch-Irish countenance. Podge, who now +talked freely with Agnes in his presence, said confidently: + +"I believe I can tantalize this good old granny by giving him doubts +about me! I am real bad, Aggy; you know that! It is no story to tell +it!" + +"Oh! we are both bad enough to try to improve," exclaimed Agnes +absently. + +"Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. + +He came down every evening, and began respectfully to bow to Agnes and +to smile on Podge, and then stretched his feet out to the ottoman, drew +his tablets up to the small table and proceeded to write. They hallooed +into his ear once or twice, but he said he was deaf as a mill-stone, and +might be cursed to his face and wouldn't understand it. They had formed +a pleasing opinion of him, not unmixed with curiosity, when one night he +wrote on the back of a piece of paper: + +"Have you any idea who wrote this anonymous note to me?" + +Podge Byerly took the note and found in a woman's handwriting these +words: + + "Mr. Duff Salter, I suppose you know where you are. Your hostesses + are very insinuating and artful--and what else, _you can find out_! + One man has been murdered in that family; another has disappeared. + They say in Kensington the house of Zane is haunted. + + "A WARNER." + +Podge read the note, and her tears dropped upon it. He moved forward as +if to speak to her, but correcting himself hastily, he wrote upon the +tablets: + +"Not even a suspicious person is affected the least by an anonymous +letter. I only keep it that possibly I may detect the sender!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A SUITOR. + + +Duff Salter and the ladies were sitting in the back parlor one evening +following the events just related, when the door-bell rang, and Podge +Byerly went to see who was there. She soon returned and closed the door +of the front parlor, leaving a little crack, by accident, and lighted +the gas there. + +"Aggy," whispered Podge, coming in, "there's Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, our +future minister. He's elegantly dressed, and has a nosegay in his hand." + +"Can't you entertain him, dear?" + +"I would be glad enough, but he asked in a very decided way for you." + +"For me?" + +Agnes looked distressed. + +"Yes; he said very distinctly, 'I called to pay my respects particularly +to Miss Agnes to-night.'" + +Agnes left the room, and Duff Salter and Podge were again together. +Podge could hear plainly what was said in the front parlor, and partly +see, by the brighter light there, the motions of the visitor and her +friend. She wrote on Duff Salter's tablet, "A deaf man is a great +convenience!" + +"Why?" wrote the large, grave man. + +"Because he can't hear what girls say to their beaux." + +"Is that a beau calling on our beautiful friend?" + +"I'm afraid so!" + +"How do you feel when a beau comes?" + +"We feel important." + +"You don't feel grateful, then; only complimented." + +"No; we feel that on one of two occasions we have the advantage over a +man. We can play him like a big fish on a little angle." + +"When is the other occasion?" + +"Some women," wrote Podge, "play just the same with the man they +marry!" + +Duff Salter looked up surprised. + +"Isn't that wrong?" he wrote. + +She answered mischievously, "A kind of!" + +The large, bearded man looked so exceedingly grave that Podge burst out +laughing. + +"Don't you know," she wrote, "that the propensity to plague a man +dependent on you is inherent in every healthy woman?" + +He wrote, "I do know it, and it's a crime!" + +Podge thought to herself "This old man is dreadfully serious and +suspicious sometimes." + +As Duff Salter relapsed into silence, gazing on the fire, the voice of +Calvin Van de Lear was heard by Podge, pitched in a low and confident +key, from the parlor side: + +"I called, Agnes, when I thought sufficient time had elapsed since the +troubles here, to express my deep interest in you, and to find you, I +hoped, with a disposition to turn to the sunny side of life's affairs." + +"I am not ready to take more than a necessary part in anything outside +of this house," replied Agnes. "My mind is altogether preoccupied. I +thank you for your good wishes, Mr. Van de Lear." + +"Now do be less formal," said the young man persuasively. "I have always +been Cal. before--short and easy, Cal. Van de Lear. _You_ might call me +almost anything, Aggy." + +"I have changed, sir. Our afflictions have taught me that I am no longer +a girl." + +"You won't call me Cal., then?" + +"No, Mr. Van de Lear." + +"I see how it is," exclaimed the visitor. "You think because I am +studying for orders I must be looked up to. Aggy, that's got nothing to +do with social things. When I take the governor's place in our pulpit I +shall make my sermons for this generation altogether crack, sentimental +sermons, and drive away dull care. That's my understanding of the good +shepherd." + +"Mr. Van de Lear, there are some cares so natural that they are almost +consolation. Under the pressure of them we draw nearer to happiness. +What merry words should be said to those who were bred under this roof +in such misfortunes as I have now--as the absent have?" + +Podge saw Agnes put her handkerchief to her face, and her neck shake a +minute convulsively. Duff Salter here sneezed loudly: "Jericho! +Jerichew! Je-ry-cho-o!" He produced a tortoise-shell snuff-box, and +Podge took a pinch, for fun, and sneezed until the tears came to her +eyes and her hair was shaken down. She wrote on the tablets, + +"Men could eat dirt and enjoy it." + +He replied, "At last dirt eats all the men." + +"It's to get rid of them!" wrote Podge. "My boys at school are dirty by +inclination. They will chew anything from a piece of India rubber shoe +to slippery elm and liquorice root. One piece of liquorice will +demoralize a whole class. They pass it around." + +Duff Salter replied, "The boys must have something in their mouths; the +girls in their heads!" + +"But not liquorice root," added Podge. + +"No; they put the boys in their heads!" + +"Pshaw!" wrote Podge, "girls don't like boys. They like nice old men who +will pet them." + +Here Podge ran out of the room and the conversation in the front parlor +was renewed. The voice of Calvin Van de Lear said: + +"Agnes, looking at your affairs in the light of religious duty, as you +seem to prefer, I must tell you that your actions have not always been +perfect." + +Nothing was said in reply to this. + +"I am to be your pastor at some not distant day," spoke the same voice, +"and may take some of that privilege now. As a daughter of the church +you should give the encouragement of your beauty and favor only to +serious, and approved, and moral young men. Not such scapegraces as +Andrew Zane!" + +"Sir!" exclaimed Agnes, rising. "How dare you speak of the poor absent +one?" + +"Sit down," exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, not a bit discomposed. "I have +some disciplinary power now, and shall have more. A lady in full +communion with our church--a single woman without a living +guardian--requires to hear the truth, even from an erring brother. You +have no right to go outside the range at least of respectable men, to +place your affections and bestow your beauty and religion on a +particularly bad man--a criminal indeed--one already fled from this +community, and under circumstances of the greatest suspicion. I mean +Andrew Zane!" + +"Hush!" exclaimed Agnes; "perhaps he is dead." + +A short and awkward quiet succeeded, broken by young Van de Lear's +interruption at last: + +"Aggy, I don't know but it is the best thing. Is it so?" + +"For shame, sir!" + +"He wouldn't have come to any good. I know him well. We went to school +together here in Kensington. Under a light and agreeable exterior he +concealed an obstinacy almost devilish. All the tricks and daredevil +feats we heard of, he was at the head of them. After he grew up his eyes +fell on you. For a time he was soberer. Then, perceiving that you were +also his father's choice, he conspired against his father, repeatedly +absconded, and gave that father great trouble to find and return him to +his home, and still stepped between Mr. Zane and his wishes. Was that +the part of a grateful and obedient son?" + +Not a word was returned by Agnes Wilt. + +"How ill-advised," continued Calvin Van de Lear, "was your weakness +during that behavior! Do you know what the tattle of all Kensington is? +That you favored both the father and the son! That you declined the son +only because his father might disinherit him, and put off the father +because the son would have the longer enjoyment of his property! I have +defended you everywhere on these charges. They say even more, _Miss_ +Agnes--if you prefer it--that the murder of the father was not committed +by Andrew Zane without an instigator, perhaps an accessory." + +The voice of Agnes was heard in hasty and anxious imploration: + +"For pity's sake, say no more. Be silent. Am I not bowed and wretched +enough?" + +She came hastily to the fissure of the door and looked in, because Duff +Salter just then sneezed tremendously: + +"Jericho-o-o-o! Jer-ry-cho-o-o!" + +Podge Byerly reappeared with a pack of cards and shuffled them before +Duff Salter's face. + +They sat down and played a game of euchre for a cent a point, the +tablets at hand between them to write whatever was mindful. Duff Salter +was the best player. + +"I believe," wrote Podge, "that all Western men are gamblers. Are you?" + +He wrote, to her astonishment, + +"I was." + +"Wasn't it a sin?" + +"Not there." + +"I thought gambling was a sin everywhere?" + +"It is everywhere done," wrote Duff Salter. "You are a gambler." + +"That's a fib." + +"You risk your heart, capturing another's." + +"My heart is gone," added Podge, blushing. + +"What's his name?" wrote Duff Salter. + +"That's telling." + +Again the voices of the two people in the front parlor broke on Podge's +ear: + +"You must leave me, Mr. Van de Lear. You do not know the pain and wrong +you are doing me." + +"Agnes, I came to say I loved you. Your beauty has almost maddened me +for years. Your resistance would give me anger if I had not hope left. I +know you loved me once." + +"Sir, it is impossible; it is cruel." + +"Cruel to love you?" repeated the divinity student. "Come now, that's +absurd! No woman is annoyed by an offer. I swear I love you reverently. +I can put you at the head of this society--the wife of a clergyman. Busy +tongues shall be stilled at your coming and going, and the shadow of +this late tragedy will no more plague your reputation, protected in the +bosom of the church and nestled in mine." + +Sounds of a slight struggle were heard, as if the amorous young priest +were trying to embrace Agnes. + +Podge arose, listening. + +The face of Duff Salter was stolid, and unconscious of anything but the +game of cards. + +"I tell you, sir!" exclaimed Agnes, "that your attentions are offensive. +Will you force me to insult you?" + +"Oh! that's all put on, my subtle beauty. You are not alarmed by these +delicate endearments. Give me a kiss!" + +"Calvin Van de Lear, you are a hypocrite. The gentleman you have +slandered to win my favor is as dear to me as you are repulsive. Nay, +sir, I'll teach you good behavior!" + +She threw open the folding-doors just as Duff Salter had come to a +terrific sneeze. + +"Jericho! Jericho! Jer-rick-co-o-o-oh!" + +Looking in with bold suavity, Calvin Van de Lear made a bow and took up +his hat. + +"Good-night," he said, "most reputable ladies, two of a kind!" + +"I think," wrote Duff Salter frigidly, as the young man slammed the door +behind him, "that we'll make a pitcher of port sangaree and have a +little glass before we go to bed. We will all three take a hand at +cards. What shall we play?" + +"Euchre--cut-throat!" exclaimed Podge Byerly, rather explosively. + +Duff Salter seemed to have heard this, for, with his grave eyes bent on +Agnes, he echoed, dubiously: + +"Cut-throat!" + +With an impatient motion Podge Byerly snatched at the cards, and they +fell to the floor. + +Agnes burst into tears and left the room. + +"Upon my word," thought Podge Byerly, "I believe this old gray rat is a +detective officer!" + +There was a shadow over the best residence on Queen Street. + +Anonymous letters continued to come in almost by every mail, making +charges and imputations upon Agnes, and frequently connecting Podge +Byerly with her. + +Terrible epithets--such as "Murderess!" "A second Mrs. Chapman!" +"Jezebel," etc.--were employed in these letters. + +Many of them were written by female hands or in very delicate male +chirography, as if men who wrote like women had their natures. + +There was one woman's handwriting the girls learned to identify, and she +wrote more often than any--more beautifully in the writing, more +shameless in the meaning, as if, with the nethermost experience in +sensuality, she was prepared to subtleize it and be the universal +accuser of her sex. + +"What fiends must surround us!" exclaimed Agnes. "There must be a +punishment deeper than any for the writers of anonymous letters. A +murderer strikes the vital spot but once. Here every commandment is +broken in the cowardly secret letter. False witness, the stab, illicit +joy, covetousness, dishonor of father and mother, and defamation of +God's image in the heart, are all committed in these loathsome letters." + +"Yes," added Podge Byerly, "the woman who writes anonymous letters, I +think, will have a cancer, or wart on her eye, or marry a bow-legged +man. The resurrectionists will get her body, and the primary class in +the other world will play whip-top with the rest of her." + +Agnes and Podge went to church prayer-meeting the night following Calvin +Van de Lear's repulse at their dwelling, and Mr. Duff Salter gave each +of them an arm. + +Old Mr. Van de Lear led the exercises, and, after several persons had +publicly prayed by the direction of the venerable pastor, Calvin Van de +Lear, of his own motion and as a matter of course, took the floor and +launched into a florid supplication almost too elegant to be extempore. + +As he continued, Podge Byerly, looking through her fingers, saw a +handsome, high-colored woman at Calvin's side, stealing glances at Agnes +Wilt. + +It was the wife of Calvin Van de Lear's brother, Knox--a blonde of +large, innocent eyes, who usually came with Calvin to the church. + +While Podge noticed this inquisitive or stray glance, she became +conscious that something in the prayer was directing the attention of +the whole meeting to their pew. + +People turned about, and, with startled or bold looks, observed Agnes +Wilt, whose head was bowed and her veil down. + +The voice of Calvin Van de Lear sounded high and meaningful as Podge +caught these sentences: + +"Lord, smite the wicked and unjust as thou smotest Sapphira by the side +of Ananias. We find her now in the mask of beauty, again of humility, +even, O Lord, of religion, leading the souls of men down to death and +hell. Thou knowest who stand before Thee to do lip service. All hearts +are open to Thee. If there be any here who have deceived Thine elect by +covetousness, or adultery, or _murder_, Lord, make bare Thine arm!" + +The rest of the sentence was lost in the terrific series of sneezes from +Duff Salter, who had taken too big a pinch of snuff and forgot himself, +so as to nearly lift the roof off the little old brick church with his +deeply accentuated, + +"Jer-i-cho-whoe!" + +Even old Silas Van de Lear looked over the top of the pulpit and smiled, +but, luckily, Duff Salter could hardly hear his own sneezes. + +As they left the church Agnes put down her veil, and trembled under the +stare of a hundred investigating critics. + +When they were in the street, Podge Byerly remarked: + +"Oh! that we had a man to resent such meanness as that. I think that +those who address God with slant arrows to wound others, as is often +done at prayer-meeting, will stand in perdition beside the writers of +anonymous letters." + +"They are driving me to the last point," said Agnes. "I can go to church +no more. When will they get between me and heaven? Yet the Lord's will +be done." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GHOST. + + +Spring broke on the snug little suburb, and buds and birds fulfilled +their appointments on the boughs of willows, ailanthuses, lindens, and +maples. Some peach-trees in the back yard of the Zane House hastened to +put on their pink scarves and bonnets, and the boys said that an old +sucker of Penn's Treaty Elm down in a ship-yard was fresh and blithsome +as a second wife. In the hearts and views of living people, too, spring +brought a budding of youthfulness and a gush of sap. Duff Salter +acknowledged it as he looked in Podge Byerly's blue eyes and felt her +hands as they wrapped his scarf around him, or buttoned his gloves. +Whispering, and without the tablets this time, he articulated: + +"Happy for you, Mischief, that I am not young as these trees!" + +"We'll have you set out!" screamed Podge, "like a piece of hale old +willow, and you'll grow again!" + +Duff Salter frequently walked almost to her school with Podge Byerly, +which was far down in the old city. They seldom took the general cut +through Maiden and Laurel Streets to Second, but kept down the river +bank by Beach Street, to see the ship-yards and hear the pounding of +rivets and the merry adzes ringing, and see youngsters and old women +gathering chips, while the sails on the broad river came up on wind and +tide as if to shatter the pier-heads ere they bounded off. + +In the afternoons Duff Salter sometimes called on Rev. Silas Van de +Lear, who had great expectations that Duff would build them a +much-required new church, with the highest spire in Kensington. + +"Here, Brother Salter, is an historic spot," wrote the good old man. "I +shouldn't object to a spire on my church, with the figure of William +Penn on the summit. Friend William and his sons always did well by our +sect." + +"Is it an established fact that he treated with the Indians in +Kensington?" asked Duff Salter, on his ivory tablets. + +"Indisputable! Friend Penn took Thomas Fairman's house at +Shackamaxon--otherwise Eel-Hole--and in this pleasant springtime, April +4, 1683, he met King Tammany under the forest elm, with the savage +people in half-moon circles, looking at the healthy-fed and +business-like Quaker. There Tammany and his Indian allies surrendered +all the land between the Pennypack and Neshaminy." + +"A Tammany haul!" interrupted young Calvin Van de Lear, rather +idiotically. "What did the shrewd William give?" + +"Guns, scissors, knives, tongs, hoes, and Indian money, and +gew-gaws--not much. Philadelphia had no foundation then, and Shackamaxon +was an established place. We are the Knickerbockers here in +Kensington." + +"An honest Quaker would not build a spire," wrote Duff Salter, with a +grim smile. + +Duff Salter was well known to the gossips of Kensington as a fabulously +rich man, who had spent his youth partly in this district, and was of +Kensington parentage, but had roved away to Mexico as a sailor boy, or +clerk, or passenger, and refusing to return, had become a mule-driver in +the mines of cinnabar, and there had remained for years in nearly +heathen solitude, until once he arrived overland in Arkansas with a +train from Chihuahua, the whole of it, as was said, laden with silver +treasure, and his own property. He had been disappointed in love, and +had no one to leave his riches to. This was the story told by Reverend +Silas Van de Lear. + +The people of Kensington were less concerned with the truth of this tale +than with the future intentions of the visitor. + +"How long he tarries in Zane's homestead!" said the people that spring. +"Hasn't he settled that estate yet?" + +"It never will be settled if he can help it," said public Echo, "as long +as there are two fine young women there, and one of them so fascinating +over men!" + +Indeed, Duff Salter received letters, anonymous, of course--the +anonymous letter was then the suburban press--admonishing him to beware +of his siren hostess. + +"_She has ruined two men_," said the elegant female handwriting before +observed. "_You must want to be the subject of a coroner's inquest. That +house is bloody and haunted, rich Mr. Duff Salter! Beware of Lady +Agnes, the murderess! Beware, too, of her accomplice, the insinuating +little Byerly!_" + +Duff Salter walked out one day to make the tour of Kensington. He passed +out the agreeable old Frankford road, with its wayside taverns, and hay +carts, and passing omnibuses, and occasional old farm-like houses, +interspersed with newer residences of a city character, and he strolled +far up Cohocksink Creek till it meandered through billowy fields of +green, and skirted the edges of woods, and all the way was followed by a +path made by truant boys. Sitting down by a spring that gushed up at the +foot of a great sycamore tree, the grandly bearded traveller, all +flushed with the roses of exercise, made no unpleasing picture of a Pan +waiting for Echo by appointment, or holding talk with the grazing goats +of the poor on the open fields around him. + +"How changed!" spoke the traveller aloud. "I have caught fishes all +along this brook, and waded up its bed in summer to cool my feet. The +girl was beside me whose slender feet in innocent exposure were placed +by mine to shame their coarser mould. We thought we were in love, or as +near it as are the outskirts to some throbbing town partly instinctive +with a coming civic destiny. Alas! the little brook that once ran +unvexed to the river, freshening green marshes at its outlet, has become +a sewer, discolored with dyes of factories, and closed around by +tenements and hovels till its purer life is over. My playmate, too, +flowed on to womanhood, till the denser social conditions shut her in; +she mingled the pure current of her life with another more turgid, and +dull-eyed children, like houses of the suburbs, are builded on her +bosom. I am alone, like this old tree, beside the spring where once I +was a sapling, and still, like its waters, youth wells and wells, and +keeps us yet both green in root. Come back, O Love! and freshen me, and, +like a rill, flow down my closing years!" + +Duff Salter's shoulder was touched as he ceased to speak, and he found +young Calvin Van de Lear behind him. + +"I have followed you out to the country," said the young man, howling in +the elder's ear, "because I wanted to talk to you aloud, as I couldn't +do in Kensington." + +Duff Salter drew his storied ivory tablets on the divinity student, and +said, crisply, "Write!" + +"No, old man, that's not my style. It's too slow. Besides, it admits of +nothing impressive being said, and I want to convince you." + +"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "Young man, if you stun my ear +that way a third time I'll knock you down. I'm deaf, it's true, but I'm +not a hallooing scale to try your lungs on. If you won't write, we can't +talk." + +With impatience, yet smiling, Calvin Van de Lear wrote on the tablets, + +"Have you seen the ghost?" + +"Ghost?" + +"Yes, the ghosts of the murdered men!" + +"I never saw a ghost of anything in my life. What men?" + +"William Zane and Sayler Rainey." + +"Who has seen them?" + +"Several people. Some say it's but one that has been seen. Zane's ghost +walks, anyway, in Kensington." + +"What for?" + +"The fishwomen and other superstitious people say, because their +murderers have not been punished." + +"And the murderers are--" + +"Those who survived and profited by the murder, of course?" + +"Jer-ri-choo-woo!" exploded Duff Salter. "Young man," he wrote +deliberately, "you have an idle tongue." + +"Friend Salter, you are blind as well as deaf. Do you know Miss Podge +Byerly?" + +"No. Do you?" + +"She's common! Agnes Wilt uses her as a stool-pigeon. She fetches, and +carries, and flies by night. One of the school directors shoved her on +the public schools for intimate considerations. Perhaps you'll see him +about the house if you look sharp and late some night." + +"Jer-rich-co! Jericho!" + +Duff Salter was decidedly red in the face, and his grave gray eyes +looked both fierce and convicted. He _had_ seen a school director +visiting the house, but thought it natural enough that he should take a +kind interest in one of the youthful and pretty teachers. The deaf man +returned to his pencil and tablets. + +"Do you know, Mr. Van de Lear, that what you are saying is indictable +language? It would have exposed you to death where I have lived." + +The young man tossed his head recklessly. Duff Salter now saw that his +usually sallow face was flushed up to the roots of his long dry hair and +almost colorless whiskers, as if he had been drinking liquors. +Forgetting to use the tablets, Calvin spoke aloud, but not in as high a +key as formerly: + +"Mr. Salter, Agnes Wilt has no heart. She was a step-niece of the late +Mrs. Zane--her brother's daughter. The girl's father was a poor +professional man, and died soon after his child was born, followed at no +great distance to the grave by his widow. While a child, Agnes was cold +and subtle. She professed to love me--that was the understanding in our +childhood. She has forgotten me as she has forgotten many other men. But +she is beautiful, and I want to marry her. You can help me." + +"What do you want with a cold and calculating woman?" wrote Duff Salter +stiffly. "What do you want particularly with such a dangerous woman--a +demon, as you indicate?" + +"I want to save her soul, and retrieve her from wickedness. Upon my +word, old man, that's my only game. You see, to effect that object would +set me up at once with the church people. I'm told that a little +objection to my prospects in the governor's church begins to break out. +If I can marry Agnes Wilt, she will recover her position in Kensington, +and make me more welcome in families. I don't mind telling you that I +have been a little gay." + +"That's nothing," wrote Duff Salter smilingly. "So were the sons of +Eli." + +"Correct!" retorted Calvin. "I need a taming down, and only matrimony +can do it. Now, with your aid I can manage it. Miss Wilt does not fancy +me. She can be made to do so, however, by two causes." + +"And they are--" + +"Her fears and her avarice. I propose to bring this murder close home to +her. If not a principal in it, she is an undoubted accessory after the +fact. Andrew Zane paid her a visit the night the dead bodies were +discovered in the river." + +"You are sure of this?" + +"Perfectly. I have had a detective on his track; too late to arrest the +rascal, but the identity of a sailor man who penetrated into the house +by the coal-hole is established by the discovery of the clothing he +exchanged for that disguise--it was Andrew Zane. Concealment of that +fact from the law will make her an accessory." + +"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter, but with a pale face, and said: + +"That fact established would be serious; but it would be a gratuitous +and vile act for you, who profess to love her." + +"It is love that prompts me--love and pain! A divine anger, I may call +it. I propose to make myself her rescuer afterward, and establish myself +in her gratitude and confidence. You are to help me do this by watching +the house from the inside." + +"Dishonorable!" + +"You were the friend of William Zane, the murdered man. Every obligation +of friendship impels you to discover his murderer. You are rich; lend me +money to continue my investigations. I know this is a cool proposition; +but it is better than spending it on churches." + +"Very well," wrote Duff Salter, "as the late Mr. Zane's executor, I will +spend any proper sum of money to inflict retribution upon his injurers. +I will watch the house." + +They went home through Palmer Street, on which stood the little brick +church--the street said to be occasionally haunted by Governor Anthony +Palmer's phantom coach and four, which was pursued by his twenty-one +children in plush breeches and Panama hats, crying, "Water lots! water +fronts! To let! to lease!" + +As Duff Salter entered the house he saw the school director indicated by +Calvin Van de Lear sitting in the parlor with Podge Byerly. For the +first time Duff Salter noticed that they looked both intimate and +confused. He tried to reason himself out of this suspicion. "Pshaw," he +said; "it was my uncharitable imagination. I'll go back, as if to get +something, and look more carefully." + +As the deaf man reopened the parlor-door he saw the school director +making a motion as if to embrace Podge, who was full of blushes and +appearing to shrink away. + +"There's no imagination about that," thought Duff Salter. "If I could +only hear well enough my ears might counsel me." + +He felt dejected, and his suspicions colored everything--a most +deplorable state of mind for a gentleman. Agnes, too, looked guilty, as +he thought, and hardly addressed a smile to him as he passed up to his +room. + +Duff Salter put on his slippers, lighted his gas, drew the curtains down +and set the door ajar, for in the increasing warmth of spring his grate +fire was almost an infliction. + +"I have not been wise nor just," he said to himself. "My pleasing +reception in this house, and feminine arts, have altogether obliterated +my great duty, which was to avenge my friend. Yes, suspicion was my +duty. I should have been suspicious from the first. Even this vicious +young Van de Lear, shallow as he is, becomes my unconscious accuser. He +says, with truth, that every obligation of friendship impels me to +discover the murderers of William Zane." + +Duff Salter arose, in the warmth of his feelings, and paced up and down +the floor. + +"Ah, William Zane," he said, "how does thy image come back to me! I was +the only friend he would permit. In pride of will and solitary purpose +he was the greatest of all. Rough, unpolished, a poor scholar, but full +of energy, he desired nothing but he believed it his. He desired me to +be his friend, and I could not have resisted if I would. He made me go +with him even on his truant expeditions, and carry his game bag along +the banks of the Tacony, or up the marshes of Rancocus. Yet it was a +happy servitude; for beneath his impetuous mastery was a soul of +devotion. He loved like Jove, and permitted no interposition in his +flame; his dogmatism and force were barbarous, but he gave like a child +and fought like a lion. I saw him last as he was about to enter on +business, in the twenty-first year of his age, an anxious young man with +black hair in natural ringlets, a pale brow, gray eyes wide apart, and +a narrow but wilful chin. He was ever on pivot, ready to spring. And +murdered!" + +Duff Salter looked at the door standing ajar, attracted there by some +movement, or light, or shadow, and the very image he was describing met +his gaze. There were the black ringlets, the pale forehead, the anxious +yet wilful expression, and the years of youthful manhood. It was nothing +in this world if not William Zane! + +Duff Salter felt paralyzed for a minute, as the blood flowed back to his +heart, and a sense of fright overcame him. Then he moved forward on +tip-toe, as if the image might dissolve. It did dissolve as he advanced; +with a tripping motion it receded and left a naked space. In the +darkness of the stairway it absorbed itself, and the deaf man grasped +the balustrade where it had stood, and by his trembling shook the rails +violently. He then staggered back to his mantel, first bolting the door, +as if instinctively, and swallowed a draught of brandy from a medicinal +bottle there. + +"There is a ghost abroad!" exclaimed Duff Salter with a shudder. "I have +seen it." + +He turned the gas on very brightly, so as to soothe his fears with +companionable light. Then, while the perspiration stood upon his +forehead, Duff Salter sat down to think. + +"Why does it haunt me?" he said. "Yet whom but me should it haunt?--the +executor of my friend, intrusted with his dying wishes, bound to him by +ancient ties, and recreant to the high duty of punishing his murderers? +The ghost of William Zane admonishes me that there can be no repose for +my spirit until I take in hand the work of vengeance. Yes, if women +have been accessory to that murder, they shall not be spared. Miss Agnes +is under surveillance; let her be blameless, or beware!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ENCOMPASSED. + + +"He looks scared out of last year's growth," remarked Podge Byerly when +Duff Salter came down-stairs next day. + +"Happy for him, dear, he is not able to hear what is around him in this +place!" exclaimed Agnes aloud. + +They always talked freely before their guest, and he could scarcely be +alarmed even by an explosion. + +Duff wrote on his tablets during breakfast: + +"I must employ a smart man to do errands for me, and rid me of some of +the burdens of this deafness. Do you know of any one?" + +"A mere laborer?" inquired Agnes. + +"Well, an old-fashioned, still-mouthed fellow like myself--one who can +understand my dumb motions." + +Agnes shook her head. + +Said Duff Salter to himself: + +"She don't want me to find such an one, I guess." Then, with the tablets +again, he added, "It's necessary for me to hunt a man at once, and keep +him here on the premises, close by me. I have almost finished up this +work of auditing and clearing the estate. I intend now to pay some +attention to the tragedy, accident, or whatever it was, that led to Mr. +Zane's cutting off. You will second me warmly in this, I am sure." + +Agnes turned pale, and felt the executor's eyes upon her. + +Podge Byerly was pale too. + +Duff Salter did not give them any opportunity to recover composure. + +"To leave the settlement of this estate with such a cloud upon it would +be false to my trust, to my great friend's memory, and, I may add, to +all here. There is a mystery somewhere which has not been pierced. It is +very probably a domestic entanglement. I shall expect you (to Agnes), +and you, too," turning to Podge, "to be absolutely frank with me. Miss +Agnes, have you seen Andrew Zane since his father's body was brought +into this house!" + +Agnes looked around helplessly and uncertain. She took the tablets to +write a reply. Something seemed to arise in her mind to prevent the +intention. She burst into tears and left the table. + +"Ha!" thought Duff Salter grimly, "there will be no confession there. +Then, little Miss Byerly, I will try to throw off its guard thy saucy +perversity; for surely these two women understand each other." + +After breakfast he followed Podge Byerly down Queen Street and through +Beach, and came up with her as she went out of Kensington to the +Delaware water-front about the old Northern Liberties district. + +Duff bowed with a little of diffidence amid all his gravity, and sneezed +as if to hide it: + +"Jericho!--Miss Podge, see the time--eight o'clock, and an hour before +school. Let us go look at the river." + +They walked out on the wharf, and were wholly concealed from shore by +piles of cord-wood and staves. + +"I like to get off here, away from listeners, where I need not be +bellowed at and tire out well-meaning lungs. Now--Jericho! Jericho!" he +sneezed, without any sort of meaning. "Miss Podge," said Duff Salter, +"if you look directly into my eyes and articulate distinctly, I can hear +all you say without raising your voice higher than usual. How much money +do you get for school teaching?" + +"Five hundred dollars." + +"Is that all? What do you do with it?" + +"Support my mother and brother." + +"And yourself also?" + +"Oh! yes." + +"She can't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter inwardly; "that director comes +in the case. Miss Podge, how old is your brother?" + +"Twenty-four. He's my junior," she said archly. "I'm old." + +"Why do you support a man twenty-four years old? Did he meet with an +accident?" + +"He was taken sick, and will never be well," answered Podge warily. + +"Excuse me!" exclaimed Duff Salter, "was it constitutional disease? You +know I am interested." + +"No, sir. He was misled. A woman, much older than himself, infatuated +him while a boy, and he married her, and she broke his health and ruined +him." + +Podge's eyes fell for the first time. + +Duff Salter grasped her hand. + +"And you tell me!" he exclaimed, "that you keep three grown people on +five hundred dollars a year? Don't you get help from any other quarter?" + +"Agnes has given me board for a hundred dollars a year," said Podge, +"but times have changed with her now, and money is scarce. She would +take other boarders, but public opinion is against her on all sides. +It's against me too. But for love we would have separated long ago." + +Podge's tears came. + +"What right had you," exclaimed Duff Salter, rather angrily, "to +maintain a whole family on the servitude of your young body, wearing its +roundness down to bone, exciting your nervous system, and inviting +premature age upon a nature created for a longer girlhood, and for the +solace of love?" + +She did not feel the anger in his tones; it seemed like protection, for +which she had hungered. + +"Why, sir, all women must support their poor kin." + +"Men don't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter, pushing aside his gray apron +of beard to see her more distinctly. "Did that brother who rushed in +vicious precocity to maintain another and a wicked woman ever think of +relieving you from hard labor?" + +"He never could be anything less to me than brother!" exclaimed Podge; +"but, Mr. Salter, if that was only all I had to trouble me! Oh, sir, +work is occupation, but work harassed with care for others becomes +unreal. I cannot sleep, thinking for Agnes. I cannot teach, my head +throbs so. That river, so cold and impure, going along by the wharves, +seems to suck and plash all day in my ears, as we see and hear it now. +At my desk I seem to see those low shores and woods and marshes, on the +other side, and the chatter of children, going all day, laps and eddies +up like dirty waves between me and that indistinct boundary. I am +floating on the river current, drowning as I feel, reaching out for +nothing, for nothing is there. All day long it is so. I was the best +teacher in my rank, with certainty of promotion. I feel that I am losing +confidence. It is the river, the river, and has been so since it gave up +those dead bodies to bring us only ghosts and desolation." + +"It was a faithful witness," spoke Duff Salter, still harsh, as if under +an inner influence. "Yes, a boy--a little boy such as you teach at +school--had the strength to break the solid shield of ice under which +the river held up the dead and bring the murder out. Do you ever think +of that as you hear a spectral river surge and buoy upward, whose waves +are made by children's murmurs--innocent children haunting the guilty?" + +"Do you mean me, Mr. Salter? Nothing haunts me but care." + +"I have been haunted by a ghost," continued Duff Salter. "Yes, the ghost +of my playmate has come to my threshold and peeped on me sitting there +inattentive to his right to vengeance. We shall all be haunted till we +give our evidence for the dead. No rest will come till that is done." + +"I must go," cried Podge Byerly. "You terrify me." + +"Tell me," asked Duff Salter in a low tone, "has Andrew Zane been seen +by Agnes Wilt since he escaped?" + +"Don't ask me." + +"Tell me, and I will give you a sum of money which shall get you rest +for years. Open your mind to me, and I will send you to Europe. Your +brother shall be my brother; your invalid mother will receive abundant +care. I will even ask you to love me!" + +An instant's blushes overspread Podge's worn, pale face, and an +expression of restful joy. Then recurring indignation made her pale +again to the very roots of her golden hair. + +"Betray my friend!" she exclaimed. "Never, till she will give me leave." + +"I have lost my confidence in you both," said Duff Salter coldly, +releasing Podge's arm. "You have been so indifferent in the face of this +crime and public opinion as to receive your lovers in the very parlor +where my dead friend lay. Agnes has admitted it by silence. I have seen +your lover releasing you from his arms. Miss Byerly, I thought you +artless, even in your arts, and only the dupe, perhaps, of a stronger +woman. I hoped that you were pure. You have made me a man of suspicion +and indifference again." His face grew graver, yet unbelieving and hard. + +Podge fled from his side with alarm; he saw her handkerchief staunching +her tears, and people watching her as she nearly ran along the sidewalk. + +"Jericho! Jerichoo! Jer--" + +Duff Salter did not finish the sneeze, but with a long face called for a +boat and rower to take him across to Treaty Island. + +Podge arrived at school just as the bell was ringing, and, still in +nervousness and tears, took her place in her division while the Bible +was read. She saw the principal's eye upon her as she took off her +bonnet and moistened her face, and the boys looked up a minute or two +inquiringly, but soon relapsed to their individual selfishness. When the +glass sashes dividing the rooms were closed and the recitations began, +the lapping sound of the river started anew. A film grew on her eyes, +and in it appeared the distant Jersey and island shore, with the +uncertain boundary of point, cove, and marsh, like a misty cold line, +cheerless and void of life or color, as it was every day, yet standing +there as if it merely came of right and was the river's true border, and +was not to be hated as such. Podge strained to look through the +illusion, and walked down the aisle once, where it seemed to be, and +touched the plaster of the wall. She had hardly receded when it +reappeared, and all between it and her mind was merely empty river, +wallowing and lapping and sucking and subsiding, as if around submerged +piers, or wave was relieving wave from the weight of floating things +like rafts, or logs, or buoys, or bodies. Into this wide waste of muddy +ripples every sound in the school-room swam, and also sights and colors, +till between her eye-lash and that filmy distant margin nothing existed +but a freshet, alive yet with nothing, eddying around with purposeless +power, and still moving onward with an under force. The open book in her +hand appeared like a great white wharf, or pier, covered with lime and +coal in spots and places, and pushed forward into this hissing, +rippling, exclaiming deluge, which washed its base and spread beyond. +Podge could barely read a question in the book, and the sound of her +voice was like gravel or sand pushed off the wharf into the river and +swallowed there. She thought she heard an answer in a muddy tone and +gave the question out again, and there seemed to be laughter, as if the +waters, or what was drowned in them, chuckled and purled, going along. +She raised her eyes above the laughers, and there the boundary line of +Jersey stood defined, and all in front of it was the drifting Delaware. +It seemed to her that boys were darting to and fro and swapping seats, +and one boy had thrown a handful of beans. She walked down the aisle as +if into water, wading through pools and waves of boys, who plashed and +gurgled around her. She walked back again, and a surf of boys was thrown +at her feet. The waters rose and licked and spilled and flowed onward +again. Podge felt a sense of strangling, as if going down, in a hollow +gulf of resounding wave, and shouted: + +"Help! Save me! Save me!" + +She heard a voice like the principal teacher's, say in a lapping, watery +way, "Miss Byerly, what is the meaning of this? Your division is in +disorder. Nobody has recited. Unless you are ill I must suspend you and +call another teacher here." + +"Help! I'm floating off upon the river. Save me! I drown! I drown!" + +The scholars were all up and excited. The principal motioned another +lady teacher to come, and laid Podge's head in the other's lap. + +"Is it brain fever?" he asked. + +"She has been under great excitement," Podge heard the other lady say. +"The Zane murder occurred in her family. Last night, I have been told, +Miss Byerly refused Mr. Bunn, our principal school director, and a man +of large means, who had long been in love with her." + +"Where is he?" said the principal. + +"I heard it from his sister," said the other lady. "Mortified at her +refusal, because confident that she would accept him, he sailed this day +for Europe." + +These were the last words Podge Byerly heard. Then it seemed that the +waters closed over her head. + + * * * * * + +Agnes, left alone in the homestead, had a few days of perfect relief, +except from anonymous letters and newspaper clippings delivered by mail. +That refined handwriting which had steadily poured out the venom of some +concealed hostility survived all other correspondence--delicate as the +graceful circles of the tiniest fish-hooks whose points and barbs enter +deepest in the flesh. + +"Whom can this creature be?" asked Agnes, bringing up her strong mind +from its trouble. "I can have made no such bitter enemy by any act of +mine. A man would hardly pursue so light a purpose with such stability. +There is more than jealousy in it; it is sincere hate, drawn, I should +think, from a deep social or mental resentment, and enraged because I do +not sink under my troubles. Yes, this must be a woman who believes me +innocent but wishes my ruin. Some one, perhaps, who is sinning +unsuspected, and, in her envy of another and purer one, gloats in the +scandal which does not justly stain me. The anonymous letter," thought +Agnes, "is a malignant form of conscience, after all!" + +But life, as it was growing to be in the Zane house, was hardly worth +living. Podge Byerly was broken down and dangerously ill at her mother's +little house. All of Agnes's callers had dropped off, and she felt that +she could no longer worship, except as a show, at Van de Lear's church; +but this deprivation only deepened Agnes's natural devotion. Duff Salter +saw her once, and oftener heard her praying, as the strong wail of it +ascending through the house pierced even his ears. + +"That woman," said Duff, "is wonderfully armed; with beauty, courage, +mystery, witchery, she might almost deceive a God." + +The theory that the house was haunted confirmed the other theory that a +crime rested upon its inmates. + +"Why should there be a ghost unless there had been a murder?" asked the +average gossip and Fishtowner, to whom the marvellous was certain and +the real to be inferred from it. Duff Salter believed in the ghost, as +Agnes was satisfied; he had become unsocial and suspicious in look, and +after two or three days of absence from the house, succeeding Podge's +disappearance, entered it with his new servant. + +Agnes did not see the servant at all for some days, though knowing that +he had come. The cook said he was an accommodating man, ready to help +her at anything, and of no "airs." He entered and went, the cook said, +by the back gate, always wiped his feet at the door, and appeared like a +person of not much "bringing up." One day Agnes had to descend to the +kitchen, and there she saw a strange man eating with the cook; a rough +person with a head of dark red hair and grayish red beard all round his +mouth and under his chin. She observed that he was one-legged, and used +a common wooden crutch on the side of the wooden leg. Two long scars +covered his face, and one shaggy eyebrow was higher than the other. + +"I axes your pardon," said the man; "me and cook takes our snack when we +can, mum." + +A day or two after Agnes passed the same man again at the landing on the +stairway. He bowed, and said in his Scotch or Irish dialect, + +"God bless ye, mum!" + +Agnes thought to herself that she had not given the man credit for a +certain rough grace which she now perceived, and as she turned back to +look at him he was looking at her with a fixed, incomprehensible +expression. + +"Am I being watched?" thought Agnes. + +One day, in early June, as Agnes entered the parlor, she found Reverend +Silas Van de Lear there. At the sight of this good old man, the +patriarch of Kensington, by whom she had been baptized and received into +the communion, Agnes Wilt felt strongly moved, the more that in his eyes +was a regard of sympathy just a little touched with doubt. + +"My daughter!" exclaimed the old man, in his clear, practised +articulation, "you are daily in my prayers!" + +The tears came to Agnes, and as she attempted to wipe them away the good +old gentleman drew her head to his shoulder. + +"I cannot let myself think any evil of you, dear sister, in God's +chastising providence," said the clergyman. "Among the angels, in the +land that is awaiting me, I had expected to see the beautiful face +which has so often encouraged my preaching, and looked up at me from +Sabbath-school and church. You do not come to our meetings any more. My +dear, let us pray together in your affliction." + +The old man knelt in the parlor and raised his voice in prayer--a clear, +considerate, judicial, sincere prayer, such as age and long authority +gave him the right to address to heaven. He was not unacquainted with +sorrow himself; his children had given him much concern, and even +anguish, and in Calvin was his last hope. A thread of wicked commonplace +ran through them all; his sterling nature in their composition was lost +like a grain of gold in a mass of alloy. They had nothing ideal, no +reverence, no sense of delicacy. Taking to his arms a face and form that +pleased him, the minister had not ingrafted upon it one babe of any +divinity; that coarser matrix received the sacred flame as mere mud +extinguishes the lightning. He fell into this reminiscence of personal +disappointment unwittingly, as in the process of his prayer he strove to +comfort Agnes. The moment he did so the cold magistracy of the prayer +ceased, and his voice began to tremble, and there ran between the +ecclesiastic and his parishioner the electric spark of mutual grief and +understanding. + +The old man hesitated, and became choked with emotion. + +As he stopped, and the pause was prolonged, Agnes herself, by a powerful +inner impulsion, took up the prayer aloud, and carried it along like +inspiration. She was not of the strong-minded type of women, rather of +the wholly loving; but the deep afflictions of the past few months, +working down into the crevices and cells of her nature, had struck the +impervious bed of piety, and so deluged it with sorrow and the lonely +sense of helplessness that now a cry like an appeal to judgment broke +from her, not despair nor accusation, but an appeal to the very equity +of God. + +It arose so frankly and in such majesty, finding its own aptest words by +its unconscious instinct, that the aged minister was presently aware of +a preternatural power at his side. Was this woman a witch, genius, +demon, or the very priestess of God, he asked. + +The solemn prayer ranged into his own experience by that touch of nature +which unlocks the secret spring of all, being true unto its own deep +needs. The minister was swept along in the resistless current of the +prayer, and listened as if he were the penitent and she the priest. As +the petition died away in Agnes's physical exhaustion, the venerable man +thought to himself: + +"When Jacob wrestled all night at Peniel, his angel must have been a +woman like this; for she has power with God and with men!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FOCUS. + + +Calvin Van de Lear had been up-stairs with Duff Salter, and on his way +out had heard the voice of Agnes Wilt praying. He slipped into the back +parlor and listened at the crevice of the folding-door until his father +had given the pastoral benediction and departed. Then with cool +effrontery Calvin walked into the front parlor, where Agnes was sitting +by the slats of the nearly darkened window. + +"Pardon me, Agnes," he said. "I was calling on the deaf old gentleman +up-stairs, and perceiving that devotions were being conducted here, +stopped that I might not interrupt them." + +Calvin's commonplace nature had hardly been dazed by Agnes's prayer. He +was only confirmed in the idea that she was a woman of genius, and would +take half the work of a pastor off his hands. In the light of both +desire and convenience she had, therefore, appreciated in his eyes. To +marry her, become the proprietor of her snug home and ravishing person, +and send her off to pray with the sick and sup with the older women of +the flock, seemed to him such a comfortable consummation as to have +Heaven's especial approval. Thus do we deceive ourselves when the spirit +of God has departed from us, even in youth, and construe our dreams of +selfishness to be glimmerings of a purer life. + +Calvin was precocious in assurance, because, in addition to being +unprincipled, he was in a manner ordained by election and birthright to +rule over Kensington. His father had been one of those strong-willed, +clear-visioned, intelligent young Eastern divinity students who brought +to a place of more voluptuous and easy burgher society the secular vigor +of New England pastors. Being always superior and always sincere, his +rule had been ungrumblingly accepted. Another generation, at middle age, +found him over them as he had been over their parents--a righteous, +intrepid Protestant priest, good at denunciation, counsel, humor, or +sympathy. The elders and deacons never thought of objecting to anything +after he had insisted upon it, and in this spirit the whole church had +heard submissively that Calvin Van de Lear was to be their next pastor. +This, of course, was conditional upon his behavior, and all knew that +his father would be the last man to impose an injurious person on the +church; they had little idea that "Cal." Van de Lear was devout, but +took the old man's word that grace grew more and more in the sons of the +Elect, and the young man had already professed "conviction," and +voluntarily been received into the church. There he assumed, like an +heir-apparent, the vicarship of the congregation, and it rather +delighted his father that his son so promptly and complacently took +direction of things, made his quasi pastoral rounds, led +prayer-meetings, and exhorted Sunday-schools and missions. A priest +knows the heart of his son no more than a king, and is less suspicious +of him. The king's son may rebel from deferred expectation; the priest's +son can hardly conspire against his father's pulpit. In the minister's +family the line between the world and the faith is a wavering one; +religion becomes a matter of course, and yet is without the mystery of +religion as elsewhere, so that wife and sons regard ecclesiastical +ambition as meritorious, whether the heart be in it piously or +profanely. Calvin Van de Lear was in the church fold of his own accord, +and his father could no more read that son's heart than any other +member's. Indeed, the good old man was especially obtuse in the son's +case, from his partiality, and thus grew up together on the same root +the flower of piety and hypocrisy, the tree and the sucker. + +"Calvin," replied Agnes, "I do not object to your necessary visits here. +Your father is very dear to me." + +"But can't I return to the subject we last talked of?" asked the young +man, shrewdly. + +"No. That is positively forbidden." + +"Agnes," continued Calvin, "you must know I love you!" + +Agnes sank to her seat again with a look of resignation. + +"Calvin," she said, "this is not the time. I am not the person for such +remarks. I have just risen from my knees; my eyes are not in this +world." + +"You will be turning nun if this continues." + +"I am in God's hands," said Agnes. "Yet the hour is dark with me." + +"Agnes, let me lift some of your burden upon myself. You don't hate me?" + +"No. I wish you every happiness, Calvin." + +"Is there nothing you long for--nothing earthly and within the compass +of possibility?" + +"Yes, yes!" Agnes arose and walked across the floor almost +unconsciously, with the palms of her hands held high together above her +head. As she walked to and fro the theological student perceived a +change so extraordinary in her appearance since his last visit that he +measured her in his cool, worldly gaze as a butcher would compute the +weight of a cow on chance reckoning. + +"What is it, dear Agnes?" + +He spoke with a softness of tone little in keeping with his unfeeling, +vigilant face. + +"Oh, give me love! Now, if ever, it is love! Love only, that can lift me +up and cleanse my soul!" + +"Love lies everywhere around you," said the young man. "You trample it +under your feet. My heart--many hearts--have felt the cruel treatment. +Agnes, _you_ must love also." + +"I try to do so," she exclaimed, "but it is not the perfect love that +casteth out fear! God knows I wish it was." + +Her eyes glanced down, and a blush, sudden and deep, spread over her +features. The young man lost nothing of all this, but with alert +analysis took every expression and action in. + +"May I become your friend if greater need arises, Agnes? Do not repulse +me. At the worst--I swear it!--I will be your instrument, your subject." + +Agnes sat in the renewed pallor of profound fear. God, on whom she had +but a moment before called, seemed to have withdrawn His face. Her black +ringlets, smoothed upon her noble brow in wavy lines, gave her something +of a Roman matron's look; her eyebrows, dark as the eyes beneath that +now shrank back yet shone the larger, might have befitted an Eastern +queen. Lips of unconscious invitation, and features produced in their +wholeness which bore out a character too perfect not to have lived +sometime in the realms of the great tragedies of life, made Agnes in her +sorrow peerless yet. + +"Go, Calvin!" she said, with an effort, her eyes still upon the floor; +"if you would ever do me any aid, go now!" + +As he passed into the passageway Calvin Van de Lear ran against a man +with a crutch and a wooden leg, who looked at him from under a head of +dark-red hair, and in a low voice cursed his awkwardness. The man bent +to pick up his crutch, and Calvin observed that he was badly scarred and +had one eyebrow higher than the other. + +"Who are you, fellow?" asked Calvin, surprised. + +"I'm Dogcatcher!" said the man. "When ye see me coming, take the other +side of the street." + +Calvin felt cowed, not so much at these mysterious words as at a hard, +lowering look in the man's face, like especial dislike. + +Agnes Wilt, still sitting in the parlor, saw the lame servant pass her +door, going out, and he looked in and touched his hat, and paused a +minute. Something graceful and wistful together seemed to be in his +bearing and countenance. + +"Anything for me?" asked Agnes. + +"Nothing at all, mum! When there's nobody by to do a job, call on Mike." + +He still seemed to tarry, and in Agnes's nervous condition a mysterious +awe came over her; the man's gaze had a dread fascination that would not +let her drop her eyes. As he passed out of sight and shut the street +door behind him Agnes felt a fainting feeling, as if an apparition had +looked in upon her and vanished--the apparition, if of anything, of him +who had lain dead in that very parlor--the stern, enamored master of the +house whose fatherhood in a fateful moment had turned to marital desire, +and crushed the luck of all the race of Zanes. + +Duff Salter was sitting at his writing table, with an open snuff-box +before him, and, as Calvin Van de Lear entered his room, Duff took a +large pinch of snuff and shoved the tablets forward. Calvin wrote on +them a short sentence. As Duff Salter read it he started to his feet and +sneezed with tremendous energy: + +"Jeri-cho! Jericho! Jerry-cho-o-o!" + +He read the sentence again, and whispered very low: + +"Can't you be mistaken?" + +"As sure as you sit there!" wrote Calvin Van de Lear. + +"What is your inference?" wrote Duff Salter. + +"Seduction!" + +The two men looked at each other silently a few minutes, Duff Salter in +profound astonishment, Calvin Van de Lear with an impudent smile. + +"And so religious!" wrote Duff Salter. + +"That is always incidental to the condition," answered Calvin. + +"It must be a great blow to your affection?" + +"Not at all," scrawled the minister's son. "It gives me a sure thing." + +"Explain that!" + +"I will throw the marriage mantle over her. She will need me now!" + +"But you would not take a wife out of such a situation?" + +"Oh! yes. She will be as handsome as ever, and only half as proud." + +Duff Salter walked up and down the floor and stroked his long beard, and +his usually benevolent expression was now dark and ominous, as if with +gloom and anger. He spoke in a low tone as if not aware that he was +heard, and his voice sounded as if he also did not hear it, and could +not, therefore, give it pitch or intonation: + +"Is this the best of old Kensington? This is the East! Where I dreamed +that life was pure as the water from the dear old pump that quenched my +thirst in boyhood--not bitter as the alkali of the streams of the +plains, nor turbid like the rills of the Arkansas. I pined to leave that +life of renegades, half-breeds, squaws, and nomads to bathe my soul in +the clear fountains of civilization,--to live where marriage was holy +and piety sincere. I find, instead, mystery, blood, dishonor, hypocrisy, +and shame. Let me go back! The rough frontier suits me best. If I can +hear so much wickedness, deaf as I am, let me rather be an unsocial +hermit in the woods, hearing nothing lower than thunder!" + +As Duff Salter went to his dinner that day he looked at Agnes sitting in +her place, so ill at ease, and said to himself, + +"It is true." + + * * * * * + +Another matter of concern was on Mr. Duff Salter's mind--his +serving-man. Such an unequal servant he had never seen--at times full of +intelligence and snap, again as dumb as the bog-trotters of Ireland. + +"What was the matter with you yesterday?" asked the deaf man of Mike one +day. + +"Me head, yer honor!" + +"What ails your head?" + +"Vare-tigo!" + +"How came that?" + +"Falling out of a ship!" + +"What did you strike but water?" + +"Wood; it nearly was the death of me. For weeks I was wid a cracked head +and a cracked leg, yer honor!" + +Still there was something evasive about the man, and he had as many +moods and lights as a sea Proteus, ugly and common, like that batrachian +order, but often enkindled and exceedingly satisfactory as a servant. He +often forgot the place where he left off a certain day's work, and it +had to be recalled to him. He was irregular, too, in going and coming, +and was quite as likely to come when not wanted as not to be on the spot +when due and expected. Duff Salter made up his mind that all the Eastern +people must have bumped their heads and became subject to vertigo. + +One day Duff Salter received this note: + + "MR. DEAF DUFF: Excuse the familiarity, but the coincidence amuses + me. I want you to make me a visit this evening after dark at my + quarters in my brother, Knox Van de Lear's house, on Queen Street + nearly opposite your place of lodging. If Mars crosses the orbit of + Venus to-night, as I expect--there being signs of it in the milky + way,--you will assist me in an observation that will stagger you on + account of its results. Do not come out until dark, and ask at my + brother's den for CAL." + +"I will not be in to-night, Mike," exclaimed Duff Salter a little while +afterward. "You can have all the evening to yourself. Where do you spend +your spare time?" + +"On Traity Island," replied Mike with a grin. "I doesn't like Kinsington +afther dark. They say it has ghosts, sur." + +"But only the ghosts of they killed as they crossed from Treaty Island." + +"Sure enough! But I've lost belafe in ghosts since they have become so +common. Everybody belaves in thim in Kinsington, and I prefer to be +exclusive and sciptical, yer honor." + +"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you believed in spirits going and +coming and hoping and waiting, and it gave you great comfort?" + +"Did I, sur? I forgit it inthirely. It must have been a bad day for my +vartigo." + +Duff Salter looked at his man long and earnestly, and from head to foot, +and the inspection appeared to please him. + +"Mike," he said, in his loud, deafish voice, "I am going to cure you of +your vertigo." + +"Whin, dear Mister Salter." + +"Perhaps to-morrow," remarked Duff Salter significantly. "I shall have a +man here who will either confer it on you permanently or cure you +instantly." + +Duff Salter put on his hat, took his stick, and drew the curtains down. + +Mike was sitting at the writing table arranging some models of vessels +and steam tugs as his employer turned at the doorway and looked back, +and, with a countenance more waggish than exasperated, Duff Salter shook +his cane at the unobservant Irishman, and sagely gestured with his head. + +Agnes was about to take the head of the tea-table as he came down the +stairs. + +"No," motioned Duff Salter, and pointed out of doors. + +He gave a slight examination to Agnes, so delicate as to be almost +unnoticed, though she perceived it. + +Duff sat at the tea side and wrote on his tablets: + +"How is little Podge coming on?" + +"Growing better," replied Agnes, "but she will be unfit to teach her +school for months. Kind friends have sent her many things." + +Duff Salter waited a little while, and wrote: + +"I wish I could leave everybody happy behind me when I go away." + +"Are you going soon?" + +"I am going at once," wrote Duff Salter with a sudden decision. "I am +not trusted by anybody here, and my work is over." + +Agnes sat a little while in pain and wistfulness. Finally she wrote: + +"There is but one thing which prevents our perfect trust in you; it is +your distrust of us." + +"I _am_ distrustful--too much so," answered, in writing, the deaf man. +"A little suspicion soon overspreads the whole nature, and yet, I think, +one can be generous even with suspicion. Among the disciples were a +traitor, a liar, a coward, and a doubter; but none upbraid the last, +poor Thomas, and he is sainted in our faith. Do you know that suspicion +made me deaf? Yes; if we mock Nature with distrust, she stops our ears. +Do you not remember what happened to Zacharias, the priest? He would not +believe the angel who announced that his wife would soon become a +mother, and for his unbelief was stricken dumb!" + +The deaf guest had either stumbled into this illustration, or written it +with full design. He looked at Agnes, and the pale and purple colors +came and went upon her face as she bent her body forward over the table. +Duff Salter arose and spoke with that lost voice, like one in a vacuum, +while he folded his tablet. + +"Agnes," he said, "it has been cruel to a man of such a sceptical soul +as mine to educate him back from the faith he had acquired to the +unfaith he had tried to put behind him. Why did you do it? The +suppression of the truth is never excusable. The secret you might have +scattered with a word, when suspicion started against you, is now +diffused through every family and rendezvous in Kensington." + +She looked miserable enough, and still received the stab of her guest's +magisterial tongue like an affliction from heaven. + +"I had also become infected with this imputation," continued Duff +Salter. "All things around you looked sinister for a season. A kind +Providence has dispelled these black shadows, and I see you now the +victim of an immeasurable mistake. Your weakness and another's obstinacy +have almost ruined you. I shall save you with a cruel hand; let the +remorse be his who hoped to outlive society and its natural suspicions +by a mere absence." + +"I will not let you upbraid him," spoke Agnes Wilt. "My weakness was the +whole mistake." + +"Agnes," said the grave, bearded man, "you must walk through Kensington +to-morrow with me in the sight of the whole world." + +She looked up and around a moment, and staggered toward a sofa, but +would have fallen had not Duff Salter caught her in his arms and placed +her there with tender strength. He whispered in her ear: + +"Courage, little _mother_!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A REAL ROOF-TREE. + + +Ringing the bell at the low front step of a two-story brick dwelling, +Duff Salter was admitted by Mr. Knox Van de Lear, the proprietor, a +tall, plain, commonplace man, who scarcely bore one feature of his +venerable father. "Come in, Mr. Salter," bellowed Knox, "tea's just +a-waitin' for you. Pap's here. You know Cal, certain! This is my good +lady, Mrs. Van de Lear. Lottie, put on the oysters and waffles! Don't +forgit the catfish. There's nothing like catfish out of the Delaware, +Mr. Salter." + +"Particularly if they have a corpse or two to flavor them," said Calvin +Van de Lear in a low tone. + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear, a fine, large, blonde lady, took the head of the +table. She had a sweet, timid voice, quite out of quantity with her bone +and flesh, and her eyelashes seemed to be weak, for they closed together +often and in almost regular time, and the delicate lids were quite as +noticeable as her bashful blue eyes. + +"Lottie," said Rev. Silas Van de Lear, "I came in to-night with a little +chill upon me. At my age chills are the tremors from other wings +hovering near. Please let me have the first cup of coffee hot." + +"Certainly, papa," said the hostess, making haste to fill his cup. "You +don't at all feel apprehensive, do you?" + +"No," said the old man, with his teeth chattering. "I haven't had +apprehensions for long back. Nothing but confidence." + +"Oh, pap!" put in Knox Van de Lear, "you'll be a preachin' when I'm a +granddaddy. You never mean to die. Eat a waffle!" + +"My children," said the old man, "death is over-due with me. It gives me +no more concern than the last hour shall give all of us. I had hoped to +live for three things: to see my new church raised; to see my son Calvin +ready to take my place; to see my neighbor, Miss Wilt, whom I have seen +grow up under my eye from childhood, and fair as a lily, brush the dew +of scandal from her skirts and resume her place in our church, the +handmaid of God again." + +"Amen, old man!" spoke Calvin irreverently, holding up his plate for +oysters. + +"Why, Cal," exclaimed the hostess, closing her delicately-tinted eyelids +till the long lashes rested on the cheek, "why don't you call papa more +softly?" + +"My son," spoke the little old gentleman between his chatterings, "in +the priestly office you must avoid abruptness. Be direct at all +important times, but neither familiar nor abrupt. I cannot name for you +a model of address like Agnes Wilt." + +"Isn't she beautiful!" said Mrs. Knox. "Do you think she can be +deceitful, papa?" + +"I have no means to pierce the souls of people, Lottie, more than +others. I don't believe she is wicked, but I draw that from my reason +and human faith. That woman was a pillar of strength in my +Sabbath-school. May the Lord bring her forth from the furnace refined by +fire, and punish them who may have persecuted her!" + +"Cal is going into a decline on her account," said Knox. "I know it by +seeing him eat waffles. She refused Cal one day, and he came home and +eat all the cold meat in the house." + +"Mr. Salter," the hostess said, raising her voice, "you have a beautiful +woman for a landlady. Is she well?" + +"Very melancholy," said Duff Salter. "Why don't you visit her?" + +"Really," said the hostess, "there is so much feeling against Agnes +that, considering Papa Van de Lear's position in Kensington, I have been +afraid. Agnes is quite too clever for me!" + +"I hope she will be," said Duff Salter, relapsing to his coffee. + +"He didn't hear what you said, Lot," exclaimed Calvin. "The old man has +to guess at what we halloo at him." + +"Have you appraised the estate of the late William Zane?" asked the +minister, with his bold pulpit voice, which Salter could hear easily. + +"Yes," replied the deaf guest. "It comes out strong. It is worth, clear +of everything and not including doubtful credits, one hundred and eighty +thousand dollars." + +"That is the largest estate in Kensington," exclaimed the clergyman. + +"I shall release it all within one week to Miss Agnes," said Duff +Salter. "You are too old, Mr. Van de Lear, to manage it. I have finished +my work as co-executor with you. The third executor is Miss Wilt. With +the estate in her hands she will change the tone of public opinion in +Kensington, perhaps, and the fugitive heir must return or receive no +money from the woman he has injured!" + +"I am entirely of your opinion," said Reverend Mr. Van de Lear. "Agnes +was independent before; this will make her powerful, and she needs all +the power she can get to meet this insensate suburban opinion. When I +was a young man, commencing to minister here, I had rivals enough, and +deeply sympathize with those who must defend themselves against the +embattled gossip of a suburban society." + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear opened and closed her eyes with a saintly sort of +resignation. + +"I am glad for Agnes," she said. "But I fear the courts will not allow +her, suspected as she is, to have the custody of so much wealth that has +descended to her through the misfortunes of others, if not by crimes." + +"You are right, Lot," said Calvin. "Her little game may be to get a +husband as soon as she can, who will resist a trustee's appointment by +the courts." + +"Can _she_ get a husband, Cal?" + +"Oh, yes! She's lightning! There's old Salter, rich as a Jew. She's +smart enough to capture him and add all he has to all that was coming to +Andrew Zane." + +Mr. Salter drew up his napkin and sneezed into it a soft articulation of +"Jericho! Jericho!" + +"Cal, don't you think you have some chance there yet?" asked Knox Van +de Lear. "I hoped you would have won Aggy long ago. It's a better show +than I ever had. You see I have to be at work at six o'clock, winter and +summer, and stay at the bookbindery all day long, and so it goes the +year round." + +"Indeed, it is so!" exclaimed the hostess, slowly shutting down her +silken lids of pink. "My poor husband goes away from me while I still +sleep in the dark of dawn; he only returns at supper." + +"Well, haven't you got brother Cal?" asked the bookbinder. "He's better +company than I am, Lottie." + +"But Calvin is in love with Miss Wilt," said the lady, softly unclosing +her eves. + +"No," coolly remarked Calvin, "I am not in love with her. You know that, +Lottie." + +"Well, Calvin, dear, you would be if you thought she was pure and clear +of crime." + +"Don't ask me foolish questions!" said Calvin. + +The lady at the head of the table wore a pretty smile which she shut +away under her eyelids again and again, and looked gently at Calvin. + +"Dear Agnes!" ejaculated Mrs. Knox, "I never blamed her so much as that +bold little creature, Podge Byerly! No one could make any impression +upon Agnes's confidence until that bright little thing went to board +with her. It is so demoralizing to take these working-girls, shop-girls +and school-teachers, in where religious influences had prevailed! They +became inseparable; Agnes had to entertain such company as Miss Byerly +brought there, and it produced a lowering of tone. She looked around her +suddenly when these crimes were found out, and all her old mature +friends were gone. It is so sad to lose all the wholesome influences +which protect one!" + +Duff Salter had been eating his chicken and catfish very gravely, and as +he stopped to sneeze and apologize he noticed that Calvin Van de Lear's +face was insolent in its look toward his brother's wife. + +"Wholesome influence," said Calvin, "will return at the news of her +money, quick enough!" + +"Poor dear Cal!" exclaimed the lady; "he is still madly in love!" + +"My friends," spoke up Duff Salter, "your father is a very sick man. Let +us take him to a chamber and send for his doctor." + +Mr. Van de Lear had been neglected in this conversation; it was now seen +that he was in collapse and deathly pale. He leaned forward, however, +from strong habit, to close the meal with a blessing, and his head fell +forward upon the table. Duff Salter had him in his arms in a moment, and +bore him into the little parlor and placed him on a sofa. + +"Give me some music, children," he murmured. "Oh, my brother Salter! I +would that you could hear with me the rustling sounds I hear in music +now! There are voices in it keeping heavenly time, saying, 'Well done! +well done!' My strong, kind brother, let me lean upon your breast. Had +we met in younger days I feel that we would have been very friendly with +each other." + +Duff Salter already had the meagre little man upon his breast, and his +long, hale beard descended upon the pale and aged face. + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear seated herself at the piano and began a hymn, and +Calvin Van de Lear accompanied her, singing bass. The old man closed his +eyes on Duff Salter's breast, and Mr. Knox Van de Lear went out softly +to send for a physician. Duff Salter, looking up at a catch in the +singing, saw that Calvin Van de Lear was leaning familiarly on the +lady's shoulder while he turned the leaves of the book of sacred music. + +"I am very sick," said the old clergyman, still shaken by the chills. +"Perhaps we shall meet together no more. My fellow-executor, do my part +in this world! In all my life of serving the church and its Divine +Master, I have first looked out for the young people. They are most +helpless, most valuable. See that Sister Agnes is mercifully cared for! +If young Andrew Zane returns, deal gently with him too. Let us be kind +to the dear boys, though they go astray. The dear, dear boys!" + +Duff Salter received the brave little man's head again upon his breast, +and said to himself: + +"May God speedily take him away in mercy!" + +The doctor, returning with Knox Van de Lear, commanded the minister to +be instantly removed to a chamber, and Duff Salter, unassisted, walked +up-stairs with him like a father carrying his infant to bed. As they +placed the wasted figure away beneath the coverlets, he put his arm +around Duff Salter's neck. + +"Brother," he said hoarsely, the chill having him in its grasp, "God has +blessed you. Can you help my new church?" + +"I promise you," said Duff Salter, "that after your people have done +their best I will give the remainder. It shall be built!" + +"Now, God be praised!" whispered the dying pastor. "And let Thy servant +depart in peace." + +"Amen!" from somewhere, trembled through the chamber as Duff Salter, his +feet muffled like his voice, in the habit of mute people who walk as +they hear, passed down the stairway. + +Duff Salter took his seat in the dining-room, which was an extension of +Knox Van de Lear's plain parlor, and buried his face in his palms. Years +ago, when a boy, he had attended preaching in Silas Van de Lear's little +chapel, and it touched him deeply that the nestor of the suburb was +about to die; the last of the staunch old pastors of the kirk who had +never been silent when liberty was in peril. The times were not the +same, and the old man was too brave and simple for the latter half of +his century. As Duff Salter thought of many memories associated with the +Rev. Silas Van de Lear's residence in Kensington, he heard his own name +mentioned. It was a lady's voice; nothing but acute sensibility could +have made it so plain to a deaf man: + +"Husband," said the lady with the slumberous eyelids, "go out with the +pitcher and get us half a gallon of ale. Cal and Mr. Salter and myself +are thirsty." + +"I have been for the doctor, Lottie; let Cal go." + +"Cal?" exclaimed the lady, very quietly raising her lashes. "It would +not do for him to go for _ale_! He is to be the junior pastor, my dear, +as soon as papa is buried, over the Van de Lear church." + +"All right," said the tired husband, "I'll go. We must all back up Cal." + +As soon as the door closed upon Mr. Knox Van de Lear, a kiss resounded +through the little house, and a woman's voice followed it, saying: + +"Imprudent!" + +"Oh, bah!" spoke Calvin Van de Lear. "Salter is deaf as a post. Lottie, +Agnes Wilt has been ruined!" + +In the long pause following this remark the deaf man peeped through his +fingers and saw the lady of the house kiss her husband's brother again +and again. + +"I am so glad," she whispered. "Can it be true?" + +"It's plain as a barn door. She'll be a mother before shad have run out, +or cherries come in." + +"The proud creature! And now, Cal dear, you see nothing exceptionally +saint-like there?" + +"I see shame, friendlessness, wealth, and welcome," spoke the young man. +"It's just my luck!" + +"But the deaf man? Will he not take her part?" + +"No. I shall show him to-night what will cure his partiality. Lottie, +you must let me marry her." + +The large, blonde lady threw back her head until the strong, animal +throat and chin stood sharply defined, and white and scarlet in color as +the lobster's meat. + +"Scoundrel!" she hissed, clenching Calvin's wrist with an almost +maniacal fury. + +At this moment a bell began to toll on the neighboring fire company's +house, and Knox Van de Lear entered with the pitcher of ale. + +"They're tolling the fire bell at the news of father's dying," said +Knox. + +Calvin filled a glass of ale, and exclaimed: + +"Here's to the next pastor of Kensington!" as he laughingly drained it +off. + +"Oh, brother Cal!" remarked the hostess as she softly dropped her +eyelids and smiled reprovingly; "this irreverence comes of visiting Miss +Agnes Wilt too often. I must take you in charge." + +Duff Salter gave a furious sneeze: + +"Jericho! Oh! oh! Jericho!" + +Calvin Van de Lear closed the door between the dining-room and the +parlor, and drew Duff Salter's tablets from his pocket and wrote: + +"I want you to go up on the house roof with me." + +Duff looked at him in surprise, and wrote in reply: + +"Do you mean to throw me off?" + +Calvin's sallow complexion reddened a very little as he laughed +flippantly, and stroked his dry side-whiskers and took the tablets +again: + +"I want you to see the ghost's walk," he wrote. "Come along!" + + * * * * * + +Passing the sick father's door, Calvin led Duff Salter up to the garret +floor, where a room with rag carpet, dumb-bells, boxing-gloves, +theological books, and some pictures far from modest, disclosed the +varied tastes of an entailed pulpit's expectant. Calvin drew down the +curtain of the one window and lighted a lamp. There was a table in the +middle of the floor, and there the two men conducted a silent +conversation on the ivory tablets. + +"This is my room," wrote Calvin. "I stay here all day when I study or +enjoy myself. The governor doesn't come in here to give me any advice +or nose around." + +"Is Mrs. Knox Van de Lear serious as to religious matters?" + +"Very," wrote Calvin, sententiously, and looked at Duff Salter with the +most open countenance he had ever been seen to show. Duff merely asked +another question: + +"Has she a good handwriting? I want to have a small document very neatly +written." + +Calvin went over to a trunk, unlocked it, and took out a bundle of what +appeared to be lady's letters, and selecting one, folded the address +back and showed the chirography. + +"Jericho! Jerry-cho! cho! O cho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "The most +admirable writing I have ever seen." + +Calvin took the tablets. + +"I have been in receipt of some sundry sums of money from you, Salter, +to follow up this Zane mystery. I hope to be able to show you to-night +that it has not been misinvested." + +"You have had two hundred dollars," wrote Duff Salter. "What are your +conclusions?" + +"Andrew Zane is in Kensington." + +"Where?" + +"In the block opposite are several houses belonging to the Zane estate. +One of them stood empty until within a month, when a tenant unknown to +the neighborhood, with small furniture and effects--evidently a mere +servant--moved in. My brother's wife has taken a deep interest in the +Zane murder, and being at home all day, her resort is this room, where +she can see, unobserved, the whole _menage_ and movement in the block +opposite." + +"Why did she feel so much interested?" + +"Honor bright!" Calvin wrote. "Well, Mrs. Knox was a great admirer of +the late William Zane. They were very intimate--some thought under +engagement to marry. Suddenly she accepted my brother, and old Zane +turned out to be infatuated with his ward. We may call it rivalry and +reminiscence." + +"Jer-i-choo-wo!" + +Duff Salter, now full of smiles, proffered a pinch of snuff to his host, +who declined it, but set out a bottle of brandy in reciprocal +friendship. + +"Go on," indicated Salter to the tablets. + +"One morning, just before daybreak, my brother's wife, glancing out of +this window--" + +"In this room, you say, before daybreak?" + +Calvin looked viciously at Duff Salter, who merely smiled. + +"She saw," said Calvin Van de Lear, "an object come out of the trap-door +on Zane's old residence and move under shelter of the ridge of the roof +to the newly-tenanted dwelling in the same block, and there disappear +down the similar trap." + +"Jericho! Jericho!--Proceed." + +"It was our inference that probably Andrew Zane was making stealthy +visits to Agnes, and we applied a test to her. To our astonishment we +found she had only seen him once since the murder, and that was the +night the bodies were discovered." + +"How could you extract that from a self-contained woman like Agnes +Wilt?" asked Duff Salter, deeply interested. + +"We got it from Podge Byerly." + +"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Duff Salter aloud, knocking over the snuff-box +and forgetting to sneeze. "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it is a damned lie." + +Calvin locked up with some surprise but more conceit. + +"I'm a first-class eavesdropper," he wrote, and held it up on the tablet +to Duff's eyes. "We got the fact from Podge's bed-ridden brother, a +scamp who destroyed his health by excesses and came back on Podge for +support. Knowing how corruptible he was, I got access to him and paid +him out of your funds to wheedle out of Podge all that Lady Agnes told +her. She had no idea that her brother communicated with any person, as +he was unable to walk, and she told him for his amusement secrets she +never dreamed could go out of the house. We corresponded with him by +mail." + +"Calvin," wrote Duff Salter, "you never thought of these things +yourself." + +"To give the devil his credit, my brother's wife suggested that device." + +"Jericho-o-o-oh!" + +Duff Salter was himself again. + +"Well, Salter," continued the heir-apparent of Kensington, "we laid our +heads together, and the mystery continued to deepen why Andrew Zane +infested the residence of his murdered father if he never revealed +himself to the woman he had loved. Not until the discovery that Agnes +Wilt had been ruined could we make that out." + +They were both looking at each other intently as Duff Salter read the +last sentence. + +"It then became plain to us," continued Calvin, "that Andrew Zane wanted +to abandon the woman he had seduced, as was perfectly natural. He +haunted and alarmed the house and kept informed on all its happenings, +but cut poor Agnes dead." + +"The infamous scoundrel!" exclaimed Duff Salter, looking very dark and +serious. + +"Now, Salter," continued Calvin, "we had a watch set on that ridge of +roofs every night, and another one at the old Zane house, front and +rear, and the apparition on the roof was so irregular that we could not +understand what occasions it took to come out until we observed that +whenever your servant was out of the neighborhood a whole night, the +roof-walker was sure to descend into Zane's trap." + +"Jer-i-cho-ho-ho!" + +"To-night, as we have made ourselves aware, your servant is not in +Kensington. We saw him off to Treaty Island. I am watching at this +window for the man on the roof. The moment he leaves the trap-door of the +tenant's house, it will be entered by officers at the waving of this +lamp at my window. One officer will proceed along the roof and station +himself on the Zane trap, closing that outlet. At the same time the Zane +house will be entered front and rear and searched. The time is due. It +is midnight. Come!" + +Calvin pointed to a ladder that led from the corner of his study to the +roof, and Duff Salter nodded his head acquiescently. + +They went up the ladder and thrust their heads into the soft night of +early summer. + +There was starlight, but no moon. + +The engine bell just ceased to toll as they looked forth on the +scattered suburb, and at points beheld the Delaware flowing darkly, +indicated by occasional lights of vessels reflected upward, and by the +very distant lamps on the Camden shore. + +Most of the houses within the range of vision were small, patched, and +irregular, except where the black walls of the even blocks on some +principal streets strode through. + +Scarcely a sound, except the tree frogs droning, disturbed the air, and +Kensington basked in the midnight like some sleeping village of the +plains, stretching out to the fields of cattle and the savory truck +farms. + +Duff Salter mentally exclaimed: + +"Here, like two angels of good or evil, we spy upon the dull old hamlet, +where nothing greater has happened than to-night since the Indians +bartered their lands away for things of immediate enjoyment. Are not +most of these people Indians still, ready to trade away substantial +lands of antique title for the playthings of a few brief hours? Yes, +heaven itself was signed away by man and woman for the juices of one +forbidden fruit. Here, where the good old pastor, like another William +Penn, is running his stakes beyond the stars and peopling with angels +his possessions there, the savage children are occupied with the trifles +of lust, covetousness, and deceit. They are no worse than the sons of +Penn, who became apostates to his charity and religion before the breath +had left his body. So goes the human race, whether around the Tree of +Knowledge or Kensington's Treaty Tree." + +Duff Salter felt his arm pulled violently, and heard his companion +whisper, + +"There! Do you see it?" + +Across the street, only a few hundred feet distant, an object emerged +from the black mass of the buildings and moved rapidly along the +opposite ridge of houses against the sky, drawing nearer the two +watchers as it advanced, and passing right opposite. + +Duff Salter made it out to be a woman or a figure in a gown. + +It looked neither to the right nor left, and did not stoop nor cower, +but strode boldly as if with right to the large residence of the Zanes, +where in a minute it faded away. + +Duff Salter felt a little superstitious, but Calvin Van de Lear shot +past him down the ladder. + +Duff heard the curtain at the window thrown up as the divinity student +flashed his lamp and saw the door of the house whence the apparition had +come, forced by the police. + +As he descended the ladder Calvin Van de Lear extended Duff's hat to +him, and pointed across the way. + +They were not very prompt reaching the door of the Zane residence, but +were still there in time to employ Duff Salter's key, instead of +violence, to make the entry. + +"Gentlemen," said the deaf man, with authority, "there is no occasion of +any of you pressing in here to alarm a lady. Mr. Van de Lear and myself +will make the search of the house which you have already guarded, +front, back, and above, and rendered it impossible for the object of +your warrant to escape." + +The dignity and commanding stature of Duff Salter had their effect. + +Calvin Van de Lear and Duff Salter entered the silent house, lighted the +gas, and walked from room to room, finally entering the apartment of +Duff Salter himself. + +There sat Mike, the serving-man, in his red hair, uneven eyebrows, +crutch, and wooden leg, as quietly arranging the models of vessels and +steamers as if he had not anticipated a midnight call nor ceased his +labor since Duff Salter had gone out. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, pale with exertion and rage, +"are you here? I thought you were at Treaty Island." + +"Misther Salter," said the Irishman, "I returned, do you see, because I +forgot something and wanthed a drop of your brandy, sur." + +Duff Salter walked up to the speaker and seized him by the lapels of his +coat, and placing the other hand upon his head, tore off the entire +red-haired scalp which covered him. + +"Andrew Zane," said Duff Salter in a low voice, "your disguise is +detected. Yield yourself like a man to your father's executor. You are +my prisoner!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN COURT. + + +Agnes Wilt awoke and said her prayers, unconscious of any event of the +night. At the breakfast-table she met Duff Salter, who took both her +hands in his. + +"Agnes," said Duff Salter--"let me call you so hereafter--did you hear +the bell toll last night?" + +"No," she replied with agitation. "For what, Mr. Salter?" + +"The good priest of Kensington is dying." + +"Beloved friend!" she said, as the tears came to her eyes. "And must he +die uncertain of my blame or innocence? Yet he will learn it in that +wiser world!" + +"Agnes, I require perfect submission from you for this day. Will you +give it in all things?" + +She looked at him a moment in earnest reflection, and said finally: + +"Yes, unless my conscience says 'no.'" + +"Nothing will be asked of you that you cannot rightfully do. Decision is +what is needed now, and I will bring you through triumphantly if you +will obey me." + +"I will." + +"At eleven o'clock we must go to the magistrate's office. I will walk +there with you." + +"Am I to be arrested?" she asked, hesitating. + +"If you go with me it will not be an arrest." + +"Mr. Salter," she cried, in a burst of anguish, "I am not fit to be seen +upon the streets of Kensington." + +He took her in his arms like a daughter. + +"Yes, yes, poor girl! The mother of God braved no less. You can bear it. +But all this morning I must be closely engaged. An important event +happened last night. At eleven, positively, be ready to go out with me." + +Agnes was ready, and stepped forth into the daylight on the main +thoroughfare of Queen Street. Almost every window was filled with +gazers; the sidewalks were lined with strollers, loiterers, and people +waiting. She might have fainted if Duff Salter's arm had not been there +to sustain her. + +A large fishwife, with a basket on her head, was standing beside her +comely grown daughter, who had put her large basket down, and both +devoured Agnes with their eyes. + +"Staying in the house, Beck," exclaimed the mother of the girl, "has +been healthy for some people." + +"Yes, mammy," answered the girl; "it's safer standing in market with +catfish. He! he! he!" + +A shipbuilder's daughter was on the front steps, a slender girl of dark, +smooth skin and features, talking to a grown boy. The girl bowed: "How +do you do, Miss Agnes?" The grown boy giggled inanely. + +Two old women, near neighbors of Agnes, had their spectacles wiped and +run out to a proper focus, and the older of the two had a double pair +upon her most insidious and suspicious nose. As Agnes passed, this old +lady gave such a start that she dropped the spectacles off her nose, and +ejaculated through the open window, "Lord alive!" + +At Knox Van de Lear's house the fine-bodied, feline lady with +nictitating eyes, drew aside the curtain, even while the dying man above +was in frigid waters, that she might slowly raise and drop her ambrosial +lids, and express a refined but not less marked surprise. Agnes, by an +excitement of the nerves of apprehension, saw everything while she +trembled. She could read the dates of all the houses on the painted +cornices of the water-spouts, and saw the cabalistic devices of old +insurance companies on the property they covered. Pigeons flying about +the low roofs clucked and chuckled as if their milky purity had been +incensed, and little dogs seemed to draw near and trot after, too +familiarly, as if they scented sin. + +There were two working-men from Zane & Rainey's ship-yard who had known +kindness to their wives from Agnes when those wives were in confinement. +Both took off their hats respectfully, but with astonishment +overwhelming their pity. + +Half the fire company had congregated at one corner of the street--lean, +runners of men in red shirts, and with boots outside their trousers. +They did not say a word, but gazed as at a riddle going by. Yet at one +place a Sabbath scholar of Agnes came out before her, and, making a +courtesy, said: + +"Teacher, take my orange blossom!" + +The flower was nearly white, and very fragrant. Duff Salter reached out +and put it in his button-hole. + +So excited were the sensibilities of Agnes that it seemed to her the old +door-knockers squinted; the idle writing of boys on dead walls read with +a hidden meaning; the shade-trees lazily shaking in summer seemed to +whisper; if she looked down, there now and then appeared, moulded in the +bricks of the pavement, a worn letter, or a passing goose foot, the +accident of the brickyard, but now become personal and intentional. The +little babies, sporting in their carriages before some houses, leaned +forward and looked as wise and awful as doctors in some occult +diagnosis. Cartwheels, as they struck hard, articulated, "What, out! +Boo! boohoo!" Sunshine all slanted her way. Hucksters' cries sounded +like constables' proclamation: "Oyez! oyez!" + +With the perceptions, the reflections of Agnes were also startlingly +alert. She seemed two or three unfortunate people at once. Now it was +Lady Jane Grey going to the tower. Now it was Beatrice Cenci going to +torture. Now it was Mary Magdalene going to the cross. At almost every +house she felt a kindness speak for her, except mankind; a recollection +of nursing, comforting, praying with some one, but all forgotten now. +"_Via Crucia, Via Crucia_," her thorn-torn feet seemed to patter in the +echoes of her ears and mind, and there arose upon her spirit the +sternest curse of women, direful with God's own rage, "I will greatly +multiply thy sorrow and thy conception." + +Thus she reached the magistrate's little office, around the door of +which was a little crowd of people, and Duff Salter led her in the +private door to the residence itself. A cup of tea and a decanter of +wine were on the table. The magistrate's wife knew her, and kissed her. +Then Agnes broke down and wept like a little child. + +The magistrate was a lame man, and a deacon in Van de Lear's church, +quite gray, and both prudent and austere, and making use of but few +words, so that there was no way of determining his feelings on the case. +He took his place behind a plain table and opened court by saying, + +"Who appears? Now!" + +Duff Salter rose, the largest man in the court-room. His long beard +covered his whole breast-bone; his fine intelligent features, clear, +sober eyes, and hale, house-bleached skin, bore out the authority +conceded to him in Kensington as a rich gentleman of the world. + +"Mr. Magistrate," said Duff Salter, "this examination concerns the +public and the ends of justice only as bears upon the death of the late +citizens of Kensington, William Zane and Saylor Rainey. It is a +preliminary examination only, and the person suspected by public gossip +has not retained counsel. With your permission, as the executor of +William Zane, I will conduct such part of the inquiry here as my duty +toward the deceased, and my knowledge of the evidence, notwithstanding +my frontier notions of law, suggest to me." + +"You prosecute?" asked the magistrate, and added, "Yes, yes! I will!" + +Calvin Van de Lear got up and bowed to the magistrate. + +"Your Honor, my deep interest in Miss Agnes Wilt has driven me to leave +the bedside of a dying parent to see that her interests are properly +attended to in this case. Whenever she is concerned I am for the +defence." + +"Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "Salter, have you a witness?" + +"Mike Donovan!" called Duff Salter. + +A red-haired Irishman, with one eyebrow higher than the other, and scars +on his face, walked into the alderman's court from the private room, and +was sworn. + +"Donovan," spoke Duff Salter, standing up, "relate the occurrences of a +certain night when you rowed the prisoner, Andrew Zane, and certain +other persons, from Treaty Island to an uncertain point in the River +Delaware." + +"Stop! stop!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, rising. "It seems to me I +have seen that fellow's face before. Donovan, hadn't you a wooden leg +when last I saw you?" + +"No doubt of it," answered the Irishman. + +"Why haven't you got it on now?" cried Calvin, scowling. + +"Because, yer riverence, me own legs was plenty good enough on this +occasion." + +"Now, now, I won't!" ordered the sententious little magistrate. + +"Proceed with the narrative," cried Duff Salter, "and repeat no part of +the conversation in that boat." + +"It was a dark and lowering night," said the waterman, "as we swung +loose from Traity Isle. I sat a little forward of the cintre, managing +the oars. Mr. Andrew Zane was in the bow, on the watch for difficulties. +In the stern sat the boss, Mr. William Zane. Between him and me--God's +rest to him!--sat the murdered gintleman, well-beloved Saylor Rainey! +The tide was running six miles an hour. We steered by the lights of +Kinsington." + +"Then you are confident," said Duff Salter, "that the whole length of +the skiff separated William Zane from his son?" + +"As confident, yer honor, as that the batteau had two inds. They niver +were nearer, the one to the tother, than that, for the whole of the +ixpidition. And scarcely one word did Mr. Andrew utter on the whole ov +that bloody passage." + +"Say nothing, for the present, about any conversations," commanded Duff +Salter, "but go on with the occurrences briefly." + +"I had been a very little while, ye must understand me, gintlemen, in +the imploy of thim two partners. After they entered the boat they spoke +nothing at all, at all, for siveral minutes. It was all I could do wid +the strong tide to keep the boat pinted for Kinsington, and I only +noticed that Mr. Rainey comminced the conversation in a low tone of +voice. Just at that time, or soon afterward, your Honor, a large vessel +stood across our bow, going down stream in the night, and I put on all +my strength, at Mr. William Zane's order, to cross in front of her, and +did so. I was so afraid the ship would take us under that I put my whole +attintion to my task, not daring to disobey so positive a boss as Mr. +Zane, though it was agin my judgment, indade." + +All in the court and outside the door and windows were giving strict +attention. Even Andrew Zane, whose face had been rather sullen, listened +with a pale spot on his cheeks. + +"Go on," said Duff Salter gently. "You relate it very well." + +"As we had cleared the ship, gintlemen, I paused an instant to wipe the +sweat from my brows, though it was a cold night, for I was quite spint. +I then perceived that Mr. Rainey and the master were disputing and +raising their voices higher and higher, and what surprised me most of +all, your Honor, was the unusual firmness of Mr. Rainey, who was +ginerally very obedient to the boss. He faced the boss, and would not +take his orders, and I heard him once exclaim: 'Shame on you, sir; he is +your son!'" + +"Stop! stop!" cried Duff Salter. "You were not to repeat conversations. +What next?" + +"In the twinklin' of an eye," resumed the witness, "the masther had +sazed his partner by the throat and called him a villain. They both +stood up in the boat, the masther's hand still in Mr. Rainey's collar, +and for an instant Mr. Rainey shook himself loose and cried--" + +"Not a word!" exclaimed Duff Salter. "What was _done_?" + +"Mr. Rainey cried out something, all at once. The masther fetched a +terrible oath and fell back upon his seat. 'You assisted in this +villainy!' he shouted. They clinched, and I saw something shine dimly in +Mr. William Zane's hand. The report told me what it was. I lifted one +oar in a feeling of horror, and the boat swung round abruptly on the +blade of the other, and Mr. Rainey, released from the masther's grip, +fell overboard in the dark night." + +Nothing was said by any person in the court except a suppressed "Bah!" +from Calvin Van de Lear. + +"Silence! Order! I won't!" exclaimed the lame magistrate, rising from +his seat. "Now! Go on!" + +"I dropped both oars in me terror, and one of them floated away in the +dark. We all stood up in the boat. 'My God!' exclaimed the masther, +'what have I done?' As quick as the beating of my heart he placed the +pistol at his own head. I saw the flash and heard the report. Mr. +William Zane fell overboard." + +There was a shudder of horror for a moment, and then a voice outside the +window, hoarse and cheery, shouted to the outer crowd, "Andrew is +innocent! Three cheers for Andrew Zane!" + +The people in and out of the warm and densely-pressed office +simultaneously gave cheers, calling others to the scene, and the old +magistrate, lame as he was, arose and looked happy. + +"No arrests!" he cried. "Right enough! Good! Now, attention!" + +But Andrew Zane kept his seat with an expression of obstinacy, and +glared at Calvin Van de Lear, who was trembling with rage. + +"Well got up, on my word!" exclaimed Calvin. "Who is this fellow?" + +"Go on and finish your story!" commanded Duff Salter. + +"God forgive Mike Donovan, your Honor!" continued the witness. "I'm +afraid if Mr. William Zane had been the only man overboard I wouldn't +have risked me life. He was a hard, overbearin' masther. But I thought +of his poor son, standin' paralyzed-like, and the kind Mr. Rainey +drownin' in the wintry water, and I jumped down in the dark flood to +rescue one or both. From that day to this, the two partners I never saw. +It was months before I saw America at all, or the survivin' okkepant of +the boat." + +"You may explain how that came to be," intimated Duff Salter, grimly +superintending the court. + +"Well, sir! As I dived from the skiff my head encountered a solid +something which made me see a thousand flashes av lightning in one +second. I was so stunned that I had only instinct--I belave ye call it +that--to throw my ar-rum around the murthering object and hold like +death. Ye know, judge, how drownin' men will hold to straws. That straw, +yer Honor, was the spar of a vessel movin' through the water. It was, I +found out afterward, one of the pieces which had wedged the ship on the +Marine Railway, where she had been gettin' repaired, and she comin' off +hurriedly about dusk, had not been loosened from her. I raised my voice +by a despairin' effort, and screamed 'Help! help!' When I came to I was +on an Austrian merchant ship, bound to Wilmington, North Carolina, for +naval stores, and then to Trieste. The blow of the spar had given me a +slight crack av the skull." + +"That crack is wide open yet," said Calvin Van de Lear. + +"Begorra," returned the Irishman, facing placidly around until he found +the owner of the voice, "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it would take many such +a blow, sur, to fracture your heart!" + +"Go on now, Donovan, and finish your tale. You were carried off to +Trieste?" spoke Duff Salter. + +"I was, sir. At Wilmington no news had been recaved of any tragedy in +Philadelphia, and when I told my story there to a gentleman he concluded +I was ravin' and a seein' delusions. The Austrian was short av a crew, +and the docthor said if they could get away to sea he could make me +effective very soon. I was too helpless to go on deck or make +resistance. Says I, 'It's the will av God.'" + +A round of applause greeted this story as it was ended, and cheerful +hands were extended to the witness and the prisoner. Calvin Van de Lear, +however, exclaimed: + +"Alderman, what has all this to do with the prisoner's ignominious +flight for months from his home and from persons he abandoned to +suspicion and shame? This man is an impostor." + +"Will you take the stand, Mr. Andrew Zane?" asked Duff Salter. + +"No," replied the late fugitive. "I have been hunted and slandered like +a wolf. I will give no evidence in Kensington, where I have been so +shamefully treated. Let me be sent to a higher court, and there I will +speak." + +"Alas!" Duff Salter said, with grave emphasis, "it is you father's old +and obstinate spirit which is speaking. You are the ghost I thought was +his at the door of my chamber. Mr. Magistrate, swear me!" + +Duff Salter gravely kissed the Testament and stood ready to depose, when +Calvin Van de Lear again interrupted. + +"Are you not deaf?" asked the divinity student. "Where are your tablets +that you carry every day? You seem to hear too well, I consider." + +"You are right," cried Duff Salter, turning on his interrogator like a +lion. "I am wholly cured of deafness, and my memory is as acute as my +hearing." + +Calvin Van de Lear turned pale to the roots of his dry, yellow whiskers. + +"Devil!" he muttered. + +"My testimony covers only a single point," resumed the strong, direct, +and imposing witness. "I saw the face of this prisoner for the first +time since his babyhood in his father's house not many weeks ago. It +resembled his father's youthful countenance, as I knew it, so greatly +that I really believed his parent haunted the streets of Kensington, +according to the rumor. The supposed apparition drove me to investigate +the mysterious death of William Zane. I believed that Agnes knew the +story, but was under this prisoner's command of secrecy. Seeking an +assistant, the witness, Donovan, forced himself upon me. In a short time +I was confounded by the contradictions of his behavior. Looking deeper +into it, I suspected that in his suit of clothing resided at different +times two men: the one an agent, the other a principal; the one a +reality, the other a disguise. I armed myself and had the duller and +less observant of these doubles row me out upon the Delaware on such a +night as marked the tragedy he witnessed. When we reached the middle of +the river I forced the story of the coincidence from him by reasoning +and threats." + +"Ha! ha!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear. "Is this an Arkansas snake +story?" + +"The young Zane had gratified a wilful passion to penetrate the +residence of his father, and look at its inmates and the situation from +safe harborage there. He found that Donovan in his roving sailor's life +had played the crippled sea beggar in the streets of British cities, +tying up his natural leg and fitting a wooden leg to the knee--a trick +well known to British ballad singers. That leg was in Donovan's +sea-chest, as it had been left in this city, and also the crutch +necessary to walk with it. Mr. Zane and Donovan had exchanged the leg +and crutch, and the former matched his fellow with a wig and patches. +Thus convertible, they had for a little while deceived everybody, but +for further convenience Mr. Zane ensconced himself as a tenant in a +neighboring house, and when the apparatus was in request by Donovan, he +crossed on the roofs between the trap-doors, and still was master of his +residence." + +"What does all this disclose but the intrigue of despairing guilt?" +exclaimed young Van de Lear. "He had destroyed the purity of a lady and +abandoned her, and was afraid to show his real face in Kensington." + +"We will see as to that," replied Duff Salter. "I had hoped to respect +the lady's privacy, but Mr. Zane has refused to testify. Call Agnes +Wilt." + +All in the magistrate's office rose at the mention of this name, only +Andrew Zane keeping his seat amid the crowd. Calvin Van de Lear +officiously sought to assist the witness in, but Duff Salter pressed him +back and gave the sad and beautiful woman his arm. She was sworn, and +stood there blushing and pale by turns. + +"What is your name?" asked Duff Salter gently. "Speak very plain, so +that all these good friends of yours may make no mistake." + +"My name," replied the lady, "is Agnes Zane. I am the wife of Mr. Andrew +Zane." + +"Very good," said Duff Salter soothingly. "You are the wife of Andrew +Zane; wedded how long ago, madam?" + +"Eight months." + +"Do you see any person in this court-room, Mrs. Zane, that you wish to +identify? Let all be seated." + +Poor Agnes looked timidly around the place, and saw a person, at whom +all were gazing, rise and reach his arms toward her. + +"Gracious God!" she whispered, "is it he?" + +"It is, dear wife," cried Andrew Zane. "Come to my heart." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE SECRET MARRIAGE. + + +Reverend Silas Van de Lear was drawing his latest breaths in the house +of one of his elder sons, and only his lips were seen to move in silent +prayer, when a younger fellow-clergyman entering, to a cluster of his +cloth attending there, said audibly: + +"This is a strange _denouement_ to the great Kensington scandal, which +has happened this afternoon." + +The large, voluptuous lady with the slowly declining eyelids raised them +quietly as in languid surprise. + +"You mean the Zane murder? What is it?" asked a minister, while others +gathered around, showing the ministry to have human curiosity even in +the hour and article of death. + +"Miss Agnes Wilt, the especial favorite of our dying patriarch here, was +married to young Andrew Zane some time before his father died. There was +no murder in the case. Zane the elder, in one of his frequent fits of +wild and arrogant rage, which were little less than insanity, killed his +partner, Rainey, and in as sudden remorse took his own life." + +"What was the occasion of Zane's rage?" + +"That is not quite clear, but the local population here is in a violent +reaction against the accusers of young Zane and his wife. The church +recovers a valuable woman in Agnes Zane." + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear had a vial of smelling salts in her hand, and this +vial dropping suddenly on the floor called attention to the fact that +the lady had a little swooning turn. She was herself again in a minute, +and her eyes slowly unclosed and lifted their tender curtains prettily. + +"I am so glad for dear Agnes," she said with a natural loudness in that +hushed room. "It even made me forget papa to find Agnes innocent." + +The dying minister seemed to catch the words. A ministerial colleague +bent down to hear his low articulation: + +"Agnes innocent!" said Silas Van de Lear, and strove to clasp his hands. +"The praying of the righteous availeth much!" + +The physician said the good man's pulse ceased to beat at that minute, +and they raised around his scarcely cold remains a hymn to heaven. + +Mean time, at the alderman's court, a surprising scene was witnessed. +For a few minutes everybody was in a frenzy of delight, and Duff Salter +was the hero of the hour. The alderman made no effort to discipline any +person; people hugged and laughed, and entreated to shake hands with +Andrew Zane, and in the pleasing confusion Calvin Van de Lear slunk out, +white as one condemned to be whipped. + +"Now! now! We will! Yes!" said the sententious old alderman. "Come to +order. Andrew Zane must be sworn!" + +At this moment the Kensington volunteer fire apparatus stopped opposite +the alderman's office and began to peal its bells merrily. The young +husband's obstinacy slowly giving way, seemed to be gone entirely when, +searching the room with his eye, he detected the flight of Calvin Van de +Lear. He kissed the little book as if it were a box of divine balm, and +raised his voice, looking still tenderly at Agnes, and addressing Duff +Salter: + +"Will you examine me, my father's friend?" + +"Yes, now! You will!" exploded the alderman. + +"No, take your own method, thou alternate of the late Mike Donovan," +exclaimed Duff Salter with a smile. + +"I never thought there could be an excuse for my behavior," said Andrew +Zane, "until this unexpected kind treatment had encouraged me. Indeed, +my friends, I am in every alternative unfortunate. To defend myself I +must reflect upon the dead. I will not make a defence, but tell my story +plainly. + +"My father was a man of deeds--a kind, rude business man. He loved me +and I worshipped him, though our apposite tempers frequently brought us +in conflict. Neither of us knew how to curb the other or be curbed in +turn. Above all things I learned to fear my father's will; it was +invincible. + +"My wife and I grew up in my widower father's family, and fell in love, +and had an understanding that at a proper season we would marry. That +season could not be long postponed when Agnes's increasing beauty and my +ardor kept pace together. I sought an occasion to break the secret to my +father, and his reception of it filled me with terror. 'Marry Agnes!' +he replied. 'You have no right to her. Your mother left her to me. I +may marry her myself.' + +"If he had never formed this design before it was now pursued with his +well-known tireless energy. The suggestion needed no other encouragement +than her beauty, ever present to inflame us both. Her household habits +and society were to his liking; he offered me everything but that which +embraced all to me. 'Go to Europe!' he said. 'Take a wife where you +will; but Agnes you shall not have. I will give you money, pleasure, and +independence, but I love where you have looked. Agnes will be your +mother, not your wife!' + +"Alas! gentlemen, this purpose of my father was not mere tyranny; he +loved her, indeed, and that was the insurmountable fact. My betrothed +had too much reason to know it. We mingled our tears together and +acknowledged our dependence and duty, but we loved with that youthful +fulness which cannot be mistaken nor dissuaded. In our distress we went +to that kind partner whom my father had raised from an apprentice to be +his equal, and asked him what to do. He told us to marry while we could. +Agnes preferred an open marriage as least in consequences, and involving +every trouble in the brave outset. I hoped to wean my father from his +wilfulness, and yet protect my affection by a secret marriage, to which +with difficulty I prevailed on my betrothed to consent. After our +marriage I found my husband's domain no less invaded by my father's +suit, until life became intolerable and it was necessary to speak. Poor, +brave Rainey, feeling keenly for us, fixed the time and place. He had +seldom crossed my father, and I trembled for his safety, but never +could have anticipated what came to pass. + +"Mr. Rainey said to us, 'I will tell your father, while we are crossing +the river some evening in a batteau, that you and Agnes are married, and +his suit is fruitless. He will be unable to do worse than sit still and +bear it in the small limits of the boat, and before we touch the other +shore will get philosophy from time and consideration.' + +"That plan was carried out. Shall I recount the dreadful circumstances +again? Spare me, I entreat you!" + +"No, I won't! The whole truth!" exclaimed the stern magistrate. "Tell +it!" + +"You are making no mistake, my young friend," said Duff Salter. "It will +all be told very soon." + +"As we started from Treaty Island, on that dark winter night," continued +Andrew Zane, growing pale while he spoke, "Mr. Rainey said to me, 'Go in +the bow. You are not to speak one word. I will face your father astern.' +The oarsman, Donovan, had a hard pull. The first word I heard my father +say was, 'That is none of your affair.' 'It is everybody's affair,' +answered Mr. Rainey, 'because you make it so. Behave like a gentleman +and a parent. The young people love each other.' 'I have the young +lady's affections,' said my father. 'You are making her miserable,' said +Mr. Rainey, 'and are deceiving yourself. She begins to hate you.' 'You +are an insolent liar!' exclaimed my father. 'If you mix in this business +I will throw you out of the firm.' 'That is no intimidation to me,' +answered his partner. 'Prosperity can never attend the business of a +cruel and unjust man. I shall be a brother to Andrew and a father to +Agnes, since you would defraud them so. William Zane, I will see them +married and supported!' With that my father threw himself in mere +physical rage upon Mr. Rainey. They both arose, and Mr. Rainey shook +himself loose and cried, 'You are outwitted, partner. I saw them +married! They are man and wife!' + +"With this my father's rage had no expression short of recklessness. He +always carried arms, and was unconquerable. His ready hand had sought +his weapon, I think, hardly consciously. His dismay and indignation for +an instant destroyed his reason at Mr. Rainey's sudden statement of +fact. + +"My God! can I further particularize on such a scene? In a moment of +time I saw before my eyes a homicide of insanity, a suicide of remorse; +and to end all, the sailor in the boat, as if set crazy by these +occurrences, leaped overboard also." + +This narrative, given with rising energy of feeling by Andrew Zane, was +heard with breathless attention. Andrew paused and glanced at his wife, +whose face was bathed with the inner light of perfect relief. The +greater babe of secrecy had ceased to travail with her. + +"Mr. Magistrate," said the young husband, "as I am under my oath, I can +only relate the acts which followed from the inference of my feelings. +My first sense was that of astonishment too intense not to appear unreal +and even amusing. It seemed to me that if I would laugh out loud all +would come back, as delusions yield to scepticism and mockery. But it +was too cold not to be real, the scene and persons were too familiar to +be erroneous. I had to realize that I was in one of the great and +terrible occasional convulsions of human nature. Do you know how it next +affected me? With an instant's sense of sublimity! I said to myself, +'How dared I marry so much beauty and womanly majesty? Doing so, I have +tempted the old gods and their fates and furies. This is poetical +punishment for my temerity.' Still all the while I was laboring at the +one scull left in the boat while my brain was fuming so, and listening +for sounds on the water. I heard the sailor cry twice, and then his +voice fainted away. I began to weep at the oar while I strained upon it, +and called 'Help!' and implored God's intervention. At last I sat down +in the boat, worn out and in despair, and let it drift down all the +city's front, past lights and glooms and floating ice, and wished that I +were dead. My father's kindness and all our disagreements rose to mind, +and it seemed God's punishment that I had married where his intentions +were. Yet to know the truth of this, I said a prayer upon my knees in +the wet boat while my teeth chattered, and before the end of my prayer +had come I was thinking of my wife's pure name, and how this would spot +her as with stains of blood unless I could explain it. + +"When I reached this stage of my exalted sensibilities I was nearly +crazed. There had been no witness of our marriage except the minister, +and he was already dead. We had been married at the country parsonage of +an old retired minister beyond Oxford church, on the road from Frankford +town, as we drove out one afternoon, and I prevailed with my +conscientious wife to yield her scruples to our heart's necessity. +'Great God!' I thought aloud--for none could hear me there--'how +dreadfully that secret marriage will compromise my wife! Who will +believe us without a witness of what I must assert--a story so +improbable that I would not believe it myself? I must say that I married +my wife secretly from my father's house, confessing deceit for both of +us, and with Agnes's religious professions, a sin in the church's +estimation. If there could be an excuse for me, the strict people of +Kensington will accord none to her. They will charge on her maturer mind +the whole responsibility, paint her in the colors of ingratitude, and +find in her greatest poverty the principal motive. Yes, they may be +wicked enough to say she compassed the death of my father by my hands, +to get his property.' + +"I had proceeded thus far when the terror of our position became +luminous like the coming fire on a prairie, which shows everything but a +way of escape. 'Where is your father?' they would ask of me in +Kensington. 'He is drowned.' 'How drowned?' 'He shot himself.' 'Why did +he shoot himself?' 'Because I had married his ward.' 'But his partner is +gone too.' 'He is murdered.' 'Why murdered?' 'Because he interceded for +me.' 'Where is your witness?' 'He has disappeared.' I saw the wild +improbability of this tale, and thought of past notorious quarrels with +my father ended by my voluntary absence. There were but two points that +seemed to stick in my nervous mind: 'It never would do to tell our +marriage at that moment, and I must find that sailor, who might still be +living.'" + +"He found me, sure enough, begorra!" exclaimed Mike Donovan, giving the +relief of laughter to that intense narrative. + +"Cowardly as you may call my resolution, gentlemen, it was all the +resolution I had left. To partake of the inheritance left me by both +partners in our house I feared to do. 'Let us do the penance of +suspicious separation,' I said to Agnes; 'as your husband I command you +to let me go!' She yielded like a wife, and stood my hostage in +Kensington for all those melancholy months. I had just learned the place +for which the bark which passed us on that eventful night had cleared, +when the two bullet-pierced bodies were discovered in the ice. That +night I sailed for Wilmington, North Carolina. When I arrived there the +bark was gone for the Mediterranean, but I heard of my sailor, wounded, +in her hospital. I sailed from Charleston for Cuba, and from Cuba to +Cadiz, and thence I embarked for Trieste. At Trieste I found the ship, +but Donovan had sailed for Liverpool. From Liverpool I tracked him to +the River Plate, and thence to Panama. You will ask how I lived all +those months? Ask him." + +He turned to Duff Salter. + +"Mr. Magistrate," spoke Duff Salter, a little confused. "I sent him +drafts at his request. He knew me to be the resident executor, and wrote +to me. I did it because of the pity I had for Agnes, and my faith in her +assurance that he was innocent." + +"Good! Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "I would have done the same +myself." + +"I returned with my man," concluded Andrew Zane. "I was now so confident +that I did not fear; but a hard obstinacy, coming on me at times, I +know not how, impelled me to postpone my vindication and make a test of +everybody. I was full of suspicion and bitterness--the reaction from so +much undeserved anxiety. I was the ghost of Kensington, and the spy upon +my guardian, but the unknown sentry upon my wife's honor all the while. + +"Magistrate!"--the young man turned to the alderman, and his face +flushed--"is there no punishment at law for men, and women too, who have +cruelly persecuted my wife with anonymous letters, intended to wound her +brave spirit to the quick?" + +"Plenty of it," said the magistrate. "Yes, I will. I will warrant them +all." + +"I will not forget it," said Andrew Zane darkly. + +"My husband, forget everything!" exclaimed Agnes. "Except that we are +happy. God has forgiven us our only deceit, which has been the +temptation of many in dear old Kensington." + +The old magistrate arose. "Case dismissed," he said: "Dinner is ready in +the next room for Mr. and Mrs. Zane, and Judge Salter. I fine you all a +dinner. Yes, yes! I will!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +TREATY ELM. + + +Andrew Zane was leaning on his elbow, in bed, listening to the tolling +bell for the old pastor of Kensington. He had not attended the funeral, +fearing to trust his eyes and heart near Calvin Van de Lear, for the +unruly element in his blood was not wholly stilled. Good and evil, +gratitude and recollection, contended within him, and Agnes just escaped +from the long shadow of his father's rage--had forebodings of some +violence when the two young men should meet in the little thoroughfare +of Kensington--the one with the accumulated indignities he had suffered +liable to be aroused by the other's shallow superciliousness. Agnes had +but one friend to carry her fears to--Him "who never forsaketh." She had +not persisted that her husband should attend the old pastor's funeral, +whither Duff Salter escorted her, and going there, relieved from all +imputation, her evidently wedded state was seen with general respect. +People spoke to her as of old, congratulated her even at the grave, and +sought to repair their own misapprehensions, suspicions, and severities, +which Agnes accepted without duplicity. + +Andrew Zane was leaning up in bed hearing the tolling bell when Agnes +reappeared. + +"Husband," she said, "only Knox Van de Lear was at the grave, of the +pastor's sons." + +"Ha!" exclaimed Andrew. + +"He looked worse than grief could make him. A terrible tale is afloat in +Kensington." + +Husband and wife looked at each other a moment in silence. + +"They say," continued Agnes, "that Calvin Van de Lear has fled with his +brother's wife. That is the talk of the town. Professing to desire some +clothing for the funeral, they took a carriage together, and were driven +to Tacony yesterday, where the afternoon train, meeting the steamboat +from Philadelphia, took them on board for New York." + +Andrew fell back on his pillow. + +"God has hedged me all around," he answered. "While Calvin Van de Lear +lived in Kensington I was in revengeful temptation all the time. He has +escaped, and my soul is oppressed no more. Do you know, Agnes, that the +guilty accomplice of Calvin, his brother's wife, wrote all the worst +letters which anonymously came through the post?" + +Agnes replied: + +"I never suspected it. My heart was too full of you. But Mr. Salter told +me to-day that he unravelled it some time ago. Calvin Van de Lear showed +him, in a moment of egotism, the conquest he had made over an unknown +lady's affections, and passages of the correspondence. The keen old man +immediately identified in the handwriting the person who addressed him a +letter against us soon after his arrival in the East. But he did not +tell me until to-day. How did you know she was the person?" + +Andrew Zane blushed a little, and confessed: + +"Agnes, she used to write to me. Seeing the anonymous letters you +received, I knew the culprit instantly. It was that which precipitated +the flight. She feared that her anonymous letters would result in her +arrest and public trial for slander, as they would have done. The +magistrate promised me that he would issue his warrant for every person +who had employed the public mails to harass my wife, and when you +entered this room my darker passions were again working to punish that +woman and her paramour." + +"Dearest, let them be forgotten. Yes, forgiven too. But poor Mr. Knox +Van de Lear! They have stolen his savings and mortgaged his household +furniture, which he was confiding enough to have put in his wife's name. +That is also a part of the story related around the good pastor's +grave." + +"Calvin has not escaped," exclaimed Andrew Zane. "As long as that +tigress accompanies him he has expiation to make. Voluptuous, jealous, +restless, and, like a snake in the tightness of her folds and her +noiseless approach, she will smother him with kisses and sell him to his +enemies." + +"Do you know her so well?" asked Agnes placidly. + +"Very well. She was corrupt from childhood, but only a few of us knew +it. She grew to be beautiful, and had the quickened intelligence which, +for a while, accompanies ruined women: the unnatural sharpening of the +duplicity, the firmer grasp on man as the animal, the study of the +proprieties of life, and apparent impatience with all misbehavior. Her +timid voice assisted her cunning as if with a natural gentleness, and +invited onward the man who expected in her ample charms a bolder spirit. +She betook herself to the church for penance, perhaps, but remained +there for a character. My wife, if I have suffered, it was, perhaps, in +part because for every sin is some punishment; that woman was _my_ +temptress also!" + +His face was pale as he spoke these words, but he did not drop his eyes. +The wife looked at him with a face also paled and startled. + +"Remember," said Andrew Zane, "that I was a man." + +She walked to him in a moment and kissed his forehead. + +"I will have no more deceit," said Andrew. "That is why I give you this +pain. It was long, my darling, before we loved." + +"That was the source, perhaps, of Lottie's anger with me," spoke Agnes. + +"I think not. There was not a sentiment between us. It is the way, +occasionally, that a very bad woman is made, by marriage or wealth, +respectable, and she declares war on her own past and its imitators. You +were pursued because you had exchanged deserts with her. You were pure +and abused; she was approved but tainted. Not your misfortunes but your +goodness rebuked her, and she lashed you behind her _alias_, as every +demon would riot in lashing the angels." + +"My husband," exclaimed Agnes, "where did you draw such secrets from +woman's nature? God has blessed you with wisdom. I felt, myself, by some +intuition of our sex, that it was sin, not virtue, that took such pains +to upbraid me." + +"I drew them from the old, old plant," answered Andrew Zane; "the Tree +of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Yonder, where I skimmed the surface of a +bad woman; here, where I am forgiven." + +"If you felt remorse," said Agnes, "you were not given up." + +"After _we_ were engaged that woman cast her eyes on my widowed father +and notified me that I must not stand in her way. 'If you embarrass me +by one word,' she said to me in her pretty, timid way, but with the look +of a lion out of her florid fringes, 'I will shatter your future +hearthstone. You are not fit to marry a Christian woman like Agnes Wilt. +I am good enough for your father--yes,' she finished, with terrible +irony, 'and to be your mother!' Those words went with me around the +world. Agnes, was I not punished?" + +"To think that the son of so good a man should be bound to such a +tyrant." + +"Yes, she will make him steal for her, or worse. He will end by being +her most degraded creature, leading and misleading to her. Theirs is an +unreturning path. God keep us all faithful!" + +Duff Salter became again mysterious. He sent for his trunks, and gave +his address as the "Treaty House," on Beach Street, nearly opposite the +monument, only a square back from the Zane house. + +"Andrew," said Salter, when the young husband sought him there, "I +concluded to move because there will be a nurse in that house before +midsummer. If I was deaf as I once was, it would make no difference. But +a very slight cry would certainly pierce my restored sensibilities now." + +The Treaty House was a fine, old-fashioned brick, with a long saloon or +double parlor containing many curiosities, such as pieces of old ships +of war, weapons used in Polynesia and brought home by old sea captains, +the jaws of whales and narwhals, figure-heads from perished vessels, +harpoons, and points of various naval actions. In those days, before +manufactures had extended up all the water streets, and when domestic +war had not been known for a whole generation, the little low marble +monument on the site of William Penn's treaty with the Indians attracted +hundreds of strangers, who moistened their throats and cooled their +foreheads in the great bar parlor of the Treaty House. It was still a +secluded spot, shady and dewy with venerable trees, and the moisture +they gave the old brown and black bricks in the contiguous houses, some +of them still stylish, and all their windows topped with marble or +sandstone, gray with the superincumbent weight of time or neglect. Large +rear additions and sunless sideyards carried out the idea of a former +gentry. Some buttonwood trees, now thinning out with annual age, +conveyed by their speckled trunks the notion of a changing social +standard, white and brown, native and foreign, while the lines of maples +stood on blackened boles like old retired seamen, bronzed in many +voyages and planted home forever. But despite the narrow, neglected, +shady street, the slope of Shackamaxon went gently shelving to the edges +of long sunny wharves, nearly as in the day when Penn selected this +greensward to meet his Indian friends, and barter tools and promises for +forest levels and long rich valleys, now open to the sky and murmurous +with wheat and green potato vines. + +Sitting before the inn door, on drowsy June afternoons, Duff Salter +heard the adzes ring and hammers smite the thousand bolt-heads on lofty +vessels, raised on mast-like scaffolds as if they meant to be launched +into the air and go cleared for yonder faintly tinted spectral moon, +which lingered so long by day, like the symbol of the Indian race, +departed but lambent in thoughtful memories. Duff had grown +superstitious; he came out of the inn door sidewise, that he might +always see that moon over his right shoulder for good luck. + +One morning Andrew Zane appeared at the Treaty House before Duff Salter +had taken his julep, after the fashion of malarious Arkansas. + +"Mr. Salter, it is all over. There is a baby at our house." + +"Girl?" + +"Just that!" + +"I thought so," exclaimed Duff Salter. "It was truly mother's labor, and +ought to have been like Agnes. We will give her a toast." + +"In nothing but water," spoke Andrew soberly. "I hope I have sown my +wild oats." + +"I will imitate you," heartily responded Duff Salter; "for it occurred +to me in Arkansas that people shot and butchered each other so often +because they threw into empty stomachs a long tumbler of liquor and +leaves. You are well started, Andrew. Your father's and his partner's +estate will give you an income of $10,000. What will you do?" + +"I have no idea whatever. My mind is not ready for business. My serious +experience has been followed by a sort of stupor--an inquiry, a detached +relation to everything." + +"Let it be so awhile," answered the strong, gray-eyed man. "Such rests +are often medicine, as sleep is. The mind will find its true channel +some day." + +"Can I be of service to you, Mr. Salter? Money would be a small return +of our obligations to you." + +"No, I am independent. Too independent! I wish I had a wife." + +"Ah! Agnes told me that besides seeing the baby when you came to the +house, little Mary Byerly would be there. She is well enough to be out, +and has lost her invalid brother." + +"If you see me blush, Andrew," said Duff Salter, "you needn't tell of +it. I am in love with little Podge, but it's all over. With no +understanding of woman's sensibilities, I shook that fragile child in my +rude grasp, and frightened her forever. What will you call your baby?" + +"Agnes says it shall be _Euphemia_, meaning 'of good report.' You know +it came near being a young lady of bad report." + +"As for me, Andrew, I shall make the contract for the steeple and +completion of the new church, and then take a foreign journey. Since I +stopped sneezing I have no way to disguise my sensibilities, and am more +an object of suspicion than ever." + +Duff Salter peeped at the beautiful mother and hung a chain of gold +around the baby's neck, and was about slipping out when Podge Byerly +appeared. She made a low bow and shrank away. + +"Follow her," whispered Andrew Zane. "If she is cool now she will be +cold hereafter, unless you nurse her confidence." + +With a sense of great youthfulness and demerit, Duff Salter entered the +parlors and found Podge sitting in the shadows of that thrice notable +room where death and grief had been so often carried and laid down. The +little teacher was pale and thin, and her eyes wore a saddened light. + +"I am very glad to see you again," said Duff Salter. "I wanted your +forgiveness." + +Striking the centre of sympathy by these few words, the late deaf man +saw Podge's throat agitated. + +"If you knew," he continued, "how often I accused myself since your +illness, you would try to excuse me." + +After a little silence Podge said, + +"I don't remember just what happened, Mr. Salter. Was it you who sent me +many beautiful and dainty things while I was sick? I thought it might +be." + +"You guessed me, then? At least I was not forgotten." + +"I never forgot you, sir; but ever since my illness you seem to have +been a part of the dread river and its dead. I have often tried to +restore you as I once thought of you, but other things rise up and I +cannot see you. My head was gone, I suppose." + +"Alas, no! I drove away your heart. If that would come back, the +wandering head would follow, little friend. Are you afraid of me?" + +"Sometimes. One thing, I think, is your deafness. While you were deaf +you seemed so natural that we talked freely before you, prattling out +our fancies undisguised. We wouldn't have done it if we knew that you +heard as well as we. That makes me afraid too. Oh! why did you deceive +us so?" + +"I only deceived myself. A foolish habit, formed in pique, of affecting +not to hear, adhered to me long before we were acquainted. If you will +let me drive you out into the country to-morrow I will tell you the +whole of my silly story. The country roads are what you need, and I need +your consideration as much." + +The next day a buggy stopped at the door, and Podge, sitting at the +window with her bonnet on, saw Duff Salter, hale and strong, holding the +reins. She was helped into the buggy by Andrew Zane, and in a few +minutes the two were in the open country pointing toward old Frankford. +They rode up the long stony street of that old village, whose stone or +rough-cast houses suggested the Swiss city of Basle whence the early +settlers of Frankford came. Then turning through the factory dale called +Little Britain, they sped out the lane, taking the general direction of +Tacony Creek, and followed that creek up through different little +villages and mill-seats until they came to nearly the highest mill-pond, +in the stony region about the Old York road. A house of gray and reddish +stones, in irregular forms, mortised in white plaster, sat broadside to +the lawn before it, which was covered with venerable trees, and bordered +at the roadside by a stone rampart, so that it looked like a hanging +lawn. A gate at the lawn-side gave admission to a lane, behind which was +the ancient mill-pond suspended in a dewy landscape, with a path in the +grass leading up the mill-race, and on the pond a little scow floated in +pond-lilies. All around were chestnut trees, their burrs full of fruit. +Across the lane, only a few feet from the house, the ancient mill gave +forth a snoring and drumming together as if the spirit of solitude was +having a dance all to itself and only breathing hard. Then the crystal +water, shooting the old black mill-wheel, fell off it like the beard +from Duff Salter's face, and went away in pools and flakes across a +meadow, under spontaneous willow trees which liked to stand in moisture +and cover with their roots the harmless water-snakes. A few cottages +peeped over the adjacent ridges upon the hidden dale. + +"What a restful place!" exclaimed Podge Byerly. "I almost wish I might +be spirit of a mill, or better still, that old boat yonder basking in +the pond-lilies and holding up its shadow!" + +"I am glad you like it," said Duff Salter. "Let us go in and see if the +house is hospitable." + +As Podge Byerly walked up the worn stone walk of the lawn she saw a +familiar image at the door--her mother. + +"You here, mother?" said Podge. "What is the meaning of it?" + +"This is my house, my darling. There is our friend who gave it to us. +You will need to teach no more. The mill and a little farm surrounding +us will make us independent." + +Podge turned to Duff Salter. + +"How kind of you!" she said. "Yet it frightens me the more. These +surprises, tender as they are, excite me. Everything about you is +mysterious. You are not even deaf as you were. What silly things you may +have heard us say." + +"Dear girl," exclaimed Duff Salter, "nothing which I heard from your +lips ever affected me except to love you. You cured me of years of +suspicion, and I consented to hear again. The world grew candid to me; +its sounds were melodious, its silence was sincere. It is you who are +deaf. You cannot hear my heart." + +"I hear no other's, at least," said Podge. "Tell me the story of your +strange deceit." + +They drew chairs upon the lawn. Podge took off her bonnet and looked +very delicate as her color rose and faded alternately in the emotions of +one wooed in earnest and uncertain of her fate. + +"I have not come by money without hard labor," said the hale and +handsome man. "This gray beard is not the creation of many years. It is +the fruit of anxiety, toil, and danger. My years are not double yours." + +"You have recovered at least one of your faculties since I knew you," +said Podge slyly. + +"You mean hearing. The sense of feeling too, perhaps--which you have +lost. But this is my tale: After I went to Mexico, and became the +superintendent of a mine, I found my nature growing hard and my manner +imperious, not unlike those of my dead friend, William Zane. The hot +climate of Mexico and confinement in the mines, hundreds of feet below +the surface and in the salivating fumes of the cinnabar retorts, +assisted to make me impetuous. I fought more than one duel, and, like +all men who do desperate things, grew more desperate by experience +until, upon one occasion, I was made deaf by an explosion in the bowels +of the ground. For one year I could hear but little. In that year I was +comparatively humble, and one day I heard a workman say, 'If the boss +gets his hearing back there will be no peace about the mine.' This set +me to thinking. 'How much of my suspicion and anger,' I said, 'is the +result of my own speaking. I provoked the distemper of which I am +afflicted. I start the inquiries which make me distrustful. I hear the +echo of my own idle words, and impeach my fellow-man upon it. Until I +find a strong reason for speech, I will remain deaf as I have been.' +That strong reason never arrived, my little girl, until all reason +ceased to be and love supplanted it." + +"There is no reason, then, in your present passion," said Podge dryly. + +"No. I am so absolutely in love that there is no resisting it. It is +boyishness wholly." + +"I think I should be afraid of a man," said Podge, "who could have so +much will as to hold his tongue for seven years. Suppose you had a +second attack, it might never come to an end. What were you thinking +about all that time?" + +"I thought how deaf, blind, and dumb was any one without love. I found +the world far better than it had seemed when I was one of its +chatterers. By my voluntary silence I had banished the disturbing +element in Nature; for our enemy is always within us, not without. In +that seven years, for most of which I heard everything and answered +none, except by my pencil, I was prosperous, observant, sober, and +considerate. The deceit of affecting not to hear has brought its +penalty, however. You are afraid of me." + +"Were you ever in love before?" + +"I fear I will surprise you again by my answer," said Duff Salter. "I +once proposed marriage to a young girl on this very lawn. It was in the +springtime of my life. We met at a picnic in a grove not far distant. +She was a coquette, and forgot me." + +Podge said she must have time to know her heart. Every day they made a +new excursion, now into the country of the Neshaminy, and beyond it to +the vales of the Tohicken and Perkiomen. They descended the lanes along +the Pennypack and Poqessing, and followed the Wissahickon to its +sources. Podge rapidly grew in form and spirits, and Agnes and Andrew +Zane came out to spend a Saturday with them. + +Mean time Andrew Zane was in a mystic condition--uncertain of purpose, +serious, and studious, and he called one night at the Treaty tavern to +see Duff Salter. Duff had gone, however, up the Tacony, and in a +listless way Andrew sauntered over to the little monument erected on the +alleged site of the Indian treaty. He read the inscription aloud: + +"Treaty Ground of William Penn and the Indian Nations, 1682. Unbroken +Faith! Pennsylvania, founded by deeds of Peace!" + +As Andrew ceased he looked up and beheld a man of rather portly figure, +with the plain clothes of a Quaker, a broad-brimmed hat, knee-breeches, +and buckled shoes. Something in his countenance was familiar. Andrew +looked again, and wondered where he had seen that face. It then occurred +to him that it was the exact likeness of William Penn. The man locked at +Andrew and said, + +"Thee is called to preach!" + +"Sir?" exclaimed Andrew. + +In the same tone of voice the man exclaimed, + +"Thee is called to preach!" + +Andrew looked with some slight superstition at the peculiar man, with +such a tone of authority, and said again, but respectfully: + +"Do I understand you as speaking to me, sir?" + +"Thee is called to preach!" said the object, in precisely the same tone +of voice, and vanished. + +Andrew Zane walked across to the hotel and saw Duff Salter, freshly +arrived, looking at him intently. + +"Did you see a person in Quaker dress standing by the monument an +instant past?" + +"I saw nobody but yourself," said Duff heartily. "I have been looking at +you some moments." + +"As truly as I live, a man in Quaker dress spoke to me at the monument's +side." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said three times, deliberately, 'Thee is called to preach!'" + +"That's queer," said Duff, looking curiously at Andrew. "My friend, that +man spoke from within you. Do you know that it is the earnest desire of +your wife, and a subject of her prayers, that you may become a +minister?" + +"I didn't know it," said Andrew. "But there is something startling in +this apparition. I shall never be able to forget it." + +To the joy of Agnes, now a happy wife and mother, her husband went +seriously into the church, and the moment his intention was announced of +entering the ministry, there arose a spontaneous and united wish that he +would take the pulpit in his native suburb. + +"Agnes," said the young man, "the dangers I have passed, the tragedy of +my family, your piety and my feelings, all concur in this step. I feel a +new life within me, now that I have settled upon this design." + +"I would rather see you a good minister than President," exclaimed +Agnes. "The desires of my heart are fully answered now. When you saw the +image standing by the Treaty tree at that instant I was upon my knees +asking God to turn your heart toward the ministry." + +"Here in Kensington," spoke Andrew, "we will live down all imputation +and renew our family name. Here, where we made our one mistake, we will +labor for others who err and suffer. Such an escape as ours can be +celebrated by nothing less than religion." + +Duff Salter went to Tacony for the last time on the Sunday Andrew Zane +entered the church. He did not speak a word, but at the appearance of +Podge Byerly drew out the ancient ivory tablets and wrote: + +"I'll never speak again until you accept or refuse me." + +She answered, "What are you going to do if I say _no_?" + +"I have bought two tickets for Europe," wrote Duff Salter. "One is for +you, if you will accept it. If not I shall go alone and be deaf for the +remainder of my days." + +Podge answered by reaching out her lips and kissing Duff Salter plumply. + +"There," she said, "I've done it!" + +Duff Salter threw the tablets away, and standing up in a glow of +excitement, gave with great unction his last articulate sneeze: + +"Jericho! Jericho!" + + + + + THE DEAD BOHEMIAN. + + * * * * * + + My hope to take his hand, + His world my promised land, + I thought no face so beautiful and high. + When he had called me "Friend," + I reached ambition's end, + And Art's protection in his kindly eye. + + My dream was quickly run-- + I knew Endymion; + His wing was fancy and his soarings play; + No great thirsts in him pent, + His hates were indolent, + His graces calm and eloquent alway. + + Not love's converse now seems + So tender to my dreams + As he, discursive at our mutual desk, + Most fervid and most ripe, + When dreaming at his pipe, + He made the opiate nights grow Arabesque. + + His crayon never sharp, + No discord in his harp, + He made such sweetness I was discontent; + He knew not the desire + To rise from warmth to fire, + And with his magic rend the firmament. + + Perhaps some want of faith, + Perhaps some past heart-scath, + Took from his life the zest of reaching far-- + And so grew my regret, + To see my pride forget + That many watched him like a risen star. + + Some moralist in man-- + Even Bohemian-- + Feathers the pen and nerves the archer too. + Not dear decoying art, + But the crushed, loving heart, + Makes the young life to its resolves untrue. + + Therefore his haunts were sad; + Therefore his rhymes were glad; + Therefore he laughed at my reproach and goad-- + With listless dreams and vague, + Passed not the walls of Prague, + To hew some fresh and individual road. + + Still like an epic round, + With beautifulness crowned, + I read his memory, tenderer every year, + Complete with graciousness, + Gifted and purposeless, + But to my heart as some grand Master dear. + + +THE END + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistencies of spelling, punctuation and accents +in the original have been retained in this etext.] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bohemian Days, by Geo. 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Alfred Townsend + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poemleft {margin-left:35%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .rightjustify {text-align: right;} + .break5 { margin-top: 5em; } + .break3 { margin-top: 3em; } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bohemian Days, by Geo. Alfred Townsend + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bohemian Days + Three American Tales + +Author: Geo. Alfred Townsend + +Release Date: September 15, 2006 [EBook #19288] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOHEMIAN DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Dave Macfarlane and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></div> + +<h1>BOHEMIAN DAYS</h1> + +<h2>Three American Tales</h2> + +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND</h2> +<h3><i>"GATH"</i></h3> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot">"And David arose and fled to Gath. And he changed his behavior. And +every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and +every one that was discontented gathered themselves unto him. And +the time that David dwelt in the country of the Philistines was a +full year and four months."</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +H. CAMPBELL & CO., Publishers,<br /> +<span class="smcap">No. 21 Park Row,</span><br /> +NEW YORK<br /> +</div> + + + +<p class="break5"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880,<br /> +By GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND,<br /> +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.<br /> +<br /></div> + +<p class="break3" style="text-align: center;"> +<span class="smcap">The Burr Printing House<br /> +and Steam Type-setting Office</span>,<br /> +Cor. Frankfort and Jacob Sts.,<br /> +<span class="smcap">NEW YORK</span>.<br /></p> + +<p class="break5"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +TO TEN FRIENDS AT DINNER,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gilsey House, New York</span>,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">April 21, 1879</span>;<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">WHO MADE THIS PUBLICATION</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>A PROMISE AND AN OBLIGATION</i>.<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>So far from the first tale in this book being of political motive, it +was written among the subjects of it, and read to several of them in +1864. Perhaps the only <i>souvenir</i> of refugee and "skedaddler" life +abroad during the war ever published, its preservation may one day be +useful in the socialistic archives of the South, to whose posterity +slavery will seem almost a mythical thing. With as little bias in the +second tale, I have etched the young Northern truant abroad during the +secession. The closing tale, more recently written, in the midst of +constant toil and travel, is an attempt to recall an old suburb, now +nearly erased and illegible by the extension of a great city, and may be +considered a home American picture about contemporary with the European +tales.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + + + + + + +<h3>SHORT NOVELS.</h3> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +<a href="#THE_REBEL_COLONY_IN_PARIS"><span class="smcap">The Rebel Colony in Paris</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#MARRIED_ABROAD"><span class="smcap">Married Abroad</span></a><br /> + <br /> +<a href="#THE_DEAF_MAN_OF_KENSINGTON"><span class="smcap">The Deaf Man of Kensington</span></a><br /> +</div> + + +<h3>CHORDS.</h3> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +<a href="#BOHEMIA"><span class="smcap">Bohemia</span></a><br /> + <br /> +<a href="#LITTLE_GRISETTE"><span class="smcap">Little Grisette</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THE_PIGEON_GIRL"><span class="smcap">The Pigeon Girl</span></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THE_DEAD_BOHEMIAN"><span class="smcap">The Dead Bohemian</span></a><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOHEMIA" id="BOHEMIA"></a>BOHEMIA.</h2> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<div class="poemleft"> +The farther I do grow from <i>La Bohème</i>,<br /> +The more I do regret that foolish shame<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which made me hold it something to conceal,</span><br /> +And so I did myself expatriate;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For in my pulses and my feet I feel</span><br /> +That wayward realm was still my own estate;<br /> +Wise wagged our tongues when the dear nights grew late,<br /> +And quainter, clearer, rose our quick conceits,<br /> +And pure and mutual were our social sweets.<br /> +Oh! ever thus convivial round the gate<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Letters have the masters and the young</span><br /> +Loitered away their enterprises great,<br /> +Since Spenser revelled in the halls of state,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And at his tavern rarest Jonson sung.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_REBEL_COLONY_IN_PARIS" id="THE_REBEL_COLONY_IN_PARIS"></a>THE REBEL COLONY IN PARIS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.</h2> + +<h3>THE EXILES.</h3> + + +<p>In the latter part of October, 1863, seven very anxious and dilapidated +personages were assembled under the roof of an old, eight-storied +tenement, near the church of St. Sulpice, in the city of Paris.</p> + +<p>The seven under consideration had reached the catastrophe of their +decline—and rise. They had met in solemn deliberation to pass +resolutions to that effect, and take the only congenial means for +replenishment and reform. This means lay in miniature before a caged +window, revealed by a superfluity of light—a roulette-table, whereon +the ball was spinning industriously from the practised fingers of Mr. +Auburn Risque, of Mississippi.</p> + +<p>Mr. Auburn Risque had a spotted eye and a bluishly cold face; his +fingers were the only movable part of him, for he performed respiration +and articulation with the same organ—his nose; and the sole words +vouchsafed by this at present were: +"Black—black—black—white—black—white—white—black"—etc.</p> + +<p>The five surrounding parties were carefully noting upon fragments of +paper the results of the experiment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> and likewise Master Lees, the +lessee of the chamber—a pale, emaciated youth, sitting up in bed, and +ciphering tremulously, with bony fingers; even he, upon whom disease had +made auguries of death, looked forward to gold, as the remedy which +science had not brought, for a wasted youth of dissipation and +incontinence.</p> + +<p>They were all representatives of the recently instituted Confederacy. +Most of them had dwelt in Paris anterior to the war, and, habituated to +its luxuries, scarcely recognized themselves, now that they were forlorn +and needy. Note Mr. Pisgah, for example—a Georgian, tall, shapely and +handsome, with the gray hairs of his thirtieth year shading his working +temples; he had been the most envied man in Paris; no woman could resist +the magnetism of his eye; he was almost a match for the great Berger at +billiards; he rode like a centaur on the Boulevards, and counterfeited +Apollo at the opera and the masque. His credit was good for fifty +thousand francs any day in the year. He had travelled in far and +contiguous regions, conducted intrigues at Athens and Damascus, and +smoked his pipe upon the Nile and among the ruins of Sebastopol. Without +principle, he was yet amiable, and with his dashing style and address, +one forgot his worthlessness.</p> + +<p>How keenly he is reminded of it now! He cannot work, he has no craft nor +profession; he knew enough to pass for an educated gentleman; not enough +to earn a franc a day. He is the <i>protégé</i> at present of his +washerwoman, and can say, with some governments, that his debts are +impartially distributed. He has only two fears—those of starvation in +France, and a soldier's death in America.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>The prospect of a debtor's prison at Clichy has long since ceased to be +a terror. There, he would be secure of sustenance and shelter, and of +these, at liberty, he is doubtful every day.</p> + +<p>Still, with his threadbare coat, he haunts the Casino and the Valentino +of evenings; for some mistresses of a former day send him billets.</p> + +<p>He lies in bed till long after noon, that he may not have pangs of +hunger; and has yet credit for a dinner at an obscure <i>cremery</i>. When +this last confidence shall have been forfeited, what must result to +Pisgah?</p> + +<p>He is striving to anticipate the answer with this experiment at +roulette; for he has a "system" whereby it is possible to break any +gambling bank—Spa, Baden, Wisbaden or Homburg. The others have systems +also, from Auburn Risque to Simp, the only son of the richest widow in +Louisiana, who disbursed of old in Paris ten thousand dollars annually.</p> + +<p>His house at Passy was a palace in miniature, and his favorite a tragedy +queen. She played at the Folies Dramatiques, and drove three horses of +afternoons upon the Champs Elysées. She had other engagements, of +course, when Mr. Lincoln's "paper blockade" stopped Master Simp's +remittances, and he passed her yesterday upon the Rue Rivoli, with the +Russian ambassador's footman at her back, but she only touched him with +her silks.</p> + +<p>Simp studied a profession, and was a volunteer counsel in the memorable +case of Jeems Pinckney against Jeems Rutledge. His speech, on that +occasion, occupied in delivery just three minutes, and set the +court<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>room in a roar. He paid the village editor ten dollars to compose +it, and the same sum to publish it.</p> + +<p>"If you could learn it for me," said Simp, anxiously, "I would give you +twenty dollars."</p> + +<p>This, his first and last public appearance, was conditional to the +receipt from his mother, of six thousand acres of land and eighty +negroes. It might have been a close calculation for a mathematician to +know how many black sweat-drops, how many strokes of the rawhide, went +into the celebrated dinner at the Maison Dorée, wherein Master Simp and +only his lady had thirty-four courses, and eleven qualities of wine, and +a bill of eight hundred francs.</p> + +<p>In that prosperous era, his inalienable comrade had been Mr. Andy Plade, +who now stood beside him, intensely absorbed.</p> + +<p>Of late Mr. Plade's affection had been transferred to Hugenot, the only +possessor of an entire franc in the chamber. Hugenot was a short-set +individual, in pumps and an eye-glass, who had been but a few days in +the city. He was decidedly a man of sentiment. He called the Confederacy +"ow-ah cause," and claimed to have signed the call for the first +secession meeting in the South.</p> + +<p>He asserted frankly that he was of French extraction, but only hinted +that he was of noble blood. He had been a hatter, but carefully ignored +the fact; and, having run the blockade with profitable cargoes fourteen +times, had settled down to be a respectable trader between Havre and +Nassau. Mr. Plade shared much of the sentiment and some of the money of +this illustrious personage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were rumors abroad that Plade himself had great, but embarrassed, +fortunes.</p> + +<p>He was one of the hundred thousand chevaliers who hail the advent of war +as something which will hide their nothingness.</p> + +<p>"I knew it," said Auburn Risque, at length, pinching the ball between +his hard palms as if it were the creature of his will. "My system is +good; yours do not validate themselves. You are novices at gambling; I +am an old blackleg." It was as he had said; the method of betting which +he proposed had seemed to be successful. He staked upon colors; never +upon numbers; and alternated from white to black after a fixed, +undeviating routine.</p> + +<p>Less by experiment than by faith, the others gave up their own theories +to adopt his own. They resolved to collect every available sou, and, +confiding it to the keeping of Mr. Risque, send him to Germany, that he +might beggar the bankers, and so restore the Southern Colony to its +wonted prosperity.</p> + +<p>Hugenot delivered a short address, wishing "the cause" good luck, but +declining to subscribe anything. He did not doubt the safety of "the +system" of course, but had an hereditary antipathy to gaming. The +precepts of all his ancestry were against it.</p> + +<p>Poor Lees followed in a broken way, indicating sundry books, a guitar, +two pairs of old boots, and a canary bird, as the relics of his fortune. +These, Andy Plade, who possessed nothing, but thought he might borrow a +trifle, volunteered to dispose of, and Freckle, a Missourian, who was +tolerated in the colony only because he could be plucked, asserted +enthusiastically,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> and amid great sensation, that he yet had three +hundred francs at the banker's, his entire capital, all of which he +meant to devote to the most reliable project in the world.</p> + +<p>At this episode, Pisgah, whose misfortunes had quite shattered his +nerves, proposed to drink at Freckle's expense to the success of the +system, and Hugenot was prevailed upon to advance twenty-one sous, while +Simp took the order to the adjacent <i>marchand du vin</i>.</p> + +<p>When they had all filled, Hugenot, looking upon himself in the light of +a benefactor, considered it necessary to do something.</p> + +<p>"Boys," he said, wiping his eves with the lining of a kid glove, "will +you esteem it unnatural, that a Suth Kurlinian, who sat—at an early +age, it is true—at the feet of the great Kulhoon, should lift up his +voice and weep in this day of ou-ah calamity?"</p> + +<p>(Sensation, aggrieved by the sobs of Freckle, who, unused to spirits and +greatly affected—chokes.)</p> + +<p>"When I cast my eye about this lofty chambah" (here Lees, who hasn't +been out of it for a year, hides himself beneath the bed-clothes); "when +I see these noble spih-its dwelling obscu' and penniless; when I +remembah that two short years ago, they waih of independent +fohtunes—one with his sugah, anotha with his cotton, a third with his +tobacco, in short, all the blessings of heaven bestowed upon a free +people—niggars, plantations, pleasures!—I can but lay my pooah hand +upon the manes of my ancestry, and ask in the name of ou-ah cause, is +there justice above or retribution upon the earth!"</p> + +<p>A profound silence ensued, broken only by Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> Plade, who called Hugenot +a man of sentiment, and slapped his back; while Freckle fell upon +Pisgah's bosom, and wished that his stomach was as full as his heart.</p> + +<p>Mr. Simp, who had been endeavoring to recollect some passages of his +address, in the case of the Jeemses, for that address had an universal +application, and might mean as much now as on the original occasion, +brought down one of those decayed boots which the <i>marchand des habits</i> +had thrice refused to buy, and said, stoutly:</p> + +<p>"'By Gad! think of it, hyuh am I, a beggah, by Gad, without shoes to my +feet, suh! The wuth of one nigga would keep me now for a yeah. At home, +by Gad, I could afford to spend the wuth of a staving field hand every +twenty-fouah houahs. I'll sweah!" cried Simp in conclusion, "I call this +hard."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the Yankees have confiscated my stocks in the Havre +steamers," muttered Andy Plade. "I consider they have done me out of +twenty thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"Brotha writes to me, last lettah," continued Freckle, who had +recovered, "every tree cut off the plantation—every nigga run off, down +to old Sim, a hundred years old—every panel of fence toted away—no +bacon in smoke-house—not an old rip in stable—no corn, coon, possum, +rabbit, fox, dog or hog within ten miles of the place—house stands in a +mire—mire stands in desert—Yankee general going to conscrip brotha. I +save myself, sp'ose, for stahvation."</p> + +<p>"Wait till you come down to my condition," faltered the proprietor, +making emphasis with his meagre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> finger—"I have been my own enemy; the +Yankees will but finish what is almost consummated now. I tell you, +boys, I expect to die in this room; I shall never quit this bed. I am +offensive, wasted, withered, and would look gladly upon Père la +Chaise,<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> if with my bodily maladies my mind was not also diseased. I +have no fortitude; I am afraid of death!"</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The great Cemetery of Paris.</p></div> + +<p>The room seemed to grow suddenly cold, and the faces of all the inmates +became pale; they looked more squalid than ever—the threadbare +curtains, the rheumatic chairs, the soiled floor, sashes and wallpaper.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hugenot fumbled his shirt-bosom nervously, and his diamond pin, +glaring like a lamp upon the worn garbs and faces of his compatriots, +showed them still wanner and meaner by contrast.</p> + +<p>"Put the blues under your feet!" cried Auburn Risque, in his hard, +practical way; "my system will resurrect the dead. You shall have +clothes upon your backs, shoes upon your feet, specie in your pockets, +blood in your veins. Let us sell, borrow and pawn; we can raise a +thousand francs together. I will return in a fortnight with fifty +thousand!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + +<h3>RAISING THE WIND.</h3> + + +<p>The million five hundred thousand folks in Paris, who went about their +pleasures that October night, knew little of the sorrows of the Southern +Colony.</p> + +<p>Pisgah dropped in at the Chateau des Fleurs to beg <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>a paltry loan from +some ancient favorite. The time had been, when, after a nightly debauch, +he had placed two hundred francs in her morning's coffee-cup. It was +mournful now to mark his premature gray hairs, as, resting his soiled, +faded coat-sleeve upon her <i>manteau de velour</i>, he saw the scorn of his +poverty in the bright eyes which had smiled upon him, and made his +request so humbly and so feverishly.</p> + +<p>"Give me back, Feefine," he faltered, "only that fifty francs I once +tied in a gold band about your spaniel's neck. I am poor, my dear—that +will not move you, I know, but I am going to Germany to play at the +banks; if I win, I swear to pay you back ten francs for one!"</p> + +<p>There was never a <i>lorette</i> who did not love to gamble. She stopped a +passing gentleman and borrowed the money; the other saw it transferred +to Pisgah, with an expression of contempt, and, turning to a friend, +called him aloud a withering name.</p> + +<p>Poor Pisgah! he would have drawn his bowie-knife once, and defied even +the emperor to stand between the man and himself after such an +appellation. He would have esteemed it a favor now to be what he was +named, and only lifted his creased beaver gratefully, and hobbled +nervously away, and stopping near by at a café drank a great glass of +absinthe, with almost a prayerful heart.</p> + +<p>At Mr. Simp's hotel in the Rue Monsieur Le Prince much business was +transacted after dark. Monsieurs Freckle and Plade were engaged in +smuggling away certain relics of furniture and wearing apparel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Simp already owed his landlord fifteen months'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> rent, for which the +only security was his diminishing effects.</p> + +<p>If the mole-eyed concierge should suspect foul play with these, Simp +would be turned out of doors immediately and the property confiscated.</p> + +<p>Singly and in packages the collateral made its exit. A half-dozen regal +chemises made to order at fifty francs apiece; a musical clock picked up +at Genoa for twelve louis; a patent boot-jack and an ebony billiard cue; +a Paduan violin; two statuettes of more fidelity than modesty, to be +sold pound for pound at the current value of bronze; divers +pipes—articles of which Mr. Simp had earned the title of connoisseur, +by investing several hundred dollars annually—a gutta-percha +self-adjusting dog-muzzle, the dog attached to which had been seized by +H. M. Napoleon III. in lieu of taxes, etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Everything passed out successfully except one pair of pantaloons which +protruded from Freckle's vest, and that unfortunate person at once fell +under suspicion of theft. All went in the manner stated to Mr. Lees' +chamber, he being the only colonist who did not hazard the loss of his +room, chiefly because nobody else would rent it, and in part because his +landlady, having swindled him for six or eight years, had compunctions +as to ejecting him.</p> + +<p>Thence in the morning, true to his aristocratic instincts, Mr. Simp +departed in a <i>voiture</i> for the central bureau of the Mont de Piete,<a name="FNanchor_A_2" id="FNanchor_A_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> +in the Rue Blanc Manteau. His face had become familiar there of late. He +carried his articles up from the curb, while the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><i>cocher</i> grinned and +winked behind, and taking his turn in the throng of widows, orphans, +ouvriers, and profligates and unfortunates of all loose conditions, Simp +was a subject of much unenviable remark. He came away with quite an +armful of large yellow certificates, and the articles were registered to +Monsieur Simp, a French subject; for with such passports went all his +compatriots.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_2" id="Footnote_A_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> The government pawnbroking shop.</p></div> + +<p>Andy Plade spent twenty-four hours, meanwhile, at the Grand Hotel, +enacting the time-honored part of all things to all men.</p> + +<p>He differed from the other colonists, in that they were weak—he was +bad. He spoke several languages intelligibly, and knew much of many +things—art, finances, geography—just those matters on which newly +arrived Americans desire information. His address was even fascinating. +One suspected him to be a leech, but pardoned the motive for the manner. +He called himself a broken man. The war had blighted his fair fortunes. +For a time he had held on hopefully, but now meant to breast the current +no longer. His time was at the service of anybody. Would monsieur like +to see the city? He knew its every cleft and den. So he had lived in +Paris five years—in the same manner, elsewhere, all his life.</p> + +<p>A few men heard his story and helped him—one Northern man had given him +employment; his gratitude was defalcation.</p> + +<p>To day he has sounded Hugenot; but that man of sentiment alluded to the +business habits of his ancestry, and intimated that he did not lend.</p> + +<p>"Ou-ah cause, Andy," he says, with a flourish, "is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> now negotiating a +loan. When ou-ah beloved country is reduced to such straits, that she +must borow from strangers, I cannot think of relieving private +indigence."</p> + +<p>Later in the day, however, Mr. Plade made the acquaintance of an +ingenuous youth from Pennsylvania, and obtaining a hundred francs, for +one day only, sent it straightway to Mr. Auburn Risque.</p> + +<p>A second meeting was held at Lees' the third day noon, when the +originator of the "system" sat icily grim behind a table whereon eleven +hundred francs reposed; and the whole colony, crowding breathlessly +around, was amazed to note how little the space taken up by so great a +sum.</p> + +<p>They opened a crevice that Lees might be gladdened with the sight of the +gold; for to-day that invalid was unusually dispirited, and could not +quit his bed.</p> + +<p>"We are down very low, old Simp," said Pisgah, smilingly, "when either +the possession or the loss of that amount can be an event in our lives."</p> + +<p>"You will laugh that it was so, a week hence," answered Auburn +Risque—"when you lunch at Peters' while awaiting my third check for a +thousand dollars apiece."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in the system," growled Lees, opening a cold draft from +his melancholy eyes: "I don't feel that I shall ever spend a sou of the +winnings. No more will any of you. There will be no winnings to spend. +Auburn Risque will lose. He always does."</p> + +<p>"If you were standing by at the play I should," cried Risque, while the +pock-marks in his face were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> like the thawings of ice. "You would croak +like an old raven, and I should forget my reckoning."</p> + +<p>"Come now, Lees," cried all the others; "you must not see bad omen for +the Colony;" and they said, in undertone, that Lees had come to be quite +a bore.</p> + +<p>They were all doubtful, nevertheless. Their crisis could not be +exaggerated. Their interest was almost devout. Three thousand miles from +relief; two seas between, one of water and one of fire; at home, +conscription, captivity, death: the calamity of Southerners abroad would +merit all sympathy, if it had not been induced by waste, and unredeemed +by either fortitude or regret.</p> + +<p>The unhappy Freckle, whose luckless admiration of the rest had been his +ruin, felt that a sonorous prayer, such as his old father used to make +in the Methodist meeting-house, would be a good thing wherewith to +freight Auburn Risque for his voyage. When men stake everything on a +chance, it is natural to look up to somebody who governs chances; but +Andy Plade, in his loud, bad way, proposed a huge toast, which they took +with a cheer, and quite confused Hugenot, who had a sentiment <i>apropos</i>.</p> + +<p>Then they escorted Auburn Risque to the Chemin de fer du Nord,<a name="FNanchor_A_3" id="FNanchor_A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> and +packed him away in a third-class carriage, wringing his hand as if he +were their only hope and friend in the world.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_3" id="Footnote_A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Northern Railway Station.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + +<h3>DEATH IN EXPATRIATION.</h3> + + +<p>It was a weary day for the Southern Colony. They strolled about town—to +the Masque, the Jardin des Plantes, the Champ des Mars, the Marché aux +Chevaux, and finally to Freckle's place, and essayed a lugubrious hour +at whist.</p> + +<p>"It is poor fun, Pisgah," said Mr. Simp, at last, "if we remember that +afternoon at poker when you won eight thousand francs and I lost six +thousand."</p> + +<p>The conversation forever returned to Spa and Baden-Baden, and many +wagers were made upon the amount of money which Risque would gain—first +day—second day—first week, and so forth.</p> + +<p>At last they resolved to send to Lees' chamber for the roulette-board, +and pass the evening in experiment. They drew Jacks for the party who +should fetch it, and Freckle, always unfortunate, was pronounced the +man. He went cheerfully, thinking it quite an honor to serve the Colony +in any capacity—for Freckle, representing a disaffected State, had +fallen under suspicion of lukewarm loyalty, and was most anxious to +clear up any such imputation.</p> + +<p>His head was full of odd remembrances as he crossed the Place St. +Sulpice: his plain old father at the old border home, close and +hard-handed, who went afield with his own negroes, and made his sons +take the plough-handles, and marched them all before him every Sunday to +the plank church, and led the singing him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>self with an ancient +tuning-fork, and took up the collection in a black velvet bag fastened +to a pole.</p> + +<p>He had foreseen the war, and sent his son abroad to avoid it. He had +given Freckle sufficient money to travel for five years, and told him in +the same sentence to guard his farthings and say his prayers. Freckle +could see the old man now, with a tear poised on his tangled eyelashes, +asking a farewell benediction from the front portico, upon himself +departing, while every woolly-head was uncovered, and the whole +assembled "property" had groaned "Amen" together.</p> + +<p>That was patriarchal life; what was this? Freckle thought this much +finer and higher. He had not asked himself if it was better. He was +rather ashamed of his father now, and anxious to be a dashing gentleman, +like Plade or Pisgah.</p> + +<p>Why did he play whist so badly? How chanced it that, having dwelt +eighteen months in Paris, he could speak no French? His only <i>grisette</i> +had both robbed him and been false to him. He knew that the Colony +tolerated him, merely. Was he indeed verdant, as they had said—obtuse, +stupid, lacking wit?</p> + +<p>After all, he repeated to himself, what had the Colony done for him? He +had not now twenty francs to his name, and was a thousand francs in +debt; he had essayed to study medicine, but balked at the first lesson. +Yet, though these suggestions, rather than convictions, occurred to him, +they stirred no latent ambition. If he had ever known one high +resolution, the Southern Colony had pulled it up, and sown the place +with salt.</p> + +<p>So he reached Master Lees' tenement; it was a long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> ascent, and toward +the last stages perilous; the stairs had a fashion of curving round +unexpectedly and bending against jambs and blank walls. He was quite out +of breath when he staggered against Lees' door and burst it open.</p> + +<p>The light fell almost glaringly upon the bare, contracted chamber; for +this was next to the sky and close up to the clouds, and the window +looked toward the west, where the sun, sinking majestically, was +throwing its brightest smiles upon Paris, as it bade adieu.</p> + +<p>And there, upon his tossed, neglected bed, in the full blaze of the +sunset, his sharp, sallow jaws dropped upon his neck, his cheeks +colorless and concave, his great eyes open wide and his hair unsmoothed, +Master Lees lay dead, with the roulette table upon his breast!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Freckle had raised himself from the platform at the base of the +first flight of stairs, down which he had fallen in his fright, he +hastened to his own chamber and gave the Colony notice of the depletion +of its number.</p> + +<p>A deep gloom, as may be surmised, fell upon all. Lees had been no great +favorite of late, and it had been the trite remark for a year that he +was looking like death; but at this juncture the tidings came ominously +enough. One member, at least, of the Southern Colony would never share +the winnings of Auburn Risque, and now that they referred to his +forebodings of the morning, it was recalled that with his own demise, he +had prophesied the failure of "the system."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>His end seemed to each young exile a personal admonition; they had known +him strong and spirited, and with them he had grown poor and unhappy. +Poverty is a warning that talks like the wind, and we do not heed it; +but death raps at our door with bony knuckles, so that we grow pale and +think.</p> + +<p>They shuddered, though they were hardened young men, so unfeeling, even +after this reprimand, that they would have left the corpse of their +companion to go unhonored to its grave; separately they wished to do +so—in community they were ashamed; and Pisgah had half a hope that +somebody would demur when he said, awkwardly:</p> + +<p>"The Colony must attend the funeral, I suppose. God knows which of us +will take the next turn."</p> + +<p>Freckle cried out, however, that he should go, if he were to be buried +alive in the same tomb, and on this occasion only he appeared in the +light of an influential spirit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE DESPERATE CHANCE.</h3> + + +<p>During all this time Mr. Auburn Risque, packed away in the omnibus +train, with a cheap cigar between his lips, and a face like a +refrigerator, was scudding over the rolling provinces of France, +thinking as little of the sunshine, and the harvesters of flax, and the +turning leaves of the woods, and the chateaux overawing the thatched +little villages, as if the train were his mail-coach, and France were +Arkansas, and he were lashing the rump of the "off" horse, as he had +done for the better part of his life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>Risque's uncle had been a great Mississippi jobber; he took U. S. postal +contracts for all the unknown world; route of the first class, six +horses and daily; route of the second class, semi-weekly and four +horses; third class, two horses and weekly; fourth class, one horse, one +saddle, and one small boy.</p> + +<p>The young Auburn had been born in the stable, and had taken at once to +the road. His uncle found it convenient to put him to work. He can never +be faithfully said to have learned to <i>walk</i>; and recalls, as the first +incident of his life, a man who carried a baby and two bowie knives, +teaching him to play old sledge on the cushions of a Washita stage.</p> + +<p>Thenceforward he was a man of one idea. He held it to be one of the +decrees, that he was to grow rich by gaming. As he went, by day or +night, in rain or fog or burning sun, by the margins of turgid +south-western rivers, where his "leaders" shied at the alligators asleep +in the stage-road; through dreary pine woods, where the owls hooted at +silence; over red, reedy, slimy causeways; in cane-breaks and bayous; +past villages where civilization looked westward with a dirk between its +teeth, and cracked its horsewhip; past rich plantations where the +negroes sang afield, and the planter in the house-porch took off his hat +to bow—here, there, always, everywhere, with his cold, hard, +pock-marked face, thin lips and spotted eye, Auburn Risque sat brooding +behind the reins, computing, calculating, overreaching, waiting for his +destiny to wrestle with Chance and bind it down while its pockets were +picked.</p> + +<p>His whole life might have been called a game of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>cards. He carried a +deck forever next his heart. Sometimes he gambled with other +vehicles—stocks, shares, currency—but the cards were still his +mainstay, and he was well acquainted with every known or obsolete game. +There was no trick, nor fraud, nor waggery which he had not at his +fingers-ends.</p> + +<p>It was his favorite theory that there was method in what seemed chance; +principles underlying luck; measures for infinity; clues to all +combinations.</p> + +<p>Given one pack of cards, one man to shuffle, one to cut, one to deal, +and fair play, and it was yet possible to know just how many times in a +given number of games each card would fall to each man.</p> + +<p>Given a roulette circle of one hundred numbered spaces and a blindfolded +man to spin the ball; it could be counted just how many times in one +thousand said ball would come to rest upon any one number.</p> + +<p>No searcher for perpetual motion, no blind believer in alchemy, clung to +his one idea closer than Auburn Risque. He had shut all themes, +affections, interests, from his mind. He neither loved nor hated any +living being. He was penurious in his expenditures—never in his wagers. +He would stake upon anything in nature—a trot, an election, a battle, a +murder.</p> + +<p>"Will you play picquet for one sou the game, one hundred and fifty +points?" says a soldier near by.</p> + +<p>He accepts at once; the afternoon passes to night, and the lamps in the +roof are lighted. The cards flicker upon the seat; the boors gather +round to watch; they pass the French frontier, and see from their +windows the forges of Belgium, throwing fire upon the river Meuse. +Still, hour after hour, though their eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> are weary, and all the folks +are gone or sleeping, the cards fall, fall, fall, till there comes a jar +and a stop, and the guard cries, "Cologne!"</p> + +<p>"You have won," says the soldier, laying down his money. "Good-night."</p> + +<p>The Rhine is a fine stream, though our German friends will build +mock-castles upon it, and insist that it is the only real river in the +world.</p> + +<p>Auburn Risque pays no more regard to it than though he were treading the +cedars and sands of New Jersey or North Carolina. He speaks with a +Franco-Russian, who has lost in play ten thousand francs a month for +three successive years, and while they discuss chances, expedients and +experiences, the Siebern-gebierge drifts by, they pass St. Goar and +Bingen, and the wonderful Rhine has been only a time, nothing of a +scene, as they stop abreast Biberich, and, rowed ashore in a flagboat, +make at once for the railway.</p> + +<p>At noon, on the third day, Mr. Risque having engaged a frugal bed at a +little distance from Wisbaden, enters the grand saloon of the Kursaal, +and turning to the right, sees before him a perspective, to which not +all the marvels of art or nature afford comparison: a snug little room, +with a table of green baize in the centre of the floor, and about the +table sundry folks of various ages and degrees, before each a heap of +glittering coins, and in the midst of all a something which moves +forever, with a hurtle and a hum—the roulette.</p> + +<p>Mark them! the weak, the profligate, the daring. There is old age, +watching the play, with its voice like a baby's cry; and the paper +whereon it keeps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> tremulous tally swimming upon eyes of perpetual +twilight.</p> + +<p>The boy ventures his first gold piece with the resolve that, win or +lose, he will stake no more. He wins, and lies. At his side stands +beautiful Sin, forgetting its guilt and coquetry for its avarice. The +pale defaulter from over the sea hazards like one whose treasure is a +burden upon his neck, and the <i>roué</i>—blank, emotionless, +remorseless—doubling at every loss, walks penniless away to dinner with +a better appetite than he who saves a nation or dies for a truth.</p> + +<p>The daintily dressed <i>coupeurs</i> are in their chairs, eyeless, but +omniscient; the ball goes heedlessly, slaying or anointing where it +stays, and the gold as it is raked up clinks and glistens, as if it +struck men's hearts and found them as hard and sounding.</p> + +<p>Mr. Risque advanced to the end of the table, and stood motionless a +little while, drinking it all into his passionless eyes, which, like +sponges, absorbed whatever they saw, but nothing revealed. At last his +right hand dropped softly to his vest pocket, as though it had some +interest in deceiving his left hand.</p> + +<p>Apparently unconscious of the act, the right hand next slid over the +table edge, and silently deposited a five-franc piece upon the black +compartment.</p> + +<p>"Whiz-z-z-z" started the ball from the fingers of the coupeurs—"click" +dropped the ball into a black department of the board; "clink! tingle!" +cried the money, changing hands; but not a word said Auburn Risque, +standing like a stalagmite with his eyes upon ten francs.</p> + +<p>"Whiz-z-z!"—"click!" "click!" "tingle!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Did he see the fifteen francs at all, half trance-like, half +corpse-like, as he stood, waiting for the third revolution, and waiting +again, and again, and again?</p> + +<p>His five francs have grown to be a hundred; his cold hand falls +freezingly upon them; five francs replace the hundred he took +away—"Whizz!" goes the ball; "click!" stops the ball; the coupeur +seizes Mr. Risque's five francs, and Mr. Risque walks away like a +somnambulist.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.</h2> + +<h3>BURIED IN THE COMMON DITCH.</h3> + + +<p>It would have been a strange scene for an American public, the street +corridor of the lofty house near the church of Saint Sulpice, on the +funeral afternoon.</p> + +<p>The coffin lay upon a draped table, and festoons of crape threw phantom +shadows upon the soiled velvet covering. Each passing pedestrian and +cabman took off his hat a moment. The Southern Colony were in the +landlady's bureau enjoying a lunch and liquor, and precisely at three +o'clock they came down stairs, not more dilapidated than usual, while at +the same moment the municipal hearse drove up, attended by one <i>cocher</i> +and two <i>croquemorts</i>.<a name="FNanchor_A_4" id="FNanchor_A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_4" id="Footnote_A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Literally, "parasites of death."</p></div> + +<p>The hearse was a cheap charity affair, furnished by the <i>Maire</i> of the +<i>arrondissement</i>, though it was sprucely painted and decked with funeral +cloth. The driver wore a huge black chapeau, a white cotton cravat, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>and +thigh-boots, which, standing up stiffly as he sat, seemed to engulf him +to the ears.</p> + +<p>When the <i>croquemorts</i>, in a business way, lifted the velvet from the +coffin, it was seen to be constructed of strips of deal merely, +unpainted, and not thicker than a Malaga raisin box.</p> + +<p>There was some fear that it would fall apart of its own fragility, but +the chief <i>croquemort</i> explained politely that such accidents never +happened.</p> + +<p>"We have entombed four of them to-day," he said; "see how nicely we +shall lift the fifth one."</p> + +<p>There was, indeed, a certain sleight whereby he slung it across his +shoulder, but no reason in the world for tossing it upon the hearse with +a slam. They covered its nakedness with velvet, and the <i>cocher</i>, having +taken a cigar from his pocket, and looking much as if he would like to +smoke, put it back again sadly, cracked his whip, and the cortege went +on. The <i>croquemorts</i> kept a little way ahead, sauntering upon the +sidewalk, and their cloaks and oil-cloth hats protected them from a +drizzling rain, which now came down, to the grief of the mourners, +walking in the middle of the street behind the body. They were seven in +number, Messrs. Plade, Pisgah and Simp, going together, and apparently a +trifle the worse for the lunch; Freckle followed singly, having been +told to keep at a distance to render the display more imposing; the +landlady and her niece went arm in arm after, and behind them trode a +little old hunchback gentleman, neatly clothed, and bearing in his hand +a black, wooden cross, considerably higher than himself, on which was +painted, in white letters, this inscription:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +CHRISTOPHER LEES,<br /> +CAROLINA DU NORD,<br /> +ÉTATS CONFÉDÉRE<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">AMERIQUE.</span><br /> +AGE VINGT-QUATRE.<br /> +</div> + +<p>A wreath of yellow immortelles, tied to the crosspiece, was interwoven +with these spangled letters:</p> + +<div style="text-align: center;"> +"R-E-G-R-E-T-S;"<br /> +</div> + +<p>and the solemn air of the old man seemed to evidence that they were not +meaningless.</p> + +<p>The hunchback was Lees' principal creditor. He kept a small restaurant, +where the deceased had been supplied for two years, and his books showed +indebtedness of twenty-eight hundred francs, not a sou of which he +should ever receive. He could ill afford to lose the money, and had +known, indeed, that he should never be paid, a year previous to the +demise. But the friendlessness of the stranger had touched his heart. +Twice every day he sent up a basket of food, which was always returned +empty, and every Sunday climbed the long stairway with a bottle of the +best wine—but never once said, "Pay my bill."</p> + +<p>Here he was at the last chapter of exile, still bearing his creditor's +cross.</p> + +<p>"Give the young man's friends a lunch," he had said to the landlady: "I +will make it right;"—and in the cortege he was probably the only honest +mourner.</p> + +<p>Not we, who know Frenchmen by caricature merely, as volatile, fickle, +deceitful, full of artifice, should sit in judgment upon them. He has +the least heart of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> who thinks that there is not some heart +everywhere! The charity which tarrieth long and suffereth much wrong, +has been that of the Parisians of the Latin Quarter, during the American +war.</p> + +<p>Along all the route the folks lifted their hats as the hearse passed by, +and so, through slush and mist and rain, the little company kept +straight toward the barriers, and turned at last into the great gate of +the cemetery of Mt. Parnasse.</p> + +<p>They do not deck the cities of the dead abroad as our great sepulchres +are adorned.</p> + +<p>Père la Chaise is famed rather for its inmates than its tombs, and Mont +Parnasse and Monte Martre, the remaining places of interment, are even +forbidding to the mind and the eye.</p> + +<p>A gate-keeper, in semi-military dress, sounded a loud bell as the hearse +rolled over the curb, and when they had taken an aisle to the left, with +maple trees on either side, and vistas of mean-looking vaults, a +corpulent priest, wearing a cape and a white apron, and attended by a +civil assistant of most villainous physiognomy, met the cortege and +escorted it to its destination.</p> + +<p>This was the <i>fosse commune</i>—in plain English, the <i>common trench</i>—an +open lot adjacent to the cemetery, appropriated to bodies interred at +public expense, and presenting to the eye a spectacle which, considered +either with regard to its quaintness or its dreariness, stood alone and +unrivalled.</p> + +<p>Nearest the street the ground had long been occupied, trench parallel +with trench, filled to the surface level, sodded green, and each grave +marked by a wooden cross. There was a double layer of bodies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> beneath, +lying side by side; no margin could of course be given at the surface; +the thickly planted crosses, therefore, looked, at a little distance, +like a great waste of heath or bramble, broken now and then by a dwarf +cedar, and hung to the full with flowers and tokens. The width of the +trenches was that of the added height of two full-grown men, and the +length a half mile perhaps; a narrow passage-way separated them, so +that, however undistinguishable they appeared, each grave could be +indentified and visited.</p> + +<p>Close observation might have found much to cheer this waste of flesh, +this economy of space; but to this little approaching company the scene +was of a kind to make death more terrible by association.</p> + +<p>A rough wall enclosed the flat expanse of charnel, over which the +scattered houses of the barriers looked widowed through their mournful +windows; and now and then a crippled crone, or a bereaved old pauper, +hobbled to the roadway and shook her white hairs to the rain.</p> + +<p>It seemed a long way over the boggy soil to the newly opened trench, +where the hearse stopped with its wheels half-sunken, and the chief +<i>croquemort</i>, without any ado, threw the coffin over his shoulder and +walked to the place of sepulture. Five <i>fossoyeurs</i>, at the remote end +of the trench, were digging and covering, as if their number rather than +their work needed increase, and a soldier in blue overcoat, whose hands +were full of papers, came up at a commercial pace, and cried:</p> + +<p>"<i>Corps trente-deux!</i>"</p> + +<p>Which corresponded to the figures on the box, and to the number of +interments for the day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>The delvers made no pause while the priest read the service, and the +clods fell faster than the rain. The box was nicely mortised against +another previously deposited, and as there remained an interstice +between it and that at its feet, an infant's coffin made the space +complete.</p> + +<p>The Latin service was of all recitations the most slovenly and +contemptuous; the priest might have been either smiling or sleeping; for +his very red face appeared to have nothing in common with his scarcely +moving lips; and the assistant looked straight at the trench, half +covetously, half vindictively, as if he meant to turn the body out of +the box directly, and run away with the grave-clothes. It took but two +minutes to run through the text; the holy water was dashed from the +hyssop; and the priest, with a small shovel, threw a quantity of clods +after it. "<i>Requiescat in pace!</i>" he cried, like one just awakened, and +now for the first time the grave-diggers ceased; they wanted the +customary fee, <i>pour boire</i>.</p> + +<p>The exiles never felt so destitute before; not a sou could be found in +the Colony. But the little hunchback stepped up with the cross, and gave +it to the chief <i>fossoyeur</i>, dropping a franc into his hand; each of the +women added some sous, and the younger one quietly tied a small round +token of brass to the wood, which she kissed thrice; it bore these +words:</p> + +<p>"<i>A mon ami.</i>"</p> + +<p>"A little more than kin and less than kind!" whispered Andy Plade, who +knew what such souvenirs meant, in Paris.</p> + +<p>The Colony went away disconsolate; but the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> hunchback stopped on +the margin, and looked once more into the pit where the box was fast +disappearing.</p> + +<p>"Pardon our debts, <i>bon Dieu!</i>" he said, "as we pardon our debtors."</p> + +<p>Shall we who have followed this funeral be kind to the stranger that is +within our gates? The quiet old gentleman standing so gravely over the +<i>fosse commune</i> might have attracted more regard from the angels than +that Iron Duke who once looked down upon the sarcophagus of his enemy in +the Hotel des Invalides.</p> + +<p>And so Lees was at rest—the master's only son, the heir to lands and +houses, and servants, and hopes. He had escaped the bullet, but also +that honor which a soldier's death conferred—and thus, abroad and +neglected, had existed awhile upon the charity of strangers, to expire +of his own wickedness, and accept, as a boon, this place among the bones +of the wretched.</p> + +<p>How beat the hearts which wait for the strife to be done and for him to +return! The field-hands sleep more honored in their separate mounds +beneath the pine trees. The landlady's daughter may come sometimes to +fasten a flower upon his cross; but, like that cross, her sorrow will +decay, and Master Lees will mingle with common dust, passing out of the +memory of Europe—ay! even of the Southern Colony.</p> + +<p>How bowed and wounded they threaded the way homeward, those young men, +whom the world, in its bated breath, had called rich and fortunate! Now +that they thought it over, how absurd had been this gambling venture! +They should lose every sou. They had, for a blind chance, exhausted the +patience of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> creditors, and made away with their last +collateral—their last crust, and bed, and drink.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Simp, bitterly, "that I had been born one of my mother's +niggers. Bigad! a cabin, a wood fire, corn meal and a pound of pork per +diem, would keep me like a duke next winter."</p> + +<p>Here they stopped at Simp's hotel, and, as he was afraid to enter alone, +the loss of his baggage being detected, the Colony consented to ascend +to his chamber.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Simp," said the fierce concierge, "here is a letter, the last +which I shall ever receive for you! You will please pay my bill +to-night, or I shall go to the office of the <i>prud'homme</i>; you are of +the <i>canaille</i>, sir! Where are your effects?"</p> + +<p>"Whoop!" yelled Mr. Simp, in the landlady's face. "Yah-ah-ah! hoora +ah-ah! three cheers! we have news of our venture! This is a telegram!"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><div class="rightjustify">"<span class="smcap">Wisbaden</span>, Oct. 30.</div> + +<p>"The system wins! To-day and yesterday I took +seven thousand one hundred francs. I have selected +the 4th of November to break the bank.</p> + +<div class="rightjustify">"<span class="smcap">Auburn Risque</span>."</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD REVELRY REVIVED.</h3> + + +<p>The Colony would have shouted over Master Lees' coffin at the receipt of +such intelligence. They gave a genuine American cheer, nine times +repeated, with the celebrated "tiger" of the Texan Rangers, as it had +been reported to them. Mr. Simp read the dispatch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> to the concierge, who +brightened up, begged his pardon, and hoped that he would forget words +said in anger.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Mr. Simp, with some dignity, "I have suffered and +forgotten much in this establishment; we have an aphorism, relative to +the last feather, in the English tongue. But lend me one hundred francs +till my instalment arrives from Germany, and I will forgive even the +present insult."</p> + +<p>"Boys!" cried Andy Plade, "let us have a supper! We—that is, you—can +take the telegram to our several creditors, and raise enough upon it to +pass a regal night at the <i>Trois Frères</i>."</p> + +<p>This proposition was received with great favor; the concierge gave Simp +a hundred francs; he ordered cigars and a gallon of punch, and they +repaired to his room to arrange the details of the celebration.</p> + +<p>Freckle gave great offence by wishing that "Poor Lees" were alive to +enjoy himself; and Simp said, "Bigad, sir! Freckle, living, is more of a +bore than Lees, dead."</p> + +<p>They resolved to attend supper in their dilapidated clothes, so that +what they had been might be pleasantly rebuked by what they were. "And +but for this feature," said Andy Plade, "it would have been well to +invite Ambassador Slidell." But Pisgah and Simp, who had applied to +Slidell several times by letter for temporary loans, were averse, just +now, to the presence of one who had forgotten "the first requisite of a +Southern Gentleman—generosity."</p> + +<p>So it was settled that only the Colony and Hugenot were to come, each +man to bring one lady. Simp,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> Pisgah, and Freckle thought Hugenot a +villain. He had not even attended the obsequies of the lamented Lees. +But Andy Plade forcibly urged that Hugenot was a good speaker, and would +be needed for a sentiment.</p> + +<p>In the evening a lunch was served by Mr. Simp, of which some young +ladies of the Paris <i>demi-monde</i> partook; the "Bonnie Blue Flag" was +sung with great spirit, and Freckle became so intoxicated at two in the +morning that one of the young ladies was prevailed upon to see him to +his hotel.</p> + +<p>There was great joy in the Latin Quarter when it was known that the +Southern Colony had won at Wisbaden, and meant to pay its debts. The +tailors, shoemakers, tobacconists, publicans, grocers and hosiers met in +squads upon corners to talk it over; all the gentlemen obtained loans, +and, as evidence of how liberal they meant to be, commenced by giving +away whatever old effects they had.</p> + +<p>A <i>cabinet</i> or small saloon of the most expensive restaurant in Paris +was pleasantly adorned for the first reunion of the Confederate exiles.</p> + +<p>The ancient seven-starred flag, entwined with the new battle-flag, hung +in festoons at the head of the room, and directly beneath was the +portrait of President Davis. A crayon drawing of the C. S. N. V. +Florida, from the portfolio of the amateur Mr. Simp, was arched by two +crossed cutlasses, hired for the occasion; and upon an enormous iced +cake, in the centre of the table, stood a barefooted soldier, with his +back against a pine tree, defying both a Yankee and a negro.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock <span class="smcap">P.M.</span> the scrupulously dressed at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>tendants heard a buzz +and a hurried tramp upon the stairs. They repaired at once to their +respective places, and after a pause the Southern Colony and convoy made +their appearance upon the threshold. With the exception of Pisgah and +Hugenot, all were clothed in the relics of their poverty, but their +hairs were curled, and they wore some recovered articles of jewelry. +They had thus the guise of a colony of barbers coming up from the gold +diggings, full of nuggets and old clothes.</p> + +<p>By previous arrangement, the chair was taken by Andy Plade, supported by +two young ladies, and, after saying a welcome to the guests in elegant +French, he made a significant gesture to the chief waiter. The most +luscious Ostend oysters were at once introduced; they lifted them with +bright silver <i>fourchettes</i> from plates of Sevres porcelain, and each +guest touched his lips afterward with a glass of refined <i>vermeuth</i>. +Three descriptions of soup came successively, an amber <i>Julien</i>, in +which the microscope would have been baffled to detect one vegetable +fibre, yet it bore all the flavors of the garden; a tureen of <i>potage à +la Bisque</i>, in which the rarest and tiniest shell-fish had dissolved +themselves; and at the last a <i>tortue</i>, small in quantity, but so +delicious that murmurs of "<i>encore</i>" were made.</p> + +<p>Morsels of <i>viande</i>, so alternated that the appetite was prolonged—each +dish seeming a better variation of the preceding—were helped toward +digestion by the finest vintages of Burgundy; and the luscious <i>patés de +foie gras</i>—for which the plumpest geese in Bretagne had been invalids +all their days, and, if gossip be true, submitted in the end to a slow +roasting alive—intro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>duced the fish, which, by the then reformed +Parisian mode, must appear after, not before, the <i>entrée</i>.</p> + +<p>A <i>sole au vin blanc</i> gave way to a regal <i>mackerel au sauce +champignon</i>, and after this dish came confections and fruits <i>ad +libitum</i>, ending with the removal of the cloth, the introduction of +cigars, and a <i>marquise</i> or punch of pure champagne.</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant evening within and without; the windows were raised, +and they could see the people in the gardens strolling beneath the lime +trees; the starlight falling on the plashing fountain and the gray, +motionless statues; the pearly light of the lines of lamps, shining down +the long arcades; the glitter of jewelry and precious merchandise in the +marvellous <i>boutiques</i>; the groups which sat around the café beneath +with <i>sorbets</i> and <i>glacés</i>, and sparkling wines; the old women in +Normandie caps and green aprons, who flitted here and there to take the +hire of chairs, and break the hum of couples, talking profane and sacred +love; around and above all, the Cardinal's grand palace lifting its +multitudinous pilasters, and seeming to prop up the sky.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Simp and his lady who saw these more particularly, as they +had withdrawn from the table, to exchange a memory and a sentiment, and +Hugenot had joined them with his most recent mistress; for the latter +was particularly unfortunate in love, being cozened out of much money, +and yet libelled for his closeness.</p> + +<p>All the rest sat at the table, talking over the splendor of the supper, +and proposing to hold a second one at the famous Philippe's, in the Rue +Montorgueil. But Mr. Freckle, being again emboldened by wine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> and +affronted at the subordinate position assigned him, repeatedly cried +that, for his part, he preferred the "old Latin Quarter," and challenged +the chairman to produce a finer repast than Magny's in the Rue +Counterscarp.</p> + +<p>Pisgah, newly clothed <i>cap-à-pie</i>, was drinking absinthe, and with his +absent eyes, worn face and changing hairs, looked like the spectre of +his former self. Now and then he raised his head to give unconscious +assent to something, but immediately relapsed to the worship of his +nepenthe; and, as the long potations sent strong fumes to his temples, +he chuckled audibly, and gathered his jaws to his eyes in a vacant grin. +The gross, coarse woman at his side, from whom the other females shrank +with frequent demonstrations of contempt, was Pisgah's <i>blanchisseuse</i>.</p> + +<p>He was in her debt, and paid her with compliments; she is old and +uninviting, and he owes her eight hundred francs. Hers are the new +garments which he wears to-night. Few knew how many weary hours she +labored for them in the floating houses upon the Seine. But she is in +love with Pisgah, and is quite oblivious of the general regard; for, +strange to such grand occasions, she has both eaten and imbibed +enormously, and it may be even doubted at present whether she sees +anything at all.</p> + +<p>She strokes his cloth coat with her red, swollen hands, and proposes now +and then that he shall visit the wardrobe to look after his new hat; but +Pisgah only passes his arm about her, and drains his absinthe, and +sometimes, as if to reassure the company, shouts wildly at the wrong +places: "'At's so, boys!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +"Hoorah for you!" "Ay! capital, gen'l'men, capital!" And his partner, +conscious that something has happened, laughs to her waist, and leans +forward, quite overcome, as if she beheld something mirthful over her +washboard.</p> + +<p>The place was now quite dreamy with tobacco-smoke; Freckle was riotously +sick at the window, and Andy Plade, who had been borrowing small sums +from everybody who would lend, struck the table with a corkscrew, and +called for order.</p> + +<p>"Drire rup!" cried Mr. Freckle, looking very attentively, but seeing +nothing.</p> + +<p>"I have the honor to state, gentlemen of the Colony, that we have with +us to-night an eloquent representative of our country—one whose +business energy and enterprise have been useful both to his own fortunes +and to the South—one who is a friend of yours, and more than a dear +friend to me. We came from the same old Palmetto State, the first and +the last ditch of our revolution. I give you a toast, gentlemen, to +which Mr. Hugenot will respond:</p> + +<p>"'The Mother Country and the Colony—good luck to both!'"</p> + +<p>"Hoorah for you!" cried Pisgah, looking the wrong way.</p> + +<p>The glasses rattled an instant, amid iterations of "Hear! hear!" and Mr. +Hugenot, rising, as it appeared from a bandbox, carefully surveyed +himself in a mirror opposite, and touched his nose with a small nosegay.</p> + +<p>"I feel, my friends, rather as your host than your guest to-night—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>("It isn't yesternight"—from Freckle—"it's to-morroer night.")</p> + +<p>"For I, gentlemen, stand upon my hereditary, if not my native heath; and +you are, at most, Frenchmen by adoption. That ancestry whose deeds will +live when the present poor representative of its name is departed drew +from this martial land its blood and genius."</p> + +<p>(Loud cries of "Gammon" from Freckle, and disapprobation from Simp.)</p> + +<p>"From the past to the present, my friends, is a short transition. I +found you in Paris a month ago, poor and dejected. You are here +to-night, with that luxury which was your heritage. And how has it been +restored?"</p> + +<p>("'At's so!" earnestly, from Pisgah.)</p> + +<p>"By hard, grovelling work? Never! No contact with vulgar clay has soiled +these aristocratic hands. The cavalier cannot be a mudsill! You are not +like the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin. You +have not toiled, gentlemen, but you have spun!"</p> + +<p>(Great awakening, doubt, and bewilderment.)</p> + +<p>"You have spun the roulette ball, and you have won!"</p> + +<p>(Ferocious and unparalleled cheering.)</p> + +<p>"And it has occurred to me, my friends, that ou-ah cause, in the present +tremendous struggle, has been well symbolized by these, its foreign +representatives. Calamity came upon the South, as upon you. It had +indebtedness, as you have had. Shall I say that you, like the South, +repudiated? No! that is a slander of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> our adversaries. But the parallel +holds good in that we found ourselves abandoned by the world. Nations +abroad gave us no sympathy; our neighbors at home laughed at our +affliction. They would wrest from us that bulwark of our liberties, the +African."</p> + +<p>"Capital, gentlemen, capital!" from Pisgah.</p> + +<p>"They demanded that we should toil for ourselves. Did we do so? Never! +We appealed to the chances, as you have done; we would fight the Yankee, +but we would not work. You would fight the bank, but you would not +slave; and as you have won at Wisbaden, so have we, in a thousand +glorious contests. Fill, then, gentlemen, to the toast which your +chairman has announced:</p> + +<p>"'The Mother Country and the Colony—good luck to both!'"</p> + +<p>The applause which ensued was of such a nature that the proprietors +below endeavored to hasten the conclusion of the dinner by sending up +the bill. Pisgah and the <i>blanchisseuse</i> were embracing in a spirited +way, and Simp was holding back Freckle, who—persuaded that Hugenot's +remarks were in some way derogatory to himself—wished to toss down his +gauntlet.</p> + +<p>"The next toast, gentlemen of the Colony," said Andy Plade, "is to be +dispatched immediately by the waiter, whom you see upon my right hand, +to the office of the telegraph; thence to Mr. Risque at Wisbaden:</p> + +<p>"'The Southern exiles; doubtless the most immethodical men alive; but +the results prove they have the best system: no <i>Risque</i>, no winnings.'</p> + +<p>"You will see, gentlemen," continued Mr. Plade, when the enthusiasm had +subsided, "that I place the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> toast in this envelope. It will go in two +minutes to Mr. Auburn Risque!"</p> + +<p>The waiter started for the door; it was dashed open in his face, and +splattered, dirty, and travel-worn, Auburn Risque himself stood like an +apparition on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Perdition!" thundered Plade, staggered and pale-faced; "you were not to +break the bank till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The Colony, sober or inebriate, clustered about the door, and held to +each other that they might hear the explanation aright.</p> + +<p>Auburn Risque straightened himself and glared upon all the besiegers, +till his pock-marked face grew white as leprosy, and every spot in his +secretive eye faded out in the glitter of his defiance.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow?" he said, in a voice hard, passionless, inflectionless; "how +could one break the bank to-morrow, when all his money was gone +yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Gone!" repeated the Colony, in a breath rather than a voice, and +reeling as if a galvanic current had passed through the circle—"Gone!"</p> + +<p>"Every sou," said Risque, sinking into a chair. "The bank gave me one +hundred francs to return to Paris; I risked twenty-five of it, hopeful +of better luck, and lost again. Then I had not enough money to get home, +and for forty kilometres of the way I have driven a <i>charette</i>. See!" he +cried, throwing open his coat; "I sold my vest at Compiègne last night, +for a morsel of supper."</p> + +<p>"But you had won seven thousand one hundred francs!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I won more—more than eighteen thousand francs; but, enlarging my +stakes with my capital, one hour brought me down to a sou."</p> + +<p>"The 'system' was a swindle," hissed Mr. Simp, looking up through red +eyes which throbbed like pulses. "What right had you to plunder us upon +your speculation?"</p> + +<p>"The 'system' could not fail," answered the gamester, at bay; "it must +have been my manner of play. I think that, upon one run of luck, I gave +up my method."</p> + +<p>"We do not know," cried Simp, tossing his hands wildly; "we may not +accuse, we may not be enraged—we are nothing now but profligates +without means, and beggars without hope!"</p> + +<p>They sobbed together, bitterly and brokenly, till Freckle, not entirely +sober, shouted, "Good God, is it that gammon-head, Hugenot, who has +ruined us? Fetch him out from his ancestry; let me see him, I say! Where +is the man who took my three hundred francs!"</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Simp, in a suicidal way, "that I were lying by Lees in +the <i>fosse commune</i>. But I will not slave; the world owes every man a +living!"</p> + +<p>"Ay!" echoed the rest, as desperately, but less resolutely.</p> + +<p>"This noise," said one of the waiters politely, "cannot be continued. It +is at any rate time for the <i>salon</i> to be closed. We will thank you to +pay your bill, and settle your quarrels in the garden."</p> + +<p>"Here is the account," interpolated Andy Plade, "dinner for thirteen +persons, nineteen hundred and fifty francs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Manes of my ancestry!" shrieked Hugenot, overturning the +<i>blanchisseuse</i> in his way, and rushing from the house.</p> + +<p>"We have not the money!" cried the whole Colony in chorus; and, as if by +concert, the company in mass, male and female, cleared the threshold and +disappeared, headed by Andy Plade, who kept all the subscriptions in his +pockets, and terminated by Freckle, who was caught at the base of the +stairs and held for security.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE COLONY DISBANDED.</h3> + + +<p>The Colony, as a body, will appear no more in this transcript. The +greatness of their misfortune kept them asunder. They closed their +chamber-doors, and waited in hunger and sorrow for the moment when the +sky should be their shelter and beggary their craft.</p> + +<p>It was in this hour of ruin that the genius of Mr. Auburn Risque was +manifest. The horse is always sure of a proprietor, and with horses Mr. +Risque was more at home than with men.</p> + +<p>"Man is ungrateful," soliloquized Risque, keeping along the Rue +Mouffetard in the Chiffoniers' Quarter; "a horse is invariably faithful, +unless he happens to be a mule. Confound men! the only excellence they +have is not a virtue—they can play cards!"</p> + +<p>Here he turned to the left, followed some narrow thoroughfares, and +stopped at the great horse market, a scene familiarized to Americans, in +its general features, by Rosa Bonheur's "La Foire du Chevaux."</p> + +<p>Double rows of stalls enclosed a trotting course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> roughly paved, and +there was an artificial hill on one side, where draught-horses were +tested. The animals were gayly caparisoned, whisks of straw affixed to +the tails indicating those for sale; their manes and forelocks were +plaited, ribbons streamed over their frontlets, they were muzzled and +wore wooden bits.</p> + +<p>We have no kindred exhibition in the States, so picturesque and so +animated. Boors in blouses were galloping the great-hoofed beasts down +the course by fours and sixes; the ribbons and manes fluttered; the +whips cracked, and the owners hallooed in <i>patois</i>.</p> + +<p>Four fifths of French horses are gray; here, there was scarcely one +exception; and the rule extended to the asses which moved amid hundreds +of braying mulets, while at the farther end of the ground the teams were +parked, and, near by, seller and buyer, book in hand, were chaffering +and smoking in shrewd good-humor.</p> + +<p>One man was collecting animals for a celebrated stage-route, and the +gamester saw that he was a novice.</p> + +<p>"Do you choose that for a good horse?" spoke up Risque, in his practical +way, when the man had set aside a fine, sinewy draught stallion.</p> + +<p>"I do!" said the man, shortly.</p> + +<p>"Then you have no eye. He has a bad strain. I can lift all his feet but +this one. See! he kicks if I touch it. Walk him now, and you will remark +that it tells on his pace."</p> + +<p>The man was convinced and pleased. "You are a judge," he said, glancing +down Risque's dilapidated dress; "I will make it worth something to you +to remain here during the day and assist me."</p> + +<p>The imperturbable gamester became a feature of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> sale. He was the +best rider on the ground. He put his hard, freckled hand into the jaws +of stallions, and cowed the wickedest mule with his spotted eye. He knew +prices as well as values, and had, withal, a dashing way of bargaining, +which baffled the traders and amused his patron.</p> + +<p>"You have saved me much money and many mistakes," said the latter, at +nightfall. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am the man," answered Risque, straightforwardly, "to work on your +stage-line, and I am dead broke."</p> + +<p>The man invited Risque to dinner; they rode together on the Champs +Elysées; and next morning at daylight the gamester left Paris without a +thought or a farewell for the Colony.</p> + +<p>It was in the Grand Hotel that Messrs. Hugenot and Plade met by chance +the evening succeeding the dinner.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave Paris, Andy," said Hugenot, regarding his pumps through +his eye-glass. "My ancestry would blush in their coffins if they knew +ou-ah cause to be represented by such individuals as those of last +evening."</p> + +<p>"Let us go together," replied Plade, in his plausible way; "you cannot +speak a word of any continental language. Take me along as courier and +companion; pay my travelling expenses, and I will pay my own board."</p> + +<p>"Can I trust you, Suth Kurlinian?" said Hugenot, irresolutely; "you had +no money yesterday."</p> + +<p>"But I have a plan of raising a thousand francs to-day. What say you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My family have been wont to see the evidence prior to committing +themselves. First show me the specie."</p> + +<p>"<i>Voila!</i>" cried Plade, counting out forty louis; "the day after +to-morrow I guarantee to own eighteen hundred francs."</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Mr. Hugenot to inquire how his friend came to +possess so much money; for Hugenot was not a clever man, and somewhat in +dread of Andy Plade, who, as his school-mate, had thrashed him +repeatedly, and even now that one had grown rich and the other was a +vagabond, the latter's strong will and keen, bad intelligence made him +the master man.</p> + +<p>Hugenot's good fortune was accidental; his cargoes had passed the +blockade and given handsome returns; but he shared none of the dangers, +and the traffic required no particular skill. Hugenot was, briefly, a +favorite of circumstances. The war-wind, which had toppled down many a +long, thoughtful head, carried this inflated person to greatness.</p> + +<p>They are well contrasted, now that they speak. The merchant, elaborately +dressed, varnished pumps upon his effeminate feet, every hair taught its +curve and direction, the lunette perched upon no nose to speak of, and +the wavering, vacillating eye, which has no higher regard than his own +miniature figure. Above rises the vagabond, straight, athletic and +courageous, though a knave.</p> + +<p>He is so much of a man physically and intellectually, that we do not see +his faded coat-collar, frayed cuffs, worn buttons, and untidy boots. He +is so little of a man morally, that, to any observer who looks twice, +the plausibility of the face will fail to deceive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +The eye is deep and direct, but the high, jutting forehead above is like +a table of stone, bearing the ten broken commandments. He keeps the lips +ajar in a smile, or shut in a resolve, to hide their sensuality, and the +fine black beard conceals the massive contour of jaws which are cruel as +hunger.</p> + +<p>It was strange that Plade, with his clear conception, should do less +than despise his acquaintance. On the contrary, he was partial to +Hugenot's society. The world asked, wonderingly, what capacities had the +latter? Was he not obtuse, sounding, shallow? Mr. Plade alone, of all +the Americans in Paris, asserted from the first that Hugenot was +far-sighted, close, capable. Indeed, he was so earnest in this +enunciation that few thought him disinterested.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was Master Simp who heard a bold step on the stairs that night, and a +resolute knock upon his own door.</p> + +<p>"Arrest for debt!" cried Mr. Simp, falling tearfully upon his bed; "I +have expected the summons all day."</p> + +<p>"The next man may come upon that errand," answered the ringing voice of +Andy Plade. "Freckle sleeps in Clichy to-night; Risque cannot be found; +the rest are as badly off; I have news for you."</p> + +<p>"I am the man to be mocked," pleaded Simp; "but you must laugh at your +own joke; I am too wretched to help you."</p> + +<p>"The Yankees have opened the Mississippi River; Louisiana is subjugated, +and communication re-established with your neighborhood; you can go +home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What fraction of the way will this carry me?" said the other, holding +up a five-franc piece. "My home is farther than the stars from me."</p> + +<p>"It is a little sum," urged Mr. Plade; "one hundred dollars should pay +the whole passage."</p> + +<p>Mr. Simp, in response, mimicked a man shovelling gold pieces, but was +too weak to prolong the pleasantry, and sat down on his empty trunk and +wept, as Plade thought, like a calf.</p> + +<p>"Your case seems indeed hopeless," said the elder. "Suppose I should +borrow five hundred dollars on your credit, would you give me two +hundred for my trouble?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Simp said, bitterly, that he would give four hundred and ninety-five +dollars for five; but Plade pressed for a direct answer to his original +proffer, and Simp cried "Yes," with an oath.</p> + +<p>"Then listen to me! there is no reason to doubt that your neighbors have +made full crops for two years—cotton, sugar, tobacco. All this remains +at home unsold and unshipped—yours with the rest. Take the oath of +allegiance to the Yankee Government before its <i>chargé des affaires</i> in +Paris. That will save your crops from confiscation, and be your passport +to return. Then write to your former banker here, promising to consign +your cotton to him, if he will advance five hundred dollars to take you +to Louisiana. He knows you received of old ten thousand dollars per +annum. He will risk so small a sum for a thing so plausible and +profitable."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you have been saying," muttered Simp. "I cannot +comprehend a scheme so in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>tricate; you bewilder me! What is a +consignment? How am I, bigad! to make that clear in a letter? Perhaps my +speech in the case of Rutledge <i>vs.</i> Pinckney might come in well at this +juncture."</p> + +<p>"Write!" cried Plade, contemptuously; "write at my dictation."</p> + +<p>That night the letter was mailed; Mr. Simp was summoned to his banker's +the following noon, and at dusk he met Andy Plade in the Place Vendôme, +and paid over a thousand francs with a sigh.</p> + +<p>On the third night succeeding, Messrs. Plade and Hugenot were smoking +their cigars at Nice, and Mr. Simp, without the least idea of what he +meant to do, was drinking cocktails on the Atlantic Ocean.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Francine," said Pisgah, with a woful glance at the dregs of absinthe in +the tumbler, "give me a half franc, my dear; I am poorly to-day."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Pisgah," answered Madame Francine, "give me nine hundred and +sixty-five francs, seventy-five centimes—that is your bill with me—and +I am poorly also."</p> + +<p>"My love," said Pisgah, rubbing his grizzled beard against the madame's +fat cheek, "you are not hard-hearted. You will pity the poor old exile. +I love you very much, Francine."</p> + +<p>"Stand off!" cried the madame; "<i>vous m'embate!</i> You say you love me; +then marry me!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my angel!"</p> + +<p>"I say marry me!" repeated the madame, stamping her foot. "You are rich +in America. You have slaves and land and houses and fine relatives. You +will get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> all these when the war closes; but if you die of starvation in +Paris, they amount to nothing. Marry me! I will keep you alive here; you +will give me half of your possessions there! I shall be a grand lady, +ride in my carriage, and have a nasty black woman to wash my fine +clothes."</p> + +<p>"That is impossible, Francine," answered Pisgah, not so utterly degraded +but he felt the stigma of such a proposition from his +<i>blanchisseuse</i>—and as he leaned his faded hairs upon his unnerved and +quivering hands, the old pride fluttered in his heart a moment and +painted rage upon his neck and temples.</p> + +<p>"You are insulted, my lord count!" cried Madame Francine; "an alliance +with a poor washerwoman would shame your great kin. Pay me my money, you +beggar! or I shall put the fine gentleman in prison for debt."</p> + +<p>"That would be a kindness to me, madame," said Pisgah, very humbly and +piteously.</p> + +<p>"You are right," she made answer, with a mocking laugh; "I will not save +your life: you shall starve, sir! you shall starve!"</p> + +<p>In truth, this consummation seemed very close, for as Pisgah entered his +creamery soon afterward, the proprietor met him at the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Pisgah," he said, "you can have nothing to eat here, until you +pay a part of your bill with me; I am a poor man, sir, and have +children."</p> + +<p>Pisgah kept up the street with heavy forebodings, and turned into the +place of a clothes-merchant, to whom his face had long been familiar. +When he emerged, his handsome habits, the gift of Madame Francine, hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +in the clothes-dealer's window, and Mr. Pisgah, wearing a common blouse, +a cap, and coarse hide shoes, repaired to the nearest wine-shop, and +drank a dead man's portion of absinthe at the zinc counter. Then he +returned to his own hotel, but as he reached to the rack for his key, +the landlady laid her hand upon it and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You are properly dressed, Monsieur Pisgah," she said; "those who have +no money should work; you cannot sleep in twenty-six to night, sir; I +have shut up the chamber, and seized the little rubbish which you left."</p> + +<p>Pisgah was homeless—a vagabond, an outcast. He walked unsteadily along +the street in the pleasant evening, and the film of tears that shut the +world from his eyes was peopled with far-off and familiar scenes.</p> + +<p>He saw his father's wide acres, with the sunset gilding the fleeces of +his sheep and crowning with fire the stacks of grain and the vanes upon +his granges. Then the twilight fell, and the slaves went homeward +singing, while the logs on the brass andirons lit up the windows of the +mansion, and every negro cabin was luminous, so that in the night the +homestead looked like a village. Then the moon rose above the woods, +making the lawn frosty, and shining upon the long porch, where his +mother came out to welcome him, attended by the two house-dogs, which +barked so loudly in their glee that all the hen-coops were alarmed, and +the peacocks in the trees held their tails to the stars and trilled.</p> + +<p>"Come in, my son," said the mother, looking proudly upon the tall, +straight shape and glossy locks; "the supper is smoking upon the table; +here is your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> familiar julep, without which you have no appetite; the +Maryland biscuit are unusually good this evening, and there is the +yellow pone in the corner, with Sukey, your old nurse, behind it. Do you +like much cream in your coffee, as you used to? Bless me! the partridge +is plump as a duck; but here is your napkin, embroidered with your name; +let us ask a blessing before we eat!"</p> + +<p>While all this is going on, the cat, which has been purring by the fire, +takes a wicked notion to frighten the canary bird, but the high old +clock in the corner, imported from England before the celebrated +Revolutionary war, impresses the cat as a very formidable object with +its stately stride-stride-stride—so that the cat regarding it a moment, +forgets the canary bird, and mews for a small portion of cream in a +saucer.</p> + +<p>"Halloo! halloo!" says the parrot, awakened by a leap of the fire; for, +the back-log has broken in half, and Pisgah sees, by the increased +light, the very hair-powder gleam on the portrait of General Washington. +But now the cloth is removed, and the old-fashioned table folds up its +leaves; they sip some remarkable sherry, which grandfather regards with +a wheezy sort of laugh, and after they have played one game of draughts, +Mr. Pisgah looks at his gold chronometer, and asks if he has still the +great room above the porch and plenty of bedclothes.</p> + +<p>This is what Mr. Pisgah sees upon the film of his tears—wealth, +happiness, manliness! When he dashes the tears themselves to the +pavement with an oath, what rises upon his eye and his heart? +Paris—grand, luxurious, pitiless, and he, at twilight, flung upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +world, with neither kindred nor country—a thing unwilling to live, +unfit to die!</p> + +<p>He strolled along the quay to the Morgue; the beautiful water of St. +Michel fell sibilantly cold from the fountain, and Apollyon above, at +the feet of the avenging angel, seemed a sermon and an allegory of his +own prostration. How all the folks upon the bridge were stony faced! It +had never before occurred to him that men were cold-blooded creatures. +He wondered if the Seine, dashing against the quays and piers beneath, +were not their proper element? Ay! for here were three drowned people on +the icy slabs of the Morgue, with half a hundred gazing wistfully at +them, and their fixed eyes glaring fishily at the skylight, as if it +were the surface of the river and they were at rest below.</p> + +<p>So seemed all the landscape as he kept down the quay—the lines of high +houses were ridges only in the sea, and Notre Dame, lifting its towers +and sculptured façade before, was merely a high-decked ship, with +sailors crowding astern. The holy apostles above the portal were more +like human men than ever, with their silicious eyes and pulseless +bosoms; while the hideous gargoyles at the base of each crocheted +pinnacle, seemed swimming in the dusky evening.</p> + +<p>It may have been that this aqueous phenomenon was natural to one +"half-seas over;" but not till he stood on the place of the Hôtel de la +Ville, did Pisgah have any consciousness whatever that he walked upon +the solid world.</p> + +<p>At this moment he was reminded, also, that he held a letter in his hand, +his landlady's gift at parting; it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> was dated, "Clichy dungeon," and +signed by Mr. Freckle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"Dear Pisgah," read the text, "I am here at claim of restaurateur; shall +die to-morrow at or before twelve o'clock, if Andy Plade don't fork over +my subscription of two hundred francs. Andy Plade damned knave—no +mistake! No living soul been to see me, except letter from Hon. Mr. +Slidell. He has got sixteen thousand dollars in specie for Simp. Where's +Simp, dogorn him! Hon. S. sent to Simp's house; understood he'd sailed +for America. Requested Hon. S. to give me small part of money as Simp's +next friend. Hon. S. declined. Population of prison very great. Damned +scrub stock! Don't object to imprisonment as much as the fleas. Fleas +bent on aiding my escape. If they crawl with me to-morrow night as far +again as last night I'll be clear—no mistake! Live on soup, chiefly. +Abhor soup. Had forty francs here first day, but debtor with one boot +and spectacles won it at <i>picquet</i>. Restaurateur says bound to keep me +here a thousand years if I don't sock—shall die—no mistake! Come see +me, <i>toute suite</i>. Fetch pocket-comb, soap, and English Bible.<br /> +<br /> + +"Yours, in deep waters,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Freckle</span>."<br /> +</div> + +<p>"The whole world is in deep waters," said Pisgah, dismally. "So much the +better for them; here goes for something stronger!"</p> + +<p>He repaired to the nearest drinking-saloon, and demanded a glass brimful +of absinthe, at which all the garçons and patrons held up their hands +while he drank it to the dregs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sacristie!" cried a man with mouth wide open, "that gentleman can drink +clear laudanum."</p> + +<p>"I wish," thought Pisgah, with a pale face, "that it had been laudanum; +I should have been dead by this time and all over. Why don't I get the +<i>delirium tremens</i>? I should like to be crazy. Oh, ho, ho, ho!" he +continued, laughing wildly, "to be in a hospital—nurses, soft bed, good +food, pity—oh, ho! that would be a fate fit for an emperor."</p> + +<p>Here his eye caught something across the way which riveted it, and he +took half a step forward, exultingly. A great <i>caserne</i>, or barrack, +adjoined the Hôtel de Ville, and twice every day, after breakfast and +dinner, the soldiers within distributed the surplus of their rations to +mendicants without. The latter were already assembling—laborers in +neat, common clothing, with idlers and profligates not more forbidding, +while a soldier on guard directed them where to rest and in what order +or number to enter the building. Pisgah halted a moment with his heart +in his throat. But he was very hungry, and his silver was half gone +already; if he purchased a dinner, he might not be left with sufficient +to obtain a bed for the night.</p> + +<p>"Great God!" he said aloud, lifting his clenched hands and swollen eyes +to the stars, "am I, then, among the very dogs, that I should beg the +crumbs of a common soldier?"</p> + +<p>He took his place in the line, and when at length his turn was +announced, followed the rabble shamefacedly. The <i>chasseurs</i> in the +mess-room were making merry after dinner with pipes and cards, and one +of these, giving Pisgah a piece of bread and a tin basin of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> strong +soup, slapped him smartly upon the shoulder, and cried:</p> + +<p>"My fine fellow! you have the stuff in you for a soldier."</p> + +<p>"I am just getting a soldier's stuff into me," responded Pisgah, +antithetically.</p> + +<p>"Why do you go abroad, hungry, ill-dressed, and houseless, when you can +wear the livery of France?"</p> + +<p>Pisgah thought the soldier a very presuming person.</p> + +<p>"I am a foreigner," he said, "a—a—a French Canadian (we speak +<i>patois</i> there). My troubles are temporary merely. A day or two may make +me rich."</p> + +<p>"Yet for that day or two," continued the <i>chasseur</i>, "you will have the +humiliation of begging your bread. What signifies seven years of +honorable service to three days of mendicancy and distress? We are well +cared for by the nation; we are respected over the world. It is a mean +thing to be a soldier in other lands; here we are the gentlemen of +France."</p> + +<p>Pisgah had never looked upon it in that light, and said so.</p> + +<p>"Your poverty may have unmanned you," repeated the other; "to recover +your own esteem do a manly act! We have all feared death as citizens; +but take cold steel in your hand, and you can look into your grave +without a qualm. I say to you," spoke the <i>chasseur</i>, clearly and +eloquently, "be one of us. Decide now, before a doubt mars your better +resolve! You are a young man, though the soulless career of a citizen +has anticipated the whitening of your hairs. Plant your foot; throw back +your shoulders; say 'yes!'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do!" cried Pisgah, with something of the other's enthusiasm; "I was +born a gentleman, I will die a gentleman, or a soldier."</p> + +<p>They put Mr. Pisgah among the conscripts recently levied, and he went +about town with a fictitious number in his hat, joining in their +bacchanal choruses. The next day he appeared in white duck jacket and +pantaloons, looking like an overgrown baker's boy, with a chapeau like a +flat, burnt loaf. He was then put through the manual, which seemed to +indicate all possible motions save that of liquoring up, and when he was +so fatigued that he had not the energy even to fall down, he was clasped +in the arms of Madame Francine, who had traced him to the barracks, but +was too late to avert his destiny.</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>mon amant!</i>" she cried, falling upon his neck. "Why did you go and +do it? You knew that I did not mean to see you starve."</p> + +<p>"You have consigned me to a soldier's grave, woman!" answered Pisgah, in +the deepest tragedy tone.</p> + +<p>"Do not say so, my <i>bonbon</i>!" pleaded the good lady, covering him with +kisses. "I would have worn my hands to the bone to save you from this +dreadful life. Suppose you should be sent to Algiers or Mexico, or some +other heathen country, and die there."</p> + +<p>It was Pisgah's turn to be touched.</p> + +<p>"My blood is upon your head, Francine! Have you any money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! a gentleman, a <i>noir</i>, a <i>naigre</i>, for whom I have washed, +paid me fifty francs this evening. It is all here; take it, my love!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do not know, creature! that your conduct permits me to do so," said +Pisgah, drawing back.</p> + +<p>"You will drive me mad if you refuse," shrieked the blanchisseuse. "Oh! +oh! how wicked and wretched am I!"</p> + +<p>"Enough, madame! step over the way for my habitual glass of absinthe. Be +particular about the change. We military men must be careful of our +incomes. Stay! you may embrace me if you like."</p> + +<p>The poor woman came every day to the barracks, bringing some trifle of +food or clothing. She washed his regimentals, burnished his buckles and +boots, paid his losses at cards, and bought him books and tobacco. She +could never persuade herself that Pisgah was not her victim, and he +found it useful to humor the notion.</p> + +<p>Down in the swift Seine, at her booth in the great lavatory, where the +ice rushed by and the rain beat in, she thought of Pisgah as she toiled; +and though her back ached and her hands were flayed, she never wondered +if her lot were not the most pitiable, and his in part deserved.</p> + +<p>How often should we hard, selfish men, thank God for the weaknesses of +women!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MURDER ON THE ALPS.</h3> + + +<p>And so, with Mr. Pisgah on the road to glory, Mr. Simp on the smooth +sea, Mr. Freckle in the debtor's jail, Mr. Risque behind his +four-in-hand, and Mr. Lees in the charity grave, let us sit with the two +remaining colonists in the cabriolet at Bellinzona; for it is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> month +of April, and they are to cross the great St. Gothard <i>en route</i> for +Paris. Here is the scene: a gloomy stone building for the diligence +company; two great yellow diligences, empty and unharnessed in the area +before; one other diligence, packed full, with the horses' heads turned +northward, and the blue-nosed Swiss clerk calling out the names of +passengers; a half-dozen cabriolets looking at each other irresolutely +and facing all possible ways; two score of unwashed loungers, in red +neck-kerchiefs and velvet jackets, smoking rank, rakish, black cigars; +several streets of equal crookedness and filthiness abutting against a +grimy church, whence beggars, old women, and priests emerge continually; +and far above all, as if suspended in the air, a grim, battlemented +castle, a defence, as it seems, against the snowy mountains which march +upon Bellinzona from every side to crush its orchards and vineyards and +drown it in the marshes of Lago Maggiore.</p> + +<p>"<i>Diligenza compito!</i>" cries the clerk, moving toward the waiting +cabriolet—"Signore Hugenoto."</p> + +<p>"Here!" replies a small, consequential-looking person, reconnoitring the +interior of the vehicle.</p> + +<p>"Le Signore Plaèdo!"</p> + +<p>"Ci," responds a dark, erect gentleman, striding forward and saying, in +clear Italian, "Are there no other passengers?"</p> + +<p>"None," answered the clerk; "you will have a good time together; please +remember the guard!"</p> + +<p>The guard, however, was in advance, a tall person, wrapped to the eyes +in fur, wearing a silver bugle in front of his cap, and covered with +buff breeches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>He flourished his whip like a fencing-master, moved in a cloud of +cigar-smoke, and, as he placed his bare hand upon the manes of his +horses, they reined back, as if it burned or frosted them.</p> + +<p>"My ancestry," says the small gentleman, "encourage no imposition. Shall +we give the fellow a franc?"</p> + +<p>The other had already given double the sum, and it was odd, now that one +looked at him, how pale and hard had grown his features.</p> + +<p>"God bless me, Andy!" cries the little person, stopping short; "you have +not had your breakfast to-day; apply my smelling-bottle to your nose; +you are sick, man!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," says the other, "I prefer brandy; I am only glad that we +are quite alone."</p> + +<p>The paleness faded out of his cheeks as he drank deeply of the spirits, +but the jaws were set hard, and the eyes looked stony and pitiless. The +man was ailing beyond all doubt.</p> + +<p>The whip cracked in front; the great diligence started with a groan and +a crackling of joints; the little postilion set the cabriolet going with +a chirp and a whistle; the priests and idlers looked up excitedly; the +women rushed to the windows to flutter their handkerchiefs, and all the +beggars gave sturdy chase, dropping benedictions and damnations as they +went.</p> + +<p>The small person placed his boots upon the empty cushion before and +regarded them with some benevolence; then he touched his mustache with a +comb, which he took from the head of his cane.</p> + +<p>"It is surprising, Andy," he said, "how the growth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> of one's feet bears +no proportion to that of his head. Observe those pedals. One of my +ancestors must have found a wife in China. They have gained no increase +after all these pilgrimages—and I flatter myself that they are in some +sort graceful—ay? Now remark my head. What does Hamlet, or somebody, +say about the front of Jove? This trip to Italy has actually enlarged +the diameter of my head thirteen barleycorns! Thirteen, by measurement!"</p> + +<p>The tall gentleman said not a word, but compressed his tall shoulders +into the corner of the coach, and muffled his face with his coat-collar +and breathed like one sleeping uneasily.</p> + +<p>"It has been a cheap trip!" exclaimed the diminutive person, changing +the theme; "you have been an invaluable courier, Andy. The most ardent +patriot cannot call us extravagant."</p> + +<p>"How much money have you left?" echoed the other in a suppressed tone. +"Count it. I will then tell you to a sou what will carry us to Paris."</p> + +<p>The little person drew a wallet from his side-pocket and enumerated +carefully certain circular notes. "Eleven times twenty is two hundred +and twenty; twenty-five times two hundred and twenty, five thousand five +hundred, plus nine gold louis—total, five thousand seven hundred and +twenty-five francs."</p> + +<p>One eye only of the large gentleman was visible through the folds of his +collar. It rested like a charmed thing upon the roll of gold and paper. +It was only an eye, but it seemed to be a whole face, an entire man. It +was full of thoughts, of hopes, of acts! Had the little person marked +it, thus sinister, and glit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>tering and intense, he would have shrunk as +from a burning-glass.</p> + +<p>He folded up the wallet, however, and slipped it into his inside-pocket, +while the other pushed forward his hat, so that it concealed even the +eye, and sat rigid and still in his corner.</p> + +<p>"You have not named the fare to Paris."</p> + +<p>The tall man only breathed short and hard.</p> + +<p>"Don't you recollect?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I have a 'Galignani' here; perhaps it is advertised. But hallo, Andy!"</p> + +<p>The exclamation was loud and abrupt, but the silent person did not move.</p> + +<p>"<i>The Confederate Privateer Planter will sail from Dieppe on +Tuesday</i>—(that is, to-morrow evening)—<i>she will cruise in the Indian +Ocean, if report be true.</i>"</p> + +<p>The tall man started suddenly and uncovered his face with a quick +gesture. It was flushed and earnest now, and he clutched the journal +almost nervously, though his voice was yet calm and suppressed.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night, did you say? A cruise on the broad sea—glory without +peril, gold without work; I would to God that I were on the Planter's +deck, Hugenot!"</p> + +<p>"Why not do something for ou-ah cause, Andy?"</p> + +<p>"I am to return to Paris for what? To be dunned by creditors, to be +marked for a parasite at the hotels, to be despised by men whom I serve, +and pitied by men whom I hate. This pirate career suits me. What is +society to me, whom it has ostracised? I was a gentleman once—quick at +books, pleasing in company,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> shrewd in business. They say that I have +power still, but lack integrity. Be it so! Better a freebooter at sea +than upon the land. I have half made up my mind to evil. Hugenot, listen +to me! I believe that were I to do one bad, dark deed, it would restore +me courage, resolution, energy."</p> + +<p>The little gentleman examined the other with some alarm; but just now +the teams commenced the ascent of a steep hill, and as he beheld the +guard a little way in advance, he forgot the other's earnestness, and +raised his lunette.</p> + +<p>"Andy," he said, "by my great ancestry! I have seen that man before. +Look! the height, the style, the carriage, are familiar. Who is he?"</p> + +<p>His co-voyageur was without curiosity; the former pallidness and +silentness resumed their dominion over him, and the lesser gentleman +settled moodily back to his newspaper.</p> + +<p>No word was interchanged for several hours. They passed through shaggy +glens, under toppled towers and battlements, by squalid villages, and +within the sound of dashing streams. If they descended ever, it was to +gain breath for a longer ascent; for now the mountain snows were above +them on either side, and the Alps rose sublimely impassable in front. +The hawks careened beneath them; the chamois above dared not look down +for dizziness, and Hugenot said, at Ariola, that they were taking lunch +in a balloon. The manner of Mr. Plade now altered marvellously. It might +have been his breakfast that gave him spirit and speech; he sang a +merry, bad song, which the rocks echoed back, and all the goitred women +at the roadside stopped with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> their pack burdens to listen. He told a +thousand anecdotes. He knew all the story of the pass; how the Swiss, +filing through it, had scattered the Milanese; how Suwarrow and Massena +had made its sterility fertile with blood.</p> + +<p>Hugenot's admiration amounted to envy. He had never known his associate +so brilliant, so pleasing; the exaltation was too great, indeed, to +arise from any ordinary cause; but Hugenot was not shrewd enough to +inquire into the affair. He wearied at length of the talk and of the +scene, and when at last they reached the region of perpetual ice, he +closed the cabriolet windows, and watched the filtering flakes, and +heard the snow crush under the wheels, and dropped into a deep sleep +which the other seemed to share.</p> + +<p>The clouds around them made the mountains dusky, and the interior of the +carriage was quite gloomy. At length the large gentleman turned his +head, so that his ear could catch every breath, and he regarded the dim +outlines of the lesser with motionless interest. Then he took a straw +from the litter at his feet, and, bending forward, touched his comrade's +throat. The other snored measuredly for a while, but the titillation +startled him at length, and he beat the air in his slumber. When the +irritation ceased he breathed tranquilly again, and then the first-named +placed his hand softly into the sleeper's pocket. He drew forth the +wallet with steady fingers, and as coolly emptied it of its contents. +These he concealed in the leg of his boot, but replaced the book where +he had found it. For a little space he remained at rest, leaning against +the back of the carriage, with his head bent upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> breast and his +hands clenched like one at bay and in doubt.</p> + +<p>The slow advance of the teams and the frequent changes of +direction—sometimes so abrupt as almost to reverse the +cabriolet—advised him that they were climbing the mountain by zigzags +or terraces. He knew that they were in the <i>Val Tremola</i>, or Trembling +Way, and he shook his comrade almost fiercely, as if relieved by some +idea which the place suggested.</p> + +<p>"Hugenot," he said, "rouse up! The grandeur of the Alps is round about +us; you must not miss this scene. Come with me! Quit the vehicle! I know +the place, and will exhibit it."</p> + +<p>The other, accustomed to obey, leaped to the ground immediately, and +followed through the snow, ankle deep, till they passed the diligence, +which kept in advance. The guard could not be seen—he might have +resorted to the interior; and the two pedestrians at once left the +roadway, climbing its elbows by a path more or less distinctly marked, +so that after a half hour they were perhaps a mile ahead. The agility of +Mr. Plade during this episode was the marvel of his companion. He scaled +the rocks like a goatherd, and his foot-tracks in the snow were long, +like the route of a giant. The ice could not betray the sureness of his +stride; the rare, thin atmosphere was no match for his broad, deep +chest. He shouted as he went, and tossed great boulders down the +mountain, and urged on his flagging comrade by cheer and taunt and +invective. No madman set loose from captivity could be guilty of so +extravagant, exaggerated elation.</p> + +<p>At last they stood upon a little bridge spanning a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> chasm like a cobweb. +A low parapet divided it from the awful gulf. On the other side the +mountain lifted its jagged face, clammy with icicles, and far over all +towered the sterile peaks, above the reach of clouds or lightnings, +forever in the sunshine—forever desolate.</p> + +<p>"Stand fast!" said the leader, suddenly cold and calm. "Uncover, that +the snow-flakes may give us the baptism of nature! There is no human God +at this vast height; they worship <i>Him</i> in the flat world below. Give me +your hand and look down! You are not dizzy? One should be free from the +baseness of fear, standing here upon St. Gothard."</p> + +<p>"If I had no qualm before," said Hugenot, "your words would make me +shudder."</p> + +<p>"You have heard of the 'valley of the shadow'? Was your ideal like this? +I told you in Florence of the great poet Dante. You have here at a +glance more beauty and dread conjoined than even his mad fancy could +conjure up. That is the Tessino, braining itself in cataracts. Yonder, +where the clouds make a golden lake, laving forests of firs, lies Italy +as the Goths first beheld it, with their spears quivering. See how the +eagles beat the mist beneath!—that was a symbol that the Roman +standards should be rent."</p> + +<p>The other, half in charm, half in awe, listened like one spell-bound, +with his fingers tingling and his eyeballs throbbing.</p> + +<p>"This silence," said the elder, "is more freezing to me than the +bitterness of the cold. The very snow-flakes are dumb; nothing makes +discord but the avalanche; it is always twilight; men lie down in the +snows to die, but they are numb and cannot cry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Be still," replied the other, "your talk is strangely out of place. I +feel as if my ancestors in their shrouds were beside me."</p> + +<p>"You are not wrong," cried the greater, raising his voice till it became +shrill and terrible; "your last moments are passing; that yawning ravine +is your grave. I told you an hour ago how one bad, dark deed would +redeem me. It is done! I have robbed you, and your death is essential to +my safety."</p> + +<p>Hugenot sank upon the snow of the parapet, speechless and almost +lifeless. He clasped his hands, but could not raise his head; the whole +scene faded from his eye. If he had been weak before, he was impotent +now.</p> + +<p>The strong man held him aloft by the shoulders with an iron grasp, and +his cold eye gave evidence to the horrible validity of his words.</p> + +<p>"I do not lie or play, Hugenot," he said, in the same clear voice; "I +have premeditated this deed for many weeks. You are doomed! Only a +miracle can help you. The dangers of the pass will be my exculpation; it +will be surmised that you fell into the ravine. There will be no marks +of violence upon you but those of the sharp stones. We have been close +comrades. Only Omniscience can have seen premeditation. I have brought +you into this wilderness to slay you!"</p> + +<p>The victim had recovered sufficiently to catch a part of this +confession. His lips framed only one reply—the dying man's last straw:</p> + +<p>"After death!" he said; "have you thought of that?"</p> + +<p>"Ay," answered the other, "long and thoroughly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> Phantoms, remorses and +hells—they have all had their argument. I take the chances."</p> + +<p>It was only a moment's struggle that ensued. The wretch clung to the +parapet, and called on God and mercy. He was lifted on high in the +strong arms, and whirled across the barrier. The other looked grimly at +the falling burden. He wondered if a dog or a goat would have been so +long falling. The distance was profound indeed; but to the murderer's +sanguine thought the body hung suspended in the air. It would not sink. +The clouds seemed to bear it up for testimony; the cold cliffs held +aloft their heads for justice; the snow-flakes fell like the ballots of +jurymen, voting for revenge—all nature seemed roused to animation by +this one act. An icicle dropped with a keen ring like a knife, and the +stream below pealed a shrill alarum.</p> + +<p>He had done the bad, dark deed. Was he more resolute or courageous now +that he had taken blood upon his hands and shadow upon his soul?</p> + +<p>The body disappeared at length, carried downward by the torrent; but a +wild bird darted after it, as if to reveal the secret of its +concealment, and then a noise like a human footfall crackled in the +snow.</p> + +<p>"I like a man who takes the chances," said a cold, hard voice; "but +Chance, Andy Plade, decides against you to-day."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE ONE GOOD DEED OF A PRIVATEERSMAN.</h3> + + +<p>The murderer turned from his reverie with hands extended and trembling; +the snow was not more bleached than his bloodless face, and his feet +grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> slippery and infirm. An alcove, which he had not marked, was hewn +in the brow of the precipice. It had been intended to shelter pilgrims +from the wind and the snow; and there, wrapped in his buff garments, +whose hue, assimilating to that of the rock, absorbed him from +detection, stood a witness to the deed—the guard to the diligence—none +other than Auburn Risque.</p> + +<p>For an instant only the accused shrank back. Then his body grew short +and compact; he was gathering himself up for a life-struggle.</p> + +<p>"Hold off!" said Risque, in his old, hard, measured way; "we guards go +armed; if you move, I shall scatter your brains in the snow; if I miss +you, a note of this whistle will summon my postilions."</p> + +<p>The cold face was never more emotionless; he held a revolver in his +hand, and kept the other in his blank, spotted eye, as if locating the +vital parts with the end to bring him down at a shot.</p> + +<p>"You do not play well," said Risque at length, when the other, ghastly +white, sat speechless upon the parapet; "if you were the student of +chance, that I have been, you would know that at murder the odds are +always against you!"</p> + +<p>"You will not betray me?" pleaded Plade; "so inveterate a gamester can +have no conventional ideas of life or crime. I am ready to pay for your +discretion with half my winnings."</p> + +<p>"I am a gambler," said Risque, curtly; "not an assassin! I always give +my opponents fair show. But I will not touch blood-money."</p> + +<p>"What fair show do you give me?"</p> + +<p>"Two hours' start. I am responsible for my pas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>sengers. Go on, unharmed, +if you will. But at Hospice I shall proclaim you. Every moment that you +falter spins the rope for your gallows!"</p> + +<p>Plade did not dally, but took to flight at once. He climbed by the +angles of the terraces, and saw the diligence far below tugging up the +circuitous road. He ran at full speed; no human being was abroad +besides, but yet there were other footfalls in the snow, other sounds, +as of a man breathing hard and pursued upon the lonely mountain. The +fugitive turned—once, twice, thrice; he laughed aloud, and shook his +clenched hand at the sky. Still the flat, dead tramp followed close +behind, and the pace seemed not unfamiliar. It could not be—his blood +ceased to circulate, and stood freezing at the thought—was it the +march, the tread of Hugenot?</p> + +<p>He dropped a loud curse, like a howl, and kept upon his way. The +footfalls were as swift; he saw their impressions at his heels—prints +of a small, lithe, human foot, made by no living man. He shut his eyes +and his ears, but the consciousness remained, the inexplicable +phenomenon of some invisible but familiar thing which would not leave +him; which made its register as it passed; which no speed could +outstrip, no argument exorcise.</p> + +<p>Was it a sick fancy, a probed heart, or did the phantom of the dead man +indeed give chase?</p> + +<p>Ah! there is but one class of folks whose faith in spirits nothing can +shake—the guilty, the bloody-handed.</p> + +<p>He came to a perturbed rest at the huge, half-hospitable Hospice, to the +enthusiasm of the postilions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will the gentleman have a saddle-horse?"</p> + +<p>"A chariot?"</p> + +<p>"A cabriolet?"</p> + +<p>"Ten francs to Andermatt!"</p> + +<p>"Thirty francs to Fluelen!"</p> + +<p>"One hundred francs," cried Plade, "for the fleetest pony to Andermatt. +Ten francs to the postilion who can saddle him in two minutes. My mother +is dying in Lyons."</p> + +<p>He climbed one of the dark flights of stairs, and an old, uncleanly monk +gave him a glass of Kerschwasser. He descended to the stables, and +cursed the Swiss lackeys into speed. He gave such liberal largess that +there was an involuntary cheer, and as he galloped away the great +diligence appeared in sight to rouse his haste to frenzy.</p> + +<p>The telegraph kept above him—a single line; he knew the tardiness of +foot when pursued by the lightning. In one place, the conductor, +wrenched from the insulators, dropped almost to the ground. There was a +strap upon his saddle; he reined his nag to the side of the road, and, +making a knot about the wire, dashed off at a bound; the iron snapped +behind; his triumphant laugh pealed yet on the twilight, when the cries +of his pursuers rang over the fields of snow. They were aroused; he was +fleetly mounted, but they came behind in sledges.</p> + +<p>The night closed over the road as he caught the wizard bells. The +moonlight turned the peaks to fire. The dark firs shook down their +burdens of snow. There were cries of wild beasts from the ravines below. +The post-houses were red with firelight. The steed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> floundered through +the snow-drifts driven by blow and halloo. It was a fearful ride upon +the high Alps; the sublimity of nature bowed down to the mystery of +crime!</p> + +<p>Bright noon, on the third day succeeding, saw the fugitive emerge from +the railway station at Dieppe. He had escaped the Swiss frontier with +his life, but had failed to make sure that escape by reaching the harbor +at the appointed time. Broken in spirit, grown old already, he faltered +toward the town, and, stopping on the fosse-bridge, looked sorrowfully +across the shipping in the dock. Something caught his regard amid the +cloud of tri-color; he looked again, shading his eye with a tremulous +palm. There could not be a doubt—it was the Confederate standard—the +Stars and Bars.</p> + +<p>The Planter had been delayed; she waited with steam up and an expectant +crew; her slender masts leaned against the sky; her anchor was lifted; a +knot of idlers watched her from the quay.</p> + +<p>In a moment Mr. Plade was on board. He asked for the commander, and a +short, gristly, sunburnt personage being indicated, he introduced +himself with that plausible speech which had wooed so many to their +fall.</p> + +<p>"I am a Charlestonian," said Plade; "a Yankee insulted me at the Grand +Hotel; we met in the Bois de Boulogne, and I ran him through the body. +His friends in Paris conspire against my life. I ask to save it now, +only to die on your deck, that it may be worth something to my country."</p> + +<p>They went below, and the privateer put the applicant through a rigid +examination.</p> + +<p>"This vessel must get to sea to night," he said. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> will not hazard +trouble with the French authorities by keeping you here. Spend the +afternoon ashore; we sail at eleven o'clock precisely; if at that time +you come aboard, I will take you."</p> + +<p>Plade protested his gratitude, but the skipper motioned him to peace.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be a gentleman," he added; "if I find you so, you shall be +my purser. But, hark!" he looked keenly at the other, and laid his hand +upon his throat—"I am under the espionage of the Yankee ambassador. +There are spies who seek to join my crew for treasonable ends; if I find +you one of these, you shall hang to my yard-arm!"</p> + +<p>The felon walked into the dim old city, and seated himself in a +wine-shop. Some market folks were chanting in <i>patois</i>, and their +light-heartedness enraged him. He turned up a crooked street, and +stopped before an ancient church, grotesque with broken buttresses, +pinnacles, and gargoyles. The portal was wide open, and, as he entered, +some scores of school-children burst suddenly into song. It seemed to +him an accusation, shouted by a choir of angels.</p> + +<p>At the end of the city, facing the sea, rose a massive castle. He scaled +its stairs, and passed through the courtyard, and, crossing the farther +moat, stood upon a grassy hill—once an outwork—whence the blue channel +was visible half way to England.</p> + +<p>A knot of soldiers came out to regard him, and his fears magnified their +curiosity; he ran down the parapet, to their surprise, and re-entered +the town by a roundabout way. "I will take a chamber," he said, "and +shun observation."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>An old woman, in a starched cap, who talked incessantly, showed him a +number of rooms in a great stone building. He chose a garret among the +chimney-stacks, and lit a fire, and ordered a newspaper and a bottle of +brandy. He sat down to read in loneliness. As he surmised, the murder +was printed among the "<i>Faits Divers</i>;" it gave his name and the story +of the tragedy. His chair rattled upon the tiles as he read, and the +tongs, wherewith he touched the fire, clattered in his nervous fingers.</p> + +<p>The place was not more composed than himself; the flame was the noisiest +in the world; it crackled and crashed and made horrible shadows on the +walls. There were rats under the floor whose gnawings were like human +speech, and the old house appeared to settle now and then with a groan +as if unwilling to shelter guilt. As he looked down upon the clustering +roofs of the town they seemed wonderfully like a crowd of people gazing +up at his retreat. All the dormer-windows were so many pitiless eyes, +and the chimney-pots were guns and cannon to batter down his eyrie.</p> + +<p>When night fell upon the city and sea, his fancies were not less +alarming. He could not rid himself of the idea that the dead man was at +his side. In vain he called upon his victim to appear, and laughed till +the windows shook. It was there, <i>there</i>, always <span class="smcap">THERE</span>! He did not see +it—but it was <i>there</i>! He felt its breath, its eye, its influence. It +leaned across his shoulder; it gossiped with the shadows; it laid its +hand heavily upon his pocket where lay the unholy gold. Some prints of +saints and the Virgin upon the wall troubled him; their faces followed +him wherever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> he turned; he tore them down at length, and tossed them in +the fire, but they blazed with so great flame that he cried out for +fear.</p> + +<p>The town-bells struck the hours; how far apart were the strokes! They +tolled rather than pealed, as if for an execution, and the lamps of some +passing carriages made a journey as of torches upon the ceiling.</p> + +<p>After nine o'clock there was a heavy tread upon the stairs. It kept him +company, and he was glad of its coming; but it drew so close, at length, +that he stood upright, with the cold sweat upon his forehead.</p> + +<p>The steps halted at his threshold; the door swung open; a corporal and a +soldier stood without, and the former saluted formally:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur the stranger, will remain in his chamber under guard. I grieve +to say that he is an object of grave suspicion. <i>Au revoir!</i>"</p> + +<p>The corporal retired without waiting for a reply; the soldier entered, +and, leaning his musket against the wall, drew a chair before the door +and sat down. The firelight fell upon his face after a moment, and +revealed to Mr. Plade his old associate, Pisgah!</p> + +<p>The former uttered a cry of hope and surprise; the soldier waved him +back with a menace.</p> + +<p>"I know you," he said; "but I am here upon duty; besides, I have no +friendship with a murderer."</p> + +<p>"We are both victims of a mistake! This accusation is not true. Will you +take my hand?"</p> + +<p>"I am forbidden to speak upon guard," answered Pisgah, sullenly. "Resume +your chair."</p> + +<p>"At least join me in a glass."</p> + +<p>"There is blood in it," said Pisgah.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I swear to you, no! Let me ring for your old beverage, absinthe."</p> + +<p>The soldier halted, irresolutely; the liquor came before he could +refuse. When once his lips touched the vessel, Mr. Plade knew that there +was still a chance for life.</p> + +<p>In an hour Mr. Pisgah was impotent from intoxication; his musket was +flung down the stairway, the door was bolted upon him, and the prisoner +was gone.</p> + +<p>He gained the Planter's deck as the screw made its first revolution; +they turned the channel-piles with a good-by gun; the motley crew +cheered heartily as they cleared the mole.</p> + +<p>The pirate was at sea on her mission of plunder—the murderer was free!</p> + +<p>The engines stopped abreast the city; the steamer lay almost motionless, +for there were lights upon the beach; a shrill "Ahoy!" broke over the +intervening waters, and the dip of oars indicated some pursuit. The +crew, half drunken, rallied to the edge of the vessel; knives glittered +amid the confusion of oaths and the click of pistols, while Mr. Plade +hastened to the skipper's side, and urged him for pity and mercy to +hasten seaward.</p> + +<p>The other motioned him back, coldly, and the boatswain piped all hands +upon deck. Lafitte nor Kidd never looked down such desperate faces as +this gristly privateer, when his buccaneers were around him.</p> + +<p>"Seamen," he spoke aloud, "you are afloat! Gold and glory await you; you +shall glut yourselves by the ruin of your enemy, and count your plunder +by the light of his burning merchantmen."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>The knives flickered in the torchlight, and a cheer, like the howl of +the damned, went up.</p> + +<p>"On the brink of such fortune, you find yourselves imperilled; treason +is with you; this pursuit, which we attend, is a part of its programme! +There is, within the sound of my voice, a spy!—a Yankee!"</p> + +<p>The weapons rang again; the desperadoes pressed forward, demanding with +shrieks and imprecations that the man should be named.</p> + +<p>"He is here," answered the captain, turning full upon the astonished +fugitive. "He came to me with a story of distress. I pitied him, and +gave him shelter; but I telegraphed to Paris to test his veracity, and I +find that he lied. No man has been slain in a duel as he states. I +believe him to be a Federal emissary, and he is in our power."</p> + +<p>A dozen rough hands struck Plade to the deck; he staggered up, with +blood upon his face, and called Heaven to witness that he was no +traitor.</p> + +<p>"Did you speak the truth to me to-day?" cried the accuser.</p> + +<p>"I did not; had I done so, you would have refused me relief."</p> + +<p>"What are you then? Speak!"</p> + +<p>The murderer cowered, with a face so blanched that the blood ceased to +flow at its gashes.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, I dare not tell!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>The skipper made a sign to an attendant. A rope from the yard-arm was +flung about the felon's neck, and made fast in a twinkling. He struggled +desperately, but the fierce buccaneers held him down; his clothing was +rent, and his hairs dishevelled; he made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> three frantic struggles for +speech; but the loud cheers mocked his words as they brandished their +cutlasses in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Then began that strange lifetime of reminiscence; that trooping of sins +and cruelties, in sure, unbroken continuity, through the reeling brain; +that moment of years; that great day of judgment, in a thought; that +last winkful of light, which flashes back upon time, and makes its +frailties luminous. And, higher than all offences, rose that of the fair +young wife deserted abroad, left to the alternatives of shame or +starvation. Her wail came even now, from the bed of the crowded +hospital, to follow him into the world of shadows.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur the Commander," hailed the spokesman in the launch, "the +government of his Imperial Majesty does not wish to interpose any +obstacle to the departure of the Confederate cruiser. It is known, +however, that a person guilty of an atrocious crime is concealed on +board. In this paper, Monsieur the Capitaine will find all the +specifications. The name of the person, Plade. The crime of the person, +murder, with premeditation. The giving up of said person is essential to +the departure of the cruiser from his Imperial Majesty's waters."</p> + +<p>There was blank silence on the deck of the privateer; the torches in the +launch threw a glare upon the water and sky. They lit up something +struggling between both at the tip of the rocking yard-arm. It was the +effigy of a man, bound and suspended, around which swept timidly the +bats and gulls, and the sea wind beat it with a shrill, jubilant cry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have done justice unconsciously," said the privateer; "may it be +remembered for me when I shall do injustice consciously!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X.</h2> + +<h3>THE SURVIVING COLONISTS.</h3> + + +<p>The catastrophe of the Colony and the episode having been attained, we +have only to leave Mr. Pisgah in Algiers, whither court-martial +consigned him, with the penalty of hard labor, and Mr. Risque on the +stage route he was so eminently fitted to adorn. The unhappy Freckle +continued in the prison of Clichy, and, having nothing else to do, +commenced the novel process of thinking. The prison stood high up on +Clichy Hill, walled and barred and guarded, like other jails, but within +it a fair margin of liberty was allowed the bankrupts, just sufficient +to make their fate terrible by temptation. Some good soul had endowed it +with a library; newspapers came every day; a café was attached to it, +where spirituous liquors were prohibited, to the wrath of the dry +throats and raging thirsts of the captives; there was a garden behind +it, and a billiard saloon, but these luxuries were not gratuitous; poor +Freckle could not even pay his one sou per diem to cook his rations, so +that the Prisoners' Relief Association had to make him a present of it. +He spent his time between his bare, cheerless bedroom and the public +hall. There were many Americans in the place; but none of them were +friendly with him when he was found to have no cash. Yet he heard them +speak together of their countrymen who had lain in the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> jail years +before. Yonder was the room of Horace Greeley, incarcerated for a debt +which was not his own; here the blood-stains of the Pennsylvania youth +who looked out of the window, heedless of warning, and was shot dead by +the guard; there the ancient chair, in which Hallidore, the Creole, sat +so often, possessor of a million francs, but too obstinate to pay his +tailor's bill and go free. While Freckle thought of these, it was +suggested to him that he was a very wicked man. The tuitions of his +patriarchal father came to mind; he was seen on his knees, to the +infinite amusement of the other debtors, who were, however, quite too +polite to laugh in his face, and he no longer staked his ration of wine +at cards, whereby he had commonly lost it, but held long conversations +with an ardent old priest who visited the jail. The priest gave Freckle +<i>breviaries</i> and catechisms, and told him that there was no peace of +mind outside of the apostolic fold.</p> + +<p>So Freckle diligently embraced the ancient Romish faith, renounced the +tenets of his plain old sire as false and heretical, and earnestly +prepared himself to enter the priesthood.</p> + +<p>In this frame of mind he was found by Mr. Simp, who had unexpectedly +returned to Paris, and, finding himself again prosperous, came to +release Freckle from the toils of Clichy.</p> + +<p>The latter waved him away. "I wish to know none of you," he said. "I +shall serve out this term, and never again speak to an American abroad."</p> + +<p>He was firm, and achieved his purpose. Enthusiasm often answers for +brains, and Freckle's religious zeal made him a changed man. He entered +a Jesuits'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> school after his discharge, and in another fashion became as +stern, severe, and self-denying as had been his father. He sometimes saw +his old comrade, Simp, driving down the Champs Elysées as Freckle came +from church in Paris, but the gallant did not recognize the young priest +in his dark gown and hose, and wide-rimmed hat.</p> + +<p>They followed their several directions, and in the end, with the +lessening fortunes of the Confederacy, grew more moody, and yet more +ruined by the consciousness that after once suffering the agony of +expatriation, they had not improved the added chance to make of +themselves men, not Colonists.</p> + +<p>It is not the pleasantest phase of our human nature to depict, but since +we have essayed it, let it close with its own surrounding shadow.</p> + +<p>If we have given no light touch of womanhood to relieve its sombre +career, we have failed to be artistic in order to be true.</p> + +<p>But that which made the Colonists weak has passed away. There are no +longer slaves at home—may there be no exiles abroad!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LITTLE_GRISETTE" id="LITTLE_GRISETTE"></a>LITTLE GRISETTE.</h2> + + +<div class="poemleft"> +Little Grisette, you haunt me yet;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My passion for you was long ago,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before my head was heavy with snow,</span><br /> +Or mine eye had lost its lustre of jet.<br /> +In the dim old Quartier Latin we met;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We made our vows one night in June,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all our life was honeymoon;</span><br /> +We did not ask if it were sin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We did not go to kirk to know,</span><br /> +We only loved and let the world<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hum on its pelfish way below;</span><br /> +Marked from our castle in the air,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How pigmy its triumphal cars:</span><br /> +Eight stories from the entry stair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But near the stars!</span><br /> +<br /> +Little Grisette, rich or in debt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We were too fond to chide or sigh—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never so poor that I could not buy</span><br /> +A sweet, sweet kiss from my little Grisette.<br /> +If I could nothing gain or get,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By hook, or crook, or song, or story,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along the starving road to glory,</span><br /> +I marvelled how your nimble thimble,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As to a tune, danced fast and fleeting,</span><br /> +And stopped my pen to catch the music,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But only heard my heart a-beating;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +The quaint old roofs and gables airy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flung down the light for you to wear it,</span><br /> +And made my love a queen in faery,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To haunt my garret.</span><br /> +<br /> +Little Grisette, the meals you set<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were sweeter to me than banquet feast;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your face was a blessing fit for a priest,</span><br /> +At your smile the candle went out in a pet;<br /> +The wonderful chops I shall never forget!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If the wine was a trifle too sharp or rank,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We kissed each time before we drank.</span><br /> +The old gilt clock, aye wrong, was swinging<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The waxen floor your feet reflected;</span><br /> +And dear Béranger's <i>chansons</i> singing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You tricked at <i>picquet</i> till detected.</span><br /> +You fill my pipe;—is it your eyes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereat I light your cigarette?</span><br /> +On all but me the darkness lies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my Grisette!</span><br /> +<br /> +Little Grisette, the soft sunset<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lingered a long while, that we might stay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To mark the Seine from the breezy quay</span><br /> +Around the bridges foam and fret;<br /> +How came it that your eyes were wet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I ambitiously would be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A man renowned across the sea?</span><br /> +I told you I should come again—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was but half way round the globe—</span><br /> +To bring you diamonds for your faith,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for your gray a silken robe:</span><br /> +You were more wise than lovers are;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I meant, sweetheart, to tell you true,</span><br /> +I said a tearful "<i>Au revoir</i>;"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You said, "<i>Adieu!</i>"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span><br /> +Little Grisette, we both regret,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I am wedded more than wived;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those careless days in thought revived</span><br /> +But teach me I cannot forget.<br /> +Perhaps old age must pay the debt<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young sin contracted long ago—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I only know, I only know,</span><br /> +That phantoms haunt me everywhere<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By busy day, in peopled gloam—</span><br /> +They rise between me and my prayer,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They mar the holiness of home!</span><br /> +My wife is proud, my boy is cold,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I dare not speak of what I fret:</span><br /> +'Tis my fond youth with thee I fold,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Grisette!</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MARRIED_ABROAD" id="MARRIED_ABROAD"></a>MARRIED ABROAD.</h2> + +<h3>AN AMERICAN ROMANCE OF THE QUARTIER LATIN.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I.</h2> + +<h3>TEMPTATION.</h3> + + +<p>To say that Ralph Flare was "lonesome" would convey a feeble idea of his +condition. Four months in England had gone by wearily enough; but in +this great city of Paris, where he might as well have had no tongue at +all, for the uses he could put it to, he pined and chafed—and finally +swore.</p> + +<p>An oath, if not relief in itself, conduces to that effect, and it +happened in this case that a stranger heard it.</p> + +<p>"You are English," said the stranger, turning shortly upon Ralph Flare.</p> + +<p>"I am not," replied that youth, "I am an American."</p> + +<p>"Then we are countrymen," cried the other. "Have you dwelt long in the +Hôtel du Hibou?"</p> + +<p>Ralph Flare stated that he hadn't and that he had, and that he was bored +and sick of it, and had resolved to go back to the Republic, and fling +away his life in its armies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pooh! pooh!" shouted the other, "I see your trouble—you have no +acquaintances. It is six o'clock; come with me to dinner, and you shall +know half of Paris, men and women."</p> + +<p>They filed down the tortuous Rue Jacob, now thrice gloomy by the closing +shadows of evening, and turning into the Rue de Seine, stopped before +the doorway of a little painted <i>boutique</i>, whereon was written +"<i>Cremery du Quartier Latin</i>."</p> + +<p>A tall, sallow, bright-eyed Frenchman was seated at a fragment of +counter within the smallest apartment in the world, and addressing this +man as "Père George" the stranger passed through a second sash doorway +and introduced Ralph Flare to the most miscellaneous and democratic +assemblage that he had ever beheld in his life.</p> + +<p>Two long yellow tables reached lengthwise down a long, narrow <i>salon</i>, +the floor whereof was made of tiles, and the light whereof fizzed and +flamed from two unruly burners. A door at the farther end opened upon a +cook-room, and the cook, a scorched and meagre woman, was standing now +in the firelight, talking in a high key, as only a Frenchwoman can talk.</p> + +<p>Then there was Madame George, fat and handsome, and gossipy likewise, +with a baby, a boy, and a daughter; and the patrons of the place, twenty +or more in number, were eating and laughing and all speaking at the same +time, so that Ralph Flare was at first stunned and afterward astonished.</p> + +<p>His new acquaintance, Terrapin, went gravely around the table, shaking +hands with every guest, and Ralph was wedged into the remotest corner, +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Terrapin upon his right, and upon his left a creature so naïve and +petite that he thought her a girl at first, but immediately corrected +himself and called her a child.</p> + +<p>Terrapin addressed her as Suzette, and stated that his friend Ralph was +a stranger and quite solitary; whereat Suzette turned upon him a pair of +soft, twinkling eyes, and laughed very much as a peach might do, if it +were possible for a peach to laugh. He could only say a horrible <i>bon +jour</i>, and make the superfluous intimation that he could not speak +French; and when Madame George gave him his choice of a dozen +unpronounceable dishes, he looked so utterly blank and baffled that +Suzette took the liberty of ordering dinner for him.</p> + +<p>"You won't get the run of the language, Flare," said Terrapin, +carelessly, "until you find a wife. A woman is the best dictionary."</p> + +<p>"You mean, I suppose," said Flare, "a wife for a time."</p> + +<p>Little Suzette was looking oddly at him as he faced her, and when Ralph +blushed she turned quietly to her <i>potage</i> and gave him a chance to +remark her.</p> + +<p>She had dark, smooth hair, closing over a full, pale forehead, and her +shapely head was balanced upon a fair, round neck. There was an +alertness in her erect ear, and open nostril, and pointed brows which +indicated keen perception and comprehension; yet even more than this +generic quickness, without which she could not have been French, the +gentleness of Suzette was manifest.</p> + +<p>Ralph thought to himself that she must be good. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> was the face of a +sweet sister or a bright daughter, or one of those school-children with +whom he had played long ago. And withal she was very neat. If any +commandment was issued especially to the French, it enjoined tidiness; +but this child was so quietly attired that her cleanliness seemed a +matter of nature, not of command. Her cheap coral ear-drops and the thin +band of gold upon her white finger could not have been so fitting had +they been of diamonds; and her tresses, inclosed in a fillet of beads, +were tied in a breadth of blue ribbon which made a cunning lover's-knot +above. A plain collar and wristbands, a bright cotton dress and dark +apron, and a delicate slipper below—these were the components of a +picture which Ralph thought the loveliest and pleasantest and best that +he had ever known.</p> + +<p>In his own sober city of the Middle States he would have been ashamed to +connect with these innocent features a doubt, a light thought, a desire. +Yet here in France, where climate, or custom, or man had changed the +relations though not the nature of woman, he did but as the world, in +blending with Suzette's tranquil face a series of ideas which he dared +not associate with what he had called pure, beautiful, or happy.</p> + +<p>Now and then they spoke together, unintelligibly of course, but very +merrily, and Ralph's appetite was that of the great carnivora; potage, +beef, mutton, pullet, vanished like waifs, and then came the salad, +which he could not make, so that Suzette helped him again with her +sprightly white fingers, contriving so marvellous a dish that Ralph +thought her a little magician, and wanted to eat salad till daybreak.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now for the cards!" cried Terrapin, when they had finished the <i>café</i> +and the <i>eau-de-vie</i>; and as the parties ranged themselves about the +greater table, Terrapin, who knew everybody, gave their names and +avocations.</p> + +<p>"That is Boetia, a journalist on the <i>Siècle</i>; you will observe that he +smokes his cigars quite down to the stump. The little man beside him, +with a blouse, is Haynau, fellow of the College of Beaux +Arts—dead-broke, as usual; and his friend, the sallow chap, is Moise, +whose father died last week, leaving him ten thousand francs. Moise, you +will see, has a wife, Feefine, though I suspect him of bigamy; and the +tall girl, with hair like midnight and a hard voice, is at present +unmarried. Those four fellows and their dames are students of medicine. +They have one hundred francs a month apiece, and keep house upon it."</p> + +<p>"And Suzette," said Ralph Flare, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is a <i>couturière</i>, a dressmaker, but just now a clerk at a +glover's. She has dwelt sagely, generally speaking. She breakfasts upon +five sous; a roll, café, and a bunch of grapes—her dinner costs eighty +centimes, and she makes a franc and a half a day, leaving enough to pay +her room-rent."</p> + +<p>"It is a little sum—seven dollars and a half a month—how is the girl +to dress?"</p> + +<p>Terrapin shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>They played "ramps," an uproarious game; and Suzette was impetuous and +noisy as the rest, with brightened cheeks and eyes and a clear, silvery +voice. The stake was a bottle of Bordeaux. Few women play cards +honestly, and Suzette was the first to go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> out; but seeing that Ralph +floundered and lost continually, she gave him her attention, looking +over his hand, and talking for him, and counting with so dexterous +deceit that he escaped also, while Terrapin paid for the wine.</p> + +<p>It was not the most reputable amusement in the world; but the hours were +winged, and midnight came untimely. Suzette tied on a saucy brown flat +streaming with ribbons, and bade them good-night, ending with Ralph, in +whose palm her little fingers lay pulsing an instant, bringing the blood +to his hand.</p> + +<p>How mean the <i>cremery</i> and its patrons seemed now that she was gone! The +great clamp at the portal of his hotel sounded very ghostly as he +knocked; the concierge was a hideous old man in gown and nightcap.</p> + +<p>"<i>Toujours seul, monsieur</i>," he said, with an ugly grin.</p> + +<p>"What does that mean, Terrapin?" said Ralph.</p> + +<p>"He says that you always come home alone."</p> + +<p>"How else should I come?" said Ralph, dubiously.</p> + +<p>"How, indeed?" answered Terrapin.</p> + +<p>It was without doubt a dim old pile—the Hôtel du Hibou. What murderers, +and thieves, and Jacobins might not have ascended the tiles of the grand +stairway? There was a cumbrous mantel in his chamber, funereal with +griffins, and there were portraits with horribly profound eyes. The sofa +and the chairs were huge; the deep window-hangings were talking together +in a rustling, mocking way; while the bed in its black recess seemed so +very long and broad and high for one person, that Ralph sat down at the +stone table, too lonely or too haunted to sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>Would not even this old grave be made merry with sunlight, if little +Suzette were here?</p> + +<p>He opened the book of familiar French phrases, and began to copy some of +them. He worked feverishly, determinedly, for quite a time. Then he read +the list he had made, half aloud. It was this:</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, my pretty one!"</p> + +<p>"Will you walk with me?"</p> + +<p>"May I have your company to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"What is your name?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say you laugh at my pronunciation."</p> + +<p>"I am lonely in Paris."</p> + +<p>"Are you?"</p> + +<p>"You ought to see my chambers."</p> + +<p>"Let me buy you a bracelet!"</p> + +<p>"I love you!"</p> + +<p>Ralph's voice stopped suddenly. There were deep echoes in the great +room, which made him thrill and shudder. How still and terrible were the +silence and loneliness!</p> + +<p>A pang, half of guilt, half of fear, went keenly to his heart. It seemed +to him that his mother was standing by his shoulder, pointing with her +thin, tremulous fingers to the writing beneath him, and saying:</p> + +<p>"My boy, what does this mean?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>He held it in the candle-flame, and thought he felt better when it was +burned; but he could not burn all those thoughts of which the paper was +only a copy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II.</h2> + +<h3>POSSESSION.</h3> + + +<p>If the <i>cremery</i> had seemed lonely by gaslight, what must Ralph Flare +have said of it next morning, as he sat in his old place and watched the +<i>ouvriers</i> at breakfast? They came in, one by one, with their baton of +brown bread, and called for two sous' worth of coffee and milk. The men +wore blouses of blue and white, and jested after the Gallic code with +the sewing-girls. This bread and coffee, and a pear which they should +eat at noon, would give them strength to labor till nightfall brought +its frugal repast. Yet they were happy as crickets, and a great deal +more noisy.</p> + +<p>Here is little Suzette, smiling and skipping, and driving her glances +straight into Ralph Flare's heart.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, sir," she cries, and takes a chair close by him, after the +manner of a sparrow alighting. She smooths back her pure wristbands, +disclosing the grace of the arm, and as she laughs in Ralph's face he +knows what she is saying to herself; it is more doubtful that he loves +her than that she knows it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Peut-être, monsieur, vous-avez besoin des gants?</i>"</p> + +<p>She gave him the card of her <i>boutique</i>, and laughed like a sunbeam +playing on a rivulet, and went out singing like the witch that she was.</p> + +<p>"I don't want gloves," said Ralph Flare; "I won't go to her shop."</p> + +<p>But he asked Père George the direction, notwithstanding; and though his +conscience seemed to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> blocking up the way—a tangible, visible, +provoking conscience—he put his feet upon it and shut his lips, and +found the place.</p> + +<p>Ralph Flare has often remarked since—for he is quite an artist +now—that of all scenes in art or nature that <i>boutique</i> was to him the +rarest. He has tried to put it into color—the miniature counter, the +show-case, the background of boxes, each with a button looking +mischievously at him, or a glove shaking its forefinger, or a shapely +pair of hose making him blush, and the daintiest child in the world, +flushing and flirting and gossiping before him; but the sketch recalls +matters which he would forget, his hands lose command, something makes +his eye very dim, and he lays aside his implements, and takes a long +walk, and wears a sober face all that day.</p> + +<p>We may all follow up the sequence of a young man's thoughts in doing a +strange wrong for the first time. If Ralph's passions of themselves +could not mislead him, there were not lacking arguments and advisers to +teach him that this was no offence, or that the usage warranted the sin. +He became acquainted, through Terrapin, with dozens of his countrymen; +the youngest and the oldest and the most estimable had their open +attachments. So far as he could remark, the married and the unmarried +tradesmen's wives in Paris were nearly equal in consideration. How could +he become perfect in the language without some such incentive and +associate?</p> + +<p>His income was not considerable, but they told him that to double his +expenses was certain economy. He was very lonely, and he loved company. +His age was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> that at which the affections and the instincts alike impel +the man to know more of woman—the processes of her mind, her +capacities, her emotions, the idiosyncrasies which divided her from his +own sex.</p> + +<p>Hitherto he had been chaste, though once when he had confessed it to +Terrapin, that incredulous person said something about the marines, and +repeated it as a good joke; he felt, indeed, that he was not entirely +manly. He had half a doubt that he was worthy to walk with men, else why +had not his desires, like theirs, been stronger than his virtue; and had +not the very feebleness of desire proved also a feebleness of power? +But, more than all, he had a weakness for Suzette.</p> + +<p>There was old Terrapin, with bonnets and dresses in his wardrobe, and a +sewing-basket on his mantel, and with his own huge boots outside the +door a pair of tapering gaiters, and in his easy-chair a little being to +sing and chatter and mix his punch and make his cigarettes. Ah! how much +more entrancing would be Ralph's chamber with Suzette to garnish it! He +would make a thousand studies of her face; she should be his model, his +professor, his divinity! What was gross in her he would refine; what +dark he would make known. They would walk together by the river side, +into the parks, into the open country. He would know no regrets for the +friends across the sea. Europe would become beautiful to him, and his +art would find inspiration from so much loveliness. No indissoluble tie +would bind them, to make kindness a duty and love necessity. No social +tyranny should prescribe where he should visit, and where she should +not. The hues<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> of the picture deepened and brightened as he imagined it. +He was resolved to do this thing, though a phantom should come to his +bedside every night, and every shadow be his accusation.</p> + +<p>He committed to memory some phrases of French; Terrapin was his +interpreter, and they went together—those three and a sober +<i>cocher</i>—to the Bois de Boulogne. Terrapin stated to Suzette in a +shockingly informal way that Ralph loved her and would give her a +beautiful chamber and relieve her from the drudgery of the glove-shop.</p> + +<p>They were passing down the broad, gravelled drive, with the foliage +above them edged with moonlight, the mock cataract singing musically +below, and the <i>cocher</i>, half asleep, nodding and slashing his horses. +And while Terrapin turned his head and made himself invisible in +cigar-smoke, Ralph folded Suzette to his breast, and kissed her once so +demonstratively that the <i>cocher</i> awoke with a spring and nearly fell +off the box, but was quite too much of a <i>cocher</i> to turn and +investigate the matter.</p> + +<p>That was the ceremony, and that night the nuptials. Few young couples +make a better commencement. She gave him a list of her debts, and he +paid them. They removed from Ralph's dim quarters to a cheap and +cheerful chamber upon the new Boulevard. It was on the fifth floor; the +room was just adapted for so little a couple. Superficially observed, +the furniture resolved itself into an enormous clock and a monstrously +fine mirror; but after a while you might remark four small chairs and a +great one, a bureau and a wardrobe, a sofa and a canopied bed; and just +without the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> gorgeously curtained windows lay a cunning balcony, +where they could sit of evenings, with the old ruin of the Hôtel Cluny +beneath them, the towers of Notre Dame in the middle ground, and at the +horizon the beautifully wooded hill of Père la Chaise.</p> + +<p>Suzette had tristful eyes when they rested upon this cemetery. Her baby +lay there, without a stone—not without a flower.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pauvre petite Jules!</i>" she used to say, nestling close to Ralph, and +for a little while they would not speak nor move, but the smoke of his +cigar made a charmed circle around them, and the stars came out above, +and the panorama of the great Boulevard moved on at their feet.</p> + +<p>Their first difficulties were financial, of course. Suzette would have +liked a silken robe, a new bonnet, a paletot, gloves and concomitants +unlimited. She delighted to walk upon the Boulevard, the Rue Rivoli, and +into the Palais Royal, looking into the shop-windows and selecting what +she would buy when Ralph's remittances came. Her hospitality when his +friends visited him did less honor to her purse than to her heart. She +certainly made excellent punches; Terrapin thought her cigarettes +unrivalled; she was fond of cutting a fruit-pie, and was quite a +<i>connoisseur</i> with wines. Ralph did not wonder at her tidiness when the +laundry bills were presented, but doubted that the <i>coiffeur</i> beautified +her hair; and one day, when a cool gentleman in civil uniform knocked at +the door, and insisted upon the immediate payment of a bill for fifty +francs, he lost his temper and said bad words. What could be done? +Suzette was sobbing; Ralph detested "scenes;" he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> threatened to leave +the hotel and Paris, and frightened her very much—and paid the money.</p> + +<p>"You said, Suzette, that you had rendered a full account of all your +indebtedness. You told me a lie!"</p> + +<p>"Poor boy," she replied, "this debt was so old that I never expected to +hear of it."</p> + +<p>"Have you any more—old or otherwise?"</p> + +<p>Suzette said demurely that she did not owe a sou in the world, but was +able to recall thirty francs in the course of the afternoon, and assured +him, truly, that this was the last.</p> + +<p>Still, she lacked economy. They went to the same <i>cremery</i>, but her +meals cost one half more than his. She never objected to a ride in a +<i>voiture</i>; she liked to go to the balls, but walked very soberly upon +his arm, recognizing nobody, and exacting the same behavior from Ralph. +Let him look at an unusually pretty girl, through a shop-window, upon +his peril! If a letter came for him signed Lizzie, or Annie, or Mary, +she took the dictionary and tried to interpret it, and in the end called +him a <i>vilain</i> and wept.</p> + +<p>Toward the letters signed "Lizzie" she conceived a deep antipathy. With +a woman's instinct she discerned that "Lizzie" was more to Ralph than +any other correspondent. A single letter satisfied her of this; and when +he was reading it, for the second time, she snatched it from his hand +and flung it fiercely upon the floor. Ralph's eyes blazed menace and her +own cowered.</p> + +<p>"Take up that letter, Suzette!"</p> + +<p>"I won't!"</p> + +<p>"Take it up, I say! I command! instantly!" He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> had risen to his feet, +and was the master now. She stooped, with pale jealousy lying whitely in +her temples, and gave it to him meekly, and sat down very stricken and +desolate. There was one whom he loved better than her—she felt it +bitterly—a love more respectful, more profound—a woman, perhaps, whom +he meant to make his wife some day, when <span class="smcap">SHE</span> should be only a shameful +memory!</p> + +<p>It may have been the reproach of this infidelity, or the thought of his +home, or the infatuation of his present guileful attachment, which kept +Ralph Flare from labor.</p> + +<p>There was the great Louvre, filled with the riches of the old masters, +and the galleries of the Luxembourg with the gems of the French school, +so marvellous in color and so superb in composition, and the mighty +museum of Versailles, with its miles of battle pictures—yet the third +month of his tenure in Paris was hastening by, and he had not made one +copy.</p> + +<p>Suzette was a bad model. She <i>posed</i> twice, but changed her position, +and yawned, and said it was ridiculous. He had never made more than a +crayon portrait of her. He found, too, that five hundred francs a month +barely sufficed to keep them, and once, in the interval of a remittance, +they were in danger of hunger. Yet Suzette plied her needle bravely, and +was never so proud as when she had spread the dinner she had earned. In +acknowledgment of this fidelity Ralph took her to a grand <i>magasin</i>, +where they examined the goods gravely, as married folks do, consulting +each other, and trying to seem very sage and anxious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>There probably was never such a bonnet as Suzette's in the world. It was +black, and full of white roses, and floating a defiant ostrich-plume, +and tied with broad red ribbons, whereby she could be recognized from +one end of the Luxembourg gardens to the other.</p> + +<p>The paletot was clever in like manner; she made the dress herself, and +its fit was perfection, showing her plump little figure all the plumper, +while its black color set off the whiteness of her simple collar, and +with those magic gaiters, Ralph's gift also, he used to sit in the big +chair, peering at her, and in a quandary as to whether he had ever been +so happy before, or ever so disquieted.</p> + +<p>"Now, my little woman," said Ralph, "I have redeemed my promises; you +have a chamber, and garments, and subsistence—more than any of your +friends—and I am with you always; few wives live so pleasantly; but +there is one thing which you must do."</p> + +<p>Suzette, sitting upon his knee, protested that he could not command any +impossible thing which she would not undertake.</p> + +<p>"You must work a little; we are both idle, and if we continue so, may +have <i>ennui</i> and may quarrel. After three days I will not pay for your +breakfasts, and every day in which you do not breakfast with me, paying +for yourself, I will give you no dinner. Remember it, Suzette, for I am +in earnest."</p> + +<p>Her color fell a little at this, for she had no love for the needle. It +was merrier in the <i>boutique</i> to chat with customers, yet she started +fairly, and for a week earned a franc a day. The eighth day came; she +had no money. Ralph put on his hat and went down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> <i>Rue L'École de +Médecin</i> without her; but his breakfast was unpalatable, indigestible. +Five o'clock came round; she was sitting at the window, perturbedly +waiting to see how he would act.</p> + +<p>It wrung his heart to think that she was hungry, but he tried to be very +firm.</p> + +<p>"I am going to dinner, Suzette! I keep my word, you see."</p> + +<p>"It is well, Ralph."</p> + +<p>That night they said little to each other. The dovecote was quite cold, +for the autumn days were running out, and they lighted a hearth fire. +Suzette made pretence of reading. She had an impenitent look; for she +conceived that she had been cruelly treated, and would not be soothed +nor kissed. Ralph smoked, and said over some old rhymes, and, finally +rising, put on his cloak.</p> + +<p>"I am going out, Suzette; you don't make my room cheerful."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bien!</i>"</p> + +<p>He walked very slowly and heavily down the stairs, to convince her that +he was really going or hoping to be recalled, but she did not speak. He +saw the light burning from his windows as he looked up from below. He +was regretful and angry. At Terrapin's room he drank much raw brandy and +sang a song. He even called the astute Terrapin a humbug, and toward +midnight grew quarrelsome. They escorted him to his hotel door; the +light was still burning in his room. He was sober and repentant when he +had ascended the long stairs, though he counterfeited profound +drunkenness when he stood before her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had been weeping, and in her white night-habit, with her dark hair +falling loosely upon her shoulders, she was very lovely. The clock +struck one as they looked at each other. She fell upon his neck and +removed his garments, and wrapped him away between the coverlets; and he +watched her for a long time in the flickering light till a deep sleep +fell upon him, so that he could not feel how closely he was clasped in +her arms.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_III" id="PART_III"></a>PART III.</h2> + +<h3>CONSCIENCE.</h3> + + +<p>Lest it has not been made clear in these paragraphs whether Suzette was +a good or a wicked being, we may give the matured and recent judgment of +Ralph Flare himself. Put to the test of religion, or even of +respectability, this intimacy was baneful. A wild young man had broken +his honor for the companionship of a poor, errant girl. She was poor, +but she hated to work; she had no regard for his money; she did not +share his ambition. Making against her a case thus clear and certain, +Ralph Flare entered for Suzette the plea of <i>not</i> wicked, and this was +his defence!</p> + +<p><i>She was educated in France.</i> Particular sins lose their shame in some +countries. Woman in France had not the high mission and respect which +she fulfilled in his own land. Suzette was one of many children. Her +father was the cultivator of a few acres in Normandy. Her mother died as +the infant was ushered into the world. To her father and brothers she +was of an unprofitable sex, and her sisters disliked her because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> she +was handsomer than they. Her childhood was cheerless enough, for she had +quick instincts, and her education availed only to teach her how grand +was the world, and how confined her life. She left her home by stealth, +in the night, and alone. In the city of Cherbourg she found occupation. +She dwelt with strangers; she was lonely; her poverty and her beauty +were her sorrows. She was a girl only till her fifteenth year.</p> + +<p>The young mother has but one city of refuge—Paris. Without friends she +passed the bitterness of reminiscence. Through the poverty of skill or +sustenance she lost her boy, and the great city lay all before her where +to choose. Luckily, in France every avenue to struggle was not closed to +her sisterhood; with us such gather only the wages of sin. It was not +there an irreparable disgrace to have fallen. For a full year she lived +purely, industriously, lonely; what adventures ensued Ralph knew +imperfectly. She met, he believed that she loved him. It was not +probable, of course, that she came out of the wrestle unscathed. She +deceived in little things, but he knew when to trust her. She was +quick-tempered and impatient of control, but he understood her, and +their quarrels were harbingers of their most happy seasons. She was +generous, affectionate, artless. He did not know among the similar +attachments of his friends any creature so pliable, so true, so +beautiful.</p> + +<p>It was upon her acquaintances that Ralph placed the blame when she +erred. Fanchette was one of these—the dame of a student from Bretagne, +a worldly, plotting, masculine woman—the only one whom he per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>mitted to +visit her. It was Fanchette who loaned her money when she was indolent, +and who prompted her to ask favors beyond his means.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of every month Ralph's money ran out, and then he was +petulant and often upbraided her. Those were the only times when he +essayed to study, and he would not walk with her of evenings, so +destitute. Then Fanchette amused her: "Sew in my room," she would say; +"Ralph will come for you at eight o'clock." But Ralph never went, and +Fanchette poisoned his little girl's mind.</p> + +<p>"When will you leave Paris, baby?" said Suzette one evening, as she +returned from her friend's and found him sitting moodily by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Very soon," he replied crisply; "that is, if ever I have money or +resolution enough to start."</p> + +<p>"Won't you take me with you, little one?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"You don't love me any more!"</p> + +<p>"Pish!"</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, my boy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go away, you bother me—you always bother me when my money is low. +Haven't I told you about it before?"</p> + +<p>But the next morning as Suzette made her toilet, older and more +silently, he felt repentant, and called her to him, and they talked a +long while of nothingnesses. He had a cruel way of playing with her +feelings.</p> + +<p>"Suzette," he would say, "would you like me to take you to my country +and live with you forever?"</p> + +<p>"Very much, my child!"</p> + +<p>"My father has a beautiful farm, which he means to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> give to me. There is +a grand old house upon it, and from the high porch you can see the blue +bay speckled with sails. The orchards are filled with apples and pears. +You must walk an hour to get around the corn-fields, and there is a +picnic ground in the beech-woods, where we might entertain our friends. +I have many friends. How jolly you would look in my big rocking-chair, +before the fireplace blazing with logs, and with your lap full of +chestnuts, telling me of Paris life!"</p> + +<p>She was drinking it all in, and the blood was ripe in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Think, little one," he said, "of passing our days there, you and I! I +have made you my wife, for example; I paint great pictures; you are +proud of me; everybody respects you; you have your saddle-horse and your +tea-parties; you learn to be ashamed of what you were; you are anxious +to be better—not in people's eyes only, but in mine, in your own. To do +good deeds; to sit in the church hearing good counsel; to be patted upon +the forehead by my father—his daughter!—and to call my brother your +brother also. Thus honored, contented, good, your hairs turn gray with +mine. We walk along hand in hand so evenly that we do not perceive how +old we are growing. We may forget everything but our love; that remains +when we are gone—a part of our children's inheritance."</p> + +<p>He spoke excellent French now; to her it was eloquence. Her arms were +around his neck. He could feel her heart, beating. He had expressed what +she scarcely dared to conceive—all her holiest, profoundest hopes, her +longing for what she had never been, for what she believed she would try +to be worthy of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, my baby," she cried, half in tears, "you make me think! I have +never thought much or often; I wish I was a scholar, as you are, to tell +you how, since we have dwelt together, something like that has come to +me in a dream. Perhaps it is because you talk to me so that I love you +so greatly. Nobody ever spoke to me so before. That is why I am angry +when your proud friend Lizzie writes to you. All that good fortune is +for her; you are to quit Paris and me. My name will be unworthy to be +mentioned to her. How shall I be in this bad city, growing old; yet I +would try so earnestly to improve and be grateful!"</p> + +<p>"Would you, truly, sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>She only sobbed and waited; he coughed in a dry way and unclasped her +hands.</p> + +<p>"I pity you, poor Suzette," he said, "but it is quite impossible for us +to be more to each other. My people would never speak to me if I behaved +so absurdly. Go to bed now, and stop crying; good-night."</p> + +<p>She staggered up, so crushed and bowed and haggard that his conscience +smote him. He could not have done a greater cruelty to one like +her—teaching her to hope, then to despair. The next day, and the next, +she worked at Fanchette's. His remittance did not come; he was out of +temper, and said in jest that he would set out for Italy within a week. +There was a pale decision in her countenance the fourth morning. She put +on her gray robe and a little cap which she had made. He did not offer +to kiss her, and she did not beseech it. He saw her no more until nine +o'clock, when she came in with Fanchette, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> cheeks were flushed +as with wine. This made him more angry. He said nothing to either of +them and went to sleep silently.</p> + +<p>The fifth day she returned as before. He was sitting up by the +fireplace; his rent was due; he was quite cast down, and said:</p> + +<p>"Dear, when my purse was full you never went away two whole days, +leaving me alone."</p> + +<p>"You are to leave me, Ralph, forever!" But she was touched, and in the +morning said that she would come back at midday. Still no remittance. He +felt like a bear. Twelve o'clock came—Suzette did not appear. It +drifted on to one; he listened vainly for her feet upon the stairs. At +two he sat at the window watching; she entered at three, half mild, half +timorous, and gave him a paper of sugar plums.</p> + +<p>"Where did those come from?" he asked, with a scowl.</p> + +<p>"Fanchette gave them to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it; there is <i>kirsch wasser</i> on your lips; you have +been drinking."</p> + +<p>She drew her handkerchief from her pocket; a little box, gilt-edged, +came out with it, and rolled into the middle of the floor. Suzette +leaped for it with a quick pallor; he wrenched it from her hands after a +fierce struggle, and delving into the soft cotton with which it was +packed, brought out sleeve-buttons of gold and a pearl breastpin. They +were new and glittering, and they flashed a burning suspicion into his +heart. He forced her unresisting into a chair, and flung them far out of +the window, over the house-roofs. Then he sat down a moment to gain +breath, and marked her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> with eyes in which she saw that she was already +tried and sentenced.</p> + +<p>"Who gave you those things, Suzette?" he asked in a forced, strange +monotone.</p> + +<p>"My ancient <i>patronne</i>."</p> + +<p>"What's her name?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Where does she live?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't tell you."</p> + +<p>He held her wrist tightly and pressed her back till her eyes were +compelled to mark his white, pinched lips and altogether bloodless +temples. His hand tightened upon her; his full, boyish figure +straightened and heightened beyond nature; his regard was terrible. A +terrible fear and silence fell around about them.</p> + +<p>"These are the gifts of a man," he whispered; "you do not know it better +than I. I shall walk out for one hour; at the end of that time there +must not be even a ribbon of yours in this chamber."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_IV" id="PART_IV"></a>PART IV.</h2> + +<h3>REMORSE.</h3> + + +<p>He gave the same order to the proprietor as he passed down-stairs, and +hurried at a crazy pace across the Pont des Arts to the rooms of +Terrapin. That philosopher was playing whist with his friends, and gave +as his opinion that Ralph was "spooney."</p> + +<p>Ralph drank much, talked much, chafed more. Somebody advised him to +travel, but he felt that Europe had nothing to show him like that which +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> had lost. He told Madame George the story at the <i>cremery</i>.</p> + +<p>"Ah, monsieur," she said, "that is the way with all love in Paris."</p> + +<p>He played "ramps" with the French, but the game impressed him as stupid, +and he tried to quarrel with Boetia, who was too polite to be vexed. He +drank pure cognac, to the astonishment of the Gauls, but it had no +visible effect upon him, and Père George held up his hands as he went +away, saying: "Behold these Americans! they do everything with a fever; +brandy affects them no more than water."</p> + +<p>The room in the fifth story was very cold now. He tried to read in bed, +but the novel had no meaning in it. He walked up and down the balcony in +the November night, where he had often explained the motions of the +stars to her. They seemed to miss her now, and peeped inquisitively. He +looked into the bureau and wardrobe, half ashamed of the hope that she +had left some <i>souvenir</i>. There was not even a letter. She had torn a +leaf, on which she had written her name, out of his diary. The sketches +he had made of her were gone; if she had only taken her remembrance out +of his heart, it would have been well. Then he reasoned, with himself, +sensibly and consistently. It was a bad passion at first. How would it +have shamed his father and mother had they heard of it! Its continuance +was even more pernicious, making him profligate and idle; introducing +him to light pleasures and companies; enfeebling him, morally and +physically; diverting him from the beautiful arts; weakening his +parental love; divorcing him from grand themes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> thoughts. He could +never marry this woman. Their heart-strings must have been wrung by some +final parting; and now that she had been proved untrue, was it not most +unmanly that he should permit her to stand even in the threshold of his +mind? It was a good riddance, he said, pacing the floor in the +firelight; but just then he glanced into the great mirror, and stood +fixed to mark the pallor of his face. Say what he might, laugh as he +did, with a hollow sound, that absent girl had stirred the very +fountains of his feelings. Not learned, not beautiful, not anything to +anybody but him—there was yet the difference between her love and her +deceit, which made him content or wretched.</p> + +<p>He felt this so keenly that he lifted his voice and cursed—himself, +her, society, mankind. Then he cried like a child, and called himself a +calf, and laughed bitterly, and cried again.</p> + +<p>There was no sleep for him that night. He drank brandy again in the +morning, and walked to the banker's. His remittance awaited him, and he +came out of the Rue de la Paix with thirty gold napoleons in his pocket.</p> + +<p>He met all the Americans at breakfast at Trappe's in the Palais Royal, +and strolling to the morgue with a part of them, kept on to Vincennes, +and spent a wretched day in the forest. At the Place de la Bastille, +returning, he got into a cabriolet alone and searched ineffectually +along the Rue Rivoli for a companion who would ride with him. "Go +through the Rue de Beaux Arts!" he said, as they crossed Pont Neuf. This +is a quiet street in the Latin Quarter filled with cheap <i>pensions</i>, in +one of which dwelt Fanchette. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> heart was wedged in his throat as he +saw at the window little Suzette sewing. She wore one of the dresses he +had given her. Her face was old and piteous; she was red-eyed and worked +wearily, looking into the street like one on a rainy day.</p> + +<p>When she saw him, he thought, by her start and flush, that she was going +to fall from the chair; but then she looked with a dim, absent manner +into his face, like one who essays to remember something that was very +dear but is now quite strange. He was pleased to think that she was +miserable, and would have given much to have found her begging bread, as +she did that night of him.</p> + +<p>He had ridden by on purpose to show that he had money, and she sent him +by Terrapin's word a petition for a few francs to buy her a chamber. +Fanchette's friend had come home from the country, and it would not do +for her to occupy their single bedroom; but Ralph made reply by deputy, +to the effect that the donor of the jewelry would, he supposed, give her +a room. It was a weary week ensuing; he drank spirits all the time, and +made love to an English governess in the Tuileries garden, and when +Sunday came, with a rainy, windy, dismal evening, he went with Terrapin +and Co. to the Closerie des Lilas.</p> + +<p>This is the great ball of the Latin Quarter. It stands near the barriers +upon the Boulevard, and is haunted with students and grisettes. Commonly +it was thronged with waltzers, and the scene on gala nights, when all +the lamps were aflame, and the music drowned out by the thunder of the +dance, was a compromise between Paradise and Pandemonium. To<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>night there +was a beggarly array of folk; the multitude of <i>garçons</i> contemplated +each other's white aprons, and old Bullier, the proprietor, staggering +under his huge hat, exhibited a desire to be taken out and interred. The +wild-eyed young man with flying, carroty locks, who stood in the set +directly under the orchestra, at that part of the floor called "the +kitchen," was flinging up his legs without any perceptible enjoyment, +and the policemen in helmets, and cuirassiers, who had hard work to keep +order in general, looked like lay figures now, and strolled off into the +embowered and sloppy gardens. There were not two hundred folk under the +roofs. Ralph had come here with the unacknowledged thought of meeting +Suzette, and he walked around with his cigar, leaning upon Terrapin's +arm and making himself disagreeable.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he came before her. She seemed to have arisen from the earth. +She looked so weak and haggard that he was impelled to speak to her; but +he was obdurate and hard-hearted. He could have filled her cup of +bitterness and watched her drink it to the dregs, and would have been +relentless if she was kneeling at his feet.</p> + +<p>"Flare, what makes you tremble so?" said Terrapin; "are you cold? +Confound it, man, you are sick! Sit here in the draft and take some +cognac."</p> + +<p>"No," answered Ralph, "I am all right again. You see my girl there? +(Don't look at her!) You know some of these girls, old fellow? I mean to +treat two of them to a bottle of champagne. She will see it. I mean for +her to do so. Who are these passing? Come with me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>He walked by Suzette and her friend as if they had been invisible, and +addressed those whom he pursued with such energy that they shrank back. +He made one of them take his arm, and hurried here and there, saying +honeyed words all the time, by which she was affrighted; but every +smile, false as it was, fell into Suzette's heart.</p> + +<p>Weary, wan, wretched, she kept them ever in view, crossing his path now +and then, in the vain thought that she might have one word from him, +though it were a curse. He took his new friends into an alcove. She saw +the wine burst from the bottle, and heard the clink of the glasses as +they drank good health. She did not know that all his laughter was +feigned, that his happiness was delirium, that his vows were lies. She +did not believe Ralph Flare so base as to put his foot upon her, whom he +had already stricken down.</p> + +<p>And he—he was all self, all stone!—he laid no offence at his own door. +He did not ask if her infidelity was real or if it had no warrant in his +own slight and goading. The poor, pale face went after him +reproachfully. Every painful footfall that she made was the patter of a +blood-drop. Such unnatural excitement must have some termination. He +quarrelled with a waiter. Old Bullier ordered a cuirassier to take him +to the door; he would have resisted, but Terrapin whispered: "Don't be +foolish, Flare; if you are put out it will be a triumph for the girl;" +and only this conviction kept him calm. The cyprians whom he wooed +followed him out; he turned upon them bitterly when he had crossed the +threshold, and leaping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> into a carriage was driven to his hotel, where +he slept unquietly till daybreak.</p> + +<p>See him, at dawn, in deep slumber! his face is sallow, his lips are dry, +his chest heaves nervously as he breathes hard. It is a bad sleep; it is +the sleep of bad children, to whom the fiend comes, knowing that the +older they grow the more surely are they his own.</p> + +<p>This is not, surely, the bashful young man who started at the phantom of +his mother, and sinned reluctantly. Aye! but those who do wrong after +much admonishment are wickeder than those who obey the first bad +impulse. He is ten times more cast away who thinks and sins than he who +only sins and does not think.</p> + +<p>Ralph Flare was one of your reasoning villains. His conscience was not a +better nature rising up in the man, and saying "this is wrong." It was +not conscience at all; it was only a fear. Far down as Suzette might be, +she never could have been unfeeling, unmerciful as he. It is a bad +character to set in black and white, yet you might ask old Terrapin or +any shrewd observer what manner of man was Ralph, and they would say, +"So-so-ish, a little sentimental, spooney likewise; but a good fellow, a +good fellow!" And more curious than all, Suzette said so too.</p> + +<p>He rose at daylight, and dressed and looked at himself in the glass. He +felt that this would not do. His revenge had turned upon himself. He had +half a mind to send for Suzette, and forgive her, and plead with her to +come back again. The door opened: she of whom he thought stood before +him, more marked and meagre than he; and the old tyranny mounted to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +eyes as he looked upon her. He knew that she had come to be pardoned, to +explain, and he determined that she should suffer to the quick.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_V" id="PART_V"></a>PART V.</h2> + +<h3>TYRANNY.</h3> + + +<p>If this history of Ralph Flare that we are writing was not a fiction, we +might make Suzette give way at once under the burden of her grief, and +rest upon a chair, and weep. On the contrary, she did just the opposite. +She laughed.</p> + +<p>Human nature is consistent only in its inconsistencies. She meant to +break down in the end, but wished to intimidate him by a show of +carelessness, so she first said quietly: "Monsieur Ralph, I have come to +see to my washing; it went out with yours; will you tell the proprietor +to send it to me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame."</p> + +<p>"May I sit down, sir? It is a good way up-stairs, and I want to breathe +a minute."</p> + +<p>"As you like, madame."</p> + +<p>He was resting on the sofa; she took a chair just opposite. There was a +table between them, and for a little while she looked with a ghastly +playfulness into his eyes, he regarding her coldly and darkly; and then, +she laughed. It was a terrible laugh to come from a child's lips. It was +a woman's pride, drowning at the bottom of her heart, and in its last +struggle for preservation sending up these bubbles of sound.</p> + +<p>We talk of tragic scenes in common life; this was one of them. The +little room with its waxed, inlaid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> floor, the light falling bloodily in +at the crimson curtains and throwing unreal shadows upon the spent fire, +the disordered furniture, the unmade bed; and there were the two actors, +suffering in their little sphere what only <i>seems</i> more suffering in +prisons and upon scaffolds, and playing with each other's agonies as not +more refined cruelty plays with racks and tortures.</p> + +<p>"You are pleased, madame," said Ralph.</p> + +<p>"No, I am wondering what has changed you. There are black circles around +your eyes; you have not shaved; the bones of your cheeks are sharp like +your chin, and you are yellow and bent like a dry leaf."</p> + +<p>"I have had an excess of money lately. Being free to do as I like, I +have done so."</p> + +<p>She looked furtively around the room. "Somebody has gone away from here +this morning—is it true?"</p> + +<p>He laughed suggestively.</p> + +<p>"I saw you with two girls last night; the company did you honor; it was +one of them, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"You guess shrewdly," he replied.</p> + +<p>"This is her room now; it may be she will object to see me here."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Ralph Flare, with mock courtesy, rising up. "When +you lived with me I permitted no one to visit me in your absence. My +late friends will be vexed. You have finished the business which brought +you here, and I must go to breakfast now."</p> + +<p>Ralph was a good actor. Had he thought Suzette really meant to go, he +would have fallen on his knees.</p> + +<p>"Stop, Ralph, my boy," she cried. "I know that you do not love me; I +can't see why I ever believed that you did. But let me sit with you a +little while.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> You drove me from you once. I know that you have found +one to fill my place; but, <i>enfant</i>, I love you. I want to take your +head in my arms as I have done a hundred times, and hear you say one +kind word before we part forever."</p> + +<p>"There was a time," he said slowly, "when you did not need my embraces. +I was eager to give them. I did not give you kindness only; I gave you +nourishment, shelter, clothing, money. You were unworthy and ungrateful. +You are nothing to me now. Do not think to wheedle me back to be your +fool again."</p> + +<p>"Oh! for charity, my child, not for love—I am too wretched to hope +that—for pity, let me sit by your side five minutes. I cannot put it +into words why I beg it, but it is a little thing to grant. If one +starved you, or had stolen from you, and asked it so earnestly, you +would consent. I only want you to think less bitterly of me. You must +needs have some hard thoughts. I have done wrong, my boy, but you do not +know all the cause, and as what I mean to say cannot make place in your +breast for me now, you will know that it is true, because it has no +design. Oh! <i>Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</i> It is so hard to have but one deep +love, and yet find that love the greatest sorrow of one's life. It is so +hard to have loved my boy so well, and to know that to the end of his +days he hated me."</p> + +<p>She said this with all the impetuosity of her race; with utter +abandonment of plan or effort, yet with a wild power of love and gesture +which we know only upon the stage, but which in France is life, feeling, +reality.</p> + +<p>She sat down and sobbed, raising her voice till it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> rolled with a shrill +music which made him quiver, through the parted curtain and into the +turbulent street. There were troops passing beneath the balcony, and the +clangor of drums and bugles climbed between the stone walls, as if to +pour all its mockery into the little room.</p> + +<p>Ralph Flare hated to see a woman cry; it pained him more than her; so he +lifted her in his arms and carried her to the sofa and placed her head +upon his breast. For a long while she sat in that strange luxury of +grief, and she was fearful that he would send her away before her +agitation could pass, and she might speak. His face wore an incredulous +sneer as she spoke, though he knew it was absolute truth. She told him +how wretched she had been, so wretched that even temptation respected +her; how she had never known the intensity of her passion for him till +they were asunder; how all previous attachments were as ice to fire +compared to this; and how the consciousness of its termination should +make her desolate forever.</p> + +<p>"I looked upon you," she said, "as one whom I had trained up. Since I +have lost my little Jules I have needed something to care for. I taught +you to speak my language as if you were a baby. You learned the coinage +of the land, and how to walk through the city, and all customs and +places, precisely as a child learns them from his mother. Alas! you were +wiser than I, and it made me sad to feel it. It was like the mother's +regret that her boy is getting above her, in mind, in stature, so that +he shall be able to do without her. Yet with that fear there is a pride +like mine, when I felt that you were clever. Ah! Ralph, you loved to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +make me feel how weak and mean I was. You played with my poor heart, +sick enough before, and little by little I felt your love gliding away +from me, till at last you told me that it was gone. You said you should +leave France, never to return—God forgive you if it was not true!—and +when you treated me worst, I was tempted to hear kind words from +another. Fanchette's friend has a rich cousin who admires me. He is to +live in Paris many years. I never loved him, but I am poor, and many +women marry only for a home. He offered that and more to me. I would not +hear it. Oh! if you had only said one tender word to me in those days of +temptation. I begged you for it. When I was humblest at your feet you +put your heel upon me most.</p> + +<p>"One night when I had the greatest trouble of all he sat beside me and +plied his suit, and was pleasanter, my boy, than you have ever been; and +then, rising, he placed that box of jewelry in my lap and ran away. I +left it upon Fanchette's mantel that night. She filled my head with +false thoughts next day. I never meant while you were in Paris to do you +any wrong; but I put those jewels in my pocket, meaning to give them up +again; you found them, and I was made wretched."</p> + +<p>Ralph made that dry, biting cough which he used to express unbelief. She +only bent her head and wept silently.</p> + +<p>"When all was gone, poor me! I have found much sorrow in my little life, +but we are light-hearted in France, and we live and laugh again. Perhaps +you have made me more like one of your countrywomen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> I do not +know—only that I can never be happy any more.</p> + +<p>"Since we have dwelt apart my tempter has been to see me every day. He +has grand chambers which he will give me, and rich wardrobes, and a +watch, and a voiture. It is a dazzling picture for one who toils, going +all her days on foot, and lovely only to be deceived. But I hate that +man now, because he has come between you and me, and I have slept upon +my tears alone."</p> + +<p>She melted again into a long, loud wail, and he proposed nervously that +they should walk into the gardens near by. He said little, and that +contemptuously, tossing his cane at the birds, much interested in a +statue, delighted with the visitors beneath the maroon trees; and she +followed him here and there, very weak, for she had eaten no breakfast, +and not so deceived but she knew that he labored to wound her. He asked +her into a café, cavalierly, and was very careful to make display of his +napoleons as he paid. He did not invite her, but she followed him to his +hotel again, and here, as if with terrible <i>ennui</i>, he threw himself +upon his bed and feigned to sleep, while she crouched at his table and +wrote him a contrite letter. It was sweetly and simply worded, and asked +that he should let her return to him for his few remaining days in +Paris. If he could not grant so much, might she speak to him in the +street; come to see him sometimes, if only to be reviled; love him, +though she could not hope to be loved? She gave him this note with her +face turned away, and faltered the request that he would think ere he +replied, and hurried to the balcony<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> without, that she might not trouble +him with the presence of her sorrow.</p> + +<p>How the street beneath her, into which she looked, had changed since the +nights when they talked together upon this balcony! There was bright +sunshine, but it fell leeringly, not laughingly, upon the columns of the +Odean Theatre, upon the crowds on the Boulevard, upon the decrepit baths +of Julian, upon the far heights of Belleville, upon her more cheerlessly +than upon all.</p> + +<p>She listened timorously for his word of recall. She wondered if he were +not writing a reply. Yes, that was his manner; he was cold and sharp of +speech, but he was an artist with his pen. She thought that her long +patience had moved him. Perhaps she should be all forgiven. Aye! they +should dwell together a few days longer. It was a dismal thought that it +must be for a few days, yet that would be some respite, and then they +could part friends; though her heart so clung to his that a parting +should rend it from her, she wanted to live over their brief happiness +again.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Suzette, in the end, laying her cheek upon the cold iron of +the balcony, "I wish I had died at my father's home of pining for +something to love rather than to have loved thus truly, and have it +accounted my shame. If I were married to this man I could not be his +fonder wife; but because I am not he despises me. All day I have crawled +in the dust; I have made myself cheap in his eyes. If I were prouder he +might not love me more, but his respect would be something."</p> + +<p>She rallied and took heart. Pride is the immortal part of woman. With a +brighter eye she entered the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> room. Her letter, blotted with tears, lay +crumpled and torn upon the floor at his bedside, and he, with his face +to the wall, was snoring sonorously.</p> + +<p>"Ralph Flare," cried Suzette, "arise! that letter is the last olive +branch you shall ever see in my hand; <i>adieu</i>!"</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes yawningly. Suzette, with trembling lips and nostrils, +clasped the door-knob. It shut behind her with a shock. Her feet were +quick upon the stairs; he pursued her like one suddenly gone mad, and +called her back with something between a moan and a howl.</p> + +<p>"Do not go away, Suzette," he cried; "I only jested. I meant this +morning to search you out and beg you to come back. I would not lose you +for France—for the world. Be not rash or retaliatory! become not the +companion of this Frenchman who has divided us. We will commence again. +I have tested your fidelity. You shall have all the liberty that you +need, everything that I have; say to me, sweetheart, that you will +stay!"</p> + +<p>For a moment her bright eyes were scintillant with wrath and +indignation. He who had racked her all day for his pleasure was bound +and prostrate now. Should she not do as much for her revenge?</p> + +<p>"I have no other friend now," he pleaded; "my nights have been +sleepless, solitary. In the days I have drunk deeply, squandered my +money, tried all dissipations, and proved them disappointments. If you +leave me I swear that I will plague myself and you."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Ralph," said Suzette, "I do not wonder at the artfulness of women +after this day's lesson. Some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>thing impels me to return your cruelty; it +is a bad impulse, and I shall disobey it. I thank God, my baby, that I +cannot do as you have done to me."</p> + +<p>She wept again for the last time, but he kissed her tears away, and +wondered where the great shame lay, upon that child or upon him?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_VI" id="PART_VI"></a>PART VI.</h2> + +<h3>DESERTION.</h3> + + +<p>When the last fresh passion was over, Suzette, whose face had grown +purer and sadder, roused Ralph Flare to his more legitimate ambition. +"My child," she said, "if you will work in the gallery every day I will +sew in one of the great <i>magasans</i>."</p> + +<p>To see that he commenced fairly, she went with him into the Louvre, and +he selected a fine Rembrandt—an old man, bearded and scarred, massively +characterized, and clothed in magic light and shadow.</p> + +<p>As Ralph stood at his easel, meditating the master, Suzette now +fluttered around him, now ran off to the far end of the long hall, where +he could see her in miniature, the sweetest portrait in France. At last +he was really absorbed, and she went into the city to fulfil her +promise. She was nimble of finger, and though the work distressed her at +first, she thought of his applause, and persevered.</p> + +<p>Their method was the marvel of the unimaginative Terrapin, who made some +philosophic comments upon the "spooney" socially considered, and cut +their acquaintance.</p> + +<p>They breakfasted at the <i>cremery</i> at seven o'clock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> with the <i>ouvriers</i>, +and dined at one of Duvall's bouillon establishments. Suzette found the +work easier as she progressed. She was finally promoted to the place of +<i>coupeur</i>, or cutter, and had the superintendence of a work-room, where +she made four francs a day, and so paid all her expenses. At the end of +the second month he took the money which he otherwise would have +required for board, and bought her a watch and chain at the <i>Palais +Royale</i>. At the same time he put the finishing touch to his picture, and +when hung upon his wall, between their photographs, Suzette danced +before it, and took half the credit upon herself.</p> + +<p>Foolish Suzette! she did not know how that old man was her most +dangerous rival. He had done what no beautiful woman in France could +do—weakened her grasp upon Ralph Flare's heart. For now Ralph's old +enthusiasm for his profession reasserted itself. It was his first and +deepest love after all.</p> + +<p>"My baby," he said one night, "there was a great artist named +Raphael—and he had a little mistress, whom I don't think a whit +prettier than mine. She was called the <i>Fornarina</i>, just as you may be +called the <i>Coutouriere</i>, and he painted her portrait in the characters +of saints and of the Virgin. She will be remembered a thousand years, +because Raphael so loved and painted her. But he was not a great artist +only because he loved the <i>Fornarina</i>. He had something that he loved +better, and so have I."</p> + +<p>"One more beloved than Suzette?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes! it is art. I loved you more than my art before; but I am going +back to my first love."</p> + +<p>Suzette tossed her head and said that she could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> never be jealous of a +picture, and went her way with a simple faith and toiled; and as she +toiled the more, so grew her love the purer and her content the more +equal. She was not the aerial thing she had been. Retaining her +elasticity of spirit, she was less volatile, more silent, more careful, +more anxious.</p> + +<p>It is wiser, not happier, to reach that estate called thought; for now +she asked herself very often how long this chapter of her life would +last. Must the time come when he must leave her forever? She thought it +the bitterest of all to part as they had done before, with anger; but +any parting must be agony where she had loved so well. As he lay +sleeping, he never knew what tears of midnight were plashing upon his +face. He could not see how her little heart was bleeding as it throbbed. +Yet she went right on, though sometimes the tears blinded her, till she +could not see her needle; but the consciousness that this love and labor +had made her life more sanctified was, in some sort, compensation.</p> + +<p>One Sunday she rose before Ralph, and thinking that she was unobserved, +stole out of the hotel and up the Boulevard. He followed her, +suspiciously. She crossed the Place de la Sorbonne, turned the transept +of the Pantheon, and entered the old church of St. Etienne du Mont.</p> + +<p>It was early mass. The tapers which have been burning five hundred years +glistened upon the tomb of the holy St. Genevieve. Here and there old +women and girls were kneeling in the chapels, whispering their sins into +the ears of invisible priests. And beneath the delicate tracery of +screen and staircase, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> gloriously-painted windows, and the image +of Jesus crucified looking down upon all, some groups of poor people +were murmuring their prayers and making the sign of the cross.</p> + +<p>Ralph entered by a door in the choir. He saw Suzette stand pallidly +beside the holy water, and when she had touched it with the tips of her +fingers, and made the usual rites, she staggered, as if in shame, to a +remote chair, and kneeling down covered her face with her missal. Now +and then the organ boomed out. The censers were swung aloft, dispensing +their perfumes, and all the people made obeisance. Ralph did not know +what it all meant. He only saw his little girl penitent and in prayer, +and he knew that she was carrying her sin and his to the feet of the +Eternal Mercy.</p> + +<p>He feigned sleep in the same way each Sunday succeeding, and she +disappeared as before. After a while she spoke of her family, and +wondered if her father would forgive her. She would not have forgiven +him three months ago, but was quite humble now.</p> + +<p>She sent her photograph to the old man, and a letter came back, the +first she had received for two years.</p> + +<p>She felt unwilling, also, to receive further gifts or support from +Ralph. If I were his wife, she said, it might be well, but since it is +not so, I must not be dependent.</p> + +<p>Foolish Suzette again! She did not know that men love best where they +most protect. The wife who comes with a dower may climb as high as her +husband's pocket, but seldom lies snugly at his heart. Her changed +conduct did not draw him closer to her. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> felt uneasy and unworthy. He +missed the artfulness which had been so winning. He had jealousies no +longer to keep his passion quick, for he could not doubt her devotion. +There was nothing to lack in Suzette, and that was a fault. She had +become modest, docile, truthful, grave. A noble man might have +appreciated her the better. Ralph Flare was a representative man, and he +did not.</p> + +<p>His friends in America thought his copy from Rembrandt wonderful. Their +flattery made his ambition glow and flame. His mother, whose woman's +instinct divined the cause of his delay in Paris, sent him a pleading +letter to go southward; and thus reprimanded, praised, rewarded, what +was he to do?</p> + +<p>He resolved to leave France—and without Suzette!</p> + +<p>He had not courage to tell her that the separation was final. He spoke +of an excursion merely, and took but a handful of baggage. She had +doubts that were like deaths to her; but she believed him, and after a +feverish night went with him in the morning to the train. He was to +write every day.</p> + +<p>Would she take money?</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>But she might have unexpected wants—sickness, accident, charity?</p> + +<p>"If so," she said trustfully, "would not her boy come back?"</p> + +<p>He had just time to buy his ticket and gain the platform. He folded her +in his arms, and exchanged one long, sobbing kiss. It seemed to Ralph +Flare that the sound of that kiss was like a spell—the breaking of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +pleasantest link in his life—the passing from sinfulness to a baser +selfishness—the stamp and seal upon his bargain with ambition, whereby +for the long future he was sold to the sorrow of avarice and the +deceitfulness of fame.</p> + +<p>There was a sharp whistle from the locomotive—who invented that whistle +to pierce so many bosoms at parting?—the cars moved one by one till the +last, in which he was seated, sprang forward with a jerk; and though she +was quite blind, he saw her handkerchief waving till all had vanished, +and he would have given the world to have shed one tear.</p> + +<p>He has gone on into the free country, and to-night he will sleep under +the shadow of the mountains.</p> + +<p>She has turned back into the dark city, and she will not sleep at all in +her far-up chamber.</p> + +<p>It is only one heart crushed, and thousands that deserve more sympathy +beat out every day. We only notice this one because it shall lie +bleeding, and get no sympathy at all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PART_VII" id="PART_VII"></a>PART VII.</h2> + +<h3>DISSOLVING VIEW.</h3> + + +<p>That he might not meet with his own countrymen, Ralph halted at Milan, +and in the great deserted gallery of the Brera went steadily to work. +If, as it often happened, Suzette's pale face got between him and the +canvas, he mentioned his own name and said "renown," and took a turn in +the remote corridor where young Raphael's <i>Sposializo</i> hung opposite +that marvel of Guercino's—poor Hagar and her boy Ishmael driven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +abroad. These adjuncts and the fiercer passion of self had their effect.</p> + +<p>He never wrote to Suzette, but sent secretly for his baggage, and was +well pleased with the consciousness that he could forget her. After +three months he set out for Florence and studied the masterpieces of +Andrea del Sarto, and tried his hand at the <i>Flora</i> of Titian.</p> + +<p>He went into society somewhat, and was very much afraid his unworthy +conduct in Paris might be bruited abroad. Indeed, he could hardly +forgive himself the fondness he had known, and came to regard Suzette as +a tolerably bad person, who had bewitched him. He burned all her +letters, and a little lock of hair he had clipped while she was asleep +once, and blotted the whole experience out of his diary. The next Sunday +he went to hear the Rev. Mr. Hall preach, and felt quite consoled.</p> + +<p>The summer fell upon Val d'Arno like the upsetting of a Tuscan +<i>Scaldino</i>, and Ralph Flare regretfully took his departure northward. +All the world was going to Paris—why not he? Was he afraid? Certainly +not; it had been a great victory over temptation to stay away so long. +He would carry out the triumph by braving a return.</p> + +<p>In accordance with his principles of economy, he took a third-class +ticket at Basle. He could so make better studies of passengers; for, +somehow, your first-class people have not character faces. The only +character you get out of them is the character of wine they consume.</p> + +<p>He left the Alps behind him, and rolled all day through the prosaic +plains of France; startling the pale<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> little towns, down whose treeless +streets the sun shone, oh! so drearily, and taking up boors and +market-folks at every monastic station. There was a pretty young girl +sitting beside Ralph in the afternoon, but he refused to talk to her, +for he was schooling himself, and preferred to scan the features of an +odd old couple who got in at Troyes.</p> + +<p>They were two old people of the country, and they sat together in the +descending shadows of the day, quite like in garb and feature, their +chins a little peakish, and the hairs of both turning gray. The man was +commonplace, as he leaned upon a staff, and between their feet were +paniers of purchases they had been making, which the woman regarded +indifferently, as if her heart reached farther than her eyes, and met +some soft departed scene which she would have none other see.</p> + +<p>"She has a good face," said Flare. "I wish she would keep there a moment +more. By George, she looks like somebody I have known."</p> + +<p>The old man nodded on his staff. The rumble of the carriages subdued to +a lull all lesser talk or murmurs, and the sky afar off brought into +sharp relief the two Gallic profiles, close together, as if they were +used to reposing so; yet in the language of their deepening lines lay +the stories of lives very, very wide apart.</p> + +<p>"The old girl's face is soft," said Ralph Flare. "She has brightened +many a bit of Belgian pike road, and the brown turban on her head is in +clever contrast to the silver shimmer of her hairs. How anomalous are +life and art! How unconscious is this old lady of the narrow escape she +is making from perpetuation!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Doubtless she works afield beside that old +Jacques Bonhomme, and drinks sour wine or Normandy cider on Sundays. +That may be the best fate of Suzette, but it must be an amply dry +reformation for any little grisette to contemplate. For such prodigals +going home there is no fatted calf slain. No fathers see them afar off +and run to place the ring upon their fingers. They renounce precarious +gayety for persistent slavery. The keen wit of the student is exchanged +for the pipe and mug and dull oath of the boor. I wish every such girl +back again to so sallow a fate, and pity her when she gets there."</p> + +<p>And so, with much unconscious sentimentality, and the two old market +people silent before him, Ralph Flare's eyes half closed also, and the +lull of the wheels, the long lake streaks of the sedative skies, the +coming of great shadows like compulsions to slumber, made his forehead +fall and the world go up and down and darken.</p> + +<p>It was the old woman who shook him from that repose; she only touched +him, but her touch was like a lost sense restored. He thrilled and sat +stock still, with her withered blue hand on his arm, and heard the +pinched lips say, unclosing with a sort of quiver:</p> + +<p>"Baby!"</p> + +<p>He looked again, and seemed to himself to grow quite old as he looked, +and he said,</p> + +<p>"<i>Enfant perdu!</i>"</p> + +<p>The turban kept its place, the peaked chin kept as peaked; there seemed +even more silver in the smooth hair, and the old serge gown drooped as +brownly; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> the sweet old face grew soft as a widow's looking at the +only portrait she guards, and a tear, like a drop of water exhumed, ran +to the tip of her nostril.</p> + +<p>"Suzette!" he said, "my early sin; do you come back as well with the +turning of my hairs? Has the first passion a shadow long as forever? Why +have we met?"</p> + +<p>"Not of my seeking was this meeting, Ralph. Speak softly, for my husband +sleeps, and he is old like thee and me. If my face is an accusation, let +my lips be forgiveness. The love of you made my life dutiful; the loss +of you saddened my days, but it was the sadness of religion! I sinned no +more, and sought my father's fields, and delayed, with my hand purified +by his blessing, the residue of his sands of life. I made my years good +to my neighbors, the sick, the bereaved. I met the temptations of the +young with a truer story than pleasure tells, and when I married it was +with the prelude of my lost years related and forgiven. With children's +faces the earnestness and beauty of life returned; for this, for more, +for all, may your reward be bountiful!"</p> + +<p>There is no curse like the dream of old age. Ralph Flare felt, with the +sudden whitening of each separate hair, the sudden remembrance of each +separate folly; and the moments of grief he had wrung from the little +girl of the Quartier Latin revived like one's mean acts seen through +others' eyes.</p> + +<p>"Pardon you, child, Suzette?" he said; "to me you were more than I +hoped, more than I wished. I asked your face only, and you gave me your +heart. For the unfaithfulness, for the wrath, for the unmanliness, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +the tyranny with which I treated you, my soul upbraids me."</p> + +<p>"How thankful am I," she answered; "the terror to me was that you had +learned in the Quartier lessons to make your after-life monotonous. I am +happy."</p> + +<p>Their hands met; to his gray beard fell the smile upon her mouth; they +forget the Quartier Latin; they felt no love but forgiveness, which is +the tenderest of emotions. The whistle blew shrilly; the train stopped; +Ralph Flare awoke from sleep; but the old couple were gone.</p> + +<p>He went to Paris, and, contrary to his purpose, inquired for her. She +had been seen by none since his departure. He wrote to the Maire of her +commune, and this was the reply:</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ralph, Merci! Pardonne!</i><br /> +<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Suzette.</span>"<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>He felt no loss. He felt softened toward her only; and he turned his +back on the Quartier Latin with a man's easy satisfaction that he could +forget.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_PIGEON_GIRL" id="THE_PIGEON_GIRL"></a>THE PIGEON GIRL.</h2> + +<div class="poemleft"> +On the sloping market-place,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the village of Compeigne,</span><br /> +Every Saturday her face,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a Sunday, comes again;</span><br /> +Daylight finds her in her seat,<br /> +With her panier at her feet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where her pigeons lie in pairs;</span><br /> +Like their plumage gray her gown,<br /> +To her sabots drooping down;<br /> +And a kerchief, brightly brown,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Binds her smooth, dark hairs.</span><br /> +<br /> +All the buyers knew her well,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, perforce, her face must see,</span><br /> +As a holy Raphael<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lures us in a gallery;</span><br /> +Round about the rustics gape,<br /> +Drinking in her comely shape,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the housewives gently speak,</span><br /> +When into her eyes they look,<br /> +As within some holy book,<br /> +And the gables, high and crook,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fling their sunshine on her cheek.</span><br /> +<br /> +In her hands two milk-white doves,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy in her lap to lie,</span><br /> +Softly murmur of their loves,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Envied by the passers-by;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +One by one their flight they take,<br /> +Bought and cherished for her sake,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaving so reluctantly;</span><br /> +Till the shadows close approach,<br /> +Fades the pageant, foot and coach,<br /> +And the giants in the cloche<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ring the noon for Picardie.</span><br /> +<br /> +Round the village see her glide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a slender sunbeam's pace!</span><br /> +Mirrored in the Oise's tide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The gold-fish float upon her face;</span><br /> +All the soldiers touch their caps;<br /> +In the cafés quit their naps<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Garçon, guest, to wish her back;</span><br /> +And the fat old beadles smile<br /> +As she kneels along the aisle,<br /> +Like Pucelle in other while,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the dim church of Saint Jacques.</span><br /> +<br /> +Now she mounts her dappled ass—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He well-pleased such friend to know—</span><br /> +And right merrily they pass<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The armorial château;</span><br /> +Down the long, straight paths they tread<br /> +Till the forest, overhead,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whispers low its leafy love;</span><br /> +In the archways' green caress<br /> +Rides the wondrous dryadess—<br /> +Thrills the grass beneath her press,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the blue-eyed sky above.</span><br /> +<br /> +I have met her, o'er and o'er,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I strolled alone apart,</span><br /> +By a lonely carrefour<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the forest's tangled heart,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +Safe as any stag that bore<br /> +Imprint of the Emperor;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the copse that round her grew</span><br /> +Tiptoe the straight saplings stood,<br /> +Peeped the wild boar's satyr brood,<br /> +Like an arrow clove the wood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The glad note of the cuckoo.</span><br /> +<br /> +How I wished myself her friend!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(So she wished that I were more)</span><br /> +Jogging toward her journey's end<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Saint Jean au Bois before,</span><br /> +Where her father's acres fall<br /> +Just without the abbey wall;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the cool well loiteringly</span><br /> +The shaggy Norman horses stray,<br /> +In the thatch the pigeons play,<br /> +And the forest round alway<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Folds the hamlet, like a sea.</span><br /> +<br /> +Far forgotten all the feud<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In my New World's childhood haunts,</span><br /> +If my childhood she renewed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In this pleasant nook of France;</span><br /> +Might she make the blouse I wear,<br /> +Welcome then her homely fare<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her sensuous religion!</span><br /> +To the market we should ride,<br /> +In the Mass kneel side by side,<br /> +Might I warm, each eventide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In my nest, my pretty pigeon.</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEAF_MAN_OF_KENSINGTON" id="THE_DEAF_MAN_OF_KENSINGTON"></a>THE DEAF MAN OF KENSINGTON.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Tale of an Old Suburb.</span></h3> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE MURDER.</h3> + + +<p>Between the Delaware River and Girard Avenue, which is the market street +of the future, and east of Frankfort Road, lies Kensington, a +respectable old district of the Quaker City, and occupying the same +relation to it that Kensington in England does to London. Beyond both +Kensingtons is a Richmond, but the English Richmond is a beauteous hill, +with poetical recollections of Pope and Thomson, while our Richmond is +the coal district of Philadelphia, flat to the foot and dingy to the +eye.</p> + +<p>Kensington, however, was once no faint miniature of the staid British +suburb. The river bending to the eastward there conducts certain of the +streets crookedly away from the rectangular Quaker demon who is ever +seeking to square them. Along the water side, or near it, passes a sort +of Quay Street, between ship-yards and fish-houses on the one side, and +shops or small tenements on the other, and this street scarcely +discloses the small monument on the site of the Treaty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> Tree, where +William Penn in person satisfied the momentary expectations of his +Indian subjects.</p> + +<p>Nearly parallel to the water side street is another, wider and more +aristocratic, and lined with many handsome dwellings of brick, or even +brown-stone, where the successful shipbuilders, fishtakers, coal men, +and professional classes have established themselves or their posterity. +This street was once called Queen, afterward Richmond Street, and it is +crossed by others, as Hanover, Marlborough, and Shackamaxon, which +attest in their names the duration of royal and Indian traditions +hereabout. Pleasant maple, sometimes sycamore and willow trees shade +these old streets, and they are kept as clean as any in this ever-mopped +and rinsed metropolis, while the society, though disengaged from the +great city, had its better and worser class, and was fastidious about +morals and behavior, and not disinclined to express its opinion.</p> + +<p>One winter day in a certain year Kensington had a real sensation. The +Delaware was frozen from shore to shore, and one could walk on the ice +from Smith's to Treaty Island, and from Cooper's Point to the mouth of +the Cohocksink. On the second afternoon of the great freeze fires were +built on the river, and crowds assembled at certain smooth places to see +great skaters like Colonel Page cut flourishes and show sly gallantry to +the buxom housewives and grass widows of Kensington and the Jerseys. A +few horses were driven on the ice, and hundreds of boys ran merrily with +real sleighs crowded down with their friends. A fight or two was +improvised, and unlicensed vendors set forth the bottle that inebriates. +In the midst of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> the afternoon gayety a small boy, kneeling down to +buckle up to a farther hole the straps on his guttered skates, saw just +at his toe something like human hair. The small boy rose to his feet and +stamped with all his might around that object, not in any apprehension +but because small boys like to know; and when the ice had been well +broken, kneeling down and pulling it out in pieces with his mitten, the +small boy felt something cold and smooth, and then he poked his finger +into a human eye. It was a dead man. No sooner had the urchin found this +out than he bellowed out at the top of his voice, running and falling as +he yelled: "Murder! Murder! Murder!"</p> + +<p>From all parts of the ice, like flies chasing over a silver salver +toward some sweet point of corruption, the hundreds and thousands +swarmed at the news that a dead body had been found. When they arrived +on the spot, spades, picks, and ice-hooks had been procured by those +nearest shore, and the whole mystery brought from the depths of the +river to the surface.</p> + +<p>There lay together on the ice two men, apparently several days in the +water, and with the usual look of drowned people of good +condition—glassy and of fixed expression, as if in the moment of death +a consenting grimness had stolen into their countenances, neither +composed nor terrified.</p> + +<p>The bodies had been already recognized when the main part of the crowd +arrived. Kensington people, generally, knew them both.</p> + +<p>"It's William Zane and his business partner, Sayler Rainey! They own one +of the marine railways at Kensington. Come to think of it, I haven't +seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> them around for nearly a week, neighbor!" exclaimed an old man.</p> + +<p>"It's a case of drowning, no doubt," spoke up a little fellow who did a +river business in old chains and junk. "You see they had another +ship-mending place on the island opposite Kinsington, and rowin' +theirselves over was upset and never missed!"</p> + +<p>"Quare enough too!" added a third party, "for yisterday I had a talk +with young Andrew Zane, this one's son (touching the body with his +foot), and Andrew said—a little pale I thought he was—says he, 'Pop's +<i>about</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Here a little buzz of mystery—so grateful to crowds which have come far +over slippery surface and expect much—undulated to the outward +boundaries. As the people moved the ice cracked like a cannon shot, and +they dispersed like blackbirds, to rally soon again.</p> + +<p>"Here's a doctor! Now we'll know about it! <i>He's</i> here!" was exclaimed +by several, as an important little man was pushed along, and the +thickest crowd gave him passage. The little man borrowed a boy's cap to +kneel on, adjusted a sort of microscopic glass to his nose, as if plain +eyes had no adequate use to this scientific necessity, and he called up +two volunteers to turn the corpses over, keep back the throng, give him +light, and add imposition to apprehension. Finally he stopped at a place +in the garments of the principal of the twain. "Here is a hole," he +exclaimed, "with burned woollen fibre about it, as if a pistol had been +fired at close quarters. Draw back this woollen under-jacket! There—as +I expected, gentlemen, is a pistol shot in the breast! What is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> name +of the person? Ah! thank you! Well, William Zane, gentlemen, was shot +before he was drowned?"</p> + +<p>The great crowd swayed and rushed forward again, and again the ice +cracked like artillery. Before the multitude could swarm to the honey of +a crime a second time, the news was dispersed that both of the drowned +men had bullet wounds in their bodies, and both had been undoubtedly +murdered. Some supposed it was the work of river pirates; others a +private revenge, perpetrated by some following boat's party in the +darkness of night. But more than one person piped shrilly ere the people +wearily scattered in the dusk for their homes on the two shores of the +river: "How did it happen that young Zane, the old un's son, said +yisterday that his daddy was about, when he's been frozen in at least +three days?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE FLIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>A handsome residence on the south side of Queen Street had been the home +of the prosperous ship-carpenter, William Zane. His name was on the door +on a silver plate. As the evening deepened and the news spread, the bell +was pulled so often that it aided the universal alarm following a crime, +and a crowd of people, reinforced by others as fast as it thinned out, +kept up the watch on ever-recurring friends, coroner's officers and +newspaper reporters, as they ascended the steps, looked grave, made +inquiries, and returned to dispense their information.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>But there was very little indignation, for Zane had been an insanely +passionate man, rather hard and exacting, and had he been found dead +alone anywhere it would probably have been said at once that he brought +it on himself. His partner, Rainey, however, had conducted himself so +negatively and mildly, and was of such general estimation, that the +murder of the senior member of the film took on some unusual public +sympathy from the reflected sorrow for his fellow-victim. The latter had +been one of Zane's apprentices, raised to a place in the establishment +by his usefulness and sincere love of his patron. Just, forbearing, +soft-spoken, and not avaricious, Sayler Rainey deserved no injury from +any living being. He was unmarried, and, having met with a +disappointment in love, had avowed his intention never to marry, but to +bequeath all the property he should acquire to his partner's only son, +Andrew Zane.</p> + +<p>What, then, was the motive of this double murder? The public +comprehension found but one theory, and that was freely advanced by the +rash and imputative in the community of Kensington: The murderer was he +who had the only known temptation and object in such a crime. Who could +gain anything by it but Andrew Zane, the impulsive, the mischief-making +and oft-restrained son of his stern sire, who, by a double crime, would +inherit that undivided property, free from the control of both parent +and guardian?</p> + +<p>"It is parricide! that's what it is!" exclaimed a fat woman from +Fishtown. "At the bottom of the river dead men tell no tales. The +rebellious young sarpint of a son, who allus pulled a lusty oar, has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +chased them two older ones into the deep water of the channel, where a +pistol shot can't be heard ashore, and he expected the property to be +his'n. But there are gallowses yet, thank the Lord!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Whann, don't say that," spoke up a deferential voice from the face +of a rather sallow-skinned young man, with long, ringleted, yellow hair. +"Don't create a prejudice, I beg of you. Andrew Zane was my classmate. +He gave his excellent father some trouble, but it shouldn't be +remembered against him now. Suppose, my friends, that you let me ring +the bell and inquire?"</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" asked the crowd. "He's a fine, mature-looking, charitable +young man, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Its the old Minister Van de Lear's son, Calvin. He's going to succeed +his venerable and pious poppy in Kensington pulpit. They'll let him in."</p> + +<p>The door closed when Calvin Van de Lear entered the residence of the +late William Zane. When it reopened he was seen with a handkerchief in +his hand and his hat pulled down over his eyes, as if he had been +weeping.</p> + +<p>"Stop! stop! don't be going off that way!" interposed the fat fishwife. +"You said you would tell us the news."</p> + +<p>"My friends," replied Calvin Van de Lear, with a look of the greatest +pain, "Andrew Zane has not been heard from. I fear your suspicions are +too true!"</p> + +<p>He crossed the street and disappeared into the low and elderly residence +of his parents.</p> + +<p>"Alas! alas!" exclaimed a grave and gentle old man. "That Andrew Zane +should not be here to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> meet a charge like this! But I'll not believe it +till I have prayed with my God."</p> + +<p>Within the Zane residence all was as in other houses on funeral eves. In +the front parlor, ready for an inquest or an undertaker, lay the late +master of the place, laid out, and all the visitors departed except his +housekeeper, Agnes, and her friend, "Podge" Byerly. The latter was a +sunny-haired and nimble little lady, under twenty years of age, who +taught in one of the public schools and boarded with her former +school-mate, Agnes Wilt. Agnes was an orphan of unknown parentage, by +many supposed to have been a niece or relative of Mr. Zane's deceased +wife, whose place she took at the head of the table, and had grown to be +one of the principal social authorities in Kensington. In Reverend Mr. +Van de Lear's church she was both teacher and singer. The young men of +Kensington were all in love with her, but it was generally understood +that she had accepted Andrew Zane, and was engaged to him.</p> + +<p>Andrew was not dissipated, but was fond of pranks, and so restive under +his father's positive hand that he twice ran away to distant seaports, +and thus incurred a remarkable amount of intuitive gossip, such as +belongs to all old settled suburban societies. This occasional firmness +of character in the midst of a generally light and flexible life, now +told against him in the public mind. "He has nerve enough to do anything +desperate in a pinch," exclaimed the very wisest. "Didn't William Zane +find him out once in the island of Barbadoes grubbing sugar-cane with a +hoe, and the thermometer at 120 in the shade? And didn't he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> swear he'd +stay there and die unless concessions were made to him, and certain +things never brought up again? Didn't even his iron-shod father have to +give way before he would come home? Ah! Andrew is light-hearted, but he +is an Indian in self-will!"</p> + +<p>To-night Agnes was in the deepest grief. Upon her, and only her, fell +the whole burden of this double crime and mystery, ten times more +terrible that her lover was compromised and had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Go to bed, Podge!" said Agnes, as the clock in the engine-house struck +midnight. "Oblige me, my dear! I cannot sleep, and shall wait and watch. +Perhaps Andrew will be here."</p> + +<p>"I can't leave you up, Aggy, and with that thing so near." She locked +toward the front parlor, where, behind the folding-doors, lay the dead.</p> + +<p>"I have no fear of <i>that</i>. He was always kind to me. My fears are all in +this world. O <i>darling</i>!"</p> + +<p>She burst into sobs. Her friend kissed her again and again, and knew +that feelings between love and crime extorted that last word.</p> + +<p>"Aggy," spoke the light-hearted girl, "I know that you cannot help +loving him, and as long as he is loved by you I sha'n't believe him +guilty. Must I really leave you here?"</p> + +<p>Her weeping friend turned up her face to give the mandatory kiss, and +Podge was gone.</p> + +<p>Agnes sat in solitude, with her hands folded and her heart filled with +unutterable tender woe, that so much causeless cloud had settled upon +the home of her refuge. She could not experience that relief many of us +feel in deep adversity, that it is all illusion, and will in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> a moment +float away like other dreams. Brought to this house an orphan, and twice +deprived of a mother's love, she had only entered woman's estate when +another class of cares beset her. Her beauty and sweetness of +disposition had brought her more lovers than could make her happy. There +was but one on whom she could confer her heart, and this natural choice +had drawn around her the perils which now overwhelmed them all. +Accepting the son, she incurred the father's resentment upon both; for +he, the dead man yonder, had also been her lover.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the anguished woman, kneeling by her chair and +laying her cheek upon it, while only such tears as we shed in supreme +moments saturated her handkerchief, "what have I done to make such +misery to others? How sinful I must be to set son and father against +each other! Yet, Heavenly Father, I can but love!"</p> + +<p>There was a cracking of something, as if the dead man in the great, +black parlor had carried his jealousy beyond his doom and was breaking +from his coffin to upbraid her. A door burst open in the dining-room, +which was behind her, and then the dining-room door also unclosed, and +was followed by a cold, graveyard draft. A moment of superstition +possessed Agnes. "Guard me, Saviour," she murmured.</p> + +<p>At the dining-room threshold, advancing a little over the sill, as if to +rush upon her, was the figure of a man, dressed, head to foot, in +sailor's garments—heavy woollens, comforter, tarpaulin overalls, and +knit cap. He looked at her an instant, standing there, shivering, and +then he retired a pace or two and closed the door to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> the cellar, by +which he had entered the house. Even this little movement in the +intruder had something familiar about it. He advanced again, directly +and rapidly, toward her, but she did not scream. He threw both arms +around her, and she did not cry. Something had entered with that bold +figure which extinguished all crime and superstition in the monarchy of +its presence—Love.</p> + +<p>A kiss, as fervent and long as only the reunited ever give with purity, +drew the soul of the suspected murderer and his sweetheart into one +temple.</p> + +<p>"Agnes," he whispered hoarsely, when it was given, "they have followed +me hard to-night. Every place I might have resorted to is watched. All +Kensington—my oldest friends—believe me guilty! I cannot face it. With +this kiss I must go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Andrew, do not! Here is the place to make your peace; here take +your stand and await the worst."</p> + +<p>"Agnes," he repeated, "I have no defence. Nothing but silence would +defend me now, and that would hang me to the gallows. I come to put my +life and soul into your hands. Can you pray for me, bad as I am?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Andrew," answered Agnes, weeping fast, "I have no power to stop +you, and I cannot give you up. Yes, I will pray for you now, before you +start on your journey. Go open those folding-doors and we will pray in +the other room."</p> + +<p>"What is there?"</p> + +<p>"Your father."</p> + +<p>He stopped a long while, and his cheek was blanched.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go first," he whispered finally. "I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>She led the way to the bier, where the body, with the frost hardly yet +thawed from it, lay under the dim light of the chandelier. Turning up +the burners it was revealed in its relentless, though not unhappy, +expression—a large and powerful man, bearded and with tassels of gray +in his hair.</p> + +<p>The young man in his coarse sailor's garb, muffled up for concealment +and disguise, placed his arm around Agnes, and his knees were unsteady +as he gazed down on the remains and began to sob.</p> + +<p>"Dear," she murmured, also weeping, "I know you loved him!"</p> + +<p>The young man's sobs became so loud that Agnes drew him to a chair, and +as she sat upon it he laid his head in her lap and continued there to +express a deep inward agony.</p> + +<p>"I loved him always," he articulated at last, "so help me God, I did! +And a <i>parricide</i>! Can you survive it?"</p> + +<p>"Andrew," she replied, "I have taken it all to heaven and laid the sin +there. Forever, my darling, intercession continues for all our offences +only there. It must be our recourse in this separation every day when we +rise and lie down. Though blood-stained, he can wash as white as snow."</p> + +<p>"I will try, I will try!" he sobbed; "but your goodness is my reliance, +dearest. I have always been disobedient to my father, but never thought +it would come to this."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, Andrew. Poor, rash uncle!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Agnes," whispered Andrew Zane, rising with a sudden fear, "I hear +people about the house—on the pavement, on the doorsteps. Perhaps they +are suspecting me. I must fly. Oh! shall we ever meet again under a +brighter sky? Will you cling to me? I am going out, abandoned by all the +world. Nothing is left me but your fidelity. Will it last? You know you +are beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sad words to say!" sighed Agnes. "Let none but you ever say them to +me again. Beautiful, and to the end of such misery as this! My only +love, I will never forsake you!"</p> + +<p>"Then I can try the world again, winter as it is. Once more, oh, God! +let me ask forgiveness from these frozen lips. My father! pursue me not, +though deep is my offence! Farewell, farewell forever!"</p> + +<p>He disappeared down the cellar as he had come, and Agnes heard at the +outer window the sound of his escaping. When all was silent she fell to +the floor, and lay there helplessly weeping.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEAF MAN.</h3> + + +<p>The inquest was held, and the jury pronounced the double crime murder by +persons unknown, but with strong suspicion resting on Andrew Zane and an +unknown laborer, who had left Pettit's or Treaty Island, at night, in an +open boat with William Zane and Sayler Rainey. A reward was offered for +Andrew Zane and the laborer.</p> + +<p>The will of the deceased persons made Andrew Zane<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> full legatee of both +estates, and left a life interest in the Queen Street house, and $2000 a +year to "Agnes Wilt, my ward and housekeeper." The executors of the Zane +estate were named as Agnes Wilt, Rev. Silas Van de Lear, and Duff +Salter. The two dead men were interred together in the old Presbyterian +burial-ground, and after a month or two of diminishing excitement, +Kensington settled down to the idea that there was a great mystery +somewhere; that Andrew Zane was probably guilty; but that the principal +evidence against him was his own flight.</p> + +<p>As to Agnes, there was only one respectable opinion—that she was a +superb work of nature and triumph of womanhood, notwithstanding romantic +and possibly awkward circumstances of origin and relation. All men, of +whatever time of life and for whatsoever reason, admired her—the mean +and earthy if only for her mould, the morally discerning for her +beautiful quality that pitied, caressed, encouraged, or elevated all who +came within her sphere.</p> + +<p>"Preachers of the Gospel ought to have such wives," said the Rev. Silas +Van de Lear, looking at his son Calvin, "as Agnes Wilt. She is the most +handy churchwoman in all my ministration in Kensington, which is now +forty years. Besides being pious, and virtuous, and humble before God, +she is very comely to the eye, and possesses a house and an independent +income. A wife like that would naturally help a young minister to get a +higher call."</p> + +<p>Young Calvin, who was expected to succeed his father in the venerable +church close by, and was studying divinity, said with much cool +maturity:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pa, I've taken it all in. She's the only single girl in Kensington +worth proposing to. It's true that we don't know just who she is, but +it's not that I'm so much afraid of as her, her—in short, her piety."</p> + +<p>"Piety does not stand in the way of marriage," answered the old man, who +was both bold and prudent, wise and sincere. "In the covenant of God +nothing is denied to his saints in righteousness. The sense of wedded +pleasure, the beauty that delights the eye, love, appetite, children, +and financial independence—all are ours, no less as of the Elect than +as worldly creatures. The love of God in the heart warms men and women +toward each other."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that!" exclaimed Calvin, "I've been warmed toward Miss Agnes +since I was a boy. I think she is superb. But she is a little too good +for me. She looks at me whenever I talk to her, whereas the proper way +of humility would be to look down. She has been in love with Andrew +Zane, you know!"</p> + +<p>"That," said the preacher, "is probably off; though I never discovered +in Andrew more evil than a light heart and occasional rebellion. If she +loves him still, do not be in haste to jar her sensibility. It is +thoughtfulness which engenders love."</p> + +<p>The young women of Kensington were divided about Agnes Wilt. The poorer +girls thought her perfect. But some marriageable and some married women, +moving in her own sphere of society, criticised her popularity, and said +she must be artful to control so many men. There are no depths to which +jealousy cannot go in a small suburban society. Agnes, as an orphan, had +felt it since childhood, but nothing had ever hap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>pened until now to +concentrate slander as well as sympathy upon her. It was told abroad +that she had been the mistress of her deceased benefactor, who had +fallen by the hands of his infuriated son. Even the police authorities +gave some slight consideration to this view. Old people remarked: "If +she has been deceiving people, she will not stop now. She will have +other secret lovers."</p> + +<p>Inquiries had been made for some time as to who the unknown executor, +Duff Salter, might be, when one day Rev. Mr. Van de Lear walked over to +the Zane house with a broad-shouldered, grave, silent-eyed man, who wore +a very long white beard reaching to his middle. As he was also tall and +but little bent, he had that mysterious union of strength and age which +was perfected by his expression of long and absolute silence.</p> + +<p>"Agnes," said Mr. Van de Lear, "this is an old Scotch-Irish friend and +classmate of the late Mr. Zane, Duff Salter of Arkansas. He cannot hear +what I have said, for he is almost stone deaf. However, go through the +motions of shaking hands. I am told he has heard very little of anything +for the past ten years. An explosion in a quicksilver mine broke his +ear-drums."</p> + +<p>Agnes, dressed in deep black, shook hands with the grave stranger +dutifully, and said:</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are welcome, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Salter looked at her closely and gently, and seemed to be pleased +with the inspection, for he took a small gold box from his pocket, +unlocked it and sniffed a pinch of snuff, and then gave a sneeze, which +he articulated, plain as speech, into the words: "Jeri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>cho! Jericho!" +Then placing the box in the pocket of his long coat, he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Miss Agnes, as one of the executors is a lady, and another is our +venerable friend here, who has no inclination to attend to the +settlement of Mr. Zane's estate, it will devolve upon me to examine the +whole subject. I am a stranger in the East. As Mr. Van de Lear may have +told you, I don't hear anything. Will I be welcome as a boarder under +your roof as long as I am looking into my old friend's books and +papers?"</p> + +<p>"Not only welcome, but a protection to us, sir," answered Agnes.</p> + +<p>He took a set of ivory tablets from his pocket, with a pencil, and +handing it to her politely, said:</p> + +<p>"Please write your answer."</p> + +<p>She wrote "Yes."</p> + +<p>The deaf lodger gave as little trouble as could have been expected. He +had a bedroom, and moved a large secretary desk into it, and sat there +all day looking at figures. If he ever wanted to make an inquiry, he +wrote it on the tablets, and in the evening had it read and answered. +Agnes was a good deal of the time preoccupied, and Podge Byerly, who +wrote as neatly as copper-plate, answered these inquiries, and conducted +a little conversation of her own. Podge was a slender blonde, with fine +blue eyes and a mischievous, sylph-like way of coming and going. Her +freedom of motion and address seemed to concern the stranger. One day +she wrote, after putting down the answer to a business inquiry:</p> + +<p>"Are you married?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>He hesitated some time and wrote back, "I hope not."</p> + +<p>She retorted, "Could one forget if one was married?"</p> + +<p>He replied on the same tablet: "Not when he tried."</p> + +<p>Podge rubbed it all off, and thought a minute, and then concluded that +evening's correspondence:</p> + +<p>"You are an old tease!"</p> + +<p>The next morning, as usual, she wrapped herself up warmly and took the +omnibus for her school, and saw him watching her out of the upper +window. That night, instead of any inquiries, he stalked down in his +worked slippers—the dead man's—and long dressing gown, and, after +smiling at all, took Podge Byerly's hand and looked at it. This time he +spoke in a sweet, modulated voice,</p> + +<p>"Very pretty!"</p> + +<p>She was about to reply, when he gave her the ivory tablet, and put his +finger on his lip.</p> + +<p>She wrote, "Did you ever fight a duel?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head "No."</p> + +<p>She wrote again, "What else do they do in Arkansas?"</p> + +<p>He replied, "They love."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Duff Salter sneezed very loudly, "Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" +Podge ran off at such a serious turn of responses, but was too much of a +woman not to be lured back of her own will. He wrote later in the +evening this touching query:</p> + +<p>"How do the birds sing now? Are they all dumb?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>She answered, "Many can hear who never heard them."</p> + +<p>He wrote again, "Are you suspicious?"</p> + +<p>She replied, "<i>Very</i>. Are you?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head "No."</p> + +<p>"I believe he <i>is</i>," said Podge, turning to Agnes, who had entered. "He +looks as if he had asked that question of himself."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter seized his handkerchief and sneezed into it, "Jericho-o! +Jericho-wo!"</p> + +<p>Podge was sure he was suspicious the next night when she read on his +tablets the rather imputative remark,</p> + +<p>"Is there anything demoralizing in teaching public schools?"</p> + +<p>She replied tartly, "Yes, stupid old visitors and parents!"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me!" he wrote; "I meant politicians."</p> + +<p>She replied in the same spirit as before, "I think politicians are +divine!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter looked a little wondering out of those calm gray eyes and +his strong, yet benevolent Scotch-Irish countenance. Podge, who now +talked freely with Agnes in his presence, said confidently:</p> + +<p>"I believe I can tantalize this good old granny by giving him doubts +about me! I am real bad, Aggy; you know that! It is no story to tell +it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! we are both bad enough to try to improve," exclaimed Agnes +absently.</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>He came down every evening, and began respectfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> to bow to Agnes and +to smile on Podge, and then stretched his feet out to the ottoman, drew +his tablets up to the small table and proceeded to write. They hallooed +into his ear once or twice, but he said he was deaf as a mill-stone, and +might be cursed to his face and wouldn't understand it. They had formed +a pleasing opinion of him, not unmixed with curiosity, when one night he +wrote on the back of a piece of paper:</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea who wrote this anonymous note to me?"</p> + +<p>Podge Byerly took the note and found in a woman's handwriting these +words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"Mr. Duff Salter, I suppose you know where you are. Your hostesses are +very insinuating and artful—and what else, <i>you can find out</i>! One man +has been murdered in that family; another has disappeared. They say in +Kensington the house of Zane is haunted.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +"<span class="smcap">A Warner.</span>"<br /> +</div> + +<p>Podge read the note, and her tears dropped upon it. He moved forward as +if to speak to her, but correcting himself hastily, he wrote upon the +tablets:</p> + +<p>"Not even a suspicious person is affected the least by an anonymous +letter. I only keep it that possibly I may detect the sender!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>A SUITOR.</h3> + + +<p>Duff Salter and the ladies were sitting in the back parlor one evening +following the events just related, when the door-bell rang, and Podge +Byerly went to see who was there. She soon returned and closed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> door +of the front parlor, leaving a little crack, by accident, and lighted +the gas there.</p> + +<p>"Aggy," whispered Podge, coming in, "there's Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, our +future minister. He's elegantly dressed, and has a nosegay in his hand."</p> + +<p>"Can't you entertain him, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I would be glad enough, but he asked in a very decided way for you."</p> + +<p>"For me?"</p> + +<p>Agnes looked distressed.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he said very distinctly, 'I called to pay my respects particularly +to Miss Agnes to-night.'"</p> + +<p>Agnes left the room, and Duff Salter and Podge were again together. +Podge could hear plainly what was said in the front parlor, and partly +see, by the brighter light there, the motions of the visitor and her +friend. She wrote on Duff Salter's tablet, "A deaf man is a great +convenience!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" wrote the large, grave man.</p> + +<p>"Because he can't hear what girls say to their beaux."</p> + +<p>"Is that a beau calling on our beautiful friend?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so!"</p> + +<p>"How do you feel when a beau comes?"</p> + +<p>"We feel important."</p> + +<p>"You don't feel grateful, then; only complimented."</p> + +<p>"No; we feel that on one of two occasions we have the advantage over a +man. We can play him like a big fish on a little angle."</p> + +<p>"When is the other occasion?"</p> + +<p>"Some women," wrote Podge, "play just the same with the man they +marry!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duff Salter looked up surprised.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that wrong?" he wrote.</p> + +<p>She answered mischievously, "A kind of!"</p> + +<p>The large, bearded man looked so exceedingly grave that Podge burst out +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know," she wrote, "that the propensity to plague a man +dependent on you is inherent in every healthy woman?"</p> + +<p>He wrote, "I do know it, and it's a crime!"</p> + +<p>Podge thought to herself "This old man is dreadfully serious and +suspicious sometimes."</p> + +<p>As Duff Salter relapsed into silence, gazing on the fire, the voice of +Calvin Van de Lear was heard by Podge, pitched in a low and confident +key, from the parlor side:</p> + +<p>"I called, Agnes, when I thought sufficient time had elapsed since the +troubles here, to express my deep interest in you, and to find you, I +hoped, with a disposition to turn to the sunny side of life's affairs."</p> + +<p>"I am not ready to take more than a necessary part in anything outside +of this house," replied Agnes. "My mind is altogether preoccupied. I +thank you for your good wishes, Mr. Van de Lear."</p> + +<p>"Now do be less formal," said the young man persuasively. "I have always +been Cal. before—short and easy, Cal. Van de Lear. <i>You</i> might call me +almost anything, Aggy."</p> + +<p>"I have changed, sir. Our afflictions have taught me that I am no longer +a girl."</p> + +<p>"You won't call me Cal., then?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Van de Lear."</p> + +<p>"I see how it is," exclaimed the visitor. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> think because I am +studying for orders I must be looked up to. Aggy, that's got nothing to +do with social things. When I take the governor's place in our pulpit I +shall make my sermons for this generation altogether crack, sentimental +sermons, and drive away dull care. That's my understanding of the good +shepherd."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Van de Lear, there are some cares so natural that they are almost +consolation. Under the pressure of them we draw nearer to happiness. +What merry words should be said to those who were bred under this roof +in such misfortunes as I have now—as the absent have?"</p> + +<p>Podge saw Agnes put her handkerchief to her face, and her neck shake a +minute convulsively. Duff Salter here sneezed loudly: "Jericho! +Jerichew! Je-ry-cho-o!" He produced a tortoise-shell snuff-box, and +Podge took a pinch, for fun, and sneezed until the tears came to her +eyes and her hair was shaken down. She wrote on the tablets,</p> + +<p>"Men could eat dirt and enjoy it."</p> + +<p>He replied, "At last dirt eats all the men."</p> + +<p>"It's to get rid of them!" wrote Podge. "My boys at school are dirty by +inclination. They will chew anything from a piece of India rubber shoe +to slippery elm and liquorice root. One piece of liquorice will +demoralize a whole class. They pass it around."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter replied, "The boys must have something in their mouths; the +girls in their heads!"</p> + +<p>"But not liquorice root," added Podge.</p> + +<p>"No; they put the boys in their heads!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" wrote Podge, "girls don't like boys. They like nice old men who +will pet them."</p> + +<p>Here Podge ran out of the room and the conversation in the front parlor +was renewed. The voice of Calvin Van de Lear said:</p> + +<p>"Agnes, looking at your affairs in the light of religious duty, as you +seem to prefer, I must tell you that your actions have not always been +perfect."</p> + +<p>Nothing was said in reply to this.</p> + +<p>"I am to be your pastor at some not distant day," spoke the same voice, +"and may take some of that privilege now. As a daughter of the church +you should give the encouragement of your beauty and favor only to +serious, and approved, and moral young men. Not such scapegraces as +Andrew Zane!"</p> + +<p>"Sir!" exclaimed Agnes, rising. "How dare you speak of the poor absent +one?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down," exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, not a bit discomposed. "I have +some disciplinary power now, and shall have more. A lady in full +communion with our church—a single woman without a living +guardian—requires to hear the truth, even from an erring brother. You +have no right to go outside the range at least of respectable men, to +place your affections and bestow your beauty and religion on a +particularly bad man—a criminal indeed—one already fled from this +community, and under circumstances of the greatest suspicion. I mean +Andrew Zane!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" exclaimed Agnes; "perhaps he is dead."</p> + +<p>A short and awkward quiet succeeded, broken by young Van de Lear's +interruption at last:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aggy, I don't know but it is the best thing. Is it so?"</p> + +<p>"For shame, sir!"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have come to any good. I know him well. We went to school +together here in Kensington. Under a light and agreeable exterior he +concealed an obstinacy almost devilish. All the tricks and daredevil +feats we heard of, he was at the head of them. After he grew up his eyes +fell on you. For a time he was soberer. Then, perceiving that you were +also his father's choice, he conspired against his father, repeatedly +absconded, and gave that father great trouble to find and return him to +his home, and still stepped between Mr. Zane and his wishes. Was that +the part of a grateful and obedient son?"</p> + +<p>Not a word was returned by Agnes Wilt.</p> + +<p>"How ill-advised," continued Calvin Van de Lear, "was your weakness +during that behavior! Do you know what the tattle of all Kensington is? +That you favored both the father and the son! That you declined the son +only because his father might disinherit him, and put off the father +because the son would have the longer enjoyment of his property! I have +defended you everywhere on these charges. They say even more, <i>Miss</i> +Agnes—if you prefer it—that the murder of the father was not committed +by Andrew Zane without an instigator, perhaps an accessory."</p> + +<p>The voice of Agnes was heard in hasty and anxious imploration:</p> + +<p>"For pity's sake, say no more. Be silent. Am I not bowed and wretched +enough?"</p> + +<p>She came hastily to the fissure of the door and looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> in, because Duff +Salter just then sneezed tremendously:</p> + +<p>"Jericho-o-o-o! Jer-ry-cho-o-o!"</p> + +<p>Podge Byerly reappeared with a pack of cards and shuffled them before +Duff Salter's face.</p> + +<p>They sat down and played a game of euchre for a cent a point, the +tablets at hand between them to write whatever was mindful. Duff Salter +was the best player.</p> + +<p>"I believe," wrote Podge, "that all Western men are gamblers. Are you?"</p> + +<p>He wrote, to her astonishment,</p> + +<p>"I was."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it a sin?"</p> + +<p>"Not there."</p> + +<p>"I thought gambling was a sin everywhere?"</p> + +<p>"It is everywhere done," wrote Duff Salter. "You are a gambler."</p> + +<p>"That's a fib."</p> + +<p>"You risk your heart, capturing another's."</p> + +<p>"My heart is gone," added Podge, blushing.</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" wrote Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"That's telling."</p> + +<p>Again the voices of the two people in the front parlor broke on Podge's +ear:</p> + +<p>"You must leave me, Mr. Van de Lear. You do not know the pain and wrong +you are doing me."</p> + +<p>"Agnes, I came to say I loved you. Your beauty has almost maddened me +for years. Your resistance would give me anger if I had not hope left. I +know you loved me once."</p> + +<p>"Sir, it is impossible; it is cruel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cruel to love you?" repeated the divinity student. "Come now, that's +absurd! No woman is annoyed by an offer. I swear I love you reverently. +I can put you at the head of this society—the wife of a clergyman. Busy +tongues shall be stilled at your coming and going, and the shadow of +this late tragedy will no more plague your reputation, protected in the +bosom of the church and nestled in mine."</p> + +<p>Sounds of a slight struggle were heard, as if the amorous young priest +were trying to embrace Agnes.</p> + +<p>Podge arose, listening.</p> + +<p>The face of Duff Salter was stolid, and unconscious of anything but the +game of cards.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, sir!" exclaimed Agnes, "that your attentions are offensive. +Will you force me to insult you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's all put on, my subtle beauty. You are not alarmed by these +delicate endearments. Give me a kiss!"</p> + +<p>"Calvin Van de Lear, you are a hypocrite. The gentleman you have +slandered to win my favor is as dear to me as you are repulsive. Nay, +sir, I'll teach you good behavior!"</p> + +<p>She threw open the folding-doors just as Duff Salter had come to a +terrific sneeze.</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jericho! Jer-rick-co-o-o-oh!"</p> + +<p>Looking in with bold suavity, Calvin Van de Lear made a bow and took up +his hat.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he said, "most reputable ladies, two of a kind!"</p> + +<p>"I think," wrote Duff Salter frigidly, as the young man slammed the door +behind him, "that we'll make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> a pitcher of port sangaree and have a +little glass before we go to bed. We will all three take a hand at +cards. What shall we play?"</p> + +<p>"Euchre—cut-throat!" exclaimed Podge Byerly, rather explosively.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter seemed to have heard this, for, with his grave eyes bent on +Agnes, he echoed, dubiously:</p> + +<p>"Cut-throat!"</p> + +<p>With an impatient motion Podge Byerly snatched at the cards, and they +fell to the floor.</p> + +<p>Agnes burst into tears and left the room.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word," thought Podge Byerly, "I believe this old gray rat is a +detective officer!"</p> + +<p>There was a shadow over the best residence on Queen Street.</p> + +<p>Anonymous letters continued to come in almost by every mail, making +charges and imputations upon Agnes, and frequently connecting Podge +Byerly with her.</p> + +<p>Terrible epithets—such as "Murderess!" "A second Mrs. Chapman!" +"Jezebel," etc.—were employed in these letters.</p> + +<p>Many of them were written by female hands or in very delicate male +chirography, as if men who wrote like women had their natures.</p> + +<p>There was one woman's handwriting the girls learned to identify, and she +wrote more often than any—more beautifully in the writing, more +shameless in the meaning, as if, with the nethermost experience in +sensuality, she was prepared to subtleize it and be the universal +accuser of her sex.</p> + +<p>"What fiends must surround us!" exclaimed Agnes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> "There must be a +punishment deeper than any for the writers of anonymous letters. A +murderer strikes the vital spot but once. Here every commandment is +broken in the cowardly secret letter. False witness, the stab, illicit +joy, covetousness, dishonor of father and mother, and defamation of +God's image in the heart, are all committed in these loathsome letters."</p> + +<p>"Yes," added Podge Byerly, "the woman who writes anonymous letters, I +think, will have a cancer, or wart on her eye, or marry a bow-legged +man. The resurrectionists will get her body, and the primary class in +the other world will play whip-top with the rest of her."</p> + +<p>Agnes and Podge went to church prayer-meeting the night following Calvin +Van de Lear's repulse at their dwelling, and Mr. Duff Salter gave each +of them an arm.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Van de Lear led the exercises, and, after several persons had +publicly prayed by the direction of the venerable pastor, Calvin Van de +Lear, of his own motion and as a matter of course, took the floor and +launched into a florid supplication almost too elegant to be extempore.</p> + +<p>As he continued, Podge Byerly, looking through her fingers, saw a +handsome, high-colored woman at Calvin's side, stealing glances at Agnes +Wilt.</p> + +<p>It was the wife of Calvin Van de Lear's brother, Knox—a blonde of +large, innocent eyes, who usually came with Calvin to the church.</p> + +<p>While Podge noticed this inquisitive or stray glance, she became +conscious that something in the prayer was directing the attention of +the whole meeting to their pew.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>People turned about, and, with startled or bold looks, observed Agnes +Wilt, whose head was bowed and her veil down.</p> + +<p>The voice of Calvin Van de Lear sounded high and meaningful as Podge +caught these sentences:</p> + +<p>"Lord, smite the wicked and unjust as thou smotest Sapphira by the side +of Ananias. We find her now in the mask of beauty, again of humility, +even, O Lord, of religion, leading the souls of men down to death and +hell. Thou knowest who stand before Thee to do lip service. All hearts +are open to Thee. If there be any here who have deceived Thine elect by +covetousness, or adultery, or <i>murder</i>, Lord, make bare Thine arm!"</p> + +<p>The rest of the sentence was lost in the terrific series of sneezes from +Duff Salter, who had taken too big a pinch of snuff and forgot himself, +so as to nearly lift the roof off the little old brick church with his +deeply accentuated,</p> + +<p>"Jer-i-cho-whoe!"</p> + +<p>Even old Silas Van de Lear looked over the top of the pulpit and smiled, +but, luckily, Duff Salter could hardly hear his own sneezes.</p> + +<p>As they left the church Agnes put down her veil, and trembled under the +stare of a hundred investigating critics.</p> + +<p>When they were in the street, Podge Byerly remarked:</p> + +<p>"Oh! that we had a man to resent such meanness as that. I think that +those who address God with slant arrows to wound others, as is often +done at prayer-meeting, will stand in perdition beside the writers of +anonymous letters."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are driving me to the last point," said Agnes. "I can go to church +no more. When will they get between me and heaven? Yet the Lord's will +be done."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE GHOST.</h3> + + +<p>Spring broke on the snug little suburb, and buds and birds fulfilled +their appointments on the boughs of willows, ailanthuses, lindens, and +maples. Some peach-trees in the back yard of the Zane House hastened to +put on their pink scarves and bonnets, and the boys said that an old +sucker of Penn's Treaty Elm down in a ship-yard was fresh and blithsome +as a second wife. In the hearts and views of living people, too, spring +brought a budding of youthfulness and a gush of sap. Duff Salter +acknowledged it as he looked in Podge Byerly's blue eyes and felt her +hands as they wrapped his scarf around him, or buttoned his gloves. +Whispering, and without the tablets this time, he articulated:</p> + +<p>"Happy for you, Mischief, that I am not young as these trees!"</p> + +<p>"We'll have you set out!" screamed Podge, "like a piece of hale old +willow, and you'll grow again!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter frequently walked almost to her school with Podge Byerly, +which was far down in the old city. They seldom took the general cut +through Maiden and Laurel Streets to Second, but kept down the river +bank by Beach Street, to see the ship-yards and hear the pounding of +rivets and the merry adzes ringing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> and see youngsters and old women +gathering chips, while the sails on the broad river came up on wind and +tide as if to shatter the pier-heads ere they bounded off.</p> + +<p>In the afternoons Duff Salter sometimes called on Rev. Silas Van de +Lear, who had great expectations that Duff would build them a +much-required new church, with the highest spire in Kensington.</p> + +<p>"Here, Brother Salter, is an historic spot," wrote the good old man. "I +shouldn't object to a spire on my church, with the figure of William +Penn on the summit. Friend William and his sons always did well by our +sect."</p> + +<p>"Is it an established fact that he treated with the Indians in +Kensington?" asked Duff Salter, on his ivory tablets.</p> + +<p>"Indisputable! Friend Penn took Thomas Fairman's house at +Shackamaxon—otherwise Eel-Hole—and in this pleasant springtime, April +4, 1683, he met King Tammany under the forest elm, with the savage +people in half-moon circles, looking at the healthy-fed and +business-like Quaker. There Tammany and his Indian allies surrendered +all the land between the Pennypack and Neshaminy."</p> + +<p>"A Tammany haul!" interrupted young Calvin Van de Lear, rather +idiotically. "What did the shrewd William give?"</p> + +<p>"Guns, scissors, knives, tongs, hoes, and Indian money, and +gew-gaws—not much. Philadelphia had no foundation then, and Shackamaxon +was an established place. We are the Knickerbockers here in +Kensington."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"An honest Quaker would not build a spire," wrote Duff Salter, with a +grim smile.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter was well known to the gossips of Kensington as a fabulously +rich man, who had spent his youth partly in this district, and was of +Kensington parentage, but had roved away to Mexico as a sailor boy, or +clerk, or passenger, and refusing to return, had become a mule-driver in +the mines of cinnabar, and there had remained for years in nearly +heathen solitude, until once he arrived overland in Arkansas with a +train from Chihuahua, the whole of it, as was said, laden with silver +treasure, and his own property. He had been disappointed in love, and +had no one to leave his riches to. This was the story told by Reverend +Silas Van de Lear.</p> + +<p>The people of Kensington were less concerned with the truth of this tale +than with the future intentions of the visitor.</p> + +<p>"How long he tarries in Zane's homestead!" said the people that spring. +"Hasn't he settled that estate yet?"</p> + +<p>"It never will be settled if he can help it," said public Echo, "as long +as there are two fine young women there, and one of them so fascinating +over men!"</p> + +<p>Indeed, Duff Salter received letters, anonymous, of course—the +anonymous letter was then the suburban press—admonishing him to beware +of his siren hostess.</p> + +<p>"<i>She has ruined two men</i>," said the elegant female handwriting before +observed. "<i>You must want to be the subject of a coroner's inquest. That +house is bloody and haunted, rich Mr. Duff Salter! Beware of Lady +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>Agnes, the murderess! Beware, too, of her accomplice, the insinuating +little Byerly!</i>"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter walked out one day to make the tour of Kensington. He passed +out the agreeable old Frankford road, with its wayside taverns, and hay +carts, and passing omnibuses, and occasional old farm-like houses, +interspersed with newer residences of a city character, and he strolled +far up Cohocksink Creek till it meandered through billowy fields of +green, and skirted the edges of woods, and all the way was followed by a +path made by truant boys. Sitting down by a spring that gushed up at the +foot of a great sycamore tree, the grandly bearded traveller, all +flushed with the roses of exercise, made no unpleasing picture of a Pan +waiting for Echo by appointment, or holding talk with the grazing goats +of the poor on the open fields around him.</p> + +<p>"How changed!" spoke the traveller aloud. "I have caught fishes all +along this brook, and waded up its bed in summer to cool my feet. The +girl was beside me whose slender feet in innocent exposure were placed +by mine to shame their coarser mould. We thought we were in love, or as +near it as are the outskirts to some throbbing town partly instinctive +with a coming civic destiny. Alas! the little brook that once ran +unvexed to the river, freshening green marshes at its outlet, has become +a sewer, discolored with dyes of factories, and closed around by +tenements and hovels till its purer life is over. My playmate, too, +flowed on to womanhood, till the denser social conditions shut her in; +she mingled the pure current of her life with another more turgid, and +dull-eyed children, like houses of the sub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>urbs, are builded on her +bosom. I am alone, like this old tree, beside the spring where once I +was a sapling, and still, like its waters, youth wells and wells, and +keeps us yet both green in root. Come back, O Love! and freshen me, and, +like a rill, flow down my closing years!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter's shoulder was touched as he ceased to speak, and he found +young Calvin Van de Lear behind him.</p> + +<p>"I have followed you out to the country," said the young man, howling in +the elder's ear, "because I wanted to talk to you aloud, as I couldn't +do in Kensington."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter drew his storied ivory tablets on the divinity student, and +said, crisply, "Write!"</p> + +<p>"No, old man, that's not my style. It's too slow. Besides, it admits of +nothing impressive being said, and I want to convince you."</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "Young man, if you stun my ear +that way a third time I'll knock you down. I'm deaf, it's true, but I'm +not a hallooing scale to try your lungs on. If you won't write, we can't +talk."</p> + +<p>With impatience, yet smiling, Calvin Van de Lear wrote on the tablets,</p> + +<p>"Have you seen the ghost?"</p> + +<p>"Ghost?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the ghosts of the murdered men!"</p> + +<p>"I never saw a ghost of anything in my life. What men?"</p> + +<p>"William Zane and Sayler Rainey."</p> + +<p>"Who has seen them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Several people. Some say it's but one that has been seen. Zane's ghost +walks, anyway, in Kensington."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"The fishwomen and other superstitious people say, because their +murderers have not been punished."</p> + +<p>"And the murderers are—"</p> + +<p>"Those who survived and profited by the murder, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Jer-ri-choo-woo!" exploded Duff Salter. "Young man," he wrote +deliberately, "you have an idle tongue."</p> + +<p>"Friend Salter, you are blind as well as deaf. Do you know Miss Podge +Byerly?"</p> + +<p>"No. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"She's common! Agnes Wilt uses her as a stool-pigeon. She fetches, and +carries, and flies by night. One of the school directors shoved her on +the public schools for intimate considerations. Perhaps you'll see him +about the house if you look sharp and late some night."</p> + +<p>"Jer-rich-co! Jericho!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter was decidedly red in the face, and his grave gray eyes +looked both fierce and convicted. He <i>had</i> seen a school director +visiting the house, but thought it natural enough that he should take a +kind interest in one of the youthful and pretty teachers. The deaf man +returned to his pencil and tablets.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Mr. Van de Lear, that what you are saying is indictable +language? It would have exposed you to death where I have lived."</p> + +<p>The young man tossed his head recklessly. Duff<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Salter now saw that his +usually sallow face was flushed up to the roots of his long dry hair and +almost colorless whiskers, as if he had been drinking liquors. +Forgetting to use the tablets, Calvin spoke aloud, but not in as high a +key as formerly:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salter, Agnes Wilt has no heart. She was a step-niece of the late +Mrs. Zane—her brother's daughter. The girl's father was a poor +professional man, and died soon after his child was born, followed at no +great distance to the grave by his widow. While a child, Agnes was cold +and subtle. She professed to love me—that was the understanding in our +childhood. She has forgotten me as she has forgotten many other men. But +she is beautiful, and I want to marry her. You can help me."</p> + +<p>"What do you want with a cold and calculating woman?" wrote Duff Salter +stiffly. "What do you want particularly with such a dangerous woman—a +demon, as you indicate?"</p> + +<p>"I want to save her soul, and retrieve her from wickedness. Upon my +word, old man, that's my only game. You see, to effect that object would +set me up at once with the church people. I'm told that a little +objection to my prospects in the governor's church begins to break out. +If I can marry Agnes Wilt, she will recover her position in Kensington, +and make me more welcome in families. I don't mind telling you that I +have been a little gay."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," wrote Duff Salter smilingly. "So were the sons of +Eli."</p> + +<p>"Correct!" retorted Calvin. "I need a taming down, and only matrimony +can do it. Now, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> your aid I can manage it. Miss Wilt does not fancy +me. She can be made to do so, however, by two causes."</p> + +<p>"And they are—"</p> + +<p>"Her fears and her avarice. I propose to bring this murder close home to +her. If not a principal in it, she is an undoubted accessory after the +fact. Andrew Zane paid her a visit the night the dead bodies were +discovered in the river."</p> + +<p>"You are sure of this?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. I have had a detective on his track; too late to arrest the +rascal, but the identity of a sailor man who penetrated into the house +by the coal-hole is established by the discovery of the clothing he +exchanged for that disguise—it was Andrew Zane. Concealment of that +fact from the law will make her an accessory."</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter, but with a pale face, and said:</p> + +<p>"That fact established would be serious; but it would be a gratuitous +and vile act for you, who profess to love her."</p> + +<p>"It is love that prompts me—love and pain! A divine anger, I may call +it. I propose to make myself her rescuer afterward, and establish myself +in her gratitude and confidence. You are to help me do this by watching +the house from the inside."</p> + +<p>"Dishonorable!"</p> + +<p>"You were the friend of William Zane, the murdered man. Every obligation +of friendship impels you to discover his murderer. You are rich; lend me +money to continue my investigations. I know this is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> a cool proposition; +but it is better than spending it on churches."</p> + +<p>"Very well," wrote Duff Salter, "as the late Mr. Zane's executor, I will +spend any proper sum of money to inflict retribution upon his injurers. +I will watch the house."</p> + +<p>They went home through Palmer Street, on which stood the little brick +church—the street said to be occasionally haunted by Governor Anthony +Palmer's phantom coach and four, which was pursued by his twenty-one +children in plush breeches and Panama hats, crying, "Water lots! water +fronts! To let! to lease!"</p> + +<p>As Duff Salter entered the house he saw the school director indicated by +Calvin Van de Lear sitting in the parlor with Podge Byerly. For the +first time Duff Salter noticed that they looked both intimate and +confused. He tried to reason himself out of this suspicion. "Pshaw," he +said; "it was my uncharitable imagination. I'll go back, as if to get +something, and look more carefully."</p> + +<p>As the deaf man reopened the parlor-door he saw the school director +making a motion as if to embrace Podge, who was full of blushes and +appearing to shrink away.</p> + +<p>"There's no imagination about that," thought Duff Salter. "If I could +only hear well enough my ears might counsel me."</p> + +<p>He felt dejected, and his suspicions colored everything—a most +deplorable state of mind for a gentleman. Agnes, too, looked guilty, as +he thought, and hardly addressed a smile to him as he passed up to his +room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duff Salter put on his slippers, lighted his gas, drew the curtains down +and set the door ajar, for in the increasing warmth of spring his grate +fire was almost an infliction.</p> + +<p>"I have not been wise nor just," he said to himself. "My pleasing +reception in this house, and feminine arts, have altogether obliterated +my great duty, which was to avenge my friend. Yes, suspicion was my +duty. I should have been suspicious from the first. Even this vicious +young Van de Lear, shallow as he is, becomes my unconscious accuser. He +says, with truth, that every obligation of friendship impels me to +discover the murderers of William Zane."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter arose, in the warmth of his feelings, and paced up and down +the floor.</p> + +<p>"Ah, William Zane," he said, "how does thy image come back to me! I was +the only friend he would permit. In pride of will and solitary purpose +he was the greatest of all. Rough, unpolished, a poor scholar, but full +of energy, he desired nothing but he believed it his. He desired me to +be his friend, and I could not have resisted if I would. He made me go +with him even on his truant expeditions, and carry his game bag along +the banks of the Tacony, or up the marshes of Rancocus. Yet it was a +happy servitude; for beneath his impetuous mastery was a soul of +devotion. He loved like Jove, and permitted no interposition in his +flame; his dogmatism and force were barbarous, but he gave like a child +and fought like a lion. I saw him last as he was about to enter on +business, in the twenty-first year of his age, an anxious young man with +black hair in natural ringlets, a pale brow, gray eyes wide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> apart, and +a narrow but wilful chin. He was ever on pivot, ready to spring. And +murdered!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter looked at the door standing ajar, attracted there by some +movement, or light, or shadow, and the very image he was describing met +his gaze. There were the black ringlets, the pale forehead, the anxious +yet wilful expression, and the years of youthful manhood. It was nothing +in this world if not William Zane!</p> + +<p>Duff Salter felt paralyzed for a minute, as the blood flowed back to his +heart, and a sense of fright overcame him. Then he moved forward on +tip-toe, as if the image might dissolve. It did dissolve as he advanced; +with a tripping motion it receded and left a naked space. In the +darkness of the stairway it absorbed itself, and the deaf man grasped +the balustrade where it had stood, and by his trembling shook the rails +violently. He then staggered back to his mantel, first bolting the door, +as if instinctively, and swallowed a draught of brandy from a medicinal +bottle there.</p> + +<p>"There is a ghost abroad!" exclaimed Duff Salter with a shudder. "I have +seen it."</p> + +<p>He turned the gas on very brightly, so as to soothe his fears with +companionable light. Then, while the perspiration stood upon his +forehead, Duff Salter sat down to think.</p> + +<p>"Why does it haunt me?" he said. "Yet whom but me should it haunt?—the +executor of my friend, intrusted with his dying wishes, bound to him by +ancient ties, and recreant to the high duty of punishing his murderers? +The ghost of William Zane admonishes me that there can be no repose for +my spirit until I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> take in hand the work of vengeance. Yes, if women +have been accessory to that murder, they shall not be spared. Miss Agnes +is under surveillance; let her be blameless, or beware!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>ENCOMPASSED.</h3> + + +<p>"He looks scared out of last year's growth," remarked Podge Byerly when +Duff Salter came down-stairs next day.</p> + +<p>"Happy for him, dear, he is not able to hear what is around him in this +place!" exclaimed Agnes aloud.</p> + +<p>They always talked freely before their guest, and he could scarcely be +alarmed even by an explosion.</p> + +<p>Duff wrote on his tablets during breakfast:</p> + +<p>"I must employ a smart man to do errands for me, and rid me of some of +the burdens of this deafness. Do you know of any one?"</p> + +<p>"A mere laborer?" inquired Agnes.</p> + +<p>"Well, an old-fashioned, still-mouthed fellow like myself—one who can +understand my dumb motions."</p> + +<p>Agnes shook her head.</p> + +<p>Said Duff Salter to himself:</p> + +<p>"She don't want me to find such an one, I guess." Then, with the tablets +again, he added, "It's necessary for me to hunt a man at once, and keep +him here on the premises, close by me. I have almost finished up this +work of auditing and clearing the estate. I intend now to pay some +attention to the tragedy, accident, or whatever it was, that led to Mr. +Zane's cutting off. You will second me warmly in this, I am sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>Agnes turned pale, and felt the executor's eyes upon her.</p> + +<p>Podge Byerly was pale too.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter did not give them any opportunity to recover composure.</p> + +<p>"To leave the settlement of this estate with such a cloud upon it would +be false to my trust, to my great friend's memory, and, I may add, to +all here. There is a mystery somewhere which has not been pierced. It is +very probably a domestic entanglement. I shall expect you (to Agnes), +and you, too," turning to Podge, "to be absolutely frank with me. Miss +Agnes, have you seen Andrew Zane since his father's body was brought +into this house!"</p> + +<p>Agnes looked around helplessly and uncertain. She took the tablets to +write a reply. Something seemed to arise in her mind to prevent the +intention. She burst into tears and left the table.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" thought Duff Salter grimly, "there will be no confession there. +Then, little Miss Byerly, I will try to throw off its guard thy saucy +perversity; for surely these two women understand each other."</p> + +<p>After breakfast he followed Podge Byerly down Queen Street and through +Beach, and came up with her as she went out of Kensington to the +Delaware water-front about the old Northern Liberties district.</p> + +<p>Duff bowed with a little of diffidence amid all his gravity, and sneezed +as if to hide it:</p> + +<p>"Jericho!—Miss Podge, see the time—eight o'clock, and an hour before +school. Let us go look at the river."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>They walked out on the wharf, and were wholly concealed from shore by +piles of cord-wood and staves.</p> + +<p>"I like to get off here, away from listeners, where I need not be +bellowed at and tire out well-meaning lungs. Now—Jericho! Jericho!" he +sneezed, without any sort of meaning. "Miss Podge," said Duff Salter, +"if you look directly into my eyes and articulate distinctly, I can hear +all you say without raising your voice higher than usual. How much money +do you get for school teaching?"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>"Is that all? What do you do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Support my mother and brother."</p> + +<p>"And yourself also?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes."</p> + +<p>"She can't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter inwardly; "that director comes +in the case. Miss Podge, how old is your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-four. He's my junior," she said archly. "I'm old."</p> + +<p>"Why do you support a man twenty-four years old? Did he meet with an +accident?"</p> + +<p>"He was taken sick, and will never be well," answered Podge warily.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me!" exclaimed Duff Salter, "was it constitutional disease? You +know I am interested."</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He was misled. A woman, much older than himself, infatuated +him while a boy, and he married her, and she broke his health and ruined +him."</p> + +<p>Podge's eyes fell for the first time.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter grasped her hand.</p> + +<p>"And you tell me!" he exclaimed, "that you keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> three grown people on +five hundred dollars a year? Don't you get help from any other quarter?"</p> + +<p>"Agnes has given me board for a hundred dollars a year," said Podge, +"but times have changed with her now, and money is scarce. She would +take other boarders, but public opinion is against her on all sides. +It's against me too. But for love we would have separated long ago."</p> + +<p>Podge's tears came.</p> + +<p>"What right had you," exclaimed Duff Salter, rather angrily, "to +maintain a whole family on the servitude of your young body, wearing its +roundness down to bone, exciting your nervous system, and inviting +premature age upon a nature created for a longer girlhood, and for the +solace of love?"</p> + +<p>She did not feel the anger in his tones; it seemed like protection, for +which she had hungered.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, all women must support their poor kin."</p> + +<p>"Men don't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter, pushing aside his gray apron +of beard to see her more distinctly. "Did that brother who rushed in +vicious precocity to maintain another and a wicked woman ever think of +relieving you from hard labor?"</p> + +<p>"He never could be anything less to me than brother!" exclaimed Podge; +"but, Mr. Salter, if that was only all I had to trouble me! Oh, sir, +work is occupation, but work harassed with care for others becomes +unreal. I cannot sleep, thinking for Agnes. I cannot teach, my head +throbs so. That river, so cold and impure, going along by the wharves, +seems to suck and plash all day in my ears, as we see and hear it now. +At my desk I seem to see those low shores and woods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> and marshes, on the +other side, and the chatter of children, going all day, laps and eddies +up like dirty waves between me and that indistinct boundary. I am +floating on the river current, drowning as I feel, reaching out for +nothing, for nothing is there. All day long it is so. I was the best +teacher in my rank, with certainty of promotion. I feel that I am losing +confidence. It is the river, the river, and has been so since it gave up +those dead bodies to bring us only ghosts and desolation."</p> + +<p>"It was a faithful witness," spoke Duff Salter, still harsh, as if under +an inner influence. "Yes, a boy—a little boy such as you teach at +school—had the strength to break the solid shield of ice under which +the river held up the dead and bring the murder out. Do you ever think +of that as you hear a spectral river surge and buoy upward, whose waves +are made by children's murmurs—innocent children haunting the guilty?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean me, Mr. Salter? Nothing haunts me but care."</p> + +<p>"I have been haunted by a ghost," continued Duff Salter. "Yes, the ghost +of my playmate has come to my threshold and peeped on me sitting there +inattentive to his right to vengeance. We shall all be haunted till we +give our evidence for the dead. No rest will come till that is done."</p> + +<p>"I must go," cried Podge Byerly. "You terrify me."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," asked Duff Salter in a low tone, "has Andrew Zane been seen +by Agnes Wilt since he escaped?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell me, and I will give you a sum of money which shall get you rest +for years. Open your mind to me, and I will send you to Europe. Your +brother shall be my brother; your invalid mother will receive abundant +care. I will even ask you to love me!"</p> + +<p>An instant's blushes overspread Podge's worn, pale face, and an +expression of restful joy. Then recurring indignation made her pale +again to the very roots of her golden hair.</p> + +<p>"Betray my friend!" she exclaimed. "Never, till she will give me leave."</p> + +<p>"I have lost my confidence in you both," said Duff Salter coldly, +releasing Podge's arm. "You have been so indifferent in the face of this +crime and public opinion as to receive your lovers in the very parlor +where my dead friend lay. Agnes has admitted it by silence. I have seen +your lover releasing you from his arms. Miss Byerly, I thought you +artless, even in your arts, and only the dupe, perhaps, of a stronger +woman. I hoped that you were pure. You have made me a man of suspicion +and indifference again." His face grew graver, yet unbelieving and hard.</p> + +<p>Podge fled from his side with alarm; he saw her handkerchief staunching +her tears, and people watching her as she nearly ran along the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jerichoo! Jer—"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter did not finish the sneeze, but with a long face called for a +boat and rower to take him across to Treaty Island.</p> + +<p>Podge arrived at school just as the bell was ringing, and, still in +nervousness and tears, took her place in her division while the Bible +was read. She saw the princi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>pal's eye upon her as she took off her +bonnet and moistened her face, and the boys looked up a minute or two +inquiringly, but soon relapsed to their individual selfishness. When the +glass sashes dividing the rooms were closed and the recitations began, +the lapping sound of the river started anew. A film grew on her eyes, +and in it appeared the distant Jersey and island shore, with the +uncertain boundary of point, cove, and marsh, like a misty cold line, +cheerless and void of life or color, as it was every day, yet standing +there as if it merely came of right and was the river's true border, and +was not to be hated as such. Podge strained to look through the +illusion, and walked down the aisle once, where it seemed to be, and +touched the plaster of the wall. She had hardly receded when it +reappeared, and all between it and her mind was merely empty river, +wallowing and lapping and sucking and subsiding, as if around submerged +piers, or wave was relieving wave from the weight of floating things +like rafts, or logs, or buoys, or bodies. Into this wide waste of muddy +ripples every sound in the school-room swam, and also sights and colors, +till between her eye-lash and that filmy distant margin nothing existed +but a freshet, alive yet with nothing, eddying around with purposeless +power, and still moving onward with an under force. The open book in her +hand appeared like a great white wharf, or pier, covered with lime and +coal in spots and places, and pushed forward into this hissing, +rippling, exclaiming deluge, which washed its base and spread beyond. +Podge could barely read a question in the book, and the sound of her +voice was like gravel or sand pushed off the wharf into the river and +swallowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> there. She thought she heard an answer in a muddy tone and +gave the question out again, and there seemed to be laughter, as if the +waters, or what was drowned in them, chuckled and purled, going along. +She raised her eyes above the laughers, and there the boundary line of +Jersey stood defined, and all in front of it was the drifting Delaware. +It seemed to her that boys were darting to and fro and swapping seats, +and one boy had thrown a handful of beans. She walked down the aisle as +if into water, wading through pools and waves of boys, who plashed and +gurgled around her. She walked back again, and a surf of boys was thrown +at her feet. The waters rose and licked and spilled and flowed onward +again. Podge felt a sense of strangling, as if going down, in a hollow +gulf of resounding wave, and shouted:</p> + +<p>"Help! Save me! Save me!"</p> + +<p>She heard a voice like the principal teacher's, say in a lapping, watery +way, "Miss Byerly, what is the meaning of this? Your division is in +disorder. Nobody has recited. Unless you are ill I must suspend you and +call another teacher here."</p> + +<p>"Help! I'm floating off upon the river. Save me! I drown! I drown!"</p> + +<p>The scholars were all up and excited. The principal motioned another +lady teacher to come, and laid Podge's head in the other's lap.</p> + +<p>"Is it brain fever?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She has been under great excitement," Podge heard the other lady say. +"The Zane murder occurred in her family. Last night, I have been told, +Miss Byerly refused Mr. Bunn, our principal school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> director, and a man +of large means, who had long been in love with her."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" said the principal.</p> + +<p>"I heard it from his sister," said the other lady. "Mortified at her +refusal, because confident that she would accept him, he sailed this day +for Europe."</p> + +<p>These were the last words Podge Byerly heard. Then it seemed that the +waters closed over her head.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Agnes, left alone in the homestead, had a few days of perfect relief, +except from anonymous letters and newspaper clippings delivered by mail. +That refined handwriting which had steadily poured out the venom of some +concealed hostility survived all other correspondence—delicate as the +graceful circles of the tiniest fish-hooks whose points and barbs enter +deepest in the flesh.</p> + +<p>"Whom can this creature be?" asked Agnes, bringing up her strong mind +from its trouble. "I can have made no such bitter enemy by any act of +mine. A man would hardly pursue so light a purpose with such stability. +There is more than jealousy in it; it is sincere hate, drawn, I should +think, from a deep social or mental resentment, and enraged because I do +not sink under my troubles. Yes, this must be a woman who believes me +innocent but wishes my ruin. Some one, perhaps, who is sinning +unsuspected, and, in her envy of another and purer one, gloats in the +scandal which does not justly stain me. The anonymous letter," thought +Agnes, "is a malignant form of conscience, after all!"</p> + +<p>But life, as it was growing to be in the Zane house,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> was hardly worth +living. Podge Byerly was broken down and dangerously ill at her mother's +little house. All of Agnes's callers had dropped off, and she felt that +she could no longer worship, except as a show, at Van de Lear's church; +but this deprivation only deepened Agnes's natural devotion. Duff Salter +saw her once, and oftener heard her praying, as the strong wail of it +ascending through the house pierced even his ears.</p> + +<p>"That woman," said Duff, "is wonderfully armed; with beauty, courage, +mystery, witchery, she might almost deceive a God."</p> + +<p>The theory that the house was haunted confirmed the other theory that a +crime rested upon its inmates.</p> + +<p>"Why should there be a ghost unless there had been a murder?" asked the +average gossip and Fishtowner, to whom the marvellous was certain and +the real to be inferred from it. Duff Salter believed in the ghost, as +Agnes was satisfied; he had become unsocial and suspicious in look, and +after two or three days of absence from the house, succeeding Podge's +disappearance, entered it with his new servant.</p> + +<p>Agnes did not see the servant at all for some days, though knowing that +he had come. The cook said he was an accommodating man, ready to help +her at anything, and of no "airs." He entered and went, the cook said, +by the back gate, always wiped his feet at the door, and appeared like a +person of not much "bringing up." One day Agnes had to descend to the +kitchen, and there she saw a strange man eating with the cook; a rough +person with a head of dark red hair and grayish red beard all round his +mouth and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> under his chin. She observed that he was one-legged, and used +a common wooden crutch on the side of the wooden leg. Two long scars +covered his face, and one shaggy eyebrow was higher than the other.</p> + +<p>"I axes your pardon," said the man; "me and cook takes our snack when we +can, mum."</p> + +<p>A day or two after Agnes passed the same man again at the landing on the +stairway. He bowed, and said in his Scotch or Irish dialect,</p> + +<p>"God bless ye, mum!"</p> + +<p>Agnes thought to herself that she had not given the man credit for a +certain rough grace which she now perceived, and as she turned back to +look at him he was looking at her with a fixed, incomprehensible +expression.</p> + +<p>"Am I being watched?" thought Agnes.</p> + +<p>One day, in early June, as Agnes entered the parlor, she found Reverend +Silas Van de Lear there. At the sight of this good old man, the +patriarch of Kensington, by whom she had been baptized and received into +the communion, Agnes Wilt felt strongly moved, the more that in his eyes +was a regard of sympathy just a little touched with doubt.</p> + +<p>"My daughter!" exclaimed the old man, in his clear, practised +articulation, "you are daily in my prayers!"</p> + +<p>The tears came to Agnes, and as she attempted to wipe them away the good +old gentleman drew her head to his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I cannot let myself think any evil of you, dear sister, in God's +chastising providence," said the clergyman. "Among the angels, in the +land that is awaiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> me, I had expected to see the beautiful face +which has so often encouraged my preaching, and looked up at me from +Sabbath-school and church. You do not come to our meetings any more. My +dear, let us pray together in your affliction."</p> + +<p>The old man knelt in the parlor and raised his voice in prayer—a clear, +considerate, judicial, sincere prayer, such as age and long authority +gave him the right to address to heaven. He was not unacquainted with +sorrow himself; his children had given him much concern, and even +anguish, and in Calvin was his last hope. A thread of wicked commonplace +ran through them all; his sterling nature in their composition was lost +like a grain of gold in a mass of alloy. They had nothing ideal, no +reverence, no sense of delicacy. Taking to his arms a face and form that +pleased him, the minister had not ingrafted upon it one babe of any +divinity; that coarser matrix received the sacred flame as mere mud +extinguishes the lightning. He fell into this reminiscence of personal +disappointment unwittingly, as in the process of his prayer he strove to +comfort Agnes. The moment he did so the cold magistracy of the prayer +ceased, and his voice began to tremble, and there ran between the +ecclesiastic and his parishioner the electric spark of mutual grief and +understanding.</p> + +<p>The old man hesitated, and became choked with emotion.</p> + +<p>As he stopped, and the pause was prolonged, Agnes herself, by a powerful +inner impulsion, took up the prayer aloud, and carried it along like +inspiration. She was not of the strong-minded type of women, rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> of +the wholly loving; but the deep afflictions of the past few months, +working down into the crevices and cells of her nature, had struck the +impervious bed of piety, and so deluged it with sorrow and the lonely +sense of helplessness that now a cry like an appeal to judgment broke +from her, not despair nor accusation, but an appeal to the very equity +of God.</p> + +<p>It arose so frankly and in such majesty, finding its own aptest words by +its unconscious instinct, that the aged minister was presently aware of +a preternatural power at his side. Was this woman a witch, genius, +demon, or the very priestess of God, he asked.</p> + +<p>The solemn prayer ranged into his own experience by that touch of nature +which unlocks the secret spring of all, being true unto its own deep +needs. The minister was swept along in the resistless current of the +prayer, and listened as if he were the penitent and she the priest. As +the petition died away in Agnes's physical exhaustion, the venerable man +thought to himself:</p> + +<p>"When Jacob wrestled all night at Peniel, his angel must have been a +woman like this; for she has power with God and with men!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>FOCUS.</h3> + + +<p>Calvin Van de Lear had been up-stairs with Duff Salter, and on his way +out had heard the voice of Agnes Wilt praying. He slipped into the back +parlor and listened at the crevice of the folding-door until his father +had given the pastoral benediction and departed. Then with cool +effrontery Calvin walked into the front<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> parlor, where Agnes was sitting +by the slats of the nearly darkened window.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Agnes," he said. "I was calling on the deaf old gentleman +up-stairs, and perceiving that devotions were being conducted here, +stopped that I might not interrupt them."</p> + +<p>Calvin's commonplace nature had hardly been dazed by Agnes's prayer. He +was only confirmed in the idea that she was a woman of genius, and would +take half the work of a pastor off his hands. In the light of both +desire and convenience she had, therefore, appreciated in his eyes. To +marry her, become the proprietor of her snug home and ravishing person, +and send her off to pray with the sick and sup with the older women of +the flock, seemed to him such a comfortable consummation as to have +Heaven's especial approval. Thus do we deceive ourselves when the spirit +of God has departed from us, even in youth, and construe our dreams of +selfishness to be glimmerings of a purer life.</p> + +<p>Calvin was precocious in assurance, because, in addition to being +unprincipled, he was in a manner ordained by election and birthright to +rule over Kensington. His father had been one of those strong-willed, +clear-visioned, intelligent young Eastern divinity students who brought +to a place of more voluptuous and easy burgher society the secular vigor +of New England pastors. Being always superior and always sincere, his +rule had been ungrumblingly accepted. Another generation, at middle age, +found him over them as he had been over their parents—a righteous, +intrepid Protestant priest, good at denunciation, counsel, humor, or +sympathy. The elders and deacons never thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> objecting to anything +after he had insisted upon it, and in this spirit the whole church had +heard submissively that Calvin Van de Lear was to be their next pastor. +This, of course, was conditional upon his behavior, and all knew that +his father would be the last man to impose an injurious person on the +church; they had little idea that "Cal." Van de Lear was devout, but +took the old man's word that grace grew more and more in the sons of the +Elect, and the young man had already professed "conviction," and +voluntarily been received into the church. There he assumed, like an +heir-apparent, the vicarship of the congregation, and it rather +delighted his father that his son so promptly and complacently took +direction of things, made his quasi pastoral rounds, led +prayer-meetings, and exhorted Sunday-schools and missions. A priest +knows the heart of his son no more than a king, and is less suspicious +of him. The king's son may rebel from deferred expectation; the priest's +son can hardly conspire against his father's pulpit. In the minister's +family the line between the world and the faith is a wavering one; +religion becomes a matter of course, and yet is without the mystery of +religion as elsewhere, so that wife and sons regard ecclesiastical +ambition as meritorious, whether the heart be in it piously or +profanely. Calvin Van de Lear was in the church fold of his own accord, +and his father could no more read that son's heart than any other +member's. Indeed, the good old man was especially obtuse in the son's +case, from his partiality, and thus grew up together on the same root +the flower of piety and hypocrisy, the tree and the sucker.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Calvin," replied Agnes, "I do not object to your necessary visits here. +Your father is very dear to me."</p> + +<p>"But can't I return to the subject we last talked of?" asked the young +man, shrewdly.</p> + +<p>"No. That is positively forbidden."</p> + +<p>"Agnes," continued Calvin, "you must know I love you!"</p> + +<p>Agnes sank to her seat again with a look of resignation.</p> + +<p>"Calvin," she said, "this is not the time. I am not the person for such +remarks. I have just risen from my knees; my eyes are not in this +world."</p> + +<p>"You will be turning nun if this continues."</p> + +<p>"I am in God's hands," said Agnes. "Yet the hour is dark with me."</p> + +<p>"Agnes, let me lift some of your burden upon myself. You don't hate me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I wish you every happiness, Calvin."</p> + +<p>"Is there nothing you long for—nothing earthly and within the compass +of possibility?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" Agnes arose and walked across the floor almost +unconsciously, with the palms of her hands held high together above her +head. As she walked to and fro the theological student perceived a +change so extraordinary in her appearance since his last visit that he +measured her in his cool, worldly gaze as a butcher would compute the +weight of a cow on chance reckoning.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear Agnes?"</p> + +<p>He spoke with a softness of tone little in keeping with his unfeeling, +vigilant face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, give me love! Now, if ever, it is love! Love only, that can lift me +up and cleanse my soul!"</p> + +<p>"Love lies everywhere around you," said the young man. "You trample it +under your feet. My heart—many hearts—have felt the cruel treatment. +Agnes, <i>you</i> must love also."</p> + +<p>"I try to do so," she exclaimed, "but it is not the perfect love that +casteth out fear! God knows I wish it was."</p> + +<p>Her eyes glanced down, and a blush, sudden and deep, spread over her +features. The young man lost nothing of all this, but with alert +analysis took every expression and action in.</p> + +<p>"May I become your friend if greater need arises, Agnes? Do not repulse +me. At the worst—I swear it!—I will be your instrument, your subject."</p> + +<p>Agnes sat in the renewed pallor of profound fear. God, on whom she had +but a moment before called, seemed to have withdrawn His face. Her black +ringlets, smoothed upon her noble brow in wavy lines, gave her something +of a Roman matron's look; her eyebrows, dark as the eyes beneath that +now shrank back yet shone the larger, might have befitted an Eastern +queen. Lips of unconscious invitation, and features produced in their +wholeness which bore out a character too perfect not to have lived +sometime in the realms of the great tragedies of life, made Agnes in her +sorrow peerless yet.</p> + +<p>"Go, Calvin!" she said, with an effort, her eyes still upon the floor; +"if you would ever do me any aid, go now!"</p> + +<p>As he passed into the passageway Calvin Van de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> Lear ran against a man +with a crutch and a wooden leg, who looked at him from under a head of +dark-red hair, and in a low voice cursed his awkwardness. The man bent +to pick up his crutch, and Calvin observed that he was badly scarred and +had one eyebrow higher than the other.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, fellow?" asked Calvin, surprised.</p> + +<p>"I'm Dogcatcher!" said the man. "When ye see me coming, take the other +side of the street."</p> + +<p>Calvin felt cowed, not so much at these mysterious words as at a hard, +lowering look in the man's face, like especial dislike.</p> + +<p>Agnes Wilt, still sitting in the parlor, saw the lame servant pass her +door, going out, and he looked in and touched his hat, and paused a +minute. Something graceful and wistful together seemed to be in his +bearing and countenance.</p> + +<p>"Anything for me?" asked Agnes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, mum! When there's nobody by to do a job, call on Mike."</p> + +<p>He still seemed to tarry, and in Agnes's nervous condition a mysterious +awe came over her; the man's gaze had a dread fascination that would not +let her drop her eyes. As he passed out of sight and shut the street +door behind him Agnes felt a fainting feeling, as if an apparition had +looked in upon her and vanished—the apparition, if of anything, of him +who had lain dead in that very parlor—the stern, enamored master of the +house whose fatherhood in a fateful moment had turned to marital desire, +and crushed the luck of all the race of Zanes.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter was sitting at his writing table, with an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> open snuff-box +before him, and, as Calvin Van de Lear entered his room, Duff took a +large pinch of snuff and shoved the tablets forward. Calvin wrote on +them a short sentence. As Duff Salter read it he started to his feet and +sneezed with tremendous energy:</p> + +<p>"Jeri-cho! Jericho! Jerry-cho-o-o!"</p> + +<p>He read the sentence again, and whispered very low:</p> + +<p>"Can't you be mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as you sit there!" wrote Calvin Van de Lear.</p> + +<p>"What is your inference?" wrote Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"Seduction!"</p> + +<p>The two men looked at each other silently a few minutes, Duff Salter in +profound astonishment, Calvin Van de Lear with an impudent smile.</p> + +<p>"And so religious!" wrote Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"That is always incidental to the condition," answered Calvin.</p> + +<p>"It must be a great blow to your affection?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," scrawled the minister's son. "It gives me a sure thing."</p> + +<p>"Explain that!"</p> + +<p>"I will throw the marriage mantle over her. She will need me now!"</p> + +<p>"But you would not take a wife out of such a situation?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes. She will be as handsome as ever, and only half as proud."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter walked up and down the floor and stroked his long beard, and +his usually benevolent expression was now dark and ominous, as if with +gloom and anger. He spoke in a low tone as if not aware<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> that he was +heard, and his voice sounded as if he also did not hear it, and could +not, therefore, give it pitch or intonation:</p> + +<p>"Is this the best of old Kensington? This is the East! Where I dreamed +that life was pure as the water from the dear old pump that quenched my +thirst in boyhood—not bitter as the alkali of the streams of the +plains, nor turbid like the rills of the Arkansas. I pined to leave that +life of renegades, half-breeds, squaws, and nomads to bathe my soul in +the clear fountains of civilization,—to live where marriage was holy +and piety sincere. I find, instead, mystery, blood, dishonor, hypocrisy, +and shame. Let me go back! The rough frontier suits me best. If I can +hear so much wickedness, deaf as I am, let me rather be an unsocial +hermit in the woods, hearing nothing lower than thunder!"</p> + +<p>As Duff Salter went to his dinner that day he looked at Agnes sitting in +her place, so ill at ease, and said to himself,</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Another matter of concern was on Mr. Duff Salter's mind—his +serving-man. Such an unequal servant he had never seen—at times full of +intelligence and snap, again as dumb as the bog-trotters of Ireland.</p> + +<p>"What was the matter with you yesterday?" asked the deaf man of Mike one +day.</p> + +<p>"Me head, yer honor!"</p> + +<p>"What ails your head?"</p> + +<p>"Vare-tigo!"</p> + +<p>"How came that?"</p> + +<p>"Falling out of a ship!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did you strike but water?"</p> + +<p>"Wood; it nearly was the death of me. For weeks I was wid a cracked head +and a cracked leg, yer honor!"</p> + +<p>Still there was something evasive about the man, and he had as many +moods and lights as a sea Proteus, ugly and common, like that batrachian +order, but often enkindled and exceedingly satisfactory as a servant. He +often forgot the place where he left off a certain day's work, and it +had to be recalled to him. He was irregular, too, in going and coming, +and was quite as likely to come when not wanted as not to be on the spot +when due and expected. Duff Salter made up his mind that all the Eastern +people must have bumped their heads and became subject to vertigo.</p> + +<p>One day Duff Salter received this note:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Deaf Duff</span>: Excuse the familiarity, but the coincidence amuses +me. I want you to make me a visit this evening after dark at my +quarters in my brother, Knox Van de Lear's house, on Queen Street +nearly opposite your place of lodging. If Mars crosses the orbit of +Venus to-night, as I expect—there being signs of it in the milky +way,—you will assist me in an observation that will stagger you on +account of its results. Do not come out until dark, and ask at my +brother's den for</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cal.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>"I will not be in to-night, Mike," exclaimed Duff Salter a little while +afterward. "You can have all the evening to yourself. Where do you spend +your spare time?"</p> + +<p>"On Traity Island," replied Mike with a grin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +"I doesn't like Kinsington afther dark. They say it has ghosts, sur."</p> + +<p>"But only the ghosts of they killed as they crossed from Treaty Island."</p> + +<p>"Sure enough! But I've lost belafe in ghosts since they have become so +common. Everybody belaves in thim in Kinsington, and I prefer to be +exclusive and sciptical, yer honor."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you believed in spirits going and +coming and hoping and waiting, and it gave you great comfort?"</p> + +<p>"Did I, sur? I forgit it inthirely. It must have been a bad day for my +vartigo."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter looked at his man long and earnestly, and from head to foot, +and the inspection appeared to please him.</p> + +<p>"Mike," he said, in his loud, deafish voice, "I am going to cure you of +your vertigo."</p> + +<p>"Whin, dear Mister Salter."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps to-morrow," remarked Duff Salter significantly. "I shall have a +man here who will either confer it on you permanently or cure you +instantly."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter put on his hat, took his stick, and drew the curtains down.</p> + +<p>Mike was sitting at the writing table arranging some models of vessels +and steam tugs as his employer turned at the doorway and looked back, +and, with a countenance more waggish than exasperated, Duff Salter shook +his cane at the unobservant Irishman, and sagely gestured with his head.</p> + +<p>Agnes was about to take the head of the tea-table as he came down the +stairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," motioned Duff Salter, and pointed out of doors.</p> + +<p>He gave a slight examination to Agnes, so delicate as to be almost +unnoticed, though she perceived it.</p> + +<p>Duff sat at the tea side and wrote on his tablets:</p> + +<p>"How is little Podge coming on?"</p> + +<p>"Growing better," replied Agnes, "but she will be unfit to teach her +school for months. Kind friends have sent her many things."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter waited a little while, and wrote:</p> + +<p>"I wish I could leave everybody happy behind me when I go away."</p> + +<p>"Are you going soon?"</p> + +<p>"I am going at once," wrote Duff Salter with a sudden decision. "I am +not trusted by anybody here, and my work is over."</p> + +<p>Agnes sat a little while in pain and wistfulness. Finally she wrote:</p> + +<p>"There is but one thing which prevents our perfect trust in you; it is +your distrust of us."</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> distrustful—too much so," answered, in writing, the deaf man. +"A little suspicion soon overspreads the whole nature, and yet, I think, +one can be generous even with suspicion. Among the disciples were a +traitor, a liar, a coward, and a doubter; but none upbraid the last, +poor Thomas, and he is sainted in our faith. Do you know that suspicion +made me deaf? Yes; if we mock Nature with distrust, she stops our ears. +Do you not remember what happened to Zacharias, the priest? He would not +believe the angel who announced that his wife would soon become a +mother, and for his unbelief was stricken dumb!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>The deaf guest had either stumbled into this illustration, or written it +with full design. He looked at Agnes, and the pale and purple colors +came and went upon her face as she bent her body forward over the table. +Duff Salter arose and spoke with that lost voice, like one in a vacuum, +while he folded his tablet.</p> + +<p>"Agnes," he said, "it has been cruel to a man of such a sceptical soul +as mine to educate him back from the faith he had acquired to the +unfaith he had tried to put behind him. Why did you do it? The +suppression of the truth is never excusable. The secret you might have +scattered with a word, when suspicion started against you, is now +diffused through every family and rendezvous in Kensington."</p> + +<p>She looked miserable enough, and still received the stab of her guest's +magisterial tongue like an affliction from heaven.</p> + +<p>"I had also become infected with this imputation," continued Duff +Salter. "All things around you looked sinister for a season. A kind +Providence has dispelled these black shadows, and I see you now the +victim of an immeasurable mistake. Your weakness and another's obstinacy +have almost ruined you. I shall save you with a cruel hand; let the +remorse be his who hoped to outlive society and its natural suspicions +by a mere absence."</p> + +<p>"I will not let you upbraid him," spoke Agnes Wilt. "My weakness was the +whole mistake."</p> + +<p>"Agnes," said the grave, bearded man, "you must walk through Kensington +to-morrow with me in the sight of the whole world."</p> + +<p>She looked up and around a moment, and staggered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> toward a sofa, but +would have fallen had not Duff Salter caught her in his arms and placed +her there with tender strength. He whispered in her ear:</p> + +<p>"Courage, little <i>mother</i>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>A REAL ROOF-TREE.</h3> + + +<p>Ringing the bell at the low front step of a two-story brick dwelling, +Duff Salter was admitted by Mr. Knox Van de Lear, the proprietor, a +tall, plain, commonplace man, who scarcely bore one feature of his +venerable father. "Come in, Mr. Salter," bellowed Knox, "tea's just +a-waitin' for you. Pap's here. You know Cal, certain! This is my good +lady, Mrs. Van de Lear. Lottie, put on the oysters and waffles! Don't +forgit the catfish. There's nothing like catfish out of the Delaware, +Mr. Salter."</p> + +<p>"Particularly if they have a corpse or two to flavor them," said Calvin +Van de Lear in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Knox Van de Lear, a fine, large, blonde lady, took the head of the +table. She had a sweet, timid voice, quite out of quantity with her bone +and flesh, and her eyelashes seemed to be weak, for they closed together +often and in almost regular time, and the delicate lids were quite as +noticeable as her bashful blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lottie," said Rev. Silas Van de Lear, "I came in to-night with a little +chill upon me. At my age chills are the tremors from other wings +hovering near. Please let me have the first cup of coffee hot."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, papa," said the hostess, making haste<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> to fill his cup. "You +don't at all feel apprehensive, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the old man, with his teeth chattering. "I haven't had +apprehensions for long back. Nothing but confidence."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pap!" put in Knox Van de Lear, "you'll be a preachin' when I'm a +granddaddy. You never mean to die. Eat a waffle!"</p> + +<p>"My children," said the old man, "death is over-due with me. It gives me +no more concern than the last hour shall give all of us. I had hoped to +live for three things: to see my new church raised; to see my son Calvin +ready to take my place; to see my neighbor, Miss Wilt, whom I have seen +grow up under my eye from childhood, and fair as a lily, brush the dew +of scandal from her skirts and resume her place in our church, the +handmaid of God again."</p> + +<p>"Amen, old man!" spoke Calvin irreverently, holding up his plate for +oysters.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cal," exclaimed the hostess, closing her delicately-tinted eyelids +till the long lashes rested on the cheek, "why don't you call papa more +softly?"</p> + +<p>"My son," spoke the little old gentleman between his chatterings, "in +the priestly office you must avoid abruptness. Be direct at all +important times, but neither familiar nor abrupt. I cannot name for you +a model of address like Agnes Wilt."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she beautiful!" said Mrs. Knox. "Do you think she can be +deceitful, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I have no means to pierce the souls of people, Lottie, more than +others. I don't believe she is wicked, but I draw that from my reason +and human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> faith. That woman was a pillar of strength in my +Sabbath-school. May the Lord bring her forth from the furnace refined by +fire, and punish them who may have persecuted her!"</p> + +<p>"Cal is going into a decline on her account," said Knox. "I know it by +seeing him eat waffles. She refused Cal one day, and he came home and +eat all the cold meat in the house."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salter," the hostess said, raising her voice, "you have a beautiful +woman for a landlady. Is she well?"</p> + +<p>"Very melancholy," said Duff Salter. "Why don't you visit her?"</p> + +<p>"Really," said the hostess, "there is so much feeling against Agnes +that, considering Papa Van de Lear's position in Kensington, I have been +afraid. Agnes is quite too clever for me!"</p> + +<p>"I hope she will be," said Duff Salter, relapsing to his coffee.</p> + +<p>"He didn't hear what you said, Lot," exclaimed Calvin. "The old man has +to guess at what we halloo at him."</p> + +<p>"Have you appraised the estate of the late William Zane?" asked the +minister, with his bold pulpit voice, which Salter could hear easily.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the deaf guest. "It comes out strong. It is worth, clear +of everything and not including doubtful credits, one hundred and eighty +thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"That is the largest estate in Kensington," exclaimed the clergyman.</p> + +<p>"I shall release it all within one week to Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> Agnes," said Duff +Salter. "You are too old, Mr. Van de Lear, to manage it. I have finished +my work as co-executor with you. The third executor is Miss Wilt. With +the estate in her hands she will change the tone of public opinion in +Kensington, perhaps, and the fugitive heir must return or receive no +money from the woman he has injured!"</p> + +<p>"I am entirely of your opinion," said Reverend Mr. Van de Lear. "Agnes +was independent before; this will make her powerful, and she needs all +the power she can get to meet this insensate suburban opinion. When I +was a young man, commencing to minister here, I had rivals enough, and +deeply sympathize with those who must defend themselves against the +embattled gossip of a suburban society."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Knox Van de Lear opened and closed her eyes with a saintly sort of +resignation.</p> + +<p>"I am glad for Agnes," she said. "But I fear the courts will not allow +her, suspected as she is, to have the custody of so much wealth that has +descended to her through the misfortunes of others, if not by crimes."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Lot," said Calvin. "Her little game may be to get a +husband as soon as she can, who will resist a trustee's appointment by +the courts."</p> + +<p>"Can <i>she</i> get a husband, Cal?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! She's lightning! There's old Salter, rich as a Jew. She's +smart enough to capture him and add all he has to all that was coming to +Andrew Zane."</p> + +<p>Mr. Salter drew up his napkin and sneezed into it a soft articulation of +"Jericho! Jericho!"</p> + +<p>"Cal, don't you think you have some chance there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> yet?" asked Knox Van +de Lear. "I hoped you would have won Aggy long ago. It's a better show +than I ever had. You see I have to be at work at six o'clock, winter and +summer, and stay at the bookbindery all day long, and so it goes the +year round."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is so!" exclaimed the hostess, slowly shutting down her +silken lids of pink. "My poor husband goes away from me while I still +sleep in the dark of dawn; he only returns at supper."</p> + +<p>"Well, haven't you got brother Cal?" asked the bookbinder. "He's better +company than I am, Lottie."</p> + +<p>"But Calvin is in love with Miss Wilt," said the lady, softly unclosing +her eves.</p> + +<p>"No," coolly remarked Calvin, "I am not in love with her. You know that, +Lottie."</p> + +<p>"Well, Calvin, dear, you would be if you thought she was pure and clear +of crime."</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me foolish questions!" said Calvin.</p> + +<p>The lady at the head of the table wore a pretty smile which she shut +away under her eyelids again and again, and looked gently at Calvin.</p> + +<p>"Dear Agnes!" ejaculated Mrs. Knox, "I never blamed her so much as that +bold little creature, Podge Byerly! No one could make any impression +upon Agnes's confidence until that bright little thing went to board +with her. It is so demoralizing to take these working-girls, shop-girls +and school-teachers, in where religious influences had prevailed! They +became inseparable; Agnes had to entertain such company as Miss Byerly +brought there, and it produced a lowering of tone. She looked around her +suddenly when these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> crimes were found out, and all her old mature +friends were gone. It is so sad to lose all the wholesome influences +which protect one!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter had been eating his chicken and catfish very gravely, and as +he stopped to sneeze and apologize he noticed that Calvin Van de Lear's +face was insolent in its look toward his brother's wife.</p> + +<p>"Wholesome influence," said Calvin, "will return at the news of her +money, quick enough!"</p> + +<p>"Poor dear Cal!" exclaimed the lady; "he is still madly in love!"</p> + +<p>"My friends," spoke up Duff Salter, "your father is a very sick man. Let +us take him to a chamber and send for his doctor."</p> + +<p>Mr. Van de Lear had been neglected in this conversation; it was now seen +that he was in collapse and deathly pale. He leaned forward, however, +from strong habit, to close the meal with a blessing, and his head fell +forward upon the table. Duff Salter had him in his arms in a moment, and +bore him into the little parlor and placed him on a sofa.</p> + +<p>"Give me some music, children," he murmured. "Oh, my brother Salter! I +would that you could hear with me the rustling sounds I hear in music +now! There are voices in it keeping heavenly time, saying, 'Well done! +well done!' My strong, kind brother, let me lean upon your breast. Had +we met in younger days I feel that we would have been very friendly with +each other."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter already had the meagre little man upon his breast, and his +long, hale beard descended upon the pale and aged face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Knox Van de Lear seated herself at the piano and began a hymn, and +Calvin Van de Lear accompanied her, singing bass. The old man closed his +eyes on Duff Salter's breast, and Mr. Knox Van de Lear went out softly +to send for a physician. Duff Salter, looking up at a catch in the +singing, saw that Calvin Van de Lear was leaning familiarly on the +lady's shoulder while he turned the leaves of the book of sacred music.</p> + +<p>"I am very sick," said the old clergyman, still shaken by the chills. +"Perhaps we shall meet together no more. My fellow-executor, do my part +in this world! In all my life of serving the church and its Divine +Master, I have first looked out for the young people. They are most +helpless, most valuable. See that Sister Agnes is mercifully cared for! +If young Andrew Zane returns, deal gently with him too. Let us be kind +to the dear boys, though they go astray. The dear, dear boys!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter received the brave little man's head again upon his breast, +and said to himself:</p> + +<p>"May God speedily take him away in mercy!"</p> + +<p>The doctor, returning with Knox Van de Lear, commanded the minister to +be instantly removed to a chamber, and Duff Salter, unassisted, walked +up-stairs with him like a father carrying his infant to bed. As they +placed the wasted figure away beneath the coverlets, he put his arm +around Duff Salter's neck.</p> + +<p>"Brother," he said hoarsely, the chill having him in its grasp, "God has +blessed you. Can you help my new church?"</p> + +<p>"I promise you," said Duff Salter, "that after your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> people have done +their best I will give the remainder. It shall be built!"</p> + +<p>"Now, God be praised!" whispered the dying pastor. "And let Thy servant +depart in peace."</p> + +<p>"Amen!" from somewhere, trembled through the chamber as Duff Salter, his +feet muffled like his voice, in the habit of mute people who walk as +they hear, passed down the stairway.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter took his seat in the dining-room, which was an extension of +Knox Van de Lear's plain parlor, and buried his face in his palms. Years +ago, when a boy, he had attended preaching in Silas Van de Lear's little +chapel, and it touched him deeply that the nestor of the suburb was +about to die; the last of the staunch old pastors of the kirk who had +never been silent when liberty was in peril. The times were not the +same, and the old man was too brave and simple for the latter half of +his century. As Duff Salter thought of many memories associated with the +Rev. Silas Van de Lear's residence in Kensington, he heard his own name +mentioned. It was a lady's voice; nothing but acute sensibility could +have made it so plain to a deaf man:</p> + +<p>"Husband," said the lady with the slumberous eyelids, "go out with the +pitcher and get us half a gallon of ale. Cal and Mr. Salter and myself +are thirsty."</p> + +<p>"I have been for the doctor, Lottie; let Cal go."</p> + +<p>"Cal?" exclaimed the lady, very quietly raising her lashes. "It would +not do for him to go for <i>ale</i>! He is to be the junior pastor, my dear, +as soon as papa is buried, over the Van de Lear church."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right," said the tired husband, "I'll go. We must all back up Cal."</p> + +<p>As soon as the door closed upon Mr. Knox Van de Lear, a kiss resounded +through the little house, and a woman's voice followed it, saying:</p> + +<p>"Imprudent!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bah!" spoke Calvin Van de Lear. "Salter is deaf as a post. Lottie, +Agnes Wilt has been ruined!"</p> + +<p>In the long pause following this remark the deaf man peeped through his +fingers and saw the lady of the house kiss her husband's brother again +and again.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad," she whispered. "Can it be true?"</p> + +<p>"It's plain as a barn door. She'll be a mother before shad have run out, +or cherries come in."</p> + +<p>"The proud creature! And now, Cal dear, you see nothing exceptionally +saint-like there?"</p> + +<p>"I see shame, friendlessness, wealth, and welcome," spoke the young man. +"It's just my luck!"</p> + +<p>"But the deaf man? Will he not take her part?"</p> + +<p>"No. I shall show him to-night what will cure his partiality. Lottie, +you must let me marry her."</p> + +<p>The large, blonde lady threw back her head until the strong, animal +throat and chin stood sharply defined, and white and scarlet in color as +the lobster's meat.</p> + +<p>"Scoundrel!" she hissed, clenching Calvin's wrist with an almost +maniacal fury.</p> + +<p>At this moment a bell began to toll on the neighboring fire company's +house, and Knox Van de Lear entered with the pitcher of ale.</p> + +<p>"They're tolling the fire bell at the news of father's dying," said +Knox.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>Calvin filled a glass of ale, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Here's to the next pastor of Kensington!" as he laughingly drained it +off.</p> + +<p>"Oh, brother Cal!" remarked the hostess as she softly dropped her +eyelids and smiled reprovingly; "this irreverence comes of visiting Miss +Agnes Wilt too often. I must take you in charge."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter gave a furious sneeze:</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Oh! oh! Jericho!"</p> + +<p>Calvin Van de Lear closed the door between the dining-room and the +parlor, and drew Duff Salter's tablets from his pocket and wrote:</p> + +<p>"I want you to go up on the house roof with me."</p> + +<p>Duff looked at him in surprise, and wrote in reply:</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to throw me off?"</p> + +<p>Calvin's sallow complexion reddened a very little as he laughed +flippantly, and stroked his dry side-whiskers and took the tablets +again:</p> + +<p>"I want you to see the ghost's walk," he wrote. "Come along!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Passing the sick father's door, Calvin led Duff Salter up to the garret +floor, where a room with rag carpet, dumb-bells, boxing-gloves, +theological books, and some pictures far from modest, disclosed the +varied tastes of an entailed pulpit's expectant. Calvin drew down the +curtain of the one window and lighted a lamp. There was a table in the +middle of the floor, and there the two men conducted a silent +conversation on the ivory tablets.</p> + +<p>"This is my room," wrote Calvin. "I stay here all day when I study or +enjoy myself. The governor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> doesn't come in here to give me any advice +or nose around."</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Knox Van de Lear serious as to religious matters?"</p> + +<p>"Very," wrote Calvin, sententiously, and looked at Duff Salter with the +most open countenance he had ever been seen to show. Duff merely asked +another question:</p> + +<p>"Has she a good handwriting? I want to have a small document very neatly +written."</p> + +<p>Calvin went over to a trunk, unlocked it, and took out a bundle of what +appeared to be lady's letters, and selecting one, folded the address +back and showed the chirography.</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jerry-cho! cho! O cho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "The most +admirable writing I have ever seen."</p> + +<p>Calvin took the tablets.</p> + +<p>"I have been in receipt of some sundry sums of money from you, Salter, +to follow up this Zane mystery. I hope to be able to show you to-night +that it has not been misinvested."</p> + +<p>"You have had two hundred dollars," wrote Duff Salter. "What are your +conclusions?"</p> + +<p>"Andrew Zane is in Kensington."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"In the block opposite are several houses belonging to the Zane estate. +One of them stood empty until within a month, when a tenant unknown to +the neighborhood, with small furniture and effects—evidently a mere +servant—moved in. My brother's wife has taken a deep interest in the +Zane murder, and being at home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> all day, her resort is this room, where +she can see, unobserved, the whole <i>menage</i> and movement in the block +opposite."</p> + +<p>"Why did she feel so much interested?"</p> + +<p>"Honor bright!" Calvin wrote. "Well, Mrs. Knox was a great admirer of +the late William Zane. They were very intimate—some thought under +engagement to marry. Suddenly she accepted my brother, and old Zane +turned out to be infatuated with his ward. We may call it rivalry and +reminiscence."</p> + +<p>"Jer-i-choo-wo!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter, now full of smiles, proffered a pinch of snuff to his host, +who declined it, but set out a bottle of brandy in reciprocal +friendship.</p> + +<p>"Go on," indicated Salter to the tablets.</p> + +<p>"One morning, just before daybreak, my brother's wife, glancing out of +this window—"</p> + +<p>"In this room, you say, before daybreak?"</p> + +<p>Calvin looked viciously at Duff Salter, who merely smiled.</p> + +<p>"She saw," said Calvin Van de Lear, "an object come out of the trap-door +on Zane's old residence and move under shelter of the ridge of the roof +to the newly-tenanted dwelling in the same block, and there disappear +down the similar trap."</p> + +<p>"Jericho! Jericho!—Proceed."</p> + +<p>"It was our inference that probably Andrew Zane was making stealthy +visits to Agnes, and we applied a test to her. To our astonishment we +found she had only seen him once since the murder, and that was the +night the bodies were discovered."</p> + +<p>"How could you extract that from a self-contained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> woman like Agnes +Wilt?" asked Duff Salter, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>"We got it from Podge Byerly."</p> + +<p>"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Duff Salter aloud, knocking over the snuff-box +and forgetting to sneeze. "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it is a damned lie."</p> + +<p>Calvin locked up with some surprise but more conceit.</p> + +<p>"I'm a first-class eavesdropper," he wrote, and held it up on the tablet +to Duff's eyes. "We got the fact from Podge's bed-ridden brother, a +scamp who destroyed his health by excesses and came back on Podge for +support. Knowing how corruptible he was, I got access to him and paid +him out of your funds to wheedle out of Podge all that Lady Agnes told +her. She had no idea that her brother communicated with any person, as +he was unable to walk, and she told him for his amusement secrets she +never dreamed could go out of the house. We corresponded with him by +mail."</p> + +<p>"Calvin," wrote Duff Salter, "you never thought of these things +yourself."</p> + +<p>"To give the devil his credit, my brother's wife suggested that device."</p> + +<p>"Jericho-o-o-oh!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter was himself again.</p> + +<p>"Well, Salter," continued the heir-apparent of Kensington, "we laid our +heads together, and the mystery continued to deepen why Andrew Zane +infested the residence of his murdered father if he never revealed +himself to the woman he had loved. Not until the discovery that Agnes +Wilt had been ruined could we make that out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were both looking at each other intently as Duff Salter read the +last sentence.</p> + +<p>"It then became plain to us," continued Calvin, "that Andrew Zane wanted +to abandon the woman he had seduced, as was perfectly natural. He +haunted and alarmed the house and kept informed on all its happenings, +but cut poor Agnes dead."</p> + +<p>"The infamous scoundrel!" exclaimed Duff Salter, looking very dark and +serious.</p> + +<p>"Now, Salter," continued Calvin, "we had a watch set on that ridge of +roofs every night, and another one at the old Zane house, front and +rear, and the apparition on the roof was so irregular that we could not +understand what occasions it took to come out until we observed that +whenever your servant was out of the neighborhood a whole night, the +roof-walker was sure to descend into Zane's trap."</p> + +<p>"Jer-i-cho-ho-ho!"</p> + +<p>"To-night, as we have made ourselves aware, your servant is not in +Kensington. We saw him off to Treaty Island. I am watching at this +window for the man on the roof. The moment he leaves the trap-door of the +tenant's house, it will be entered by officers at the waving of this +lamp at my window. One officer will proceed along the roof and station +himself on the Zane trap, closing that outlet. At the same time the Zane +house will be entered front and rear and searched. The time is due. It +is midnight. Come!"</p> + +<p>Calvin pointed to a ladder that led from the corner of his study to the +roof, and Duff Salter nodded his head acquiescently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>They went up the ladder and thrust their heads into the soft night of +early summer.</p> + +<p>There was starlight, but no moon.</p> + +<p>The engine bell just ceased to toll as they looked forth on the +scattered suburb, and at points beheld the Delaware flowing darkly, +indicated by occasional lights of vessels reflected upward, and by the +very distant lamps on the Camden shore.</p> + +<p>Most of the houses within the range of vision were small, patched, and +irregular, except where the black walls of the even blocks on some +principal streets strode through.</p> + +<p>Scarcely a sound, except the tree frogs droning, disturbed the air, and +Kensington basked in the midnight like some sleeping village of the +plains, stretching out to the fields of cattle and the savory truck +farms.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter mentally exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Here, like two angels of good or evil, we spy upon the dull old hamlet, +where nothing greater has happened than to-night since the Indians +bartered their lands away for things of immediate enjoyment. Are not +most of these people Indians still, ready to trade away substantial +lands of antique title for the playthings of a few brief hours? Yes, +heaven itself was signed away by man and woman for the juices of one +forbidden fruit. Here, where the good old pastor, like another William +Penn, is running his stakes beyond the stars and peopling with angels +his possessions there, the savage children are occupied with the trifles +of lust, covetousness, and deceit. They are no worse than the sons of +Penn, who became apostates to his charity and religion before the breath +had left his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> body. So goes the human race, whether around the Tree of +Knowledge or Kensington's Treaty Tree."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter felt his arm pulled violently, and heard his companion +whisper,</p> + +<p>"There! Do you see it?"</p> + +<p>Across the street, only a few hundred feet distant, an object emerged +from the black mass of the buildings and moved rapidly along the +opposite ridge of houses against the sky, drawing nearer the two +watchers as it advanced, and passing right opposite.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter made it out to be a woman or a figure in a gown.</p> + +<p>It looked neither to the right nor left, and did not stoop nor cower, +but strode boldly as if with right to the large residence of the Zanes, +where in a minute it faded away.</p> + +<p>Duff Salter felt a little superstitious, but Calvin Van de Lear shot +past him down the ladder.</p> + +<p>Duff heard the curtain at the window thrown up as the divinity student +flashed his lamp and saw the door of the house whence the apparition had +come, forced by the police.</p> + +<p>As he descended the ladder Calvin Van de Lear extended Duff's hat to +him, and pointed across the way.</p> + +<p>They were not very prompt reaching the door of the Zane residence, but +were still there in time to employ Duff Salter's key, instead of +violence, to make the entry.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said the deaf man, with authority, "there is no occasion of +any of you pressing in here to alarm a lady. Mr. Van de Lear and myself +will make the search of the house which you have already guard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>ed, +front, back, and above, and rendered it impossible for the object of +your warrant to escape."</p> + +<p>The dignity and commanding stature of Duff Salter had their effect.</p> + +<p>Calvin Van de Lear and Duff Salter entered the silent house, lighted the +gas, and walked from room to room, finally entering the apartment of +Duff Salter himself.</p> + +<p>There sat Mike, the serving-man, in his red hair, uneven eyebrows, +crutch, and wooden leg, as quietly arranging the models of vessels and +steamers as if he had not anticipated a midnight call nor ceased his +labor since Duff Salter had gone out.</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, pale with exertion and rage, +"are you here? I thought you were at Treaty Island."</p> + +<p>"Misther Salter," said the Irishman, "I returned, do you see, because I +forgot something and wanthed a drop of your brandy, sur."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter walked up to the speaker and seized him by the lapels of his +coat, and placing the other hand upon his head, tore off the entire +red-haired scalp which covered him.</p> + +<p>"Andrew Zane," said Duff Salter in a low voice, "your disguise is +detected. Yield yourself like a man to your father's executor. You are +my prisoner!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>IN COURT.</h3> + + +<p>Agnes Wilt awoke and said her prayers, unconscious of any event of the +night. At the breakfast-table she met Duff Salter, who took both her +hands in his.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Agnes," said Duff Salter—"let me call you so hereafter—did you hear +the bell toll last night?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied with agitation. "For what, Mr. Salter?"</p> + +<p>"The good priest of Kensington is dying."</p> + +<p>"Beloved friend!" she said, as the tears came to her eyes. "And must he +die uncertain of my blame or innocence? Yet he will learn it in that +wiser world!"</p> + +<p>"Agnes, I require perfect submission from you for this day. Will you +give it in all things?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him a moment in earnest reflection, and said finally:</p> + +<p>"Yes, unless my conscience says 'no.'"</p> + +<p>"Nothing will be asked of you that you cannot rightfully do. Decision is +what is needed now, and I will bring you through triumphantly if you +will obey me."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>"At eleven o'clock we must go to the magistrate's office. I will walk +there with you."</p> + +<p>"Am I to be arrested?" she asked, hesitating.</p> + +<p>"If you go with me it will not be an arrest."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salter," she cried, in a burst of anguish, "I am not fit to be seen +upon the streets of Kensington."</p> + +<p>He took her in his arms like a daughter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, poor girl! The mother of God braved no less. You can bear it. +But all this morning I must be closely engaged. An important event +happened last night. At eleven, positively, be ready to go out with me."</p> + +<p>Agnes was ready, and stepped forth into the daylight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> on the main +thoroughfare of Queen Street. Almost every window was filled with +gazers; the sidewalks were lined with strollers, loiterers, and people +waiting. She might have fainted if Duff Salter's arm had not been there +to sustain her.</p> + +<p>A large fishwife, with a basket on her head, was standing beside her +comely grown daughter, who had put her large basket down, and both +devoured Agnes with their eyes.</p> + +<p>"Staying in the house, Beck," exclaimed the mother of the girl, "has +been healthy for some people."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mammy," answered the girl; "it's safer standing in market with +catfish. He! he! he!"</p> + +<p>A shipbuilder's daughter was on the front steps, a slender girl of dark, +smooth skin and features, talking to a grown boy. The girl bowed: "How +do you do, Miss Agnes?" The grown boy giggled inanely.</p> + +<p>Two old women, near neighbors of Agnes, had their spectacles wiped and +run out to a proper focus, and the older of the two had a double pair +upon her most insidious and suspicious nose. As Agnes passed, this old +lady gave such a start that she dropped the spectacles off her nose, and +ejaculated through the open window, "Lord alive!"</p> + +<p>At Knox Van de Lear's house the fine-bodied, feline lady with +nictitating eyes, drew aside the curtain, even while the dying man above +was in frigid waters, that she might slowly raise and drop her ambrosial +lids, and express a refined but not less marked surprise. Agnes, by an +excitement of the nerves of apprehension, saw everything while she +trembled. She could read the dates of all the houses on the painted +cornices of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the water-spouts, and saw the cabalistic devices of old +insurance companies on the property they covered. Pigeons flying about +the low roofs clucked and chuckled as if their milky purity had been +incensed, and little dogs seemed to draw near and trot after, too +familiarly, as if they scented sin.</p> + +<p>There were two working-men from Zane & Rainey's ship-yard who had known +kindness to their wives from Agnes when those wives were in confinement. +Both took off their hats respectfully, but with astonishment +overwhelming their pity.</p> + +<p>Half the fire company had congregated at one corner of the street—lean, +runners of men in red shirts, and with boots outside their trousers. +They did not say a word, but gazed as at a riddle going by. Yet at one +place a Sabbath scholar of Agnes came out before her, and, making a +courtesy, said:</p> + +<p>"Teacher, take my orange blossom!"</p> + +<p>The flower was nearly white, and very fragrant. Duff Salter reached out +and put it in his button-hole.</p> + +<p>So excited were the sensibilities of Agnes that it seemed to her the old +door-knockers squinted; the idle writing of boys on dead walls read with +a hidden meaning; the shade-trees lazily shaking in summer seemed to +whisper; if she looked down, there now and then appeared, moulded in the +bricks of the pavement, a worn letter, or a passing goose foot, the +accident of the brickyard, but now become personal and intentional. The +little babies, sporting in their carriages before some houses, leaned +forward and looked as wise and awful as doctors in some occult +diagnosis. Cartwheels, as they struck hard, articulated, "What, out!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +Boo! boohoo!" Sunshine all slanted her way. Hucksters' cries sounded +like constables' proclamation: "Oyez! oyez!"</p> + +<p>With the perceptions, the reflections of Agnes were also startlingly +alert. She seemed two or three unfortunate people at once. Now it was +Lady Jane Grey going to the tower. Now it was Beatrice Cenci going to +torture. Now it was Mary Magdalene going to the cross. At almost every +house she felt a kindness speak for her, except mankind; a recollection +of nursing, comforting, praying with some one, but all forgotten now. +"<i>Via Crucia, Via Crucia</i>," her thorn-torn feet seemed to patter in the +echoes of her ears and mind, and there arose upon her spirit the +sternest curse of women, direful with God's own rage, "I will greatly +multiply thy sorrow and thy conception."</p> + +<p>Thus she reached the magistrate's little office, around the door of +which was a little crowd of people, and Duff Salter led her in the +private door to the residence itself. A cup of tea and a decanter of +wine were on the table. The magistrate's wife knew her, and kissed her. +Then Agnes broke down and wept like a little child.</p> + +<p>The magistrate was a lame man, and a deacon in Van de Lear's church, +quite gray, and both prudent and austere, and making use of but few +words, so that there was no way of determining his feelings on the case. +He took his place behind a plain table and opened court by saying,</p> + +<p>"Who appears? Now!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter rose, the largest man in the court-room. His long beard +covered his whole breast-bone; his fine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> intelligent features, clear, +sober eyes, and hale, house-bleached skin, bore out the authority +conceded to him in Kensington as a rich gentleman of the world.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Magistrate," said Duff Salter, "this examination concerns the +public and the ends of justice only as bears upon the death of the late +citizens of Kensington, William Zane and Saylor Rainey. It is a +preliminary examination only, and the person suspected by public gossip +has not retained counsel. With your permission, as the executor of +William Zane, I will conduct such part of the inquiry here as my duty +toward the deceased, and my knowledge of the evidence, notwithstanding +my frontier notions of law, suggest to me."</p> + +<p>"You prosecute?" asked the magistrate, and added, "Yes, yes! I will!"</p> + +<p>Calvin Van de Lear got up and bowed to the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Your Honor, my deep interest in Miss Agnes Wilt has driven me to leave +the bedside of a dying parent to see that her interests are properly +attended to in this case. Whenever she is concerned I am for the +defence."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "Salter, have you a witness?"</p> + +<p>"Mike Donovan!" called Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>A red-haired Irishman, with one eyebrow higher than the other, and scars +on his face, walked into the alderman's court from the private room, and +was sworn.</p> + +<p>"Donovan," spoke Duff Salter, standing up, "relate the occurrences of a +certain night when you rowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> the prisoner, Andrew Zane, and certain +other persons, from Treaty Island to an uncertain point in the River +Delaware."</p> + +<p>"Stop! stop!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, rising. "It seems to me I +have seen that fellow's face before. Donovan, hadn't you a wooden leg +when last I saw you?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt of it," answered the Irishman.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you got it on now?" cried Calvin, scowling.</p> + +<p>"Because, yer riverence, me own legs was plenty good enough on this +occasion."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, I won't!" ordered the sententious little magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Proceed with the narrative," cried Duff Salter, "and repeat no part of +the conversation in that boat."</p> + +<p>"It was a dark and lowering night," said the waterman, "as we swung +loose from Traity Isle. I sat a little forward of the cintre, managing +the oars. Mr. Andrew Zane was in the bow, on the watch for difficulties. +In the stern sat the boss, Mr. William Zane. Between him and me—God's +rest to him!—sat the murdered gintleman, well-beloved Saylor Rainey! +The tide was running six miles an hour. We steered by the lights of +Kinsington."</p> + +<p>"Then you are confident," said Duff Salter, "that the whole length of +the skiff separated William Zane from his son?"</p> + +<p>"As confident, yer honor, as that the batteau had two inds. They niver +were nearer, the one to the tother, than that, for the whole of the +ixpidition. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> scarcely one word did Mr. Andrew utter on the whole ov +that bloody passage."</p> + +<p>"Say nothing, for the present, about any conversations," commanded Duff +Salter, "but go on with the occurrences briefly."</p> + +<p>"I had been a very little while, ye must understand me, gintlemen, in +the imploy of thim two partners. After they entered the boat they spoke +nothing at all, at all, for siveral minutes. It was all I could do wid +the strong tide to keep the boat pinted for Kinsington, and I only +noticed that Mr. Rainey comminced the conversation in a low tone of +voice. Just at that time, or soon afterward, your Honor, a large vessel +stood across our bow, going down stream in the night, and I put on all +my strength, at Mr. William Zane's order, to cross in front of her, and +did so. I was so afraid the ship would take us under that I put my whole +attintion to my task, not daring to disobey so positive a boss as Mr. +Zane, though it was agin my judgment, indade."</p> + +<p>All in the court and outside the door and windows were giving strict +attention. Even Andrew Zane, whose face had been rather sullen, listened +with a pale spot on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Duff Salter gently. "You relate it very well."</p> + +<p>"As we had cleared the ship, gintlemen, I paused an instant to wipe the +sweat from my brows, though it was a cold night, for I was quite spint. +I then perceived that Mr. Rainey and the master were disputing and +raising their voices higher and higher, and what surprised me most of +all, your Honor, was the unusual firmness of Mr. Rainey, who was +ginerally very obedi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>ent to the boss. He faced the boss, and would not +take his orders, and I heard him once exclaim: 'Shame on you, sir; he is +your son!'"</p> + +<p>"Stop! stop!" cried Duff Salter. "You were not to repeat conversations. +What next?"</p> + +<p>"In the twinklin' of an eye," resumed the witness, "the masther had +sazed his partner by the throat and called him a villain. They both +stood up in the boat, the masther's hand still in Mr. Rainey's collar, +and for an instant Mr. Rainey shook himself loose and cried—"</p> + +<p>"Not a word!" exclaimed Duff Salter. "What was <i>done</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rainey cried out something, all at once. The masther fetched a +terrible oath and fell back upon his seat. 'You assisted in this +villainy!' he shouted. They clinched, and I saw something shine dimly in +Mr. William Zane's hand. The report told me what it was. I lifted one +oar in a feeling of horror, and the boat swung round abruptly on the +blade of the other, and Mr. Rainey, released from the masther's grip, +fell overboard in the dark night."</p> + +<p>Nothing was said by any person in the court except a suppressed "Bah!" +from Calvin Van de Lear.</p> + +<p>"Silence! Order! I won't!" exclaimed the lame magistrate, rising from +his seat. "Now! Go on!"</p> + +<p>"I dropped both oars in me terror, and one of them floated away in the +dark. We all stood up in the boat. 'My God!' exclaimed the masther, +'what have I done?' As quick as the beating of my heart he placed the +pistol at his own head. I saw the flash and heard the report. Mr. +William Zane fell overboard."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a shudder of horror for a moment, and then a voice outside the +window, hoarse and cheery, shouted to the outer crowd, "Andrew is +innocent! Three cheers for Andrew Zane!"</p> + +<p>The people in and out of the warm and densely-pressed office +simultaneously gave cheers, calling others to the scene, and the old +magistrate, lame as he was, arose and looked happy.</p> + +<p>"No arrests!" he cried. "Right enough! Good! Now, attention!"</p> + +<p>But Andrew Zane kept his seat with an expression of obstinacy, and +glared at Calvin Van de Lear, who was trembling with rage.</p> + +<p>"Well got up, on my word!" exclaimed Calvin. "Who is this fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Go on and finish your story!" commanded Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"God forgive Mike Donovan, your Honor!" continued the witness. "I'm +afraid if Mr. William Zane had been the only man overboard I wouldn't +have risked me life. He was a hard, overbearin' masther. But I thought +of his poor son, standin' paralyzed-like, and the kind Mr. Rainey +drownin' in the wintry water, and I jumped down in the dark flood to +rescue one or both. From that day to this, the two partners I never saw. +It was months before I saw America at all, or the survivin' okkepant of +the boat."</p> + +<p>"You may explain how that came to be," intimated Duff Salter, grimly +superintending the court.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir! As I dived from the skiff my head encountered a solid +something which made me see a thousand flashes av lightning in one +second. I was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> stunned that I had only instinct—I belave ye call it +that—to throw my ar-rum around the murthering object and hold like +death. Ye know, judge, how drownin' men will hold to straws. That straw, +yer Honor, was the spar of a vessel movin' through the water. It was, I +found out afterward, one of the pieces which had wedged the ship on the +Marine Railway, where she had been gettin' repaired, and she comin' off +hurriedly about dusk, had not been loosened from her. I raised my voice +by a despairin' effort, and screamed 'Help! help!' When I came to I was +on an Austrian merchant ship, bound to Wilmington, North Carolina, for +naval stores, and then to Trieste. The blow of the spar had given me a +slight crack av the skull."</p> + +<p>"That crack is wide open yet," said Calvin Van de Lear.</p> + +<p>"Begorra," returned the Irishman, facing placidly around until he found +the owner of the voice, "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it would take many such +a blow, sur, to fracture your heart!"</p> + +<p>"Go on now, Donovan, and finish your tale. You were carried off to +Trieste?" spoke Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"I was, sir. At Wilmington no news had been recaved of any tragedy in +Philadelphia, and when I told my story there to a gentleman he concluded +I was ravin' and a seein' delusions. The Austrian was short av a crew, +and the docthor said if they could get away to sea he could make me +effective very soon. I was too helpless to go on deck or make +resistance. Says I, 'It's the will av God.'"</p> + +<p>A round of applause greeted this story as it was end<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>ed, and cheerful +hands were extended to the witness and the prisoner. Calvin Van de Lear, +however, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Alderman, what has all this to do with the prisoner's ignominious +flight for months from his home and from persons he abandoned to +suspicion and shame? This man is an impostor."</p> + +<p>"Will you take the stand, Mr. Andrew Zane?" asked Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the late fugitive. "I have been hunted and slandered like +a wolf. I will give no evidence in Kensington, where I have been so +shamefully treated. Let me be sent to a higher court, and there I will +speak."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" Duff Salter said, with grave emphasis, "it is you father's old +and obstinate spirit which is speaking. You are the ghost I thought was +his at the door of my chamber. Mr. Magistrate, swear me!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter gravely kissed the Testament and stood ready to depose, when +Calvin Van de Lear again interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Are you not deaf?" asked the divinity student. "Where are your tablets +that you carry every day? You seem to hear too well, I consider."</p> + +<p>"You are right," cried Duff Salter, turning on his interrogator like a +lion. "I am wholly cured of deafness, and my memory is as acute as my +hearing."</p> + +<p>Calvin Van de Lear turned pale to the roots of his dry, yellow whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Devil!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>"My testimony covers only a single point," resumed the strong, direct, +and imposing witness. "I saw the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> face of this prisoner for the first +time since his babyhood in his father's house not many weeks ago. It +resembled his father's youthful countenance, as I knew it, so greatly +that I really believed his parent haunted the streets of Kensington, +according to the rumor. The supposed apparition drove me to investigate +the mysterious death of William Zane. I believed that Agnes knew the +story, but was under this prisoner's command of secrecy. Seeking an +assistant, the witness, Donovan, forced himself upon me. In a short time +I was confounded by the contradictions of his behavior. Looking deeper +into it, I suspected that in his suit of clothing resided at different +times two men: the one an agent, the other a principal; the one a +reality, the other a disguise. I armed myself and had the duller and +less observant of these doubles row me out upon the Delaware on such a +night as marked the tragedy he witnessed. When we reached the middle of +the river I forced the story of the coincidence from him by reasoning +and threats."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear. "Is this an Arkansas snake +story?"</p> + +<p>"The young Zane had gratified a wilful passion to penetrate the +residence of his father, and look at its inmates and the situation from +safe harborage there. He found that Donovan in his roving sailor's life +had played the crippled sea beggar in the streets of British cities, +tying up his natural leg and fitting a wooden leg to the knee—a trick +well known to British ballad singers. That leg was in Donovan's +sea-chest, as it had been left in this city, and also the crutch +necessary to walk with it. Mr. Zane and Donovan had exchanged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> the leg +and crutch, and the former matched his fellow with a wig and patches. +Thus convertible, they had for a little while deceived everybody, but +for further convenience Mr. Zane ensconced himself as a tenant in a +neighboring house, and when the apparatus was in request by Donovan, he +crossed on the roofs between the trap-doors, and still was master of his +residence."</p> + +<p>"What does all this disclose but the intrigue of despairing guilt?" +exclaimed young Van de Lear. "He had destroyed the purity of a lady and +abandoned her, and was afraid to show his real face in Kensington."</p> + +<p>"We will see as to that," replied Duff Salter. "I had hoped to respect +the lady's privacy, but Mr. Zane has refused to testify. Call Agnes +Wilt."</p> + +<p>All in the magistrate's office rose at the mention of this name, only +Andrew Zane keeping his seat amid the crowd. Calvin Van de Lear +officiously sought to assist the witness in, but Duff Salter pressed him +back and gave the sad and beautiful woman his arm. She was sworn, and +stood there blushing and pale by turns.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" asked Duff Salter gently. "Speak very plain, so +that all these good friends of yours may make no mistake."</p> + +<p>"My name," replied the lady, "is Agnes Zane. I am the wife of Mr. Andrew +Zane."</p> + +<p>"Very good," said Duff Salter soothingly. "You are the wife of Andrew +Zane; wedded how long ago, madam?"</p> + +<p>"Eight months."</p> + +<p>"Do you see any person in this court-room, Mrs. Zane, that you wish to +identify? Let all be seated."</p> + +<p>Poor Agnes looked timidly around the place, and saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> a person, at whom +all were gazing, rise and reach his arms toward her.</p> + +<p>"Gracious God!" she whispered, "is it he?"</p> + +<p>"It is, dear wife," cried Andrew Zane. "Come to my heart."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>THE SECRET MARRIAGE.</h3> + + +<p>Reverend Silas Van de Lear was drawing his latest breaths in the house +of one of his elder sons, and only his lips were seen to move in silent +prayer, when a younger fellow-clergyman entering, to a cluster of his +cloth attending there, said audibly:</p> + +<p>"This is a strange <i>denouement</i> to the great Kensington scandal, which +has happened this afternoon."</p> + +<p>The large, voluptuous lady with the slowly declining eyelids raised them +quietly as in languid surprise.</p> + +<p>"You mean the Zane murder? What is it?" asked a minister, while others +gathered around, showing the ministry to have human curiosity even in +the hour and article of death.</p> + +<p>"Miss Agnes Wilt, the especial favorite of our dying patriarch here, was +married to young Andrew Zane some time before his father died. There was +no murder in the case. Zane the elder, in one of his frequent fits of +wild and arrogant rage, which were little less than insanity, killed his +partner, Rainey, and in as sudden remorse took his own life."</p> + +<p>"What was the occasion of Zane's rage?"</p> + +<p>"That is not quite clear, but the local population here is in a violent +reaction against the accusers of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> young Zane and his wife. The church +recovers a valuable woman in Agnes Zane."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Knox Van de Lear had a vial of smelling salts in her hand, and this +vial dropping suddenly on the floor called attention to the fact that +the lady had a little swooning turn. She was herself again in a minute, +and her eyes slowly unclosed and lifted their tender curtains prettily.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad for dear Agnes," she said with a natural loudness in that +hushed room. "It even made me forget papa to find Agnes innocent."</p> + +<p>The dying minister seemed to catch the words. A ministerial colleague +bent down to hear his low articulation:</p> + +<p>"Agnes innocent!" said Silas Van de Lear, and strove to clasp his hands. +"The praying of the righteous availeth much!"</p> + +<p>The physician said the good man's pulse ceased to beat at that minute, +and they raised around his scarcely cold remains a hymn to heaven.</p> + +<p>Mean time, at the alderman's court, a surprising scene was witnessed. +For a few minutes everybody was in a frenzy of delight, and Duff Salter +was the hero of the hour. The alderman made no effort to discipline any +person; people hugged and laughed, and entreated to shake hands with +Andrew Zane, and in the pleasing confusion Calvin Van de Lear slunk out, +white as one condemned to be whipped.</p> + +<p>"Now! now! We will! Yes!" said the sententious old alderman. "Come to +order. Andrew Zane must be sworn!"</p> + +<p>At this moment the Kensington volunteer fire ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>paratus stopped opposite +the alderman's office and began to peal its bells merrily. The young +husband's obstinacy slowly giving way, seemed to be gone entirely when, +searching the room with his eye, he detected the flight of Calvin Van de +Lear. He kissed the little book as if it were a box of divine balm, and +raised his voice, looking still tenderly at Agnes, and addressing Duff +Salter:</p> + +<p>"Will you examine me, my father's friend?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, now! You will!" exploded the alderman.</p> + +<p>"No, take your own method, thou alternate of the late Mike Donovan," +exclaimed Duff Salter with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I never thought there could be an excuse for my behavior," said Andrew +Zane, "until this unexpected kind treatment had encouraged me. Indeed, +my friends, I am in every alternative unfortunate. To defend myself I +must reflect upon the dead. I will not make a defence, but tell my story +plainly.</p> + +<p>"My father was a man of deeds—a kind, rude business man. He loved me +and I worshipped him, though our apposite tempers frequently brought us +in conflict. Neither of us knew how to curb the other or be curbed in +turn. Above all things I learned to fear my father's will; it was +invincible.</p> + +<p>"My wife and I grew up in my widower father's family, and fell in love, +and had an understanding that at a proper season we would marry. That +season could not be long postponed when Agnes's increasing beauty and my +ardor kept pace together. I sought an occasion to break the secret to my +father, and his reception of it filled me with terror. 'Marry Agnes!' +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> replied. 'You have no right to her. Your mother left her to me. I +may marry her myself.'</p> + +<p>"If he had never formed this design before it was now pursued with his +well-known tireless energy. The suggestion needed no other encouragement +than her beauty, ever present to inflame us both. Her household habits +and society were to his liking; he offered me everything but that which +embraced all to me. 'Go to Europe!' he said. 'Take a wife where you +will; but Agnes you shall not have. I will give you money, pleasure, and +independence, but I love where you have looked. Agnes will be your +mother, not your wife!'</p> + +<p>"Alas! gentlemen, this purpose of my father was not mere tyranny; he +loved her, indeed, and that was the insurmountable fact. My betrothed +had too much reason to know it. We mingled our tears together and +acknowledged our dependence and duty, but we loved with that youthful +fulness which cannot be mistaken nor dissuaded. In our distress we went +to that kind partner whom my father had raised from an apprentice to be +his equal, and asked him what to do. He told us to marry while we could. +Agnes preferred an open marriage as least in consequences, and involving +every trouble in the brave outset. I hoped to wean my father from his +wilfulness, and yet protect my affection by a secret marriage, to which +with difficulty I prevailed on my betrothed to consent. After our +marriage I found my husband's domain no less invaded by my father's +suit, until life became intolerable and it was necessary to speak. Poor, +brave Rainey, feeling keenly for us, fixed the time and place. He had +sel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>dom crossed my father, and I trembled for his safety, but never +could have anticipated what came to pass.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rainey said to us, 'I will tell your father, while we are crossing +the river some evening in a batteau, that you and Agnes are married, and +his suit is fruitless. He will be unable to do worse than sit still and +bear it in the small limits of the boat, and before we touch the other +shore will get philosophy from time and consideration.'</p> + +<p>"That plan was carried out. Shall I recount the dreadful circumstances +again? Spare me, I entreat you!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't! The whole truth!" exclaimed the stern magistrate. "Tell +it!"</p> + +<p>"You are making no mistake, my young friend," said Duff Salter. "It will +all be told very soon."</p> + +<p>"As we started from Treaty Island, on that dark winter night," continued +Andrew Zane, growing pale while he spoke, "Mr. Rainey said to me, 'Go in +the bow. You are not to speak one word. I will face your father astern.' +The oarsman, Donovan, had a hard pull. The first word I heard my father +say was, 'That is none of your affair.' 'It is everybody's affair,' +answered Mr. Rainey, 'because you make it so. Behave like a gentleman +and a parent. The young people love each other.' 'I have the young +lady's affections,' said my father. 'You are making her miserable,' said +Mr. Rainey, 'and are deceiving yourself. She begins to hate you.' 'You +are an insolent liar!' exclaimed my father. 'If you mix in this business +I will throw you out of the firm.' 'That is no intimidation to me,' +answered his partner. 'Prosperity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> can never attend the business of a +cruel and unjust man. I shall be a brother to Andrew and a father to +Agnes, since you would defraud them so. William Zane, I will see them +married and supported!' With that my father threw himself in mere +physical rage upon Mr. Rainey. They both arose, and Mr. Rainey shook +himself loose and cried, 'You are outwitted, partner. I saw them +married! They are man and wife!'</p> + +<p>"With this my father's rage had no expression short of recklessness. He +always carried arms, and was unconquerable. His ready hand had sought +his weapon, I think, hardly consciously. His dismay and indignation for +an instant destroyed his reason at Mr. Rainey's sudden statement of +fact.</p> + +<p>"My God! can I further particularize on such a scene? In a moment of +time I saw before my eyes a homicide of insanity, a suicide of remorse; +and to end all, the sailor in the boat, as if set crazy by these +occurrences, leaped overboard also."</p> + +<p>This narrative, given with rising energy of feeling by Andrew Zane, was +heard with breathless attention. Andrew paused and glanced at his wife, +whose face was bathed with the inner light of perfect relief. The +greater babe of secrecy had ceased to travail with her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Magistrate," said the young husband, "as I am under my oath, I can +only relate the acts which followed from the inference of my feelings. +My first sense was that of astonishment too intense not to appear unreal +and even amusing. It seemed to me that if I would laugh out loud all +would come back, as delusions yield to scepticism and mockery. But it +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> too cold not to be real, the scene and persons were too familiar to +be erroneous. I had to realize that I was in one of the great and +terrible occasional convulsions of human nature. Do you know how it next +affected me? With an instant's sense of sublimity! I said to myself, +'How dared I marry so much beauty and womanly majesty? Doing so, I have +tempted the old gods and their fates and furies. This is poetical +punishment for my temerity.' Still all the while I was laboring at the +one scull left in the boat while my brain was fuming so, and listening +for sounds on the water. I heard the sailor cry twice, and then his +voice fainted away. I began to weep at the oar while I strained upon it, +and called 'Help!' and implored God's intervention. At last I sat down +in the boat, worn out and in despair, and let it drift down all the +city's front, past lights and glooms and floating ice, and wished that I +were dead. My father's kindness and all our disagreements rose to mind, +and it seemed God's punishment that I had married where his intentions +were. Yet to know the truth of this, I said a prayer upon my knees in +the wet boat while my teeth chattered, and before the end of my prayer +had come I was thinking of my wife's pure name, and how this would spot +her as with stains of blood unless I could explain it.</p> + +<p>"When I reached this stage of my exalted sensibilities I was nearly +crazed. There had been no witness of our marriage except the minister, +and he was already dead. We had been married at the country parsonage of +an old retired minister beyond Oxford church, on the road from Frankford +town, as we drove out one afternoon, and I prevailed with my +conscien<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>tious wife to yield her scruples to our heart's necessity. +'Great God!' I thought aloud—for none could hear me there—'how +dreadfully that secret marriage will compromise my wife! Who will +believe us without a witness of what I must assert—a story so +improbable that I would not believe it myself? I must say that I married +my wife secretly from my father's house, confessing deceit for both of +us, and with Agnes's religious professions, a sin in the church's +estimation. If there could be an excuse for me, the strict people of +Kensington will accord none to her. They will charge on her maturer mind +the whole responsibility, paint her in the colors of ingratitude, and +find in her greatest poverty the principal motive. Yes, they may be +wicked enough to say she compassed the death of my father by my hands, +to get his property.'</p> + +<p>"I had proceeded thus far when the terror of our position became +luminous like the coming fire on a prairie, which shows everything but a +way of escape. 'Where is your father?' they would ask of me in +Kensington. 'He is drowned.' 'How drowned?' 'He shot himself.' 'Why did +he shoot himself?' 'Because I had married his ward.' 'But his partner is +gone too.' 'He is murdered.' 'Why murdered?' 'Because he interceded for +me.' 'Where is your witness?' 'He has disappeared.' I saw the wild +improbability of this tale, and thought of past notorious quarrels with +my father ended by my voluntary absence. There were but two points that +seemed to stick in my nervous mind: 'It never would do to tell our +marriage at that moment, and I must find that sailor, who might still be +living.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He found me, sure enough, begorra!" exclaimed Mike Donovan, giving the +relief of laughter to that intense narrative.</p> + +<p>"Cowardly as you may call my resolution, gentlemen, it was all the +resolution I had left. To partake of the inheritance left me by both +partners in our house I feared to do. 'Let us do the penance of +suspicious separation,' I said to Agnes; 'as your husband I command you +to let me go!' She yielded like a wife, and stood my hostage in +Kensington for all those melancholy months. I had just learned the place +for which the bark which passed us on that eventful night had cleared, +when the two bullet-pierced bodies were discovered in the ice. That +night I sailed for Wilmington, North Carolina. When I arrived there the +bark was gone for the Mediterranean, but I heard of my sailor, wounded, +in her hospital. I sailed from Charleston for Cuba, and from Cuba to +Cadiz, and thence I embarked for Trieste. At Trieste I found the ship, +but Donovan had sailed for Liverpool. From Liverpool I tracked him to +the River Plate, and thence to Panama. You will ask how I lived all +those months? Ask him."</p> + +<p>He turned to Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Magistrate," spoke Duff Salter, a little confused. "I sent him +drafts at his request. He knew me to be the resident executor, and wrote +to me. I did it because of the pity I had for Agnes, and my faith in her +assurance that he was innocent."</p> + +<p>"Good! Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "I would have done the same +myself."</p> + +<p>"I returned with my man," concluded Andrew Zane. "I was now so confident +that I did not fear;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> but a hard obstinacy, coming on me at times, I +know not how, impelled me to postpone my vindication and make a test of +everybody. I was full of suspicion and bitterness—the reaction from so +much undeserved anxiety. I was the ghost of Kensington, and the spy upon +my guardian, but the unknown sentry upon my wife's honor all the while.</p> + +<p>"Magistrate!"—the young man turned to the alderman, and his face +flushed—"is there no punishment at law for men, and women too, who have +cruelly persecuted my wife with anonymous letters, intended to wound her +brave spirit to the quick?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty of it," said the magistrate. "Yes, I will. I will warrant them +all."</p> + +<p>"I will not forget it," said Andrew Zane darkly.</p> + +<p>"My husband, forget everything!" exclaimed Agnes. "Except that we are +happy. God has forgiven us our only deceit, which has been the +temptation of many in dear old Kensington."</p> + +<p>The old magistrate arose. "Case dismissed," he said: "Dinner is ready in +the next room for Mr. and Mrs. Zane, and Judge Salter. I fine you all a +dinner. Yes, yes! I will!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>TREATY ELM.</h3> + + +<p>Andrew Zane was leaning on his elbow, in bed, listening to the tolling +bell for the old pastor of Kensington. He had not attended the funeral, +fearing to trust his eyes and heart near Calvin Van de Lear, for the +unruly element in his blood was not wholly stilled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> Good and evil, +gratitude and recollection, contended within him, and Agnes just escaped +from the long shadow of his father's rage—had forebodings of some +violence when the two young men should meet in the little thoroughfare +of Kensington—the one with the accumulated indignities he had suffered +liable to be aroused by the other's shallow superciliousness. Agnes had +but one friend to carry her fears to—Him "who never forsaketh." She had +not persisted that her husband should attend the old pastor's funeral, +whither Duff Salter escorted her, and going there, relieved from all +imputation, her evidently wedded state was seen with general respect. +People spoke to her as of old, congratulated her even at the grave, and +sought to repair their own misapprehensions, suspicions, and severities, +which Agnes accepted without duplicity.</p> + +<p>Andrew Zane was leaning up in bed hearing the tolling bell when Agnes +reappeared.</p> + +<p>"Husband," she said, "only Knox Van de Lear was at the grave, of the +pastor's sons."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" exclaimed Andrew.</p> + +<p>"He looked worse than grief could make him. A terrible tale is afloat in +Kensington."</p> + +<p>Husband and wife looked at each other a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>"They say," continued Agnes, "that Calvin Van de Lear has fled with his +brother's wife. That is the talk of the town. Professing to desire some +clothing for the funeral, they took a carriage together, and were driven +to Tacony yesterday, where the afternoon train, meeting the steamboat +from Philadelphia, took them on board for New York."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>Andrew fell back on his pillow.</p> + +<p>"God has hedged me all around," he answered. "While Calvin Van de Lear +lived in Kensington I was in revengeful temptation all the time. He has +escaped, and my soul is oppressed no more. Do you know, Agnes, that the +guilty accomplice of Calvin, his brother's wife, wrote all the worst +letters which anonymously came through the post?"</p> + +<p>Agnes replied:</p> + +<p>"I never suspected it. My heart was too full of you. But Mr. Salter told +me to-day that he unravelled it some time ago. Calvin Van de Lear showed +him, in a moment of egotism, the conquest he had made over an unknown +lady's affections, and passages of the correspondence. The keen old man +immediately identified in the handwriting the person who addressed him a +letter against us soon after his arrival in the East. But he did not +tell me until to-day. How did you know she was the person?"</p> + +<p>Andrew Zane blushed a little, and confessed:</p> + +<p>"Agnes, she used to write to me. Seeing the anonymous letters you +received, I knew the culprit instantly. It was that which precipitated +the flight. She feared that her anonymous letters would result in her +arrest and public trial for slander, as they would have done. The +magistrate promised me that he would issue his warrant for every person +who had employed the public mails to harass my wife, and when you +entered this room my darker passions were again working to punish that +woman and her paramour."</p> + +<p>"Dearest, let them be forgotten. Yes, forgiven too. But poor Mr. Knox +Van de Lear! They have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> stolen his savings and mortgaged his household +furniture, which he was confiding enough to have put in his wife's name. +That is also a part of the story related around the good pastor's +grave."</p> + +<p>"Calvin has not escaped," exclaimed Andrew Zane. "As long as that +tigress accompanies him he has expiation to make. Voluptuous, jealous, +restless, and, like a snake in the tightness of her folds and her +noiseless approach, she will smother him with kisses and sell him to his +enemies."</p> + +<p>"Do you know her so well?" asked Agnes placidly.</p> + +<p>"Very well. She was corrupt from childhood, but only a few of us knew +it. She grew to be beautiful, and had the quickened intelligence which, +for a while, accompanies ruined women: the unnatural sharpening of the +duplicity, the firmer grasp on man as the animal, the study of the +proprieties of life, and apparent impatience with all misbehavior. Her +timid voice assisted her cunning as if with a natural gentleness, and +invited onward the man who expected in her ample charms a bolder spirit. +She betook herself to the church for penance, perhaps, but remained +there for a character. My wife, if I have suffered, it was, perhaps, in +part because for every sin is some punishment; that woman was <i>my</i> +temptress also!"</p> + +<p>His face was pale as he spoke these words, but he did not drop his eyes. +The wife looked at him with a face also paled and startled.</p> + +<p>"Remember," said Andrew Zane, "that I was a man."</p> + +<p>She walked to him in a moment and kissed his forehead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will have no more deceit," said Andrew. "That is why I give you this +pain. It was long, my darling, before we loved."</p> + +<p>"That was the source, perhaps, of Lottie's anger with me," spoke Agnes.</p> + +<p>"I think not. There was not a sentiment between us. It is the way, +occasionally, that a very bad woman is made, by marriage or wealth, +respectable, and she declares war on her own past and its imitators. You +were pursued because you had exchanged deserts with her. You were pure +and abused; she was approved but tainted. Not your misfortunes but your +goodness rebuked her, and she lashed you behind her <i>alias</i>, as every +demon would riot in lashing the angels."</p> + +<p>"My husband," exclaimed Agnes, "where did you draw such secrets from +woman's nature? God has blessed you with wisdom. I felt, myself, by some +intuition of our sex, that it was sin, not virtue, that took such pains +to upbraid me."</p> + +<p>"I drew them from the old, old plant," answered Andrew Zane; "the Tree +of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Yonder, where I skimmed the surface of a +bad woman; here, where I am forgiven."</p> + +<p>"If you felt remorse," said Agnes, "you were not given up."</p> + +<p>"After <i>we</i> were engaged that woman cast her eyes on my widowed father +and notified me that I must not stand in her way. 'If you embarrass me +by one word,' she said to me in her pretty, timid way, but with the look +of a lion out of her florid fringes, 'I will shatter your future +hearthstone. You are not fit to marry a Christian woman like Agnes Wilt. +I am good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> enough for your father—yes,' she finished, with terrible +irony, 'and to be your mother!' Those words went with me around the +world. Agnes, was I not punished?"</p> + +<p>"To think that the son of so good a man should be bound to such a +tyrant."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will make him steal for her, or worse. He will end by being +her most degraded creature, leading and misleading to her. Theirs is an +unreturning path. God keep us all faithful!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter became again mysterious. He sent for his trunks, and gave +his address as the "Treaty House," on Beach Street, nearly opposite the +monument, only a square back from the Zane house.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," said Salter, when the young husband sought him there, "I +concluded to move because there will be a nurse in that house before +midsummer. If I was deaf as I once was, it would make no difference. But +a very slight cry would certainly pierce my restored sensibilities now."</p> + +<p>The Treaty House was a fine, old-fashioned brick, with a long saloon or +double parlor containing many curiosities, such as pieces of old ships +of war, weapons used in Polynesia and brought home by old sea captains, +the jaws of whales and narwhals, figure-heads from perished vessels, +harpoons, and points of various naval actions. In those days, before +manufactures had extended up all the water streets, and when domestic +war had not been known for a whole generation, the little low marble +monument on the site of William Penn's treaty with the Indians attracted +hundreds of strangers, who moistened their throats and cooled their +foreheads<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> in the great bar parlor of the Treaty House. It was still a +secluded spot, shady and dewy with venerable trees, and the moisture +they gave the old brown and black bricks in the contiguous houses, some +of them still stylish, and all their windows topped with marble or +sandstone, gray with the superincumbent weight of time or neglect. Large +rear additions and sunless sideyards carried out the idea of a former +gentry. Some buttonwood trees, now thinning out with annual age, +conveyed by their speckled trunks the notion of a changing social +standard, white and brown, native and foreign, while the lines of maples +stood on blackened boles like old retired seamen, bronzed in many +voyages and planted home forever. But despite the narrow, neglected, +shady street, the slope of Shackamaxon went gently shelving to the edges +of long sunny wharves, nearly as in the day when Penn selected this +greensward to meet his Indian friends, and barter tools and promises for +forest levels and long rich valleys, now open to the sky and murmurous +with wheat and green potato vines.</p> + +<p>Sitting before the inn door, on drowsy June afternoons, Duff Salter +heard the adzes ring and hammers smite the thousand bolt-heads on lofty +vessels, raised on mast-like scaffolds as if they meant to be launched +into the air and go cleared for yonder faintly tinted spectral moon, +which lingered so long by day, like the symbol of the Indian race, +departed but lambent in thoughtful memories. Duff had grown +superstitious; he came out of the inn door sidewise, that he might +always see that moon over his right shoulder for good luck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>One morning Andrew Zane appeared at the Treaty House before Duff Salter +had taken his julep, after the fashion of malarious Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Salter, it is all over. There is a baby at our house."</p> + +<p>"Girl?"</p> + +<p>"Just that!"</p> + +<p>"I thought so," exclaimed Duff Salter. "It was truly mother's labor, and +ought to have been like Agnes. We will give her a toast."</p> + +<p>"In nothing but water," spoke Andrew soberly. "I hope I have sown my +wild oats."</p> + +<p>"I will imitate you," heartily responded Duff Salter; "for it occurred +to me in Arkansas that people shot and butchered each other so often +because they threw into empty stomachs a long tumbler of liquor and +leaves. You are well started, Andrew. Your father's and his partner's +estate will give you an income of $10,000. What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"I have no idea whatever. My mind is not ready for business. My serious +experience has been followed by a sort of stupor—an inquiry, a detached +relation to everything."</p> + +<p>"Let it be so awhile," answered the strong, gray-eyed man. "Such rests +are often medicine, as sleep is. The mind will find its true channel +some day."</p> + +<p>"Can I be of service to you, Mr. Salter? Money would be a small return +of our obligations to you."</p> + +<p>"No, I am independent. Too independent! I wish I had a wife."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Agnes told me that besides seeing the baby<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> when you came to the +house, little Mary Byerly would be there. She is well enough to be out, +and has lost her invalid brother."</p> + +<p>"If you see me blush, Andrew," said Duff Salter, "you needn't tell of +it. I am in love with little Podge, but it's all over. With no +understanding of woman's sensibilities, I shook that fragile child in my +rude grasp, and frightened her forever. What will you call your baby?"</p> + +<p>"Agnes says it shall be <i>Euphemia</i>, meaning 'of good report.' You know +it came near being a young lady of bad report."</p> + +<p>"As for me, Andrew, I shall make the contract for the steeple and +completion of the new church, and then take a foreign journey. Since I +stopped sneezing I have no way to disguise my sensibilities, and am more +an object of suspicion than ever."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter peeped at the beautiful mother and hung a chain of gold +around the baby's neck, and was about slipping out when Podge Byerly +appeared. She made a low bow and shrank away.</p> + +<p>"Follow her," whispered Andrew Zane. "If she is cool now she will be +cold hereafter, unless you nurse her confidence."</p> + +<p>With a sense of great youthfulness and demerit, Duff Salter entered the +parlors and found Podge sitting in the shadows of that thrice notable +room where death and grief had been so often carried and laid down. The +little teacher was pale and thin, and her eyes wore a saddened light.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to see you again," said Duff Salter. "I wanted your +forgiveness."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Striking the centre of sympathy by these few words, the late deaf man +saw Podge's throat agitated.</p> + +<p>"If you knew," he continued, "how often I accused myself since your +illness, you would try to excuse me."</p> + +<p>After a little silence Podge said,</p> + +<p>"I don't remember just what happened, Mr. Salter. Was it you who sent me +many beautiful and dainty things while I was sick? I thought it might +be."</p> + +<p>"You guessed me, then? At least I was not forgotten."</p> + +<p>"I never forgot you, sir; but ever since my illness you seem to have +been a part of the dread river and its dead. I have often tried to +restore you as I once thought of you, but other things rise up and I +cannot see you. My head was gone, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Alas, no! I drove away your heart. If that would come back, the +wandering head would follow, little friend. Are you afraid of me?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes. One thing, I think, is your deafness. While you were deaf +you seemed so natural that we talked freely before you, prattling out +our fancies undisguised. We wouldn't have done it if we knew that you +heard as well as we. That makes me afraid too. Oh! why did you deceive +us so?"</p> + +<p>"I only deceived myself. A foolish habit, formed in pique, of affecting +not to hear, adhered to me long before we were acquainted. If you will +let me drive you out into the country to-morrow I will tell you the +whole of my silly story. The country roads are what you need, and I need +your consideration as much."</p> + +<p>The next day a buggy stopped at the door, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> Podge, sitting at the +window with her bonnet on, saw Duff Salter, hale and strong, holding the +reins. She was helped into the buggy by Andrew Zane, and in a few +minutes the two were in the open country pointing toward old Frankford. +They rode up the long stony street of that old village, whose stone or +rough-cast houses suggested the Swiss city of Basle whence the early +settlers of Frankford came. Then turning through the factory dale called +Little Britain, they sped out the lane, taking the general direction of +Tacony Creek, and followed that creek up through different little +villages and mill-seats until they came to nearly the highest mill-pond, +in the stony region about the Old York road. A house of gray and reddish +stones, in irregular forms, mortised in white plaster, sat broadside to +the lawn before it, which was covered with venerable trees, and bordered +at the roadside by a stone rampart, so that it looked like a hanging +lawn. A gate at the lawn-side gave admission to a lane, behind which was +the ancient mill-pond suspended in a dewy landscape, with a path in the +grass leading up the mill-race, and on the pond a little scow floated in +pond-lilies. All around were chestnut trees, their burrs full of fruit. +Across the lane, only a few feet from the house, the ancient mill gave +forth a snoring and drumming together as if the spirit of solitude was +having a dance all to itself and only breathing hard. Then the crystal +water, shooting the old black mill-wheel, fell off it like the beard +from Duff Salter's face, and went away in pools and flakes across a +meadow, under spontaneous willow trees which liked to stand in moisture +and cover with their roots the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> harmless water-snakes. A few cottages +peeped over the adjacent ridges upon the hidden dale.</p> + +<p>"What a restful place!" exclaimed Podge Byerly. "I almost wish I might +be spirit of a mill, or better still, that old boat yonder basking in +the pond-lilies and holding up its shadow!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad you like it," said Duff Salter. "Let us go in and see if the +house is hospitable."</p> + +<p>As Podge Byerly walked up the worn stone walk of the lawn she saw a +familiar image at the door—her mother.</p> + +<p>"You here, mother?" said Podge. "What is the meaning of it?"</p> + +<p>"This is my house, my darling. There is our friend who gave it to us. +You will need to teach no more. The mill and a little farm surrounding +us will make us independent."</p> + +<p>Podge turned to Duff Salter.</p> + +<p>"How kind of you!" she said. "Yet it frightens me the more. These +surprises, tender as they are, excite me. Everything about you is +mysterious. You are not even deaf as you were. What silly things you may +have heard us say."</p> + +<p>"Dear girl," exclaimed Duff Salter, "nothing which I heard from your +lips ever affected me except to love you. You cured me of years of +suspicion, and I consented to hear again. The world grew candid to me; +its sounds were melodious, its silence was sincere. It is you who are +deaf. You cannot hear my heart."</p> + +<p>"I hear no other's, at least," said Podge. "Tell me the story of your +strange deceit."</p> + +<p>They drew chairs upon the lawn. Podge took off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> her bonnet and looked +very delicate as her color rose and faded alternately in the emotions of +one wooed in earnest and uncertain of her fate.</p> + +<p>"I have not come by money without hard labor," said the hale and +handsome man. "This gray beard is not the creation of many years. It is +the fruit of anxiety, toil, and danger. My years are not double yours."</p> + +<p>"You have recovered at least one of your faculties since I knew you," +said Podge slyly.</p> + +<p>"You mean hearing. The sense of feeling too, perhaps—which you have +lost. But this is my tale: After I went to Mexico, and became the +superintendent of a mine, I found my nature growing hard and my manner +imperious, not unlike those of my dead friend, William Zane. The hot +climate of Mexico and confinement in the mines, hundreds of feet below +the surface and in the salivating fumes of the cinnabar retorts, +assisted to make me impetuous. I fought more than one duel, and, like +all men who do desperate things, grew more desperate by experience +until, upon one occasion, I was made deaf by an explosion in the bowels +of the ground. For one year I could hear but little. In that year I was +comparatively humble, and one day I heard a workman say, 'If the boss +gets his hearing back there will be no peace about the mine.' This set +me to thinking. 'How much of my suspicion and anger,' I said, 'is the +result of my own speaking. I provoked the distemper of which I am +afflicted. I start the inquiries which make me distrustful. I hear the +echo of my own idle words, and impeach my fellow-man upon it. Until I +find a strong reason for speech, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> will remain deaf as I have been.' +That strong reason never arrived, my little girl, until all reason +ceased to be and love supplanted it."</p> + +<p>"There is no reason, then, in your present passion," said Podge dryly.</p> + +<p>"No. I am so absolutely in love that there is no resisting it. It is +boyishness wholly."</p> + +<p>"I think I should be afraid of a man," said Podge, "who could have so +much will as to hold his tongue for seven years. Suppose you had a +second attack, it might never come to an end. What were you thinking +about all that time?"</p> + +<p>"I thought how deaf, blind, and dumb was any one without love. I found +the world far better than it had seemed when I was one of its +chatterers. By my voluntary silence I had banished the disturbing +element in Nature; for our enemy is always within us, not without. In +that seven years, for most of which I heard everything and answered +none, except by my pencil, I was prosperous, observant, sober, and +considerate. The deceit of affecting not to hear has brought its +penalty, however. You are afraid of me."</p> + +<p>"Were you ever in love before?"</p> + +<p>"I fear I will surprise you again by my answer," said Duff Salter. "I +once proposed marriage to a young girl on this very lawn. It was in the +springtime of my life. We met at a picnic in a grove not far distant. +She was a coquette, and forgot me."</p> + +<p>Podge said she must have time to know her heart. Every day they made a +new excursion, now into the country of the Neshaminy, and beyond it to +the vales of the Tohicken and Perkiomen. They descended the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> lanes along +the Pennypack and Poqessing, and followed the Wissahickon to its +sources. Podge rapidly grew in form and spirits, and Agnes and Andrew +Zane came out to spend a Saturday with them.</p> + +<p>Mean time Andrew Zane was in a mystic condition—uncertain of purpose, +serious, and studious, and he called one night at the Treaty tavern to +see Duff Salter. Duff had gone, however, up the Tacony, and in a +listless way Andrew sauntered over to the little monument erected on the +alleged site of the Indian treaty. He read the inscription aloud:</p> + +<p>"Treaty Ground of William Penn and the Indian Nations, 1682. Unbroken +Faith! Pennsylvania, founded by deeds of Peace!"</p> + +<p>As Andrew ceased he looked up and beheld a man of rather portly figure, +with the plain clothes of a Quaker, a broad-brimmed hat, knee-breeches, +and buckled shoes. Something in his countenance was familiar. Andrew +looked again, and wondered where he had seen that face. It then occurred +to him that it was the exact likeness of William Penn. The man locked at +Andrew and said,</p> + +<p>"Thee is called to preach!"</p> + +<p>"Sir?" exclaimed Andrew.</p> + +<p>In the same tone of voice the man exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Thee is called to preach!"</p> + +<p>Andrew looked with some slight superstition at the peculiar man, with +such a tone of authority, and said again, but respectfully:</p> + +<p>"Do I understand you as speaking to me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Thee is called to preach!" said the object, in precisely the same tone +of voice, and vanished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>Andrew Zane walked across to the hotel and saw Duff Salter, freshly +arrived, looking at him intently.</p> + +<p>"Did you see a person in Quaker dress standing by the monument an +instant past?"</p> + +<p>"I saw nobody but yourself," said Duff heartily. "I have been looking at +you some moments."</p> + +<p>"As truly as I live, a man in Quaker dress spoke to me at the monument's +side."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He said three times, deliberately, 'Thee is called to preach!'"</p> + +<p>"That's queer," said Duff, looking curiously at Andrew. "My friend, that +man spoke from within you. Do you know that it is the earnest desire of +your wife, and a subject of her prayers, that you may become a +minister?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know it," said Andrew. "But there is something startling in +this apparition. I shall never be able to forget it."</p> + +<p>To the joy of Agnes, now a happy wife and mother, her husband went +seriously into the church, and the moment his intention was announced of +entering the ministry, there arose a spontaneous and united wish that he +would take the pulpit in his native suburb.</p> + +<p>"Agnes," said the young man, "the dangers I have passed, the tragedy of +my family, your piety and my feelings, all concur in this step. I feel a +new life within me, now that I have settled upon this design."</p> + +<p>"I would rather see you a good minister than President," exclaimed +Agnes. "The desires of my heart are fully answered now. When you saw the +image standing by the Treaty tree at that instant I was upon my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> knees +asking God to turn your heart toward the ministry."</p> + +<p>"Here in Kensington," spoke Andrew, "we will live down all imputation +and renew our family name. Here, where we made our one mistake, we will +labor for others who err and suffer. Such an escape as ours can be +celebrated by nothing less than religion."</p> + +<p>Duff Salter went to Tacony for the last time on the Sunday Andrew Zane +entered the church. He did not speak a word, but at the appearance of +Podge Byerly drew out the ancient ivory tablets and wrote:</p> + +<p>"I'll never speak again until you accept or refuse me."</p> + +<p>She answered, "What are you going to do if I say <i>no</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I have bought two tickets for Europe," wrote Duff Salter. "One is for +you, if you will accept it. If not I shall go alone and be deaf for the +remainder of my days."</p> + +<p>Podge answered by reaching out her lips and kissing Duff Salter plumply.</p> + +<p>"There," she said, "I've done it!"</p> + +<p>Duff Salter threw the tablets away, and standing up in a glow of +excitement, gave with great unction his last articulate sneeze:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p><p>"Jericho! Jericho!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEAD_BOHEMIAN" id="THE_DEAD_BOHEMIAN"></a>THE DEAD BOHEMIAN.</h2> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poemleft"> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My hope to take his hand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His world my promised land,</span><br /> +I thought no face so beautiful and high.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When he had called me "Friend,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I reached ambition's end,</span><br /> +And Art's protection in his kindly eye.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My dream was quickly run—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I knew Endymion;</span><br /> +His wing was fancy and his soarings play;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No great thirsts in him pent,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His hates were indolent,</span><br /> +His graces calm and eloquent alway.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not love's converse now seems</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So tender to my dreams</span><br /> +As he, discursive at our mutual desk,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Most fervid and most ripe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When dreaming at his pipe,</span><br /> +He made the opiate nights grow Arabesque.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His crayon never sharp,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No discord in his harp,</span><br /> +He made such sweetness I was discontent;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He knew not the desire</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To rise from warmth to fire,</span><br /> +And with his magic rend the firmament.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Perhaps some want of faith,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Perhaps some past heart-scath,</span><br /> +Took from his life the zest of reaching far—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And so grew my regret,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To see my pride forget</span><br /> +That many watched him like a risen star.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some moralist in man—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Even Bohemian—</span><br /> +Feathers the pen and nerves the archer too.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not dear decoying art,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But the crushed, loving heart,</span><br /> +Makes the young life to its resolves untrue.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Therefore his haunts were sad;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Therefore his rhymes were glad;</span><br /> +Therefore he laughed at my reproach and goad—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With listless dreams and vague,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Passed not the walls of Prague,</span><br /> +To hew some fresh and individual road.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Still like an epic round,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With beautifulness crowned,</span><br /> +I read his memory, tenderer every year,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Complete with graciousness,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gifted and purposeless,</span><br /> +But to my heart as some grand Master dear.<br /> +</div> + +<p class="break3">THE END<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p> +[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistencies of spelling, punctuation and accents +in the original have been retained in this etext.] +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bohemian Days, by Geo. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bohemian Days + Three American Tales + +Author: Geo. Alfred Townsend + +Release Date: September 15, 2006 [EBook #19288] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOHEMIAN DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Dave Macfarlane and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +BOHEMIAN DAYS + +*Three American Tales* + +BY +GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND +_"GATH"_ + + + "And David arose and fled to Gath. And he changed his behavior. And + every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and + every one that was discontented gathered themselves unto him. And + the time that David dwelt in the country of the Philistines was a + full year and four months." + + +H. CAMPBELL & CO., Publishers, +NO. 21 PARK ROW, +NEW YORK + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, +By GEO. ALFRED TOWNSEND, +in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + +THE BURR PRINTING HOUSE +AND STEAM TYPE-SETTING OFFICE, +Cor. Frankfort and Jacob Sts., +NEW YORK. + + + + +TO TEN FRIENDS AT DINNER, + +GILSEY HOUSE, NEW YORK, + +APRIL 21, 1879; + +WHO MADE THIS PUBLICATION + +_A PROMISE AND AN OBLIGATION_. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +So far from the first tale in this book being of political motive, it +was written among the subjects of it, and read to several of them in +1864. Perhaps the only _souvenir_ of refugee and "skedaddler" life +abroad during the war ever published, its preservation may one day be +useful in the socialistic archives of the South, to whose posterity +slavery will seem almost a mythical thing. With as little bias in the +second tale, I have etched the young Northern truant abroad during the +secession. The closing tale, more recently written, in the midst of +constant toil and travel, is an attempt to recall an old suburb, now +nearly erased and illegible by the extension of a great city, and may be +considered a home American picture about contemporary with the European +tales. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +SHORT NOVELS. + +THE REBEL COLONY IN PARIS 13 + +MARRIED ABROAD 99 + +THE DEAF MAN OF KENSINGTON 155 + + +CHORDS. + +BOHEMIA 9 + +LITTLE GRISETTE 93 + +THE PIGEON GIRL 149 + +THE DEAD BOHEMIAN 279 + + + + +BOHEMIA. + + + The farther I do grow from _La Boheme_, + The more I do regret that foolish shame + Which made me hold it something to conceal, + And so I did myself expatriate; + For in my pulses and my feet I feel + That wayward realm was still my own estate; + Wise wagged our tongues when the dear nights grew late, + And quainter, clearer, rose our quick conceits, + And pure and mutual were our social sweets. + Oh! ever thus convivial round the gate + Of Letters have the masters and the young + Loitered away their enterprises great, + Since Spenser revelled in the halls of state, + And at his tavern rarest Jonson sung. + + + + +THE REBEL COLONY IN PARIS. + + * * * * * + + + + +I. + +THE EXILES. + + +In the latter part of October, 1863, seven very anxious and dilapidated +personages were assembled under the roof of an old, eight-storied +tenement, near the church of St. Sulpice, in the city of Paris. + +The seven under consideration had reached the catastrophe of their +decline--and rise. They had met in solemn deliberation to pass +resolutions to that effect, and take the only congenial means for +replenishment and reform. This means lay in miniature before a caged +window, revealed by a superfluity of light--a roulette-table, whereon +the ball was spinning industriously from the practised fingers of Mr. +Auburn Risque, of Mississippi. + +Mr. Auburn Risque had a spotted eye and a bluishly cold face; his +fingers were the only movable part of him, for he performed respiration +and articulation with the same organ--his nose; and the sole words +vouchsafed by this at present were: +"Black--black--black--white--black--white--white--black"--etc. + +The five surrounding parties were carefully noting upon fragments of +paper the results of the experiment, and likewise Master Lees, the +lessee of the chamber--a pale, emaciated youth, sitting up in bed, and +ciphering tremulously, with bony fingers; even he, upon whom disease had +made auguries of death, looked forward to gold, as the remedy which +science had not brought, for a wasted youth of dissipation and +incontinence. + +They were all representatives of the recently instituted Confederacy. +Most of them had dwelt in Paris anterior to the war, and, habituated to +its luxuries, scarcely recognized themselves, now that they were forlorn +and needy. Note Mr. Pisgah, for example--a Georgian, tall, shapely and +handsome, with the gray hairs of his thirtieth year shading his working +temples; he had been the most envied man in Paris; no woman could resist +the magnetism of his eye; he was almost a match for the great Berger at +billiards; he rode like a centaur on the Boulevards, and counterfeited +Apollo at the opera and the masque. His credit was good for fifty +thousand francs any day in the year. He had travelled in far and +contiguous regions, conducted intrigues at Athens and Damascus, and +smoked his pipe upon the Nile and among the ruins of Sebastopol. Without +principle, he was yet amiable, and with his dashing style and address, +one forgot his worthlessness. + +How keenly he is reminded of it now! He cannot work, he has no craft nor +profession; he knew enough to pass for an educated gentleman; not enough +to earn a franc a day. He is the _protege_ at present of his +washerwoman, and can say, with some governments, that his debts are +impartially distributed. He has only two fears--those of starvation in +France, and a soldier's death in America. + +The prospect of a debtor's prison at Clichy has long since ceased to be +a terror. There, he would be secure of sustenance and shelter, and of +these, at liberty, he is doubtful every day. + +Still, with his threadbare coat, he haunts the Casino and the Valentino +of evenings; for some mistresses of a former day send him billets. + +He lies in bed till long after noon, that he may not have pangs of +hunger; and has yet credit for a dinner at an obscure _cremery_. When +this last confidence shall have been forfeited, what must result to +Pisgah? + +He is striving to anticipate the answer with this experiment at +roulette; for he has a "system" whereby it is possible to break any +gambling bank--Spa, Baden, Wisbaden or Homburg. The others have systems +also, from Auburn Risque to Simp, the only son of the richest widow in +Louisiana, who disbursed of old in Paris ten thousand dollars annually. + +His house at Passy was a palace in miniature, and his favorite a tragedy +queen. She played at the Folies Dramatiques, and drove three horses of +afternoons upon the Champs Elysees. She had other engagements, of +course, when Mr. Lincoln's "paper blockade" stopped Master Simp's +remittances, and he passed her yesterday upon the Rue Rivoli, with the +Russian ambassador's footman at her back, but she only touched him with +her silks. + +Simp studied a profession, and was a volunteer counsel in the memorable +case of Jeems Pinckney against Jeems Rutledge. His speech, on that +occasion, occupied in delivery just three minutes, and set the +court-room in a roar. He paid the village editor ten dollars to compose +it, and the same sum to publish it. + +"If you could learn it for me," said Simp, anxiously, "I would give you +twenty dollars." + +This, his first and last public appearance, was conditional to the +receipt from his mother, of six thousand acres of land and eighty +negroes. It might have been a close calculation for a mathematician to +know how many black sweat-drops, how many strokes of the rawhide, went +into the celebrated dinner at the Maison Doree, wherein Master Simp and +only his lady had thirty-four courses, and eleven qualities of wine, and +a bill of eight hundred francs. + +In that prosperous era, his inalienable comrade had been Mr. Andy Plade, +who now stood beside him, intensely absorbed. + +Of late Mr. Plade's affection had been transferred to Hugenot, the only +possessor of an entire franc in the chamber. Hugenot was a short-set +individual, in pumps and an eye-glass, who had been but a few days in +the city. He was decidedly a man of sentiment. He called the Confederacy +"ow-ah cause," and claimed to have signed the call for the first +secession meeting in the South. + +He asserted frankly that he was of French extraction, but only hinted +that he was of noble blood. He had been a hatter, but carefully ignored +the fact; and, having run the blockade with profitable cargoes fourteen +times, had settled down to be a respectable trader between Havre and +Nassau. Mr. Plade shared much of the sentiment and some of the money of +this illustrious personage. + +There were rumors abroad that Plade himself had great, but embarrassed, +fortunes. + +He was one of the hundred thousand chevaliers who hail the advent of war +as something which will hide their nothingness. + +"I knew it," said Auburn Risque, at length, pinching the ball between +his hard palms as if it were the creature of his will. "My system is +good; yours do not validate themselves. You are novices at gambling; I +am an old blackleg." It was as he had said; the method of betting which +he proposed had seemed to be successful. He staked upon colors; never +upon numbers; and alternated from white to black after a fixed, +undeviating routine. + +Less by experiment than by faith, the others gave up their own theories +to adopt his own. They resolved to collect every available sou, and, +confiding it to the keeping of Mr. Risque, send him to Germany, that he +might beggar the bankers, and so restore the Southern Colony to its +wonted prosperity. + +Hugenot delivered a short address, wishing "the cause" good luck, but +declining to subscribe anything. He did not doubt the safety of "the +system" of course, but had an hereditary antipathy to gaming. The +precepts of all his ancestry were against it. + +Poor Lees followed in a broken way, indicating sundry books, a guitar, +two pairs of old boots, and a canary bird, as the relics of his fortune. +These, Andy Plade, who possessed nothing, but thought he might borrow a +trifle, volunteered to dispose of, and Freckle, a Missourian, who was +tolerated in the colony only because he could be plucked, asserted +enthusiastically, and amid great sensation, that he yet had three +hundred francs at the banker's, his entire capital, all of which he +meant to devote to the most reliable project in the world. + +At this episode, Pisgah, whose misfortunes had quite shattered his +nerves, proposed to drink at Freckle's expense to the success of the +system, and Hugenot was prevailed upon to advance twenty-one sous, while +Simp took the order to the adjacent _marchand du vin_. + +When they had all filled, Hugenot, looking upon himself in the light of +a benefactor, considered it necessary to do something. + +"Boys," he said, wiping his eves with the lining of a kid glove, "will +you esteem it unnatural, that a Suth Kurlinian, who sat--at an early +age, it is true--at the feet of the great Kulhoon, should lift up his +voice and weep in this day of ou-ah calamity?" + +(Sensation, aggrieved by the sobs of Freckle, who, unused to spirits and +greatly affected--chokes.) + +"When I cast my eye about this lofty chambah" (here Lees, who hasn't +been out of it for a year, hides himself beneath the bed-clothes); "when +I see these noble spih-its dwelling obscu' and penniless; when I +remembah that two short years ago, they waih of independent +fohtunes--one with his sugah, anotha with his cotton, a third with his +tobacco, in short, all the blessings of heaven bestowed upon a free +people--niggars, plantations, pleasures!--I can but lay my pooah hand +upon the manes of my ancestry, and ask in the name of ou-ah cause, is +there justice above or retribution upon the earth!" + +A profound silence ensued, broken only by Mr. Plade, who called Hugenot +a man of sentiment, and slapped his back; while Freckle fell upon +Pisgah's bosom, and wished that his stomach was as full as his heart. + +Mr. Simp, who had been endeavoring to recollect some passages of his +address, in the case of the Jeemses, for that address had an universal +application, and might mean as much now as on the original occasion, +brought down one of those decayed boots which the _marchand des habits_ +had thrice refused to buy, and said, stoutly: + +"'By Gad! think of it, hyuh am I, a beggah, by Gad, without shoes to my +feet, suh! The wuth of one nigga would keep me now for a yeah. At home, +by Gad, I could afford to spend the wuth of a staving field hand every +twenty-fouah houahs. I'll sweah!" cried Simp in conclusion, "I call this +hard." + +"I suppose the Yankees have confiscated my stocks in the Havre +steamers," muttered Andy Plade. "I consider they have done me out of +twenty thousand dollars." + +"Brotha writes to me, last lettah," continued Freckle, who had +recovered, "every tree cut off the plantation--every nigga run off, down +to old Sim, a hundred years old--every panel of fence toted away--no +bacon in smoke-house--not an old rip in stable--no corn, coon, possum, +rabbit, fox, dog or hog within ten miles of the place--house stands in a +mire--mire stands in desert--Yankee general going to conscrip brotha. I +save myself, sp'ose, for stahvation." + +"Wait till you come down to my condition," faltered the proprietor, +making emphasis with his meagre finger--"I have been my own enemy; the +Yankees will but finish what is almost consummated now. I tell you, +boys, I expect to die in this room; I shall never quit this bed. I am +offensive, wasted, withered, and would look gladly upon Pere la +Chaise,[A] if with my bodily maladies my mind was not also diseased. I +have no fortitude; I am afraid of death!" + +[Footnote A: The great Cemetery of Paris.] + +The room seemed to grow suddenly cold, and the faces of all the inmates +became pale; they looked more squalid than ever--the threadbare +curtains, the rheumatic chairs, the soiled floor, sashes and wallpaper. + +Mr. Hugenot fumbled his shirt-bosom nervously, and his diamond pin, +glaring like a lamp upon the worn garbs and faces of his compatriots, +showed them still wanner and meaner by contrast. + +"Put the blues under your feet!" cried Auburn Risque, in his hard, +practical way; "my system will resurrect the dead. You shall have +clothes upon your backs, shoes upon your feet, specie in your pockets, +blood in your veins. Let us sell, borrow and pawn; we can raise a +thousand francs together. I will return in a fortnight with fifty +thousand!" + + + + +II. + +RAISING THE WIND. + + +The million five hundred thousand folks in Paris, who went about their +pleasures that October night, knew little of the sorrows of the Southern +Colony. + +Pisgah dropped in at the Chateau des Fleurs to beg a paltry loan from +some ancient favorite. The time had been, when, after a nightly debauch, +he had placed two hundred francs in her morning's coffee-cup. It was +mournful now to mark his premature gray hairs, as, resting his soiled, +faded coat-sleeve upon her _manteau de velour_, he saw the scorn of his +poverty in the bright eyes which had smiled upon him, and made his +request so humbly and so feverishly. + +"Give me back, Feefine," he faltered, "only that fifty francs I once +tied in a gold band about your spaniel's neck. I am poor, my dear--that +will not move you, I know, but I am going to Germany to play at the +banks; if I win, I swear to pay you back ten francs for one!" + +There was never a _lorette_ who did not love to gamble. She stopped a +passing gentleman and borrowed the money; the other saw it transferred +to Pisgah, with an expression of contempt, and, turning to a friend, +called him aloud a withering name. + +Poor Pisgah! he would have drawn his bowie-knife once, and defied even +the emperor to stand between the man and himself after such an +appellation. He would have esteemed it a favor now to be what he was +named, and only lifted his creased beaver gratefully, and hobbled +nervously away, and stopping near by at a cafe drank a great glass of +absinthe, with almost a prayerful heart. + +At Mr. Simp's hotel in the Rue Monsieur Le Prince much business was +transacted after dark. Monsieurs Freckle and Plade were engaged in +smuggling away certain relics of furniture and wearing apparel. + +Mr. Simp already owed his landlord fifteen months' rent, for which the +only security was his diminishing effects. + +If the mole-eyed concierge should suspect foul play with these, Simp +would be turned out of doors immediately and the property confiscated. + +Singly and in packages the collateral made its exit. A half-dozen regal +chemises made to order at fifty francs apiece; a musical clock picked up +at Genoa for twelve louis; a patent boot-jack and an ebony billiard cue; +a Paduan violin; two statuettes of more fidelity than modesty, to be +sold pound for pound at the current value of bronze; divers +pipes--articles of which Mr. Simp had earned the title of connoisseur, +by investing several hundred dollars annually--a gutta-percha +self-adjusting dog-muzzle, the dog attached to which had been seized by +H. M. Napoleon III. in lieu of taxes, etc., etc. + +Everything passed out successfully except one pair of pantaloons which +protruded from Freckle's vest, and that unfortunate person at once fell +under suspicion of theft. All went in the manner stated to Mr. Lees' +chamber, he being the only colonist who did not hazard the loss of his +room, chiefly because nobody else would rent it, and in part because his +landlady, having swindled him for six or eight years, had compunctions +as to ejecting him. + +Thence in the morning, true to his aristocratic instincts, Mr. Simp +departed in a _voiture_ for the central bureau of the Mont de Piete,[B] +in the Rue Blanc Manteau. His face had become familiar there of late. He +carried his articles up from the curb, while the _cocher_ grinned and +winked behind, and taking his turn in the throng of widows, orphans, +ouvriers, and profligates and unfortunates of all loose conditions, Simp +was a subject of much unenviable remark. He came away with quite an +armful of large yellow certificates, and the articles were registered to +Monsieur Simp, a French subject; for with such passports went all his +compatriots. + +[Footnote B: The government pawnbroking shop.] + +Andy Plade spent twenty-four hours, meanwhile, at the Grand Hotel, +enacting the time-honored part of all things to all men. + +He differed from the other colonists, in that they were weak--he was +bad. He spoke several languages intelligibly, and knew much of many +things--art, finances, geography--just those matters on which newly +arrived Americans desire information. His address was even fascinating. +One suspected him to be a leech, but pardoned the motive for the manner. +He called himself a broken man. The war had blighted his fair fortunes. +For a time he had held on hopefully, but now meant to breast the current +no longer. His time was at the service of anybody. Would monsieur like +to see the city? He knew its every cleft and den. So he had lived in +Paris five years--in the same manner, elsewhere, all his life. + +A few men heard his story and helped him--one Northern man had given him +employment; his gratitude was defalcation. + +To day he has sounded Hugenot; but that man of sentiment alluded to the +business habits of his ancestry, and intimated that he did not lend. + +"Ou-ah cause, Andy," he says, with a flourish, "is now negotiating a +loan. When ou-ah beloved country is reduced to such straits, that she +must borow from strangers, I cannot think of relieving private +indigence." + +Later in the day, however, Mr. Plade made the acquaintance of an +ingenuous youth from Pennsylvania, and obtaining a hundred francs, for +one day only, sent it straightway to Mr. Auburn Risque. + +A second meeting was held at Lees' the third day noon, when the +originator of the "system" sat icily grim behind a table whereon eleven +hundred francs reposed; and the whole colony, crowding breathlessly +around, was amazed to note how little the space taken up by so great a +sum. + +They opened a crevice that Lees might be gladdened with the sight of the +gold; for to-day that invalid was unusually dispirited, and could not +quit his bed. + +"We are down very low, old Simp," said Pisgah, smilingly, "when either +the possession or the loss of that amount can be an event in our lives." + +"You will laugh that it was so, a week hence," answered Auburn +Risque--"when you lunch at Peters' while awaiting my third check for a +thousand dollars apiece." + +"I don't believe in the system," growled Lees, opening a cold draft from +his melancholy eyes: "I don't feel that I shall ever spend a sou of the +winnings. No more will any of you. There will be no winnings to spend. +Auburn Risque will lose. He always does." + +"If you were standing by at the play I should," cried Risque, while the +pock-marks in his face were like the thawings of ice. "You would croak +like an old raven, and I should forget my reckoning." + +"Come now, Lees," cried all the others; "you must not see bad omen for +the Colony;" and they said, in undertone, that Lees had come to be quite +a bore. + +They were all doubtful, nevertheless. Their crisis could not be +exaggerated. Their interest was almost devout. Three thousand miles from +relief; two seas between, one of water and one of fire; at home, +conscription, captivity, death: the calamity of Southerners abroad would +merit all sympathy, if it had not been induced by waste, and unredeemed +by either fortitude or regret. + +The unhappy Freckle, whose luckless admiration of the rest had been his +ruin, felt that a sonorous prayer, such as his old father used to make +in the Methodist meeting-house, would be a good thing wherewith to +freight Auburn Risque for his voyage. When men stake everything on a +chance, it is natural to look up to somebody who governs chances; but +Andy Plade, in his loud, bad way, proposed a huge toast, which they took +with a cheer, and quite confused Hugenot, who had a sentiment _apropos_. + +Then they escorted Auburn Risque to the Chemin de fer du Nord,[C] and +packed him away in a third-class carriage, wringing his hand as if he +were their only hope and friend in the world. + +[Footnote C: Northern Railway Station.] + + + + +III. + +DEATH IN EXPATRIATION. + + +It was a weary day for the Southern Colony. They strolled about town--to +the Masque, the Jardin des Plantes, the Champ des Mars, the Marche aux +Chevaux, and finally to Freckle's place, and essayed a lugubrious hour +at whist. + +"It is poor fun, Pisgah," said Mr. Simp, at last, "if we remember that +afternoon at poker when you won eight thousand francs and I lost six +thousand." + +The conversation forever returned to Spa and Baden-Baden, and many +wagers were made upon the amount of money which Risque would gain--first +day--second day--first week, and so forth. + +At last they resolved to send to Lees' chamber for the roulette-board, +and pass the evening in experiment. They drew Jacks for the party who +should fetch it, and Freckle, always unfortunate, was pronounced the +man. He went cheerfully, thinking it quite an honor to serve the Colony +in any capacity--for Freckle, representing a disaffected State, had +fallen under suspicion of lukewarm loyalty, and was most anxious to +clear up any such imputation. + +His head was full of odd remembrances as he crossed the Place St. +Sulpice: his plain old father at the old border home, close and +hard-handed, who went afield with his own negroes, and made his sons +take the plough-handles, and marched them all before him every Sunday to +the plank church, and led the singing himself with an ancient +tuning-fork, and took up the collection in a black velvet bag fastened +to a pole. + +He had foreseen the war, and sent his son abroad to avoid it. He had +given Freckle sufficient money to travel for five years, and told him in +the same sentence to guard his farthings and say his prayers. Freckle +could see the old man now, with a tear poised on his tangled eyelashes, +asking a farewell benediction from the front portico, upon himself +departing, while every woolly-head was uncovered, and the whole +assembled "property" had groaned "Amen" together. + +That was patriarchal life; what was this? Freckle thought this much +finer and higher. He had not asked himself if it was better. He was +rather ashamed of his father now, and anxious to be a dashing gentleman, +like Plade or Pisgah. + +Why did he play whist so badly? How chanced it that, having dwelt +eighteen months in Paris, he could speak no French? His only _grisette_ +had both robbed him and been false to him. He knew that the Colony +tolerated him, merely. Was he indeed verdant, as they had said--obtuse, +stupid, lacking wit? + +After all, he repeated to himself, what had the Colony done for him? He +had not now twenty francs to his name, and was a thousand francs in +debt; he had essayed to study medicine, but balked at the first lesson. +Yet, though these suggestions, rather than convictions, occurred to him, +they stirred no latent ambition. If he had ever known one high +resolution, the Southern Colony had pulled it up, and sown the place +with salt. + +So he reached Master Lees' tenement; it was a long ascent, and toward +the last stages perilous; the stairs had a fashion of curving round +unexpectedly and bending against jambs and blank walls. He was quite out +of breath when he staggered against Lees' door and burst it open. + +The light fell almost glaringly upon the bare, contracted chamber; for +this was next to the sky and close up to the clouds, and the window +looked toward the west, where the sun, sinking majestically, was +throwing its brightest smiles upon Paris, as it bade adieu. + +And there, upon his tossed, neglected bed, in the full blaze of the +sunset, his sharp, sallow jaws dropped upon his neck, his cheeks +colorless and concave, his great eyes open wide and his hair unsmoothed, +Master Lees lay dead, with the roulette table upon his breast! + + * * * * * + +When Freckle had raised himself from the platform at the base of the +first flight of stairs, down which he had fallen in his fright, he +hastened to his own chamber and gave the Colony notice of the depletion +of its number. + +A deep gloom, as may be surmised, fell upon all. Lees had been no great +favorite of late, and it had been the trite remark for a year that he +was looking like death; but at this juncture the tidings came ominously +enough. One member, at least, of the Southern Colony would never share +the winnings of Auburn Risque, and now that they referred to his +forebodings of the morning, it was recalled that with his own demise, he +had prophesied the failure of "the system." + +His end seemed to each young exile a personal admonition; they had known +him strong and spirited, and with them he had grown poor and unhappy. +Poverty is a warning that talks like the wind, and we do not heed it; +but death raps at our door with bony knuckles, so that we grow pale and +think. + +They shuddered, though they were hardened young men, so unfeeling, even +after this reprimand, that they would have left the corpse of their +companion to go unhonored to its grave; separately they wished to do +so--in community they were ashamed; and Pisgah had half a hope that +somebody would demur when he said, awkwardly: + +"The Colony must attend the funeral, I suppose. God knows which of us +will take the next turn." + +Freckle cried out, however, that he should go, if he were to be buried +alive in the same tomb, and on this occasion only he appeared in the +light of an influential spirit. + + + + +IV. + +THE DESPERATE CHANCE. + + +During all this time Mr. Auburn Risque, packed away in the omnibus +train, with a cheap cigar between his lips, and a face like a +refrigerator, was scudding over the rolling provinces of France, +thinking as little of the sunshine, and the harvesters of flax, and the +turning leaves of the woods, and the chateaux overawing the thatched +little villages, as if the train were his mail-coach, and France were +Arkansas, and he were lashing the rump of the "off" horse, as he had +done for the better part of his life. + +Risque's uncle had been a great Mississippi jobber; he took U. S. postal +contracts for all the unknown world; route of the first class, six +horses and daily; route of the second class, semi-weekly and four +horses; third class, two horses and weekly; fourth class, one horse, one +saddle, and one small boy. + +The young Auburn had been born in the stable, and had taken at once to +the road. His uncle found it convenient to put him to work. He can never +be faithfully said to have learned to _walk_; and recalls, as the first +incident of his life, a man who carried a baby and two bowie knives, +teaching him to play old sledge on the cushions of a Washita stage. + +Thenceforward he was a man of one idea. He held it to be one of the +decrees, that he was to grow rich by gaming. As he went, by day or +night, in rain or fog or burning sun, by the margins of turgid +south-western rivers, where his "leaders" shied at the alligators asleep +in the stage-road; through dreary pine woods, where the owls hooted at +silence; over red, reedy, slimy causeways; in cane-breaks and bayous; +past villages where civilization looked westward with a dirk between its +teeth, and cracked its horsewhip; past rich plantations where the +negroes sang afield, and the planter in the house-porch took off his hat +to bow--here, there, always, everywhere, with his cold, hard, +pock-marked face, thin lips and spotted eye, Auburn Risque sat brooding +behind the reins, computing, calculating, overreaching, waiting for his +destiny to wrestle with Chance and bind it down while its pockets were +picked. + +His whole life might have been called a game of cards. He carried a +deck forever next his heart. Sometimes he gambled with other +vehicles--stocks, shares, currency--but the cards were still his +mainstay, and he was well acquainted with every known or obsolete game. +There was no trick, nor fraud, nor waggery which he had not at his +fingers-ends. + +It was his favorite theory that there was method in what seemed chance; +principles underlying luck; measures for infinity; clues to all +combinations. + +Given one pack of cards, one man to shuffle, one to cut, one to deal, +and fair play, and it was yet possible to know just how many times in a +given number of games each card would fall to each man. + +Given a roulette circle of one hundred numbered spaces and a blindfolded +man to spin the ball; it could be counted just how many times in one +thousand said ball would come to rest upon any one number. + +No searcher for perpetual motion, no blind believer in alchemy, clung to +his one idea closer than Auburn Risque. He had shut all themes, +affections, interests, from his mind. He neither loved nor hated any +living being. He was penurious in his expenditures--never in his wagers. +He would stake upon anything in nature--a trot, an election, a battle, a +murder. + +"Will you play picquet for one sou the game, one hundred and fifty +points?" says a soldier near by. + +He accepts at once; the afternoon passes to night, and the lamps in the +roof are lighted. The cards flicker upon the seat; the boors gather +round to watch; they pass the French frontier, and see from their +windows the forges of Belgium, throwing fire upon the river Meuse. +Still, hour after hour, though their eyes are weary, and all the folks +are gone or sleeping, the cards fall, fall, fall, till there comes a jar +and a stop, and the guard cries, "Cologne!" + +"You have won," says the soldier, laying down his money. "Good-night." + +The Rhine is a fine stream, though our German friends will build +mock-castles upon it, and insist that it is the only real river in the +world. + +Auburn Risque pays no more regard to it than though he were treading the +cedars and sands of New Jersey or North Carolina. He speaks with a +Franco-Russian, who has lost in play ten thousand francs a month for +three successive years, and while they discuss chances, expedients and +experiences, the Siebern-gebierge drifts by, they pass St. Goar and +Bingen, and the wonderful Rhine has been only a time, nothing of a +scene, as they stop abreast Biberich, and, rowed ashore in a flagboat, +make at once for the railway. + +At noon, on the third day, Mr. Risque having engaged a frugal bed at a +little distance from Wisbaden, enters the grand saloon of the Kursaal, +and turning to the right, sees before him a perspective, to which not +all the marvels of art or nature afford comparison: a snug little room, +with a table of green baize in the centre of the floor, and about the +table sundry folks of various ages and degrees, before each a heap of +glittering coins, and in the midst of all a something which moves +forever, with a hurtle and a hum--the roulette. + +Mark them! the weak, the profligate, the daring. There is old age, +watching the play, with its voice like a baby's cry; and the paper +whereon it keeps tremulous tally swimming upon eyes of perpetual +twilight. + +The boy ventures his first gold piece with the resolve that, win or +lose, he will stake no more. He wins, and lies. At his side stands +beautiful Sin, forgetting its guilt and coquetry for its avarice. The +pale defaulter from over the sea hazards like one whose treasure is a +burden upon his neck, and the _roue_--blank, emotionless, +remorseless--doubling at every loss, walks penniless away to dinner with +a better appetite than he who saves a nation or dies for a truth. + +The daintily dressed _coupeurs_ are in their chairs, eyeless, but +omniscient; the ball goes heedlessly, slaying or anointing where it +stays, and the gold as it is raked up clinks and glistens, as if it +struck men's hearts and found them as hard and sounding. + +Mr. Risque advanced to the end of the table, and stood motionless a +little while, drinking it all into his passionless eyes, which, like +sponges, absorbed whatever they saw, but nothing revealed. At last his +right hand dropped softly to his vest pocket, as though it had some +interest in deceiving his left hand. + +Apparently unconscious of the act, the right hand next slid over the +table edge, and silently deposited a five-franc piece upon the black +compartment. + +"Whiz-z-z-z" started the ball from the fingers of the coupeurs--"click" +dropped the ball into a black department of the board; "clink! tingle!" +cried the money, changing hands; but not a word said Auburn Risque, +standing like a stalagmite with his eyes upon ten francs. + +"Whiz-z-z!"--"click!" "click!" "tingle!" + +Did he see the fifteen francs at all, half trance-like, half +corpse-like, as he stood, waiting for the third revolution, and waiting +again, and again, and again? + +His five francs have grown to be a hundred; his cold hand falls +freezingly upon them; five francs replace the hundred he took +away--"Whizz!" goes the ball; "click!" stops the ball; the coupeur +seizes Mr. Risque's five francs, and Mr. Risque walks away like a +somnambulist. + + + + +V. + +BURIED IN THE COMMON DITCH. + + +It would have been a strange scene for an American public, the street +corridor of the lofty house near the church of Saint Sulpice, on the +funeral afternoon. + +The coffin lay upon a draped table, and festoons of crape threw phantom +shadows upon the soiled velvet covering. Each passing pedestrian and +cabman took off his hat a moment. The Southern Colony were in the +landlady's bureau enjoying a lunch and liquor, and precisely at three +o'clock they came down stairs, not more dilapidated than usual, while at +the same moment the municipal hearse drove up, attended by one _cocher_ +and two _croquemorts_.[D] + +[Footnote D: Literally, "parasites of death."] + +The hearse was a cheap charity affair, furnished by the _Maire_ of the +_arrondissement_, though it was sprucely painted and decked with funeral +cloth. The driver wore a huge black chapeau, a white cotton cravat, and +thigh-boots, which, standing up stiffly as he sat, seemed to engulf him +to the ears. + +When the _croquemorts_, in a business way, lifted the velvet from the +coffin, it was seen to be constructed of strips of deal merely, +unpainted, and not thicker than a Malaga raisin box. + +There was some fear that it would fall apart of its own fragility, but +the chief _croquemort_ explained politely that such accidents never +happened. + +"We have entombed four of them to-day," he said; "see how nicely we +shall lift the fifth one." + +There was, indeed, a certain sleight whereby he slung it across his +shoulder, but no reason in the world for tossing it upon the hearse with +a slam. They covered its nakedness with velvet, and the _cocher_, having +taken a cigar from his pocket, and looking much as if he would like to +smoke, put it back again sadly, cracked his whip, and the cortege went +on. The _croquemorts_ kept a little way ahead, sauntering upon the +sidewalk, and their cloaks and oil-cloth hats protected them from a +drizzling rain, which now came down, to the grief of the mourners, +walking in the middle of the street behind the body. They were seven in +number, Messrs. Plade, Pisgah and Simp, going together, and apparently a +trifle the worse for the lunch; Freckle followed singly, having been +told to keep at a distance to render the display more imposing; the +landlady and her niece went arm in arm after, and behind them trode a +little old hunchback gentleman, neatly clothed, and bearing in his hand +a black, wooden cross, considerably higher than himself, on which was +painted, in white letters, this inscription: + + CHRISTOPHER LEES, + CAROLINA DU NORD, + ETATS CONFEDERE + AMERIQUE. + AGE VINGT-QUATRE. + +A wreath of yellow immortelles, tied to the crosspiece, was interwoven +with these spangled letters: + + "R-E-G-R-E-T-S;" + +and the solemn air of the old man seemed to evidence that they were not +meaningless. + +The hunchback was Lees' principal creditor. He kept a small restaurant, +where the deceased had been supplied for two years, and his books showed +indebtedness of twenty-eight hundred francs, not a sou of which he +should ever receive. He could ill afford to lose the money, and had +known, indeed, that he should never be paid, a year previous to the +demise. But the friendlessness of the stranger had touched his heart. +Twice every day he sent up a basket of food, which was always returned +empty, and every Sunday climbed the long stairway with a bottle of the +best wine--but never once said, "Pay my bill." + +Here he was at the last chapter of exile, still bearing his creditor's +cross. + +"Give the young man's friends a lunch," he had said to the landlady: "I +will make it right;"--and in the cortege he was probably the only honest +mourner. + +Not we, who know Frenchmen by caricature merely, as volatile, fickle, +deceitful, full of artifice, should sit in judgment upon them. He has +the least heart of all who thinks that there is not some heart +everywhere! The charity which tarrieth long and suffereth much wrong, +has been that of the Parisians of the Latin Quarter, during the American +war. + +Along all the route the folks lifted their hats as the hearse passed by, +and so, through slush and mist and rain, the little company kept +straight toward the barriers, and turned at last into the great gate of +the cemetery of Mt. Parnasse. + +They do not deck the cities of the dead abroad as our great sepulchres +are adorned. + +Pere la Chaise is famed rather for its inmates than its tombs, and Mont +Parnasse and Monte Martre, the remaining places of interment, are even +forbidding to the mind and the eye. + +A gate-keeper, in semi-military dress, sounded a loud bell as the hearse +rolled over the curb, and when they had taken an aisle to the left, with +maple trees on either side, and vistas of mean-looking vaults, a +corpulent priest, wearing a cape and a white apron, and attended by a +civil assistant of most villainous physiognomy, met the cortege and +escorted it to its destination. + +This was the _fosse commune_--in plain English, the _common trench_--an +open lot adjacent to the cemetery, appropriated to bodies interred at +public expense, and presenting to the eye a spectacle which, considered +either with regard to its quaintness or its dreariness, stood alone and +unrivalled. + +Nearest the street the ground had long been occupied, trench parallel +with trench, filled to the surface level, sodded green, and each grave +marked by a wooden cross. There was a double layer of bodies beneath, +lying side by side; no margin could of course be given at the surface; +the thickly planted crosses, therefore, looked, at a little distance, +like a great waste of heath or bramble, broken now and then by a dwarf +cedar, and hung to the full with flowers and tokens. The width of the +trenches was that of the added height of two full-grown men, and the +length a half mile perhaps; a narrow passage-way separated them, so +that, however undistinguishable they appeared, each grave could be +indentified and visited. + +Close observation might have found much to cheer this waste of flesh, +this economy of space; but to this little approaching company the scene +was of a kind to make death more terrible by association. + +A rough wall enclosed the flat expanse of charnel, over which the +scattered houses of the barriers looked widowed through their mournful +windows; and now and then a crippled crone, or a bereaved old pauper, +hobbled to the roadway and shook her white hairs to the rain. + +It seemed a long way over the boggy soil to the newly opened trench, +where the hearse stopped with its wheels half-sunken, and the chief +_croquemort_, without any ado, threw the coffin over his shoulder and +walked to the place of sepulture. Five _fossoyeurs_, at the remote end +of the trench, were digging and covering, as if their number rather than +their work needed increase, and a soldier in blue overcoat, whose hands +were full of papers, came up at a commercial pace, and cried: + +"_Corps trente-deux!_" + +Which corresponded to the figures on the box, and to the number of +interments for the day. + +The delvers made no pause while the priest read the service, and the +clods fell faster than the rain. The box was nicely mortised against +another previously deposited, and as there remained an interstice +between it and that at its feet, an infant's coffin made the space +complete. + +The Latin service was of all recitations the most slovenly and +contemptuous; the priest might have been either smiling or sleeping; for +his very red face appeared to have nothing in common with his scarcely +moving lips; and the assistant looked straight at the trench, half +covetously, half vindictively, as if he meant to turn the body out of +the box directly, and run away with the grave-clothes. It took but two +minutes to run through the text; the holy water was dashed from the +hyssop; and the priest, with a small shovel, threw a quantity of clods +after it. "_Requiescat in pace!_" he cried, like one just awakened, and +now for the first time the grave-diggers ceased; they wanted the +customary fee, _pour boire_. + +The exiles never felt so destitute before; not a sou could be found in +the Colony. But the little hunchback stepped up with the cross, and gave +it to the chief _fossoyeur_, dropping a franc into his hand; each of the +women added some sous, and the younger one quietly tied a small round +token of brass to the wood, which she kissed thrice; it bore these +words: + +"_A mon ami._" + +"A little more than kin and less than kind!" whispered Andy Plade, who +knew what such souvenirs meant, in Paris. + +The Colony went away disconsolate; but the little hunchback stopped on +the margin, and looked once more into the pit where the box was fast +disappearing. + +"Pardon our debts, _bon Dieu!_" he said, "as we pardon our debtors." + +Shall we who have followed this funeral be kind to the stranger that is +within our gates? The quiet old gentleman standing so gravely over the +_fosse commune_ might have attracted more regard from the angels than +that Iron Duke who once looked down upon the sarcophagus of his enemy in +the Hotel des Invalides. + +And so Lees was at rest--the master's only son, the heir to lands and +houses, and servants, and hopes. He had escaped the bullet, but also +that honor which a soldier's death conferred--and thus, abroad and +neglected, had existed awhile upon the charity of strangers, to expire +of his own wickedness, and accept, as a boon, this place among the bones +of the wretched. + +How beat the hearts which wait for the strife to be done and for him to +return! The field-hands sleep more honored in their separate mounds +beneath the pine trees. The landlady's daughter may come sometimes to +fasten a flower upon his cross; but, like that cross, her sorrow will +decay, and Master Lees will mingle with common dust, passing out of the +memory of Europe--ay! even of the Southern Colony. + +How bowed and wounded they threaded the way homeward, those young men, +whom the world, in its bated breath, had called rich and fortunate! Now +that they thought it over, how absurd had been this gambling venture! +They should lose every sou. They had, for a blind chance, exhausted the +patience of their creditors, and made away with their last +collateral--their last crust, and bed, and drink. + +"I wish," said Simp, bitterly, "that I had been born one of my mother's +niggers. Bigad! a cabin, a wood fire, corn meal and a pound of pork per +diem, would keep me like a duke next winter." + +Here they stopped at Simp's hotel, and, as he was afraid to enter alone, +the loss of his baggage being detected, the Colony consented to ascend +to his chamber. + +"Monsieur Simp," said the fierce concierge, "here is a letter, the last +which I shall ever receive for you! You will please pay my bill +to-night, or I shall go to the office of the _prud'homme_; you are of +the _canaille_, sir! Where are your effects?" + +"Whoop!" yelled Mr. Simp, in the landlady's face. "Yah-ah-ah! hoora +ah-ah! three cheers! we have news of our venture! This is a telegram!" + + "WISBADEN, Oct. 30. + + "The system wins! To-day and yesterday I took seven thousand one + hundred francs. I have selected the 4th of November to break the + bank. + + "AUBURN RISQUE." + + + + +VI. + +THE OLD REVELRY REVIVED. + + +The Colony would have shouted over Master Lees' coffin at the receipt of +such intelligence. They gave a genuine American cheer, nine times +repeated, with the celebrated "tiger" of the Texan Rangers, as it had +been reported to them. Mr. Simp read the dispatch to the concierge, who +brightened up, begged his pardon, and hoped that he would forget words +said in anger. + +"Madam," said Mr. Simp, with some dignity, "I have suffered and +forgotten much in this establishment; we have an aphorism, relative to +the last feather, in the English tongue. But lend me one hundred francs +till my instalment arrives from Germany, and I will forgive even the +present insult." + +"Boys!" cried Andy Plade, "let us have a supper! We--that is, you--can +take the telegram to our several creditors, and raise enough upon it to +pass a regal night at the _Trois Freres_." + +This proposition was received with great favor; the concierge gave Simp +a hundred francs; he ordered cigars and a gallon of punch, and they +repaired to his room to arrange the details of the celebration. + +Freckle gave great offence by wishing that "Poor Lees" were alive to +enjoy himself; and Simp said, "Bigad, sir! Freckle, living, is more of a +bore than Lees, dead." + +They resolved to attend supper in their dilapidated clothes, so that +what they had been might be pleasantly rebuked by what they were. "And +but for this feature," said Andy Plade, "it would have been well to +invite Ambassador Slidell." But Pisgah and Simp, who had applied to +Slidell several times by letter for temporary loans, were averse, just +now, to the presence of one who had forgotten "the first requisite of a +Southern Gentleman--generosity." + +So it was settled that only the Colony and Hugenot were to come, each +man to bring one lady. Simp, Pisgah, and Freckle thought Hugenot a +villain. He had not even attended the obsequies of the lamented Lees. +But Andy Plade forcibly urged that Hugenot was a good speaker, and would +be needed for a sentiment. + +In the evening a lunch was served by Mr. Simp, of which some young +ladies of the Paris _demi-monde_ partook; the "Bonnie Blue Flag" was +sung with great spirit, and Freckle became so intoxicated at two in the +morning that one of the young ladies was prevailed upon to see him to +his hotel. + +There was great joy in the Latin Quarter when it was known that the +Southern Colony had won at Wisbaden, and meant to pay its debts. The +tailors, shoemakers, tobacconists, publicans, grocers and hosiers met in +squads upon corners to talk it over; all the gentlemen obtained loans, +and, as evidence of how liberal they meant to be, commenced by giving +away whatever old effects they had. + +A _cabinet_ or small saloon of the most expensive restaurant in Paris +was pleasantly adorned for the first reunion of the Confederate exiles. + +The ancient seven-starred flag, entwined with the new battle-flag, hung +in festoons at the head of the room, and directly beneath was the +portrait of President Davis. A crayon drawing of the C. S. N. V. +Florida, from the portfolio of the amateur Mr. Simp, was arched by two +crossed cutlasses, hired for the occasion; and upon an enormous iced +cake, in the centre of the table, stood a barefooted soldier, with his +back against a pine tree, defying both a Yankee and a negro. + +At eleven o'clock P.M. the scrupulously dressed attendants heard a buzz +and a hurried tramp upon the stairs. They repaired at once to their +respective places, and after a pause the Southern Colony and convoy made +their appearance upon the threshold. With the exception of Pisgah and +Hugenot, all were clothed in the relics of their poverty, but their +hairs were curled, and they wore some recovered articles of jewelry. +They had thus the guise of a colony of barbers coming up from the gold +diggings, full of nuggets and old clothes. + +By previous arrangement, the chair was taken by Andy Plade, supported by +two young ladies, and, after saying a welcome to the guests in elegant +French, he made a significant gesture to the chief waiter. The most +luscious Ostend oysters were at once introduced; they lifted them with +bright silver _fourchettes_ from plates of Sevres porcelain, and each +guest touched his lips afterward with a glass of refined _vermeuth_. +Three descriptions of soup came successively, an amber _Julien_, in +which the microscope would have been baffled to detect one vegetable +fibre, yet it bore all the flavors of the garden; a tureen of _potage a +la Bisque_, in which the rarest and tiniest shell-fish had dissolved +themselves; and at the last a _tortue_, small in quantity, but so +delicious that murmurs of "_encore_" were made. + +Morsels of _viande_, so alternated that the appetite was prolonged--each +dish seeming a better variation of the preceding--were helped toward +digestion by the finest vintages of Burgundy; and the luscious _pates de +foie gras_--for which the plumpest geese in Bretagne had been invalids +all their days, and, if gossip be true, submitted in the end to a slow +roasting alive--introduced the fish, which, by the then reformed +Parisian mode, must appear after, not before, the _entree_. + +A _sole au vin blanc_ gave way to a regal _mackerel au sauce +champignon_, and after this dish came confections and fruits _ad +libitum_, ending with the removal of the cloth, the introduction of +cigars, and a _marquise_ or punch of pure champagne. + +It was a pleasant evening within and without; the windows were raised, +and they could see the people in the gardens strolling beneath the lime +trees; the starlight falling on the plashing fountain and the gray, +motionless statues; the pearly light of the lines of lamps, shining down +the long arcades; the glitter of jewelry and precious merchandise in the +marvellous _boutiques_; the groups which sat around the cafe beneath +with _sorbets_ and _glaces_, and sparkling wines; the old women in +Normandie caps and green aprons, who flitted here and there to take the +hire of chairs, and break the hum of couples, talking profane and sacred +love; around and above all, the Cardinal's grand palace lifting its +multitudinous pilasters, and seeming to prop up the sky. + +It was Mr. Simp and his lady who saw these more particularly, as they +had withdrawn from the table, to exchange a memory and a sentiment, and +Hugenot had joined them with his most recent mistress; for the latter +was particularly unfortunate in love, being cozened out of much money, +and yet libelled for his closeness. + +All the rest sat at the table, talking over the splendor of the supper, +and proposing to hold a second one at the famous Philippe's, in the Rue +Montorgueil. But Mr. Freckle, being again emboldened by wine, and +affronted at the subordinate position assigned him, repeatedly cried +that, for his part, he preferred the "old Latin Quarter," and challenged +the chairman to produce a finer repast than Magny's in the Rue +Counterscarp. + +Pisgah, newly clothed _cap-a-pie_, was drinking absinthe, and with his +absent eyes, worn face and changing hairs, looked like the spectre of +his former self. Now and then he raised his head to give unconscious +assent to something, but immediately relapsed to the worship of his +nepenthe; and, as the long potations sent strong fumes to his temples, +he chuckled audibly, and gathered his jaws to his eyes in a vacant grin. +The gross, coarse woman at his side, from whom the other females shrank +with frequent demonstrations of contempt, was Pisgah's _blanchisseuse_. + +He was in her debt, and paid her with compliments; she is old and +uninviting, and he owes her eight hundred francs. Hers are the new +garments which he wears to-night. Few knew how many weary hours she +labored for them in the floating houses upon the Seine. But she is in +love with Pisgah, and is quite oblivious of the general regard; for, +strange to such grand occasions, she has both eaten and imbibed +enormously, and it may be even doubted at present whether she sees +anything at all. + +She strokes his cloth coat with her red, swollen hands, and proposes now +and then that he shall visit the wardrobe to look after his new hat; but +Pisgah only passes his arm about her, and drains his absinthe, and +sometimes, as if to reassure the company, shouts wildly at the wrong +places: "'At's so, boys!" "Hoorah for you!" "Ay! capital, gen'l'men, +capital!" And his partner, conscious that something has happened, laughs +to her waist, and leans forward, quite overcome, as if she beheld +something mirthful over her washboard. + +The place was now quite dreamy with tobacco-smoke; Freckle was riotously +sick at the window, and Andy Plade, who had been borrowing small sums +from everybody who would lend, struck the table with a corkscrew, and +called for order. + +"Drire rup!" cried Mr. Freckle, looking very attentively, but seeing +nothing. + +"I have the honor to state, gentlemen of the Colony, that we have with +us to-night an eloquent representative of our country--one whose +business energy and enterprise have been useful both to his own fortunes +and to the South--one who is a friend of yours, and more than a dear +friend to me. We came from the same old Palmetto State, the first and +the last ditch of our revolution. I give you a toast, gentlemen, to +which Mr. Hugenot will respond: + +"'The Mother Country and the Colony--good luck to both!'" + +"Hoorah for you!" cried Pisgah, looking the wrong way. + +The glasses rattled an instant, amid iterations of "Hear! hear!" and Mr. +Hugenot, rising, as it appeared from a bandbox, carefully surveyed +himself in a mirror opposite, and touched his nose with a small nosegay. + +"I feel, my friends, rather as your host than your guest to-night--" + +("It isn't yesternight"--from Freckle--"it's to-morroer night.") + +"For I, gentlemen, stand upon my hereditary, if not my native heath; and +you are, at most, Frenchmen by adoption. That ancestry whose deeds will +live when the present poor representative of its name is departed drew +from this martial land its blood and genius." + +(Loud cries of "Gammon" from Freckle, and disapprobation from Simp.) + +"From the past to the present, my friends, is a short transition. I +found you in Paris a month ago, poor and dejected. You are here +to-night, with that luxury which was your heritage. And how has it been +restored?" + +("'At's so!" earnestly, from Pisgah.) + +"By hard, grovelling work? Never! No contact with vulgar clay has soiled +these aristocratic hands. The cavalier cannot be a mudsill! You are not +like the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin. You +have not toiled, gentlemen, but you have spun!" + +(Great awakening, doubt, and bewilderment.) + +"You have spun the roulette ball, and you have won!" + +(Ferocious and unparalleled cheering.) + +"And it has occurred to me, my friends, that ou-ah cause, in the present +tremendous struggle, has been well symbolized by these, its foreign +representatives. Calamity came upon the South, as upon you. It had +indebtedness, as you have had. Shall I say that you, like the South, +repudiated? No! that is a slander of our adversaries. But the parallel +holds good in that we found ourselves abandoned by the world. Nations +abroad gave us no sympathy; our neighbors at home laughed at our +affliction. They would wrest from us that bulwark of our liberties, the +African." + +"Capital, gentlemen, capital!" from Pisgah. + +"They demanded that we should toil for ourselves. Did we do so? Never! +We appealed to the chances, as you have done; we would fight the Yankee, +but we would not work. You would fight the bank, but you would not +slave; and as you have won at Wisbaden, so have we, in a thousand +glorious contests. Fill, then, gentlemen, to the toast which your +chairman has announced: + +"'The Mother Country and the Colony--good luck to both!'" + +The applause which ensued was of such a nature that the proprietors +below endeavored to hasten the conclusion of the dinner by sending up +the bill. Pisgah and the _blanchisseuse_ were embracing in a spirited +way, and Simp was holding back Freckle, who--persuaded that Hugenot's +remarks were in some way derogatory to himself--wished to toss down his +gauntlet. + +"The next toast, gentlemen of the Colony," said Andy Plade, "is to be +dispatched immediately by the waiter, whom you see upon my right hand, +to the office of the telegraph; thence to Mr. Risque at Wisbaden: + +"'The Southern exiles; doubtless the most immethodical men alive; but +the results prove they have the best system: no _Risque_, no winnings.' + +"You will see, gentlemen," continued Mr. Plade, when the enthusiasm had +subsided, "that I place the toast in this envelope. It will go in two +minutes to Mr. Auburn Risque!" + +The waiter started for the door; it was dashed open in his face, and +splattered, dirty, and travel-worn, Auburn Risque himself stood like an +apparition on the threshold. + +"Perdition!" thundered Plade, staggered and pale-faced; "you were not to +break the bank till to-morrow." + +The Colony, sober or inebriate, clustered about the door, and held to +each other that they might hear the explanation aright. + +Auburn Risque straightened himself and glared upon all the besiegers, +till his pock-marked face grew white as leprosy, and every spot in his +secretive eye faded out in the glitter of his defiance. + +"To-morrow?" he said, in a voice hard, passionless, inflectionless; "how +could one break the bank to-morrow, when all his money was gone +yesterday?" + +"Gone!" repeated the Colony, in a breath rather than a voice, and +reeling as if a galvanic current had passed through the circle--"Gone!" + +"Every sou," said Risque, sinking into a chair. "The bank gave me one +hundred francs to return to Paris; I risked twenty-five of it, hopeful +of better luck, and lost again. Then I had not enough money to get home, +and for forty kilometres of the way I have driven a _charette_. See!" he +cried, throwing open his coat; "I sold my vest at Compiegne last night, +for a morsel of supper." + +"But you had won seven thousand one hundred francs!" + +"I won more--more than eighteen thousand francs; but, enlarging my +stakes with my capital, one hour brought me down to a sou." + +"The 'system' was a swindle," hissed Mr. Simp, looking up through red +eyes which throbbed like pulses. "What right had you to plunder us upon +your speculation?" + +"The 'system' could not fail," answered the gamester, at bay; "it must +have been my manner of play. I think that, upon one run of luck, I gave +up my method." + +"We do not know," cried Simp, tossing his hands wildly; "we may not +accuse, we may not be enraged--we are nothing now but profligates +without means, and beggars without hope!" + +They sobbed together, bitterly and brokenly, till Freckle, not entirely +sober, shouted, "Good God, is it that gammon-head, Hugenot, who has +ruined us? Fetch him out from his ancestry; let me see him, I say! Where +is the man who took my three hundred francs!" + +"I wish," said Simp, in a suicidal way, "that I were lying by Lees in +the _fosse commune_. But I will not slave; the world owes every man a +living!" + +"Ay!" echoed the rest, as desperately, but less resolutely. + +"This noise," said one of the waiters politely, "cannot be continued. It +is at any rate time for the _salon_ to be closed. We will thank you to +pay your bill, and settle your quarrels in the garden." + +"Here is the account," interpolated Andy Plade, "dinner for thirteen +persons, nineteen hundred and fifty francs. + +"Manes of my ancestry!" shrieked Hugenot, overturning the +_blanchisseuse_ in his way, and rushing from the house. + +"We have not the money!" cried the whole Colony in chorus; and, as if by +concert, the company in mass, male and female, cleared the threshold and +disappeared, headed by Andy Plade, who kept all the subscriptions in his +pockets, and terminated by Freckle, who was caught at the base of the +stairs and held for security. + + + + +VII. + +THE COLONY DISBANDED. + + +The Colony, as a body, will appear no more in this transcript. The +greatness of their misfortune kept them asunder. They closed their +chamber-doors, and waited in hunger and sorrow for the moment when the +sky should be their shelter and beggary their craft. + +It was in this hour of ruin that the genius of Mr. Auburn Risque was +manifest. The horse is always sure of a proprietor, and with horses Mr. +Risque was more at home than with men. + +"Man is ungrateful," soliloquized Risque, keeping along the Rue +Mouffetard in the Chiffoniers' Quarter; "a horse is invariably faithful, +unless he happens to be a mule. Confound men! the only excellence they +have is not a virtue--they can play cards!" + +Here he turned to the left, followed some narrow thoroughfares, and +stopped at the great horse market, a scene familiarized to Americans, in +its general features, by Rosa Bonheur's "La Foire du Chevaux." + +Double rows of stalls enclosed a trotting course, roughly paved, and +there was an artificial hill on one side, where draught-horses were +tested. The animals were gayly caparisoned, whisks of straw affixed to +the tails indicating those for sale; their manes and forelocks were +plaited, ribbons streamed over their frontlets, they were muzzled and +wore wooden bits. + +We have no kindred exhibition in the States, so picturesque and so +animated. Boors in blouses were galloping the great-hoofed beasts down +the course by fours and sixes; the ribbons and manes fluttered; the +whips cracked, and the owners hallooed in _patois_. + +Four fifths of French horses are gray; here, there was scarcely one +exception; and the rule extended to the asses which moved amid hundreds +of braying mulets, while at the farther end of the ground the teams were +parked, and, near by, seller and buyer, book in hand, were chaffering +and smoking in shrewd good-humor. + +One man was collecting animals for a celebrated stage-route, and the +gamester saw that he was a novice. + +"Do you choose that for a good horse?" spoke up Risque, in his practical +way, when the man had set aside a fine, sinewy draught stallion. + +"I do!" said the man, shortly. + +"Then you have no eye. He has a bad strain. I can lift all his feet but +this one. See! he kicks if I touch it. Walk him now, and you will remark +that it tells on his pace." + +The man was convinced and pleased. "You are a judge," he said, glancing +down Risque's dilapidated dress; "I will make it worth something to you +to remain here during the day and assist me." + +The imperturbable gamester became a feature of the sale. He was the +best rider on the ground. He put his hard, freckled hand into the jaws +of stallions, and cowed the wickedest mule with his spotted eye. He knew +prices as well as values, and had, withal, a dashing way of bargaining, +which baffled the traders and amused his patron. + +"You have saved me much money and many mistakes," said the latter, at +nightfall. "Who are you?" + +"I am the man," answered Risque, straightforwardly, "to work on your +stage-line, and I am dead broke." + +The man invited Risque to dinner; they rode together on the Champs +Elysees; and next morning at daylight the gamester left Paris without a +thought or a farewell for the Colony. + +It was in the Grand Hotel that Messrs. Hugenot and Plade met by chance +the evening succeeding the dinner. + +"I shall leave Paris, Andy," said Hugenot, regarding his pumps through +his eye-glass. "My ancestry would blush in their coffins if they knew +ou-ah cause to be represented by such individuals as those of last +evening." + +"Let us go together," replied Plade, in his plausible way; "you cannot +speak a word of any continental language. Take me along as courier and +companion; pay my travelling expenses, and I will pay my own board." + +"Can I trust you, Suth Kurlinian?" said Hugenot, irresolutely; "you had +no money yesterday." + +"But I have a plan of raising a thousand francs to-day. What say you?" + +"My family have been wont to see the evidence prior to committing +themselves. First show me the specie." + +"_Voila!_" cried Plade, counting out forty louis; "the day after +to-morrow I guarantee to own eighteen hundred francs." + +It did not occur to Mr. Hugenot to inquire how his friend came to +possess so much money; for Hugenot was not a clever man, and somewhat in +dread of Andy Plade, who, as his school-mate, had thrashed him +repeatedly, and even now that one had grown rich and the other was a +vagabond, the latter's strong will and keen, bad intelligence made him +the master man. + +Hugenot's good fortune was accidental; his cargoes had passed the +blockade and given handsome returns; but he shared none of the dangers, +and the traffic required no particular skill. Hugenot was, briefly, a +favorite of circumstances. The war-wind, which had toppled down many a +long, thoughtful head, carried this inflated person to greatness. + +They are well contrasted, now that they speak. The merchant, elaborately +dressed, varnished pumps upon his effeminate feet, every hair taught its +curve and direction, the lunette perched upon no nose to speak of, and +the wavering, vacillating eye, which has no higher regard than his own +miniature figure. Above rises the vagabond, straight, athletic and +courageous, though a knave. + +He is so much of a man physically and intellectually, that we do not see +his faded coat-collar, frayed cuffs, worn buttons, and untidy boots. He +is so little of a man morally, that, to any observer who looks twice, +the plausibility of the face will fail to deceive. The eye is deep and +direct, but the high, jutting forehead above is like a table of stone, +bearing the ten broken commandments. He keeps the lips ajar in a smile, +or shut in a resolve, to hide their sensuality, and the fine black beard +conceals the massive contour of jaws which are cruel as hunger. + +It was strange that Plade, with his clear conception, should do less +than despise his acquaintance. On the contrary, he was partial to +Hugenot's society. The world asked, wonderingly, what capacities had the +latter? Was he not obtuse, sounding, shallow? Mr. Plade alone, of all +the Americans in Paris, asserted from the first that Hugenot was +far-sighted, close, capable. Indeed, he was so earnest in this +enunciation that few thought him disinterested. + + * * * * * + +It was Master Simp who heard a bold step on the stairs that night, and a +resolute knock upon his own door. + +"Arrest for debt!" cried Mr. Simp, falling tearfully upon his bed; "I +have expected the summons all day." + +"The next man may come upon that errand," answered the ringing voice of +Andy Plade. "Freckle sleeps in Clichy to-night; Risque cannot be found; +the rest are as badly off; I have news for you." + +"I am the man to be mocked," pleaded Simp; "but you must laugh at your +own joke; I am too wretched to help you." + +"The Yankees have opened the Mississippi River; Louisiana is subjugated, +and communication re-established with your neighborhood; you can go +home." + +"What fraction of the way will this carry me?" said the other, holding +up a five-franc piece. "My home is farther than the stars from me." + +"It is a little sum," urged Mr. Plade; "one hundred dollars should pay +the whole passage." + +Mr. Simp, in response, mimicked a man shovelling gold pieces, but was +too weak to prolong the pleasantry, and sat down on his empty trunk and +wept, as Plade thought, like a calf. + +"Your case seems indeed hopeless," said the elder. "Suppose I should +borrow five hundred dollars on your credit, would you give me two +hundred for my trouble?" + +Mr. Simp said, bitterly, that he would give four hundred and ninety-five +dollars for five; but Plade pressed for a direct answer to his original +proffer, and Simp cried "Yes," with an oath. + +"Then listen to me! there is no reason to doubt that your neighbors have +made full crops for two years--cotton, sugar, tobacco. All this remains +at home unsold and unshipped--yours with the rest. Take the oath of +allegiance to the Yankee Government before its _charge des affaires_ in +Paris. That will save your crops from confiscation, and be your passport +to return. Then write to your former banker here, promising to consign +your cotton to him, if he will advance five hundred dollars to take you +to Louisiana. He knows you received of old ten thousand dollars per +annum. He will risk so small a sum for a thing so plausible and +profitable." + +"I don't know what you have been saying," muttered Simp. "I cannot +comprehend a scheme so intricate; you bewilder me! What is a +consignment? How am I, bigad! to make that clear in a letter? Perhaps my +speech in the case of Rutledge _vs._ Pinckney might come in well at this +juncture." + +"Write!" cried Plade, contemptuously; "write at my dictation." + +That night the letter was mailed; Mr. Simp was summoned to his banker's +the following noon, and at dusk he met Andy Plade in the Place Vendome, +and paid over a thousand francs with a sigh. + +On the third night succeeding, Messrs. Plade and Hugenot were smoking +their cigars at Nice, and Mr. Simp, without the least idea of what he +meant to do, was drinking cocktails on the Atlantic Ocean. + + * * * * * + +"Francine," said Pisgah, with a woful glance at the dregs of absinthe in +the tumbler, "give me a half franc, my dear; I am poorly to-day." + +"Monsieur Pisgah," answered Madame Francine, "give me nine hundred and +sixty-five francs, seventy-five centimes--that is your bill with me--and +I am poorly also." + +"My love," said Pisgah, rubbing his grizzled beard against the madame's +fat cheek, "you are not hard-hearted. You will pity the poor old exile. +I love you very much, Francine." + +"Stand off!" cried the madame; "_vous m'embate!_ You say you love me; +then marry me!" + +"Nonsense, my angel!" + +"I say marry me!" repeated the madame, stamping her foot. "You are rich +in America. You have slaves and land and houses and fine relatives. You +will get all these when the war closes; but if you die of starvation in +Paris, they amount to nothing. Marry me! I will keep you alive here; you +will give me half of your possessions there! I shall be a grand lady, +ride in my carriage, and have a nasty black woman to wash my fine +clothes." + +"That is impossible, Francine," answered Pisgah, not so utterly degraded +but he felt the stigma of such a proposition from his +_blanchisseuse_--and as he leaned his faded hairs upon his unnerved and +quivering hands, the old pride fluttered in his heart a moment and +painted rage upon his neck and temples. + +"You are insulted, my lord count!" cried Madame Francine; "an alliance +with a poor washerwoman would shame your great kin. Pay me my money, you +beggar! or I shall put the fine gentleman in prison for debt." + +"That would be a kindness to me, madame," said Pisgah, very humbly and +piteously. + +"You are right," she made answer, with a mocking laugh; "I will not save +your life: you shall starve, sir! you shall starve!" + +In truth, this consummation seemed very close, for as Pisgah entered his +creamery soon afterward, the proprietor met him at the threshold. + +"Monsieur Pisgah," he said, "you can have nothing to eat here, until you +pay a part of your bill with me; I am a poor man, sir, and have +children." + +Pisgah kept up the street with heavy forebodings, and turned into the +place of a clothes-merchant, to whom his face had long been familiar. +When he emerged, his handsome habits, the gift of Madame Francine, hung +in the clothes-dealer's window, and Mr. Pisgah, wearing a common blouse, +a cap, and coarse hide shoes, repaired to the nearest wine-shop, and +drank a dead man's portion of absinthe at the zinc counter. Then he +returned to his own hotel, but as he reached to the rack for his key, +the landlady laid her hand upon it and shook her head. + +"You are properly dressed, Monsieur Pisgah," she said; "those who have +no money should work; you cannot sleep in twenty-six to night, sir; I +have shut up the chamber, and seized the little rubbish which you left." + +Pisgah was homeless--a vagabond, an outcast. He walked unsteadily along +the street in the pleasant evening, and the film of tears that shut the +world from his eyes was peopled with far-off and familiar scenes. + +He saw his father's wide acres, with the sunset gilding the fleeces of +his sheep and crowning with fire the stacks of grain and the vanes upon +his granges. Then the twilight fell, and the slaves went homeward +singing, while the logs on the brass andirons lit up the windows of the +mansion, and every negro cabin was luminous, so that in the night the +homestead looked like a village. Then the moon rose above the woods, +making the lawn frosty, and shining upon the long porch, where his +mother came out to welcome him, attended by the two house-dogs, which +barked so loudly in their glee that all the hen-coops were alarmed, and +the peacocks in the trees held their tails to the stars and trilled. + +"Come in, my son," said the mother, looking proudly upon the tall, +straight shape and glossy locks; "the supper is smoking upon the table; +here is your familiar julep, without which you have no appetite; the +Maryland biscuit are unusually good this evening, and there is the +yellow pone in the corner, with Sukey, your old nurse, behind it. Do you +like much cream in your coffee, as you used to? Bless me! the partridge +is plump as a duck; but here is your napkin, embroidered with your name; +let us ask a blessing before we eat!" + +While all this is going on, the cat, which has been purring by the fire, +takes a wicked notion to frighten the canary bird, but the high old +clock in the corner, imported from England before the celebrated +Revolutionary war, impresses the cat as a very formidable object with +its stately stride-stride-stride--so that the cat regarding it a moment, +forgets the canary bird, and mews for a small portion of cream in a +saucer. + +"Halloo! halloo!" says the parrot, awakened by a leap of the fire; for, +the back-log has broken in half, and Pisgah sees, by the increased +light, the very hair-powder gleam on the portrait of General Washington. +But now the cloth is removed, and the old-fashioned table folds up its +leaves; they sip some remarkable sherry, which grandfather regards with +a wheezy sort of laugh, and after they have played one game of draughts, +Mr. Pisgah looks at his gold chronometer, and asks if he has still the +great room above the porch and plenty of bedclothes. + +This is what Mr. Pisgah sees upon the film of his tears--wealth, +happiness, manliness! When he dashes the tears themselves to the +pavement with an oath, what rises upon his eye and his heart? +Paris--grand, luxurious, pitiless, and he, at twilight, flung upon the +world, with neither kindred nor country--a thing unwilling to live, +unfit to die! + +He strolled along the quay to the Morgue; the beautiful water of St. +Michel fell sibilantly cold from the fountain, and Apollyon above, at +the feet of the avenging angel, seemed a sermon and an allegory of his +own prostration. How all the folks upon the bridge were stony faced! It +had never before occurred to him that men were cold-blooded creatures. +He wondered if the Seine, dashing against the quays and piers beneath, +were not their proper element? Ay! for here were three drowned people on +the icy slabs of the Morgue, with half a hundred gazing wistfully at +them, and their fixed eyes glaring fishily at the skylight, as if it +were the surface of the river and they were at rest below. + +So seemed all the landscape as he kept down the quay--the lines of high +houses were ridges only in the sea, and Notre Dame, lifting its towers +and sculptured facade before, was merely a high-decked ship, with +sailors crowding astern. The holy apostles above the portal were more +like human men than ever, with their silicious eyes and pulseless +bosoms; while the hideous gargoyles at the base of each crocheted +pinnacle, seemed swimming in the dusky evening. + +It may have been that this aqueous phenomenon was natural to one +"half-seas over;" but not till he stood on the place of the Hotel de la +Ville, did Pisgah have any consciousness whatever that he walked upon +the solid world. + +At this moment he was reminded, also, that he held a letter in his hand, +his landlady's gift at parting; it was dated, "Clichy dungeon," and +signed by Mr. Freckle. + + "Dear Pisgah," read the text, "I am here at claim of restaurateur; + shall die to-morrow at or before twelve o'clock, if Andy Plade + don't fork over my subscription of two hundred francs. Andy Plade + damned knave--no mistake! No living soul been to see me, except + letter from Hon. Mr. Slidell. He has got sixteen thousand dollars + in specie for Simp. Where's Simp, dogorn him! Hon. S. sent to + Simp's house; understood he'd sailed for America. Requested Hon. S. + to give me small part of money as Simp's next friend. Hon. S. + declined. Population of prison very great. Damned scrub stock! + Don't object to imprisonment as much as the fleas. Fleas bent on + aiding my escape. If they crawl with me to-morrow night as far + again as last night I'll be clear--no mistake! Live on soup, + chiefly. Abhor soup. Had forty francs here first day, but debtor + with one boot and spectacles won it at _picquet_. Restaurateur says + bound to keep me here a thousand years if I don't sock--shall + die--no mistake! Come see me, _toute suite_. Fetch pocket-comb, + soap, and English Bible. + + "Yours, in deep waters, FRECKLE." + +"The whole world is in deep waters," said Pisgah, dismally. "So much the +better for them; here goes for something stronger!" + +He repaired to the nearest drinking-saloon, and demanded a glass brimful +of absinthe, at which all the garcons and patrons held up their hands +while he drank it to the dregs. + +"Sacristie!" cried a man with mouth wide open, "that gentleman can drink +clear laudanum." + +"I wish," thought Pisgah, with a pale face, "that it had been laudanum; +I should have been dead by this time and all over. Why don't I get the +_delirium tremens_? I should like to be crazy. Oh, ho, ho, ho!" he +continued, laughing wildly, "to be in a hospital--nurses, soft bed, good +food, pity--oh, ho! that would be a fate fit for an emperor." + +Here his eye caught something across the way which riveted it, and he +took half a step forward, exultingly. A great _caserne_, or barrack, +adjoined the Hotel de Ville, and twice every day, after breakfast and +dinner, the soldiers within distributed the surplus of their rations to +mendicants without. The latter were already assembling--laborers in +neat, common clothing, with idlers and profligates not more forbidding, +while a soldier on guard directed them where to rest and in what order +or number to enter the building. Pisgah halted a moment with his heart +in his throat. But he was very hungry, and his silver was half gone +already; if he purchased a dinner, he might not be left with sufficient +to obtain a bed for the night. + +"Great God!" he said aloud, lifting his clenched hands and swollen eyes +to the stars, "am I, then, among the very dogs, that I should beg the +crumbs of a common soldier?" + +He took his place in the line, and when at length his turn was +announced, followed the rabble shamefacedly. The _chasseurs_ in the +mess-room were making merry after dinner with pipes and cards, and one +of these, giving Pisgah a piece of bread and a tin basin of strong +soup, slapped him smartly upon the shoulder, and cried: + +"My fine fellow! you have the stuff in you for a soldier." + +"I am just getting a soldier's stuff into me," responded Pisgah, +antithetically. + +"Why do you go abroad, hungry, ill-dressed, and houseless, when you can +wear the livery of France?" + +Pisgah thought the soldier a very presuming person. + +"I am a foreigner," he said, "a--a--a French Canadian (we speak +_patois_ there). My troubles are temporary merely. A day or two may make +me rich." + +"Yet for that day or two," continued the _chasseur_, "you will have the +humiliation of begging your bread. What signifies seven years of +honorable service to three days of mendicancy and distress? We are well +cared for by the nation; we are respected over the world. It is a mean +thing to be a soldier in other lands; here we are the gentlemen of +France." + +Pisgah had never looked upon it in that light, and said so. + +"Your poverty may have unmanned you," repeated the other; "to recover +your own esteem do a manly act! We have all feared death as citizens; +but take cold steel in your hand, and you can look into your grave +without a qualm. I say to you," spoke the _chasseur_, clearly and +eloquently, "be one of us. Decide now, before a doubt mars your better +resolve! You are a young man, though the soulless career of a citizen +has anticipated the whitening of your hairs. Plant your foot; throw back +your shoulders; say 'yes!'" + +"I do!" cried Pisgah, with something of the other's enthusiasm; "I was +born a gentleman, I will die a gentleman, or a soldier." + +They put Mr. Pisgah among the conscripts recently levied, and he went +about town with a fictitious number in his hat, joining in their +bacchanal choruses. The next day he appeared in white duck jacket and +pantaloons, looking like an overgrown baker's boy, with a chapeau like a +flat, burnt loaf. He was then put through the manual, which seemed to +indicate all possible motions save that of liquoring up, and when he was +so fatigued that he had not the energy even to fall down, he was clasped +in the arms of Madame Francine, who had traced him to the barracks, but +was too late to avert his destiny. + +"Oh! _mon amant!_" she cried, falling upon his neck. "Why did you go and +do it? You knew that I did not mean to see you starve." + +"You have consigned me to a soldier's grave, woman!" answered Pisgah, in +the deepest tragedy tone. + +"Do not say so, my _bonbon_!" pleaded the good lady, covering him with +kisses. "I would have worn my hands to the bone to save you from this +dreadful life. Suppose you should be sent to Algiers or Mexico, or some +other heathen country, and die there." + +It was Pisgah's turn to be touched. + +"My blood is upon your head, Francine! Have you any money?" + +"Yes, yes! a gentleman, a _noir_, a _naigre_, for whom I have washed, +paid me fifty francs this evening. It is all here; take it, my love!" + +"I do not know, creature! that your conduct permits me to do so," said +Pisgah, drawing back. + +"You will drive me mad if you refuse," shrieked the blanchisseuse. "Oh! +oh! how wicked and wretched am I!" + +"Enough, madame! step over the way for my habitual glass of absinthe. Be +particular about the change. We military men must be careful of our +incomes. Stay! you may embrace me if you like." + +The poor woman came every day to the barracks, bringing some trifle of +food or clothing. She washed his regimentals, burnished his buckles and +boots, paid his losses at cards, and bought him books and tobacco. She +could never persuade herself that Pisgah was not her victim, and he +found it useful to humor the notion. + +Down in the swift Seine, at her booth in the great lavatory, where the +ice rushed by and the rain beat in, she thought of Pisgah as she toiled; +and though her back ached and her hands were flayed, she never wondered +if her lot were not the most pitiable, and his in part deserved. + +How often should we hard, selfish men, thank God for the weaknesses of +women! + + + + +VIII. + +THE MURDER ON THE ALPS. + + +And so, with Mr. Pisgah on the road to glory, Mr. Simp on the smooth +sea, Mr. Freckle in the debtor's jail, Mr. Risque behind his +four-in-hand, and Mr. Lees in the charity grave, let us sit with the two +remaining colonists in the cabriolet at Bellinzona; for it is the month +of April, and they are to cross the great St. Gothard _en route_ for +Paris. Here is the scene: a gloomy stone building for the diligence +company; two great yellow diligences, empty and unharnessed in the area +before; one other diligence, packed full, with the horses' heads turned +northward, and the blue-nosed Swiss clerk calling out the names of +passengers; a half-dozen cabriolets looking at each other irresolutely +and facing all possible ways; two score of unwashed loungers, in red +neck-kerchiefs and velvet jackets, smoking rank, rakish, black cigars; +several streets of equal crookedness and filthiness abutting against a +grimy church, whence beggars, old women, and priests emerge continually; +and far above all, as if suspended in the air, a grim, battlemented +castle, a defence, as it seems, against the snowy mountains which march +upon Bellinzona from every side to crush its orchards and vineyards and +drown it in the marshes of Lago Maggiore. + +"_Diligenza compito!_" cries the clerk, moving toward the waiting +cabriolet--"Signore Hugenoto." + +"Here!" replies a small, consequential-looking person, reconnoitring the +interior of the vehicle. + +"Le Signore Plaedo!" + +"Ci," responds a dark, erect gentleman, striding forward and saying, in +clear Italian, "Are there no other passengers?" + +"None," answered the clerk; "you will have a good time together; please +remember the guard!" + +The guard, however, was in advance, a tall person, wrapped to the eyes +in fur, wearing a silver bugle in front of his cap, and covered with +buff breeches. + +He flourished his whip like a fencing-master, moved in a cloud of +cigar-smoke, and, as he placed his bare hand upon the manes of his +horses, they reined back, as if it burned or frosted them. + +"My ancestry," says the small gentleman, "encourage no imposition. Shall +we give the fellow a franc?" + +The other had already given double the sum, and it was odd, now that one +looked at him, how pale and hard had grown his features. + +"God bless me, Andy!" cries the little person, stopping short; "you have +not had your breakfast to-day; apply my smelling-bottle to your nose; +you are sick, man!" + +"Thank you," says the other, "I prefer brandy; I am only glad that we +are quite alone." + +The paleness faded out of his cheeks as he drank deeply of the spirits, +but the jaws were set hard, and the eyes looked stony and pitiless. The +man was ailing beyond all doubt. + +The whip cracked in front; the great diligence started with a groan and +a crackling of joints; the little postilion set the cabriolet going with +a chirp and a whistle; the priests and idlers looked up excitedly; the +women rushed to the windows to flutter their handkerchiefs, and all the +beggars gave sturdy chase, dropping benedictions and damnations as they +went. + +The small person placed his boots upon the empty cushion before and +regarded them with some benevolence; then he touched his mustache with a +comb, which he took from the head of his cane. + +"It is surprising, Andy," he said, "how the growth of one's feet bears +no proportion to that of his head. Observe those pedals. One of my +ancestors must have found a wife in China. They have gained no increase +after all these pilgrimages--and I flatter myself that they are in some +sort graceful--ay? Now remark my head. What does Hamlet, or somebody, +say about the front of Jove? This trip to Italy has actually enlarged +the diameter of my head thirteen barleycorns! Thirteen, by measurement!" + +The tall gentleman said not a word, but compressed his tall shoulders +into the corner of the coach, and muffled his face with his coat-collar +and breathed like one sleeping uneasily. + +"It has been a cheap trip!" exclaimed the diminutive person, changing +the theme; "you have been an invaluable courier, Andy. The most ardent +patriot cannot call us extravagant." + +"How much money have you left?" echoed the other in a suppressed tone. +"Count it. I will then tell you to a sou what will carry us to Paris." + +The little person drew a wallet from his side-pocket and enumerated +carefully certain circular notes. "Eleven times twenty is two hundred +and twenty; twenty-five times two hundred and twenty, five thousand five +hundred, plus nine gold louis--total, five thousand seven hundred and +twenty-five francs." + +One eye only of the large gentleman was visible through the folds of his +collar. It rested like a charmed thing upon the roll of gold and paper. +It was only an eye, but it seemed to be a whole face, an entire man. It +was full of thoughts, of hopes, of acts! Had the little person marked +it, thus sinister, and glittering and intense, he would have shrunk as +from a burning-glass. + +He folded up the wallet, however, and slipped it into his inside-pocket, +while the other pushed forward his hat, so that it concealed even the +eye, and sat rigid and still in his corner. + +"You have not named the fare to Paris." + +The tall man only breathed short and hard. + +"Don't you recollect?" + +"No!" + +"I have a 'Galignani' here; perhaps it is advertised. But hallo, Andy!" + +The exclamation was loud and abrupt, but the silent person did not move. + +"_The Confederate Privateer Planter will sail from Dieppe on +Tuesday_--(that is, to-morrow evening)--_she will cruise in the Indian +Ocean, if report be true._" + +The tall man started suddenly and uncovered his face with a quick +gesture. It was flushed and earnest now, and he clutched the journal +almost nervously, though his voice was yet calm and suppressed. + +"To-morrow night, did you say? A cruise on the broad sea--glory without +peril, gold without work; I would to God that I were on the Planter's +deck, Hugenot!" + +"Why not do something for ou-ah cause, Andy?" + +"I am to return to Paris for what? To be dunned by creditors, to be +marked for a parasite at the hotels, to be despised by men whom I serve, +and pitied by men whom I hate. This pirate career suits me. What is +society to me, whom it has ostracised? I was a gentleman once--quick at +books, pleasing in company, shrewd in business. They say that I have +power still, but lack integrity. Be it so! Better a freebooter at sea +than upon the land. I have half made up my mind to evil. Hugenot, listen +to me! I believe that were I to do one bad, dark deed, it would restore +me courage, resolution, energy." + +The little gentleman examined the other with some alarm; but just now +the teams commenced the ascent of a steep hill, and as he beheld the +guard a little way in advance, he forgot the other's earnestness, and +raised his lunette. + +"Andy," he said, "by my great ancestry! I have seen that man before. +Look! the height, the style, the carriage, are familiar. Who is he?" + +His co-voyageur was without curiosity; the former pallidness and +silentness resumed their dominion over him, and the lesser gentleman +settled moodily back to his newspaper. + +No word was interchanged for several hours. They passed through shaggy +glens, under toppled towers and battlements, by squalid villages, and +within the sound of dashing streams. If they descended ever, it was to +gain breath for a longer ascent; for now the mountain snows were above +them on either side, and the Alps rose sublimely impassable in front. +The hawks careened beneath them; the chamois above dared not look down +for dizziness, and Hugenot said, at Ariola, that they were taking lunch +in a balloon. The manner of Mr. Plade now altered marvellously. It might +have been his breakfast that gave him spirit and speech; he sang a +merry, bad song, which the rocks echoed back, and all the goitred women +at the roadside stopped with their pack burdens to listen. He told a +thousand anecdotes. He knew all the story of the pass; how the Swiss, +filing through it, had scattered the Milanese; how Suwarrow and Massena +had made its sterility fertile with blood. + +Hugenot's admiration amounted to envy. He had never known his associate +so brilliant, so pleasing; the exaltation was too great, indeed, to +arise from any ordinary cause; but Hugenot was not shrewd enough to +inquire into the affair. He wearied at length of the talk and of the +scene, and when at last they reached the region of perpetual ice, he +closed the cabriolet windows, and watched the filtering flakes, and +heard the snow crush under the wheels, and dropped into a deep sleep +which the other seemed to share. + +The clouds around them made the mountains dusky, and the interior of the +carriage was quite gloomy. At length the large gentleman turned his +head, so that his ear could catch every breath, and he regarded the dim +outlines of the lesser with motionless interest. Then he took a straw +from the litter at his feet, and, bending forward, touched his comrade's +throat. The other snored measuredly for a while, but the titillation +startled him at length, and he beat the air in his slumber. When the +irritation ceased he breathed tranquilly again, and then the first-named +placed his hand softly into the sleeper's pocket. He drew forth the +wallet with steady fingers, and as coolly emptied it of its contents. +These he concealed in the leg of his boot, but replaced the book where +he had found it. For a little space he remained at rest, leaning against +the back of the carriage, with his head bent upon his breast and his +hands clenched like one at bay and in doubt. + +The slow advance of the teams and the frequent changes of +direction--sometimes so abrupt as almost to reverse the +cabriolet--advised him that they were climbing the mountain by zigzags +or terraces. He knew that they were in the _Val Tremola_, or Trembling +Way, and he shook his comrade almost fiercely, as if relieved by some +idea which the place suggested. + +"Hugenot," he said, "rouse up! The grandeur of the Alps is round about +us; you must not miss this scene. Come with me! Quit the vehicle! I know +the place, and will exhibit it." + +The other, accustomed to obey, leaped to the ground immediately, and +followed through the snow, ankle deep, till they passed the diligence, +which kept in advance. The guard could not be seen--he might have +resorted to the interior; and the two pedestrians at once left the +roadway, climbing its elbows by a path more or less distinctly marked, +so that after a half hour they were perhaps a mile ahead. The agility of +Mr. Plade during this episode was the marvel of his companion. He scaled +the rocks like a goatherd, and his foot-tracks in the snow were long, +like the route of a giant. The ice could not betray the sureness of his +stride; the rare, thin atmosphere was no match for his broad, deep +chest. He shouted as he went, and tossed great boulders down the +mountain, and urged on his flagging comrade by cheer and taunt and +invective. No madman set loose from captivity could be guilty of so +extravagant, exaggerated elation. + +At last they stood upon a little bridge spanning a chasm like a cobweb. +A low parapet divided it from the awful gulf. On the other side the +mountain lifted its jagged face, clammy with icicles, and far over all +towered the sterile peaks, above the reach of clouds or lightnings, +forever in the sunshine--forever desolate. + +"Stand fast!" said the leader, suddenly cold and calm. "Uncover, that +the snow-flakes may give us the baptism of nature! There is no human God +at this vast height; they worship _Him_ in the flat world below. Give me +your hand and look down! You are not dizzy? One should be free from the +baseness of fear, standing here upon St. Gothard." + +"If I had no qualm before," said Hugenot, "your words would make me +shudder." + +"You have heard of the 'valley of the shadow'? Was your ideal like this? +I told you in Florence of the great poet Dante. You have here at a +glance more beauty and dread conjoined than even his mad fancy could +conjure up. That is the Tessino, braining itself in cataracts. Yonder, +where the clouds make a golden lake, laving forests of firs, lies Italy +as the Goths first beheld it, with their spears quivering. See how the +eagles beat the mist beneath!--that was a symbol that the Roman +standards should be rent." + +The other, half in charm, half in awe, listened like one spell-bound, +with his fingers tingling and his eyeballs throbbing. + +"This silence," said the elder, "is more freezing to me than the +bitterness of the cold. The very snow-flakes are dumb; nothing makes +discord but the avalanche; it is always twilight; men lie down in the +snows to die, but they are numb and cannot cry." + +"Be still," replied the other, "your talk is strangely out of place. I +feel as if my ancestors in their shrouds were beside me." + +"You are not wrong," cried the greater, raising his voice till it became +shrill and terrible; "your last moments are passing; that yawning ravine +is your grave. I told you an hour ago how one bad, dark deed would +redeem me. It is done! I have robbed you, and your death is essential to +my safety." + +Hugenot sank upon the snow of the parapet, speechless and almost +lifeless. He clasped his hands, but could not raise his head; the whole +scene faded from his eye. If he had been weak before, he was impotent +now. + +The strong man held him aloft by the shoulders with an iron grasp, and +his cold eye gave evidence to the horrible validity of his words. + +"I do not lie or play, Hugenot," he said, in the same clear voice; "I +have premeditated this deed for many weeks. You are doomed! Only a +miracle can help you. The dangers of the pass will be my exculpation; it +will be surmised that you fell into the ravine. There will be no marks +of violence upon you but those of the sharp stones. We have been close +comrades. Only Omniscience can have seen premeditation. I have brought +you into this wilderness to slay you!" + +The victim had recovered sufficiently to catch a part of this +confession. His lips framed only one reply--the dying man's last straw: + +"After death!" he said; "have you thought of that?" + +"Ay," answered the other, "long and thoroughly. Phantoms, remorses and +hells--they have all had their argument. I take the chances." + +It was only a moment's struggle that ensued. The wretch clung to the +parapet, and called on God and mercy. He was lifted on high in the +strong arms, and whirled across the barrier. The other looked grimly at +the falling burden. He wondered if a dog or a goat would have been so +long falling. The distance was profound indeed; but to the murderer's +sanguine thought the body hung suspended in the air. It would not sink. +The clouds seemed to bear it up for testimony; the cold cliffs held +aloft their heads for justice; the snow-flakes fell like the ballots of +jurymen, voting for revenge--all nature seemed roused to animation by +this one act. An icicle dropped with a keen ring like a knife, and the +stream below pealed a shrill alarum. + +He had done the bad, dark deed. Was he more resolute or courageous now +that he had taken blood upon his hands and shadow upon his soul? + +The body disappeared at length, carried downward by the torrent; but a +wild bird darted after it, as if to reveal the secret of its +concealment, and then a noise like a human footfall crackled in the +snow. + +"I like a man who takes the chances," said a cold, hard voice; "but +Chance, Andy Plade, decides against you to-day." + + + + +IX. + +THE ONE GOOD DEED OF A PRIVATEERSMAN. + + +The murderer turned from his reverie with hands extended and trembling; +the snow was not more bleached than his bloodless face, and his feet +grew slippery and infirm. An alcove, which he had not marked, was hewn +in the brow of the precipice. It had been intended to shelter pilgrims +from the wind and the snow; and there, wrapped in his buff garments, +whose hue, assimilating to that of the rock, absorbed him from +detection, stood a witness to the deed--the guard to the diligence--none +other than Auburn Risque. + +For an instant only the accused shrank back. Then his body grew short +and compact; he was gathering himself up for a life-struggle. + +"Hold off!" said Risque, in his old, hard, measured way; "we guards go +armed; if you move, I shall scatter your brains in the snow; if I miss +you, a note of this whistle will summon my postilions." + +The cold face was never more emotionless; he held a revolver in his +hand, and kept the other in his blank, spotted eye, as if locating the +vital parts with the end to bring him down at a shot. + +"You do not play well," said Risque at length, when the other, ghastly +white, sat speechless upon the parapet; "if you were the student of +chance, that I have been, you would know that at murder the odds are +always against you!" + +"You will not betray me?" pleaded Plade; "so inveterate a gamester can +have no conventional ideas of life or crime. I am ready to pay for your +discretion with half my winnings." + +"I am a gambler," said Risque, curtly; "not an assassin! I always give +my opponents fair show. But I will not touch blood-money." + +"What fair show do you give me?" + +"Two hours' start. I am responsible for my passengers. Go on, unharmed, +if you will. But at Hospice I shall proclaim you. Every moment that you +falter spins the rope for your gallows!" + +Plade did not dally, but took to flight at once. He climbed by the +angles of the terraces, and saw the diligence far below tugging up the +circuitous road. He ran at full speed; no human being was abroad +besides, but yet there were other footfalls in the snow, other sounds, +as of a man breathing hard and pursued upon the lonely mountain. The +fugitive turned--once, twice, thrice; he laughed aloud, and shook his +clenched hand at the sky. Still the flat, dead tramp followed close +behind, and the pace seemed not unfamiliar. It could not be--his blood +ceased to circulate, and stood freezing at the thought--was it the +march, the tread of Hugenot? + +He dropped a loud curse, like a howl, and kept upon his way. The +footfalls were as swift; he saw their impressions at his heels--prints +of a small, lithe, human foot, made by no living man. He shut his eyes +and his ears, but the consciousness remained, the inexplicable +phenomenon of some invisible but familiar thing which would not leave +him; which made its register as it passed; which no speed could +outstrip, no argument exorcise. + +Was it a sick fancy, a probed heart, or did the phantom of the dead man +indeed give chase? + +Ah! there is but one class of folks whose faith in spirits nothing can +shake--the guilty, the bloody-handed. + +He came to a perturbed rest at the huge, half-hospitable Hospice, to the +enthusiasm of the postilions. + +"Will the gentleman have a saddle-horse?" + +"A chariot?" + +"A cabriolet?" + +"Ten francs to Andermatt!" + +"Thirty francs to Fluelen!" + +"One hundred francs," cried Plade, "for the fleetest pony to Andermatt. +Ten francs to the postilion who can saddle him in two minutes. My mother +is dying in Lyons." + +He climbed one of the dark flights of stairs, and an old, uncleanly monk +gave him a glass of Kerschwasser. He descended to the stables, and +cursed the Swiss lackeys into speed. He gave such liberal largess that +there was an involuntary cheer, and as he galloped away the great +diligence appeared in sight to rouse his haste to frenzy. + +The telegraph kept above him--a single line; he knew the tardiness of +foot when pursued by the lightning. In one place, the conductor, +wrenched from the insulators, dropped almost to the ground. There was a +strap upon his saddle; he reined his nag to the side of the road, and, +making a knot about the wire, dashed off at a bound; the iron snapped +behind; his triumphant laugh pealed yet on the twilight, when the cries +of his pursuers rang over the fields of snow. They were aroused; he was +fleetly mounted, but they came behind in sledges. + +The night closed over the road as he caught the wizard bells. The +moonlight turned the peaks to fire. The dark firs shook down their +burdens of snow. There were cries of wild beasts from the ravines below. +The post-houses were red with firelight. The steed floundered through +the snow-drifts driven by blow and halloo. It was a fearful ride upon +the high Alps; the sublimity of nature bowed down to the mystery of +crime! + +Bright noon, on the third day succeeding, saw the fugitive emerge from +the railway station at Dieppe. He had escaped the Swiss frontier with +his life, but had failed to make sure that escape by reaching the harbor +at the appointed time. Broken in spirit, grown old already, he faltered +toward the town, and, stopping on the fosse-bridge, looked sorrowfully +across the shipping in the dock. Something caught his regard amid the +cloud of tri-color; he looked again, shading his eye with a tremulous +palm. There could not be a doubt--it was the Confederate standard--the +Stars and Bars. + +The Planter had been delayed; she waited with steam up and an expectant +crew; her slender masts leaned against the sky; her anchor was lifted; a +knot of idlers watched her from the quay. + +In a moment Mr. Plade was on board. He asked for the commander, and a +short, gristly, sunburnt personage being indicated, he introduced +himself with that plausible speech which had wooed so many to their +fall. + +"I am a Charlestonian," said Plade; "a Yankee insulted me at the Grand +Hotel; we met in the Bois de Boulogne, and I ran him through the body. +His friends in Paris conspire against my life. I ask to save it now, +only to die on your deck, that it may be worth something to my country." + +They went below, and the privateer put the applicant through a rigid +examination. + +"This vessel must get to sea to night," he said. "I will not hazard +trouble with the French authorities by keeping you here. Spend the +afternoon ashore; we sail at eleven o'clock precisely; if at that time +you come aboard, I will take you." + +Plade protested his gratitude, but the skipper motioned him to peace. + +"You seem to be a gentleman," he added; "if I find you so, you shall be +my purser. But, hark!" he looked keenly at the other, and laid his hand +upon his throat--"I am under the espionage of the Yankee ambassador. +There are spies who seek to join my crew for treasonable ends; if I find +you one of these, you shall hang to my yard-arm!" + +The felon walked into the dim old city, and seated himself in a +wine-shop. Some market folks were chanting in _patois_, and their +light-heartedness enraged him. He turned up a crooked street, and +stopped before an ancient church, grotesque with broken buttresses, +pinnacles, and gargoyles. The portal was wide open, and, as he entered, +some scores of school-children burst suddenly into song. It seemed to +him an accusation, shouted by a choir of angels. + +At the end of the city, facing the sea, rose a massive castle. He scaled +its stairs, and passed through the courtyard, and, crossing the farther +moat, stood upon a grassy hill--once an outwork--whence the blue channel +was visible half way to England. + +A knot of soldiers came out to regard him, and his fears magnified their +curiosity; he ran down the parapet, to their surprise, and re-entered +the town by a roundabout way. "I will take a chamber," he said, "and +shun observation." + +An old woman, in a starched cap, who talked incessantly, showed him a +number of rooms in a great stone building. He chose a garret among the +chimney-stacks, and lit a fire, and ordered a newspaper and a bottle of +brandy. He sat down to read in loneliness. As he surmised, the murder +was printed among the "_Faits Divers_;" it gave his name and the story +of the tragedy. His chair rattled upon the tiles as he read, and the +tongs, wherewith he touched the fire, clattered in his nervous fingers. + +The place was not more composed than himself; the flame was the noisiest +in the world; it crackled and crashed and made horrible shadows on the +walls. There were rats under the floor whose gnawings were like human +speech, and the old house appeared to settle now and then with a groan +as if unwilling to shelter guilt. As he looked down upon the clustering +roofs of the town they seemed wonderfully like a crowd of people gazing +up at his retreat. All the dormer-windows were so many pitiless eyes, +and the chimney-pots were guns and cannon to batter down his eyrie. + +When night fell upon the city and sea, his fancies were not less +alarming. He could not rid himself of the idea that the dead man was at +his side. In vain he called upon his victim to appear, and laughed till +the windows shook. It was there, _there_, always THERE! He did not see +it--but it was _there_! He felt its breath, its eye, its influence. It +leaned across his shoulder; it gossiped with the shadows; it laid its +hand heavily upon his pocket where lay the unholy gold. Some prints of +saints and the Virgin upon the wall troubled him; their faces followed +him wherever he turned; he tore them down at length, and tossed them in +the fire, but they blazed with so great flame that he cried out for +fear. + +The town-bells struck the hours; how far apart were the strokes! They +tolled rather than pealed, as if for an execution, and the lamps of some +passing carriages made a journey as of torches upon the ceiling. + +After nine o'clock there was a heavy tread upon the stairs. It kept him +company, and he was glad of its coming; but it drew so close, at length, +that he stood upright, with the cold sweat upon his forehead. + +The steps halted at his threshold; the door swung open; a corporal and a +soldier stood without, and the former saluted formally: + +"Monsieur the stranger, will remain in his chamber under guard. I grieve +to say that he is an object of grave suspicion. _Au revoir!_" + +The corporal retired without waiting for a reply; the soldier entered, +and, leaning his musket against the wall, drew a chair before the door +and sat down. The firelight fell upon his face after a moment, and +revealed to Mr. Plade his old associate, Pisgah! + +The former uttered a cry of hope and surprise; the soldier waved him +back with a menace. + +"I know you," he said; "but I am here upon duty; besides, I have no +friendship with a murderer." + +"We are both victims of a mistake! This accusation is not true. Will you +take my hand?" + +"I am forbidden to speak upon guard," answered Pisgah, sullenly. "Resume +your chair." + +"At least join me in a glass." + +"There is blood in it," said Pisgah. + +"I swear to you, no! Let me ring for your old beverage, absinthe." + +The soldier halted, irresolutely; the liquor came before he could +refuse. When once his lips touched the vessel, Mr. Plade knew that there +was still a chance for life. + +In an hour Mr. Pisgah was impotent from intoxication; his musket was +flung down the stairway, the door was bolted upon him, and the prisoner +was gone. + +He gained the Planter's deck as the screw made its first revolution; +they turned the channel-piles with a good-by gun; the motley crew +cheered heartily as they cleared the mole. + +The pirate was at sea on her mission of plunder--the murderer was free! + +The engines stopped abreast the city; the steamer lay almost motionless, +for there were lights upon the beach; a shrill "Ahoy!" broke over the +intervening waters, and the dip of oars indicated some pursuit. The +crew, half drunken, rallied to the edge of the vessel; knives glittered +amid the confusion of oaths and the click of pistols, while Mr. Plade +hastened to the skipper's side, and urged him for pity and mercy to +hasten seaward. + +The other motioned him back, coldly, and the boatswain piped all hands +upon deck. Lafitte nor Kidd never looked down such desperate faces as +this gristly privateer, when his buccaneers were around him. + +"Seamen," he spoke aloud, "you are afloat! Gold and glory await you; you +shall glut yourselves by the ruin of your enemy, and count your plunder +by the light of his burning merchantmen." + +The knives flickered in the torchlight, and a cheer, like the howl of +the damned, went up. + +"On the brink of such fortune, you find yourselves imperilled; treason +is with you; this pursuit, which we attend, is a part of its programme! +There is, within the sound of my voice, a spy!--a Yankee!" + +The weapons rang again; the desperadoes pressed forward, demanding with +shrieks and imprecations that the man should be named. + +"He is here," answered the captain, turning full upon the astonished +fugitive. "He came to me with a story of distress. I pitied him, and +gave him shelter; but I telegraphed to Paris to test his veracity, and I +find that he lied. No man has been slain in a duel as he states. I +believe him to be a Federal emissary, and he is in our power." + +A dozen rough hands struck Plade to the deck; he staggered up, with +blood upon his face, and called Heaven to witness that he was no +traitor. + +"Did you speak the truth to me to-day?" cried the accuser. + +"I did not; had I done so, you would have refused me relief." + +"What are you then? Speak!" + +The murderer cowered, with a face so blanched that the blood ceased to +flow at its gashes. + +"I cannot, I dare not tell!" he muttered. + +The skipper made a sign to an attendant. A rope from the yard-arm was +flung about the felon's neck, and made fast in a twinkling. He struggled +desperately, but the fierce buccaneers held him down; his clothing was +rent, and his hairs dishevelled; he made three frantic struggles for +speech; but the loud cheers mocked his words as they brandished their +cutlasses in his eyes. + +Then began that strange lifetime of reminiscence; that trooping of sins +and cruelties, in sure, unbroken continuity, through the reeling brain; +that moment of years; that great day of judgment, in a thought; that +last winkful of light, which flashes back upon time, and makes its +frailties luminous. And, higher than all offences, rose that of the fair +young wife deserted abroad, left to the alternatives of shame or +starvation. Her wail came even now, from the bed of the crowded +hospital, to follow him into the world of shadows. + +"Monsieur the Commander," hailed the spokesman in the launch, "the +government of his Imperial Majesty does not wish to interpose any +obstacle to the departure of the Confederate cruiser. It is known, +however, that a person guilty of an atrocious crime is concealed on +board. In this paper, Monsieur the Capitaine will find all the +specifications. The name of the person, Plade. The crime of the person, +murder, with premeditation. The giving up of said person is essential to +the departure of the cruiser from his Imperial Majesty's waters." + +There was blank silence on the deck of the privateer; the torches in the +launch threw a glare upon the water and sky. They lit up something +struggling between both at the tip of the rocking yard-arm. It was the +effigy of a man, bound and suspended, around which swept timidly the +bats and gulls, and the sea wind beat it with a shrill, jubilant cry. + +"I have done justice unconsciously," said the privateer; "may it be +remembered for me when I shall do injustice consciously!" + + + + +X. + +THE SURVIVING COLONISTS. + + +The catastrophe of the Colony and the episode having been attained, we +have only to leave Mr. Pisgah in Algiers, whither court-martial +consigned him, with the penalty of hard labor, and Mr. Risque on the +stage route he was so eminently fitted to adorn. The unhappy Freckle +continued in the prison of Clichy, and, having nothing else to do, +commenced the novel process of thinking. The prison stood high up on +Clichy Hill, walled and barred and guarded, like other jails, but within +it a fair margin of liberty was allowed the bankrupts, just sufficient +to make their fate terrible by temptation. Some good soul had endowed it +with a library; newspapers came every day; a cafe was attached to it, +where spirituous liquors were prohibited, to the wrath of the dry +throats and raging thirsts of the captives; there was a garden behind +it, and a billiard saloon, but these luxuries were not gratuitous; poor +Freckle could not even pay his one sou per diem to cook his rations, so +that the Prisoners' Relief Association had to make him a present of it. +He spent his time between his bare, cheerless bedroom and the public +hall. There were many Americans in the place; but none of them were +friendly with him when he was found to have no cash. Yet he heard them +speak together of their countrymen who had lain in the same jail years +before. Yonder was the room of Horace Greeley, incarcerated for a debt +which was not his own; here the blood-stains of the Pennsylvania youth +who looked out of the window, heedless of warning, and was shot dead by +the guard; there the ancient chair, in which Hallidore, the Creole, sat +so often, possessor of a million francs, but too obstinate to pay his +tailor's bill and go free. While Freckle thought of these, it was +suggested to him that he was a very wicked man. The tuitions of his +patriarchal father came to mind; he was seen on his knees, to the +infinite amusement of the other debtors, who were, however, quite too +polite to laugh in his face, and he no longer staked his ration of wine +at cards, whereby he had commonly lost it, but held long conversations +with an ardent old priest who visited the jail. The priest gave Freckle +_breviaries_ and catechisms, and told him that there was no peace of +mind outside of the apostolic fold. + +So Freckle diligently embraced the ancient Romish faith, renounced the +tenets of his plain old sire as false and heretical, and earnestly +prepared himself to enter the priesthood. + +In this frame of mind he was found by Mr. Simp, who had unexpectedly +returned to Paris, and, finding himself again prosperous, came to +release Freckle from the toils of Clichy. + +The latter waved him away. "I wish to know none of you," he said. "I +shall serve out this term, and never again speak to an American abroad." + +He was firm, and achieved his purpose. Enthusiasm often answers for +brains, and Freckle's religious zeal made him a changed man. He entered +a Jesuits' school after his discharge, and in another fashion became as +stern, severe, and self-denying as had been his father. He sometimes saw +his old comrade, Simp, driving down the Champs Elysees as Freckle came +from church in Paris, but the gallant did not recognize the young priest +in his dark gown and hose, and wide-rimmed hat. + +They followed their several directions, and in the end, with the +lessening fortunes of the Confederacy, grew more moody, and yet more +ruined by the consciousness that after once suffering the agony of +expatriation, they had not improved the added chance to make of +themselves men, not Colonists. + +It is not the pleasantest phase of our human nature to depict, but since +we have essayed it, let it close with its own surrounding shadow. + +If we have given no light touch of womanhood to relieve its sombre +career, we have failed to be artistic in order to be true. + +But that which made the Colonists weak has passed away. There are no +longer slaves at home--may there be no exiles abroad! + + + + + LITTLE GRISETTE. + + + Little Grisette, you haunt me yet; + My passion for you was long ago, + Before my head was heavy with snow, + Or mine eye had lost its lustre of jet. + In the dim old Quartier Latin we met; + We made our vows one night in June, + And all our life was honeymoon; + We did not ask if it were sin, + We did not go to kirk to know, + We only loved and let the world + Hum on its pelfish way below; + Marked from our castle in the air, + How pigmy its triumphal cars: + Eight stories from the entry stair, + But near the stars! + + Little Grisette, rich or in debt, + We were too fond to chide or sigh-- + Never so poor that I could not buy + A sweet, sweet kiss from my little Grisette. + If I could nothing gain or get, + By hook, or crook, or song, or story, + Along the starving road to glory, + I marvelled how your nimble thimble, + As to a tune, danced fast and fleeting, + And stopped my pen to catch the music, + But only heard my heart a-beating; + The quaint old roofs and gables airy + Flung down the light for you to wear it, + And made my love a queen in faery, + To haunt my garret. + + Little Grisette, the meals you set + Were sweeter to me than banquet feast; + Your face was a blessing fit for a priest, + At your smile the candle went out in a pet; + The wonderful chops I shall never forget! + If the wine was a trifle too sharp or rank, + We kissed each time before we drank. + The old gilt clock, aye wrong, was swinging + The waxen floor your feet reflected; + And dear Beranger's _chansons_ singing, + You tricked at _picquet_ till detected. + You fill my pipe;--is it your eyes + Whereat I light your cigarette? + On all but me the darkness lies + And my Grisette! + + Little Grisette, the soft sunset + Lingered a long while, that we might stay + To mark the Seine from the breezy quay + Around the bridges foam and fret; + How came it that your eyes were wet + When I ambitiously would be + A man renowned across the sea? + I told you I should come again-- + It was but half way round the globe-- + To bring you diamonds for your faith, + And for your gray a silken robe: + You were more wise than lovers are; + I meant, sweetheart, to tell you true, + I said a tearful "_Au revoir_;" + You said, "_Adieu!_" + + Little Grisette, we both regret, + For I am wedded more than wived; + Those careless days in thought revived + But teach me I cannot forget. + Perhaps old age must pay the debt + Young sin contracted long ago-- + I only know, I only know, + That phantoms haunt me everywhere + By busy day, in peopled gloam-- + They rise between me and my prayer, + They mar the holiness of home! + My wife is proud, my boy is cold, + I dare not speak of what I fret: + 'Tis my fond youth with thee I fold, + Little Grisette! + + + + +MARRIED ABROAD. + +AN AMERICAN ROMANCE OF THE QUARTIER LATIN. + + + + +PART I. + +TEMPTATION. + + +To say that Ralph Flare was "lonesome" would convey a feeble idea of his +condition. Four months in England had gone by wearily enough; but in +this great city of Paris, where he might as well have had no tongue at +all, for the uses he could put it to, he pined and chafed--and finally +swore. + +An oath, if not relief in itself, conduces to that effect, and it +happened in this case that a stranger heard it. + +"You are English," said the stranger, turning shortly upon Ralph Flare. + +"I am not," replied that youth, "I am an American." + +"Then we are countrymen," cried the other. "Have you dwelt long in the +Hotel du Hibou?" + +Ralph Flare stated that he hadn't and that he had, and that he was bored +and sick of it, and had resolved to go back to the Republic, and fling +away his life in its armies. + +"Pooh! pooh!" shouted the other, "I see your trouble--you have no +acquaintances. It is six o'clock; come with me to dinner, and you shall +know half of Paris, men and women." + +They filed down the tortuous Rue Jacob, now thrice gloomy by the closing +shadows of evening, and turning into the Rue de Seine, stopped before +the doorway of a little painted _boutique_, whereon was written +"_Cremery du Quartier Latin_." + +A tall, sallow, bright-eyed Frenchman was seated at a fragment of +counter within the smallest apartment in the world, and addressing this +man as "Pere George" the stranger passed through a second sash doorway +and introduced Ralph Flare to the most miscellaneous and democratic +assemblage that he had ever beheld in his life. + +Two long yellow tables reached lengthwise down a long, narrow _salon_, +the floor whereof was made of tiles, and the light whereof fizzed and +flamed from two unruly burners. A door at the farther end opened upon a +cook-room, and the cook, a scorched and meagre woman, was standing now +in the firelight, talking in a high key, as only a Frenchwoman can talk. + +Then there was Madame George, fat and handsome, and gossipy likewise, +with a baby, a boy, and a daughter; and the patrons of the place, twenty +or more in number, were eating and laughing and all speaking at the same +time, so that Ralph Flare was at first stunned and afterward astonished. + +His new acquaintance, Terrapin, went gravely around the table, shaking +hands with every guest, and Ralph was wedged into the remotest corner, +with Terrapin upon his right, and upon his left a creature so naive and +petite that he thought her a girl at first, but immediately corrected +himself and called her a child. + +Terrapin addressed her as Suzette, and stated that his friend Ralph was +a stranger and quite solitary; whereat Suzette turned upon him a pair of +soft, twinkling eyes, and laughed very much as a peach might do, if it +were possible for a peach to laugh. He could only say a horrible _bon +jour_, and make the superfluous intimation that he could not speak +French; and when Madame George gave him his choice of a dozen +unpronounceable dishes, he looked so utterly blank and baffled that +Suzette took the liberty of ordering dinner for him. + +"You won't get the run of the language, Flare," said Terrapin, +carelessly, "until you find a wife. A woman is the best dictionary." + +"You mean, I suppose," said Flare, "a wife for a time." + +Little Suzette was looking oddly at him as he faced her, and when Ralph +blushed she turned quietly to her _potage_ and gave him a chance to +remark her. + +She had dark, smooth hair, closing over a full, pale forehead, and her +shapely head was balanced upon a fair, round neck. There was an +alertness in her erect ear, and open nostril, and pointed brows which +indicated keen perception and comprehension; yet even more than this +generic quickness, without which she could not have been French, the +gentleness of Suzette was manifest. + +Ralph thought to himself that she must be good. It was the face of a +sweet sister or a bright daughter, or one of those school-children with +whom he had played long ago. And withal she was very neat. If any +commandment was issued especially to the French, it enjoined tidiness; +but this child was so quietly attired that her cleanliness seemed a +matter of nature, not of command. Her cheap coral ear-drops and the thin +band of gold upon her white finger could not have been so fitting had +they been of diamonds; and her tresses, inclosed in a fillet of beads, +were tied in a breadth of blue ribbon which made a cunning lover's-knot +above. A plain collar and wristbands, a bright cotton dress and dark +apron, and a delicate slipper below--these were the components of a +picture which Ralph thought the loveliest and pleasantest and best that +he had ever known. + +In his own sober city of the Middle States he would have been ashamed to +connect with these innocent features a doubt, a light thought, a desire. +Yet here in France, where climate, or custom, or man had changed the +relations though not the nature of woman, he did but as the world, in +blending with Suzette's tranquil face a series of ideas which he dared +not associate with what he had called pure, beautiful, or happy. + +Now and then they spoke together, unintelligibly of course, but very +merrily, and Ralph's appetite was that of the great carnivora; potage, +beef, mutton, pullet, vanished like waifs, and then came the salad, +which he could not make, so that Suzette helped him again with her +sprightly white fingers, contriving so marvellous a dish that Ralph +thought her a little magician, and wanted to eat salad till daybreak. + +"Now for the cards!" cried Terrapin, when they had finished the _cafe_ +and the _eau-de-vie_; and as the parties ranged themselves about the +greater table, Terrapin, who knew everybody, gave their names and +avocations. + +"That is Boetia, a journalist on the _Siecle_; you will observe that he +smokes his cigars quite down to the stump. The little man beside him, +with a blouse, is Haynau, fellow of the College of Beaux +Arts--dead-broke, as usual; and his friend, the sallow chap, is Moise, +whose father died last week, leaving him ten thousand francs. Moise, you +will see, has a wife, Feefine, though I suspect him of bigamy; and the +tall girl, with hair like midnight and a hard voice, is at present +unmarried. Those four fellows and their dames are students of medicine. +They have one hundred francs a month apiece, and keep house upon it." + +"And Suzette," said Ralph Flare, impatiently. + +"Oh, she is a _couturiere_, a dressmaker, but just now a clerk at a +glover's. She has dwelt sagely, generally speaking. She breakfasts upon +five sous; a roll, cafe, and a bunch of grapes--her dinner costs eighty +centimes, and she makes a franc and a half a day, leaving enough to pay +her room-rent." + +"It is a little sum--seven dollars and a half a month--how is the girl +to dress?" + +Terrapin shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing. + +They played "ramps," an uproarious game; and Suzette was impetuous and +noisy as the rest, with brightened cheeks and eyes and a clear, silvery +voice. The stake was a bottle of Bordeaux. Few women play cards +honestly, and Suzette was the first to go out; but seeing that Ralph +floundered and lost continually, she gave him her attention, looking +over his hand, and talking for him, and counting with so dexterous +deceit that he escaped also, while Terrapin paid for the wine. + +It was not the most reputable amusement in the world; but the hours were +winged, and midnight came untimely. Suzette tied on a saucy brown flat +streaming with ribbons, and bade them good-night, ending with Ralph, in +whose palm her little fingers lay pulsing an instant, bringing the blood +to his hand. + +How mean the _cremery_ and its patrons seemed now that she was gone! The +great clamp at the portal of his hotel sounded very ghostly as he +knocked; the concierge was a hideous old man in gown and nightcap. + +"_Toujours seul, monsieur_," he said, with an ugly grin. + +"What does that mean, Terrapin?" said Ralph. + +"He says that you always come home alone." + +"How else should I come?" said Ralph, dubiously. + +"How, indeed?" answered Terrapin. + +It was without doubt a dim old pile--the Hotel du Hibou. What murderers, +and thieves, and Jacobins might not have ascended the tiles of the grand +stairway? There was a cumbrous mantel in his chamber, funereal with +griffins, and there were portraits with horribly profound eyes. The sofa +and the chairs were huge; the deep window-hangings were talking together +in a rustling, mocking way; while the bed in its black recess seemed so +very long and broad and high for one person, that Ralph sat down at the +stone table, too lonely or too haunted to sleep. + +Would not even this old grave be made merry with sunlight, if little +Suzette were here? + +He opened the book of familiar French phrases, and began to copy some of +them. He worked feverishly, determinedly, for quite a time. Then he read +the list he had made, half aloud. It was this: + +"Good-morning, my pretty one!" + +"Will you walk with me?" + +"May I have your company to dinner?" + +"What is your name?" + +"I dare say you laugh at my pronunciation." + +"I am lonely in Paris." + +"Are you?" + +"You ought to see my chambers." + +"Let me buy you a bracelet!" + +"I love you!" + +Ralph's voice stopped suddenly. There were deep echoes in the great +room, which made him thrill and shudder. How still and terrible were the +silence and loneliness! + +A pang, half of guilt, half of fear, went keenly to his heart. It seemed +to him that his mother was standing by his shoulder, pointing with her +thin, tremulous fingers to the writing beneath him, and saying: + +"My boy, what does this mean?" + +He held it in the candle-flame, and thought he felt better when it was +burned; but he could not burn all those thoughts of which the paper was +only a copy. + + + + +PART II. + +POSSESSION. + + +If the _cremery_ had seemed lonely by gaslight, what must Ralph Flare +have said of it next morning, as he sat in his old place and watched the +_ouvriers_ at breakfast? They came in, one by one, with their baton of +brown bread, and called for two sous' worth of coffee and milk. The men +wore blouses of blue and white, and jested after the Gallic code with +the sewing-girls. This bread and coffee, and a pear which they should +eat at noon, would give them strength to labor till nightfall brought +its frugal repast. Yet they were happy as crickets, and a great deal +more noisy. + +Here is little Suzette, smiling and skipping, and driving her glances +straight into Ralph Flare's heart. + +"Good-day, sir," she cries, and takes a chair close by him, after the +manner of a sparrow alighting. She smooths back her pure wristbands, +disclosing the grace of the arm, and as she laughs in Ralph's face he +knows what she is saying to herself; it is more doubtful that he loves +her than that she knows it. + +"_Peut-etre, monsieur, vous-avez besoin des gants?_" + +She gave him the card of her _boutique_, and laughed like a sunbeam +playing on a rivulet, and went out singing like the witch that she was. + +"I don't want gloves," said Ralph Flare; "I won't go to her shop." + +But he asked Pere George the direction, notwithstanding; and though his +conscience seemed to be blocking up the way--a tangible, visible, +provoking conscience--he put his feet upon it and shut his lips, and +found the place. + +Ralph Flare has often remarked since--for he is quite an artist +now--that of all scenes in art or nature that _boutique_ was to him the +rarest. He has tried to put it into color--the miniature counter, the +show-case, the background of boxes, each with a button looking +mischievously at him, or a glove shaking its forefinger, or a shapely +pair of hose making him blush, and the daintiest child in the world, +flushing and flirting and gossiping before him; but the sketch recalls +matters which he would forget, his hands lose command, something makes +his eye very dim, and he lays aside his implements, and takes a long +walk, and wears a sober face all that day. + +We may all follow up the sequence of a young man's thoughts in doing a +strange wrong for the first time. If Ralph's passions of themselves +could not mislead him, there were not lacking arguments and advisers to +teach him that this was no offence, or that the usage warranted the sin. +He became acquainted, through Terrapin, with dozens of his countrymen; +the youngest and the oldest and the most estimable had their open +attachments. So far as he could remark, the married and the unmarried +tradesmen's wives in Paris were nearly equal in consideration. How could +he become perfect in the language without some such incentive and +associate? + +His income was not considerable, but they told him that to double his +expenses was certain economy. He was very lonely, and he loved company. +His age was that at which the affections and the instincts alike impel +the man to know more of woman--the processes of her mind, her +capacities, her emotions, the idiosyncrasies which divided her from his +own sex. + +Hitherto he had been chaste, though once when he had confessed it to +Terrapin, that incredulous person said something about the marines, and +repeated it as a good joke; he felt, indeed, that he was not entirely +manly. He had half a doubt that he was worthy to walk with men, else why +had not his desires, like theirs, been stronger than his virtue; and had +not the very feebleness of desire proved also a feebleness of power? +But, more than all, he had a weakness for Suzette. + +There was old Terrapin, with bonnets and dresses in his wardrobe, and a +sewing-basket on his mantel, and with his own huge boots outside the +door a pair of tapering gaiters, and in his easy-chair a little being to +sing and chatter and mix his punch and make his cigarettes. Ah! how much +more entrancing would be Ralph's chamber with Suzette to garnish it! He +would make a thousand studies of her face; she should be his model, his +professor, his divinity! What was gross in her he would refine; what +dark he would make known. They would walk together by the river side, +into the parks, into the open country. He would know no regrets for the +friends across the sea. Europe would become beautiful to him, and his +art would find inspiration from so much loveliness. No indissoluble tie +would bind them, to make kindness a duty and love necessity. No social +tyranny should prescribe where he should visit, and where she should +not. The hues of the picture deepened and brightened as he imagined it. +He was resolved to do this thing, though a phantom should come to his +bedside every night, and every shadow be his accusation. + +He committed to memory some phrases of French; Terrapin was his +interpreter, and they went together--those three and a sober +_cocher_--to the Bois de Boulogne. Terrapin stated to Suzette in a +shockingly informal way that Ralph loved her and would give her a +beautiful chamber and relieve her from the drudgery of the glove-shop. + +They were passing down the broad, gravelled drive, with the foliage +above them edged with moonlight, the mock cataract singing musically +below, and the _cocher_, half asleep, nodding and slashing his horses. +And while Terrapin turned his head and made himself invisible in +cigar-smoke, Ralph folded Suzette to his breast, and kissed her once so +demonstratively that the _cocher_ awoke with a spring and nearly fell +off the box, but was quite too much of a _cocher_ to turn and +investigate the matter. + +That was the ceremony, and that night the nuptials. Few young couples +make a better commencement. She gave him a list of her debts, and he +paid them. They removed from Ralph's dim quarters to a cheap and +cheerful chamber upon the new Boulevard. It was on the fifth floor; the +room was just adapted for so little a couple. Superficially observed, +the furniture resolved itself into an enormous clock and a monstrously +fine mirror; but after a while you might remark four small chairs and a +great one, a bureau and a wardrobe, a sofa and a canopied bed; and just +without the two gorgeously curtained windows lay a cunning balcony, +where they could sit of evenings, with the old ruin of the Hotel Cluny +beneath them, the towers of Notre Dame in the middle ground, and at the +horizon the beautifully wooded hill of Pere la Chaise. + +Suzette had tristful eyes when they rested upon this cemetery. Her baby +lay there, without a stone--not without a flower. + +"_Pauvre petite Jules!_" she used to say, nestling close to Ralph, and +for a little while they would not speak nor move, but the smoke of his +cigar made a charmed circle around them, and the stars came out above, +and the panorama of the great Boulevard moved on at their feet. + +Their first difficulties were financial, of course. Suzette would have +liked a silken robe, a new bonnet, a paletot, gloves and concomitants +unlimited. She delighted to walk upon the Boulevard, the Rue Rivoli, and +into the Palais Royal, looking into the shop-windows and selecting what +she would buy when Ralph's remittances came. Her hospitality when his +friends visited him did less honor to her purse than to her heart. She +certainly made excellent punches; Terrapin thought her cigarettes +unrivalled; she was fond of cutting a fruit-pie, and was quite a +_connoisseur_ with wines. Ralph did not wonder at her tidiness when the +laundry bills were presented, but doubted that the _coiffeur_ beautified +her hair; and one day, when a cool gentleman in civil uniform knocked at +the door, and insisted upon the immediate payment of a bill for fifty +francs, he lost his temper and said bad words. What could be done? +Suzette was sobbing; Ralph detested "scenes;" he threatened to leave +the hotel and Paris, and frightened her very much--and paid the money. + +"You said, Suzette, that you had rendered a full account of all your +indebtedness. You told me a lie!" + +"Poor boy," she replied, "this debt was so old that I never expected to +hear of it." + +"Have you any more--old or otherwise?" + +Suzette said demurely that she did not owe a sou in the world, but was +able to recall thirty francs in the course of the afternoon, and assured +him, truly, that this was the last. + +Still, she lacked economy. They went to the same _cremery_, but her +meals cost one half more than his. She never objected to a ride in a +_voiture_; she liked to go to the balls, but walked very soberly upon +his arm, recognizing nobody, and exacting the same behavior from Ralph. +Let him look at an unusually pretty girl, through a shop-window, upon +his peril! If a letter came for him signed Lizzie, or Annie, or Mary, +she took the dictionary and tried to interpret it, and in the end called +him a _vilain_ and wept. + +Toward the letters signed "Lizzie" she conceived a deep antipathy. With +a woman's instinct she discerned that "Lizzie" was more to Ralph than +any other correspondent. A single letter satisfied her of this; and when +he was reading it, for the second time, she snatched it from his hand +and flung it fiercely upon the floor. Ralph's eyes blazed menace and her +own cowered. + +"Take up that letter, Suzette!" + +"I won't!" + +"Take it up, I say! I command! instantly!" He had risen to his feet, +and was the master now. She stooped, with pale jealousy lying whitely in +her temples, and gave it to him meekly, and sat down very stricken and +desolate. There was one whom he loved better than her--she felt it +bitterly--a love more respectful, more profound--a woman, perhaps, whom +he meant to make his wife some day, when SHE should be only a shameful +memory! + +It may have been the reproach of this infidelity, or the thought of his +home, or the infatuation of his present guileful attachment, which kept +Ralph Flare from labor. + +There was the great Louvre, filled with the riches of the old masters, +and the galleries of the Luxembourg with the gems of the French school, +so marvellous in color and so superb in composition, and the mighty +museum of Versailles, with its miles of battle pictures--yet the third +month of his tenure in Paris was hastening by, and he had not made one +copy. + +Suzette was a bad model. She _posed_ twice, but changed her position, +and yawned, and said it was ridiculous. He had never made more than a +crayon portrait of her. He found, too, that five hundred francs a month +barely sufficed to keep them, and once, in the interval of a remittance, +they were in danger of hunger. Yet Suzette plied her needle bravely, and +was never so proud as when she had spread the dinner she had earned. In +acknowledgment of this fidelity Ralph took her to a grand _magasin_, +where they examined the goods gravely, as married folks do, consulting +each other, and trying to seem very sage and anxious. + +There probably was never such a bonnet as Suzette's in the world. It was +black, and full of white roses, and floating a defiant ostrich-plume, +and tied with broad red ribbons, whereby she could be recognized from +one end of the Luxembourg gardens to the other. + +The paletot was clever in like manner; she made the dress herself, and +its fit was perfection, showing her plump little figure all the plumper, +while its black color set off the whiteness of her simple collar, and +with those magic gaiters, Ralph's gift also, he used to sit in the big +chair, peering at her, and in a quandary as to whether he had ever been +so happy before, or ever so disquieted. + +"Now, my little woman," said Ralph, "I have redeemed my promises; you +have a chamber, and garments, and subsistence--more than any of your +friends--and I am with you always; few wives live so pleasantly; but +there is one thing which you must do." + +Suzette, sitting upon his knee, protested that he could not command any +impossible thing which she would not undertake. + +"You must work a little; we are both idle, and if we continue so, may +have _ennui_ and may quarrel. After three days I will not pay for your +breakfasts, and every day in which you do not breakfast with me, paying +for yourself, I will give you no dinner. Remember it, Suzette, for I am +in earnest." + +Her color fell a little at this, for she had no love for the needle. It +was merrier in the _boutique_ to chat with customers, yet she started +fairly, and for a week earned a franc a day. The eighth day came; she +had no money. Ralph put on his hat and went down the _Rue L'Ecole de +Medecin_ without her; but his breakfast was unpalatable, indigestible. +Five o'clock came round; she was sitting at the window, perturbedly +waiting to see how he would act. + +It wrung his heart to think that she was hungry, but he tried to be very +firm. + +"I am going to dinner, Suzette! I keep my word, you see." + +"It is well, Ralph." + +That night they said little to each other. The dovecote was quite cold, +for the autumn days were running out, and they lighted a hearth fire. +Suzette made pretence of reading. She had an impenitent look; for she +conceived that she had been cruelly treated, and would not be soothed +nor kissed. Ralph smoked, and said over some old rhymes, and, finally +rising, put on his cloak. + +"I am going out, Suzette; you don't make my room cheerful." + +"_Bien!_" + +He walked very slowly and heavily down the stairs, to convince her that +he was really going or hoping to be recalled, but she did not speak. He +saw the light burning from his windows as he looked up from below. He +was regretful and angry. At Terrapin's room he drank much raw brandy and +sang a song. He even called the astute Terrapin a humbug, and toward +midnight grew quarrelsome. They escorted him to his hotel door; the +light was still burning in his room. He was sober and repentant when he +had ascended the long stairs, though he counterfeited profound +drunkenness when he stood before her. + +She had been weeping, and in her white night-habit, with her dark hair +falling loosely upon her shoulders, she was very lovely. The clock +struck one as they looked at each other. She fell upon his neck and +removed his garments, and wrapped him away between the coverlets; and he +watched her for a long time in the flickering light till a deep sleep +fell upon him, so that he could not feel how closely he was clasped in +her arms. + + + + +PART III. + +CONSCIENCE. + + +Lest it has not been made clear in these paragraphs whether Suzette was +a good or a wicked being, we may give the matured and recent judgment of +Ralph Flare himself. Put to the test of religion, or even of +respectability, this intimacy was baneful. A wild young man had broken +his honor for the companionship of a poor, errant girl. She was poor, +but she hated to work; she had no regard for his money; she did not +share his ambition. Making against her a case thus clear and certain, +Ralph Flare entered for Suzette the plea of _not_ wicked, and this was +his defence! + +_She was educated in France._ Particular sins lose their shame in some +countries. Woman in France had not the high mission and respect which +she fulfilled in his own land. Suzette was one of many children. Her +father was the cultivator of a few acres in Normandy. Her mother died as +the infant was ushered into the world. To her father and brothers she +was of an unprofitable sex, and her sisters disliked her because she +was handsomer than they. Her childhood was cheerless enough, for she had +quick instincts, and her education availed only to teach her how grand +was the world, and how confined her life. She left her home by stealth, +in the night, and alone. In the city of Cherbourg she found occupation. +She dwelt with strangers; she was lonely; her poverty and her beauty +were her sorrows. She was a girl only till her fifteenth year. + +The young mother has but one city of refuge--Paris. Without friends she +passed the bitterness of reminiscence. Through the poverty of skill or +sustenance she lost her boy, and the great city lay all before her where +to choose. Luckily, in France every avenue to struggle was not closed to +her sisterhood; with us such gather only the wages of sin. It was not +there an irreparable disgrace to have fallen. For a full year she lived +purely, industriously, lonely; what adventures ensued Ralph knew +imperfectly. She met, he believed that she loved him. It was not +probable, of course, that she came out of the wrestle unscathed. She +deceived in little things, but he knew when to trust her. She was +quick-tempered and impatient of control, but he understood her, and +their quarrels were harbingers of their most happy seasons. She was +generous, affectionate, artless. He did not know among the similar +attachments of his friends any creature so pliable, so true, so +beautiful. + +It was upon her acquaintances that Ralph placed the blame when she +erred. Fanchette was one of these--the dame of a student from Bretagne, +a worldly, plotting, masculine woman--the only one whom he permitted to +visit her. It was Fanchette who loaned her money when she was indolent, +and who prompted her to ask favors beyond his means. + +Toward the end of every month Ralph's money ran out, and then he was +petulant and often upbraided her. Those were the only times when he +essayed to study, and he would not walk with her of evenings, so +destitute. Then Fanchette amused her: "Sew in my room," she would say; +"Ralph will come for you at eight o'clock." But Ralph never went, and +Fanchette poisoned his little girl's mind. + +"When will you leave Paris, baby?" said Suzette one evening, as she +returned from her friend's and found him sitting moodily by the fire. + +"Very soon," he replied crisply; "that is, if ever I have money or +resolution enough to start." + +"Won't you take me with you, little one?" + +"No!" + +"You don't love me any more!" + +"Pish!" + +"Kiss me, my boy!" + +"Oh, go away, you bother me--you always bother me when my money is low. +Haven't I told you about it before?" + +But the next morning as Suzette made her toilet, older and more +silently, he felt repentant, and called her to him, and they talked a +long while of nothingnesses. He had a cruel way of playing with her +feelings. + +"Suzette," he would say, "would you like me to take you to my country +and live with you forever?" + +"Very much, my child!" + +"My father has a beautiful farm, which he means to give to me. There is +a grand old house upon it, and from the high porch you can see the blue +bay speckled with sails. The orchards are filled with apples and pears. +You must walk an hour to get around the corn-fields, and there is a +picnic ground in the beech-woods, where we might entertain our friends. +I have many friends. How jolly you would look in my big rocking-chair, +before the fireplace blazing with logs, and with your lap full of +chestnuts, telling me of Paris life!" + +She was drinking it all in, and the blood was ripe in her cheeks. + +"Think, little one," he said, "of passing our days there, you and I! I +have made you my wife, for example; I paint great pictures; you are +proud of me; everybody respects you; you have your saddle-horse and your +tea-parties; you learn to be ashamed of what you were; you are anxious +to be better--not in people's eyes only, but in mine, in your own. To do +good deeds; to sit in the church hearing good counsel; to be patted upon +the forehead by my father--his daughter!--and to call my brother your +brother also. Thus honored, contented, good, your hairs turn gray with +mine. We walk along hand in hand so evenly that we do not perceive how +old we are growing. We may forget everything but our love; that remains +when we are gone--a part of our children's inheritance." + +He spoke excellent French now; to her it was eloquence. Her arms were +around his neck. He could feel her heart, beating. He had expressed what +she scarcely dared to conceive--all her holiest, profoundest hopes, her +longing for what she had never been, for what she believed she would try +to be worthy of. + +"Oh, my baby," she cried, half in tears, "you make me think! I have +never thought much or often; I wish I was a scholar, as you are, to tell +you how, since we have dwelt together, something like that has come to +me in a dream. Perhaps it is because you talk to me so that I love you +so greatly. Nobody ever spoke to me so before. That is why I am angry +when your proud friend Lizzie writes to you. All that good fortune is +for her; you are to quit Paris and me. My name will be unworthy to be +mentioned to her. How shall I be in this bad city, growing old; yet I +would try so earnestly to improve and be grateful!" + +"Would you, truly, sweetheart?" + +She only sobbed and waited; he coughed in a dry way and unclasped her +hands. + +"I pity you, poor Suzette," he said, "but it is quite impossible for us +to be more to each other. My people would never speak to me if I behaved +so absurdly. Go to bed now, and stop crying; good-night." + +She staggered up, so crushed and bowed and haggard that his conscience +smote him. He could not have done a greater cruelty to one like +her--teaching her to hope, then to despair. The next day, and the next, +she worked at Fanchette's. His remittance did not come; he was out of +temper, and said in jest that he would set out for Italy within a week. +There was a pale decision in her countenance the fourth morning. She put +on her gray robe and a little cap which she had made. He did not offer +to kiss her, and she did not beseech it. He saw her no more until nine +o'clock, when she came in with Fanchette, and her cheeks were flushed +as with wine. This made him more angry. He said nothing to either of +them and went to sleep silently. + +The fifth day she returned as before. He was sitting up by the +fireplace; his rent was due; he was quite cast down, and said: + +"Dear, when my purse was full you never went away two whole days, +leaving me alone." + +"You are to leave me, Ralph, forever!" But she was touched, and in the +morning said that she would come back at midday. Still no remittance. He +felt like a bear. Twelve o'clock came--Suzette did not appear. It +drifted on to one; he listened vainly for her feet upon the stairs. At +two he sat at the window watching; she entered at three, half mild, half +timorous, and gave him a paper of sugar plums. + +"Where did those come from?" he asked, with a scowl. + +"Fanchette gave them to me." + +"I don't believe it; there is _kirsch wasser_ on your lips; you have +been drinking." + +She drew her handkerchief from her pocket; a little box, gilt-edged, +came out with it, and rolled into the middle of the floor. Suzette +leaped for it with a quick pallor; he wrenched it from her hands after a +fierce struggle, and delving into the soft cotton with which it was +packed, brought out sleeve-buttons of gold and a pearl breastpin. They +were new and glittering, and they flashed a burning suspicion into his +heart. He forced her unresisting into a chair, and flung them far out of +the window, over the house-roofs. Then he sat down a moment to gain +breath, and marked her with eyes in which she saw that she was already +tried and sentenced. + +"Who gave you those things, Suzette?" he asked in a forced, strange +monotone. + +"My ancient _patronne_." + +"What's her name?" + +"I don't know." + +"Where does she live?" + +"I shan't tell you." + +He held her wrist tightly and pressed her back till her eyes were +compelled to mark his white, pinched lips and altogether bloodless +temples. His hand tightened upon her; his full, boyish figure +straightened and heightened beyond nature; his regard was terrible. A +terrible fear and silence fell around about them. + +"These are the gifts of a man," he whispered; "you do not know it better +than I. I shall walk out for one hour; at the end of that time there +must not be even a ribbon of yours in this chamber." + + + + +PART IV. + +REMORSE. + + +He gave the same order to the proprietor as he passed down-stairs, and +hurried at a crazy pace across the Pont des Arts to the rooms of +Terrapin. That philosopher was playing whist with his friends, and gave +as his opinion that Ralph was "spooney." + +Ralph drank much, talked much, chafed more. Somebody advised him to +travel, but he felt that Europe had nothing to show him like that which +he had lost. He told Madame George the story at the _cremery_. + +"Ah, monsieur," she said, "that is the way with all love in Paris." + +He played "ramps" with the French, but the game impressed him as stupid, +and he tried to quarrel with Boetia, who was too polite to be vexed. He +drank pure cognac, to the astonishment of the Gauls, but it had no +visible effect upon him, and Pere George held up his hands as he went +away, saying: "Behold these Americans! they do everything with a fever; +brandy affects them no more than water." + +The room in the fifth story was very cold now. He tried to read in bed, +but the novel had no meaning in it. He walked up and down the balcony in +the November night, where he had often explained the motions of the +stars to her. They seemed to miss her now, and peeped inquisitively. He +looked into the bureau and wardrobe, half ashamed of the hope that she +had left some _souvenir_. There was not even a letter. She had torn a +leaf, on which she had written her name, out of his diary. The sketches +he had made of her were gone; if she had only taken her remembrance out +of his heart, it would have been well. Then he reasoned, with himself, +sensibly and consistently. It was a bad passion at first. How would it +have shamed his father and mother had they heard of it! Its continuance +was even more pernicious, making him profligate and idle; introducing +him to light pleasures and companies; enfeebling him, morally and +physically; diverting him from the beautiful arts; weakening his +parental love; divorcing him from grand themes and thoughts. He could +never marry this woman. Their heart-strings must have been wrung by some +final parting; and now that she had been proved untrue, was it not most +unmanly that he should permit her to stand even in the threshold of his +mind? It was a good riddance, he said, pacing the floor in the +firelight; but just then he glanced into the great mirror, and stood +fixed to mark the pallor of his face. Say what he might, laugh as he +did, with a hollow sound, that absent girl had stirred the very +fountains of his feelings. Not learned, not beautiful, not anything to +anybody but him--there was yet the difference between her love and her +deceit, which made him content or wretched. + +He felt this so keenly that he lifted his voice and cursed--himself, +her, society, mankind. Then he cried like a child, and called himself a +calf, and laughed bitterly, and cried again. + +There was no sleep for him that night. He drank brandy again in the +morning, and walked to the banker's. His remittance awaited him, and he +came out of the Rue de la Paix with thirty gold napoleons in his pocket. + +He met all the Americans at breakfast at Trappe's in the Palais Royal, +and strolling to the morgue with a part of them, kept on to Vincennes, +and spent a wretched day in the forest. At the Place de la Bastille, +returning, he got into a cabriolet alone and searched ineffectually +along the Rue Rivoli for a companion who would ride with him. "Go +through the Rue de Beaux Arts!" he said, as they crossed Pont Neuf. This +is a quiet street in the Latin Quarter filled with cheap _pensions_, in +one of which dwelt Fanchette. His heart was wedged in his throat as he +saw at the window little Suzette sewing. She wore one of the dresses he +had given her. Her face was old and piteous; she was red-eyed and worked +wearily, looking into the street like one on a rainy day. + +When she saw him, he thought, by her start and flush, that she was going +to fall from the chair; but then she looked with a dim, absent manner +into his face, like one who essays to remember something that was very +dear but is now quite strange. He was pleased to think that she was +miserable, and would have given much to have found her begging bread, as +she did that night of him. + +He had ridden by on purpose to show that he had money, and she sent him +by Terrapin's word a petition for a few francs to buy her a chamber. +Fanchette's friend had come home from the country, and it would not do +for her to occupy their single bedroom; but Ralph made reply by deputy, +to the effect that the donor of the jewelry would, he supposed, give her +a room. It was a weary week ensuing; he drank spirits all the time, and +made love to an English governess in the Tuileries garden, and when +Sunday came, with a rainy, windy, dismal evening, he went with Terrapin +and Co. to the Closerie des Lilas. + +This is the great ball of the Latin Quarter. It stands near the barriers +upon the Boulevard, and is haunted with students and grisettes. Commonly +it was thronged with waltzers, and the scene on gala nights, when all +the lamps were aflame, and the music drowned out by the thunder of the +dance, was a compromise between Paradise and Pandemonium. To-night there +was a beggarly array of folk; the multitude of _garcons_ contemplated +each other's white aprons, and old Bullier, the proprietor, staggering +under his huge hat, exhibited a desire to be taken out and interred. The +wild-eyed young man with flying, carroty locks, who stood in the set +directly under the orchestra, at that part of the floor called "the +kitchen," was flinging up his legs without any perceptible enjoyment, +and the policemen in helmets, and cuirassiers, who had hard work to keep +order in general, looked like lay figures now, and strolled off into the +embowered and sloppy gardens. There were not two hundred folk under the +roofs. Ralph had come here with the unacknowledged thought of meeting +Suzette, and he walked around with his cigar, leaning upon Terrapin's +arm and making himself disagreeable. + +Suddenly he came before her. She seemed to have arisen from the earth. +She looked so weak and haggard that he was impelled to speak to her; but +he was obdurate and hard-hearted. He could have filled her cup of +bitterness and watched her drink it to the dregs, and would have been +relentless if she was kneeling at his feet. + +"Flare, what makes you tremble so?" said Terrapin; "are you cold? +Confound it, man, you are sick! Sit here in the draft and take some +cognac." + +"No," answered Ralph, "I am all right again. You see my girl there? +(Don't look at her!) You know some of these girls, old fellow? I mean to +treat two of them to a bottle of champagne. She will see it. I mean for +her to do so. Who are these passing? Come with me." + +He walked by Suzette and her friend as if they had been invisible, and +addressed those whom he pursued with such energy that they shrank back. +He made one of them take his arm, and hurried here and there, saying +honeyed words all the time, by which she was affrighted; but every +smile, false as it was, fell into Suzette's heart. + +Weary, wan, wretched, she kept them ever in view, crossing his path now +and then, in the vain thought that she might have one word from him, +though it were a curse. He took his new friends into an alcove. She saw +the wine burst from the bottle, and heard the clink of the glasses as +they drank good health. She did not know that all his laughter was +feigned, that his happiness was delirium, that his vows were lies. She +did not believe Ralph Flare so base as to put his foot upon her, whom he +had already stricken down. + +And he--he was all self, all stone!--he laid no offence at his own door. +He did not ask if her infidelity was real or if it had no warrant in his +own slight and goading. The poor, pale face went after him +reproachfully. Every painful footfall that she made was the patter of a +blood-drop. Such unnatural excitement must have some termination. He +quarrelled with a waiter. Old Bullier ordered a cuirassier to take him +to the door; he would have resisted, but Terrapin whispered: "Don't be +foolish, Flare; if you are put out it will be a triumph for the girl;" +and only this conviction kept him calm. The cyprians whom he wooed +followed him out; he turned upon them bitterly when he had crossed the +threshold, and leaping into a carriage was driven to his hotel, where +he slept unquietly till daybreak. + +See him, at dawn, in deep slumber! his face is sallow, his lips are dry, +his chest heaves nervously as he breathes hard. It is a bad sleep; it is +the sleep of bad children, to whom the fiend comes, knowing that the +older they grow the more surely are they his own. + +This is not, surely, the bashful young man who started at the phantom of +his mother, and sinned reluctantly. Aye! but those who do wrong after +much admonishment are wickeder than those who obey the first bad +impulse. He is ten times more cast away who thinks and sins than he who +only sins and does not think. + +Ralph Flare was one of your reasoning villains. His conscience was not a +better nature rising up in the man, and saying "this is wrong." It was +not conscience at all; it was only a fear. Far down as Suzette might be, +she never could have been unfeeling, unmerciful as he. It is a bad +character to set in black and white, yet you might ask old Terrapin or +any shrewd observer what manner of man was Ralph, and they would say, +"So-so-ish, a little sentimental, spooney likewise; but a good fellow, a +good fellow!" And more curious than all, Suzette said so too. + +He rose at daylight, and dressed and looked at himself in the glass. He +felt that this would not do. His revenge had turned upon himself. He had +half a mind to send for Suzette, and forgive her, and plead with her to +come back again. The door opened: she of whom he thought stood before +him, more marked and meagre than he; and the old tyranny mounted to his +eyes as he looked upon her. He knew that she had come to be pardoned, to +explain, and he determined that she should suffer to the quick. + + + + +PART V. + +TYRANNY. + + +If this history of Ralph Flare that we are writing was not a fiction, we +might make Suzette give way at once under the burden of her grief, and +rest upon a chair, and weep. On the contrary, she did just the opposite. +She laughed. + +Human nature is consistent only in its inconsistencies. She meant to +break down in the end, but wished to intimidate him by a show of +carelessness, so she first said quietly: "Monsieur Ralph, I have come to +see to my washing; it went out with yours; will you tell the proprietor +to send it to me?" + +"Yes, madame." + +"May I sit down, sir? It is a good way up-stairs, and I want to breathe +a minute." + +"As you like, madame." + +He was resting on the sofa; she took a chair just opposite. There was a +table between them, and for a little while she looked with a ghastly +playfulness into his eyes, he regarding her coldly and darkly; and then, +she laughed. It was a terrible laugh to come from a child's lips. It was +a woman's pride, drowning at the bottom of her heart, and in its last +struggle for preservation sending up these bubbles of sound. + +We talk of tragic scenes in common life; this was one of them. The +little room with its waxed, inlaid floor, the light falling bloodily in +at the crimson curtains and throwing unreal shadows upon the spent fire, +the disordered furniture, the unmade bed; and there were the two actors, +suffering in their little sphere what only _seems_ more suffering in +prisons and upon scaffolds, and playing with each other's agonies as not +more refined cruelty plays with racks and tortures. + +"You are pleased, madame," said Ralph. + +"No, I am wondering what has changed you. There are black circles around +your eyes; you have not shaved; the bones of your cheeks are sharp like +your chin, and you are yellow and bent like a dry leaf." + +"I have had an excess of money lately. Being free to do as I like, I +have done so." + +She looked furtively around the room. "Somebody has gone away from here +this morning--is it true?" + +He laughed suggestively. + +"I saw you with two girls last night; the company did you honor; it was +one of them, perhaps." + +"You guess shrewdly," he replied. + +"This is her room now; it may be she will object to see me here." + +"You are right," said Ralph Flare, with mock courtesy, rising up. "When +you lived with me I permitted no one to visit me in your absence. My +late friends will be vexed. You have finished the business which brought +you here, and I must go to breakfast now." + +Ralph was a good actor. Had he thought Suzette really meant to go, he +would have fallen on his knees. + +"Stop, Ralph, my boy," she cried. "I know that you do not love me; I +can't see why I ever believed that you did. But let me sit with you a +little while. You drove me from you once. I know that you have found +one to fill my place; but, _enfant_, I love you. I want to take your +head in my arms as I have done a hundred times, and hear you say one +kind word before we part forever." + +"There was a time," he said slowly, "when you did not need my embraces. +I was eager to give them. I did not give you kindness only; I gave you +nourishment, shelter, clothing, money. You were unworthy and ungrateful. +You are nothing to me now. Do not think to wheedle me back to be your +fool again." + +"Oh! for charity, my child, not for love--I am too wretched to hope +that--for pity, let me sit by your side five minutes. I cannot put it +into words why I beg it, but it is a little thing to grant. If one +starved you, or had stolen from you, and asked it so earnestly, you +would consent. I only want you to think less bitterly of me. You must +needs have some hard thoughts. I have done wrong, my boy, but you do not +know all the cause, and as what I mean to say cannot make place in your +breast for me now, you will know that it is true, because it has no +design. Oh! _Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ It is so hard to have but one deep +love, and yet find that love the greatest sorrow of one's life. It is so +hard to have loved my boy so well, and to know that to the end of his +days he hated me." + +She said this with all the impetuosity of her race; with utter +abandonment of plan or effort, yet with a wild power of love and gesture +which we know only upon the stage, but which in France is life, feeling, +reality. + +She sat down and sobbed, raising her voice till it rolled with a shrill +music which made him quiver, through the parted curtain and into the +turbulent street. There were troops passing beneath the balcony, and the +clangor of drums and bugles climbed between the stone walls, as if to +pour all its mockery into the little room. + +Ralph Flare hated to see a woman cry; it pained him more than her; so he +lifted her in his arms and carried her to the sofa and placed her head +upon his breast. For a long while she sat in that strange luxury of +grief, and she was fearful that he would send her away before her +agitation could pass, and she might speak. His face wore an incredulous +sneer as she spoke, though he knew it was absolute truth. She told him +how wretched she had been, so wretched that even temptation respected +her; how she had never known the intensity of her passion for him till +they were asunder; how all previous attachments were as ice to fire +compared to this; and how the consciousness of its termination should +make her desolate forever. + +"I looked upon you," she said, "as one whom I had trained up. Since I +have lost my little Jules I have needed something to care for. I taught +you to speak my language as if you were a baby. You learned the coinage +of the land, and how to walk through the city, and all customs and +places, precisely as a child learns them from his mother. Alas! you were +wiser than I, and it made me sad to feel it. It was like the mother's +regret that her boy is getting above her, in mind, in stature, so that +he shall be able to do without her. Yet with that fear there is a pride +like mine, when I felt that you were clever. Ah! Ralph, you loved to +make me feel how weak and mean I was. You played with my poor heart, +sick enough before, and little by little I felt your love gliding away +from me, till at last you told me that it was gone. You said you should +leave France, never to return--God forgive you if it was not true!--and +when you treated me worst, I was tempted to hear kind words from +another. Fanchette's friend has a rich cousin who admires me. He is to +live in Paris many years. I never loved him, but I am poor, and many +women marry only for a home. He offered that and more to me. I would not +hear it. Oh! if you had only said one tender word to me in those days of +temptation. I begged you for it. When I was humblest at your feet you +put your heel upon me most. + +"One night when I had the greatest trouble of all he sat beside me and +plied his suit, and was pleasanter, my boy, than you have ever been; and +then, rising, he placed that box of jewelry in my lap and ran away. I +left it upon Fanchette's mantel that night. She filled my head with +false thoughts next day. I never meant while you were in Paris to do you +any wrong; but I put those jewels in my pocket, meaning to give them up +again; you found them, and I was made wretched." + +Ralph made that dry, biting cough which he used to express unbelief. She +only bent her head and wept silently. + +"When all was gone, poor me! I have found much sorrow in my little life, +but we are light-hearted in France, and we live and laugh again. Perhaps +you have made me more like one of your countrywomen. I do not +know--only that I can never be happy any more. + +"Since we have dwelt apart my tempter has been to see me every day. He +has grand chambers which he will give me, and rich wardrobes, and a +watch, and a voiture. It is a dazzling picture for one who toils, going +all her days on foot, and lovely only to be deceived. But I hate that +man now, because he has come between you and me, and I have slept upon +my tears alone." + +She melted again into a long, loud wail, and he proposed nervously that +they should walk into the gardens near by. He said little, and that +contemptuously, tossing his cane at the birds, much interested in a +statue, delighted with the visitors beneath the maroon trees; and she +followed him here and there, very weak, for she had eaten no breakfast, +and not so deceived but she knew that he labored to wound her. He asked +her into a cafe, cavalierly, and was very careful to make display of his +napoleons as he paid. He did not invite her, but she followed him to his +hotel again, and here, as if with terrible _ennui_, he threw himself +upon his bed and feigned to sleep, while she crouched at his table and +wrote him a contrite letter. It was sweetly and simply worded, and asked +that he should let her return to him for his few remaining days in +Paris. If he could not grant so much, might she speak to him in the +street; come to see him sometimes, if only to be reviled; love him, +though she could not hope to be loved? She gave him this note with her +face turned away, and faltered the request that he would think ere he +replied, and hurried to the balcony without, that she might not trouble +him with the presence of her sorrow. + +How the street beneath her, into which she looked, had changed since the +nights when they talked together upon this balcony! There was bright +sunshine, but it fell leeringly, not laughingly, upon the columns of the +Odean Theatre, upon the crowds on the Boulevard, upon the decrepit baths +of Julian, upon the far heights of Belleville, upon her more cheerlessly +than upon all. + +She listened timorously for his word of recall. She wondered if he were +not writing a reply. Yes, that was his manner; he was cold and sharp of +speech, but he was an artist with his pen. She thought that her long +patience had moved him. Perhaps she should be all forgiven. Aye! they +should dwell together a few days longer. It was a dismal thought that it +must be for a few days, yet that would be some respite, and then they +could part friends; though her heart so clung to his that a parting +should rend it from her, she wanted to live over their brief happiness +again. + +"Oh!" said Suzette, in the end, laying her cheek upon the cold iron of +the balcony, "I wish I had died at my father's home of pining for +something to love rather than to have loved thus truly, and have it +accounted my shame. If I were married to this man I could not be his +fonder wife; but because I am not he despises me. All day I have crawled +in the dust; I have made myself cheap in his eyes. If I were prouder he +might not love me more, but his respect would be something." + +She rallied and took heart. Pride is the immortal part of woman. With a +brighter eye she entered the room. Her letter, blotted with tears, lay +crumpled and torn upon the floor at his bedside, and he, with his face +to the wall, was snoring sonorously. + +"Ralph Flare," cried Suzette, "arise! that letter is the last olive +branch you shall ever see in my hand; _adieu_!" + +He opened his eyes yawningly. Suzette, with trembling lips and nostrils, +clasped the door-knob. It shut behind her with a shock. Her feet were +quick upon the stairs; he pursued her like one suddenly gone mad, and +called her back with something between a moan and a howl. + +"Do not go away, Suzette," he cried; "I only jested. I meant this +morning to search you out and beg you to come back. I would not lose you +for France--for the world. Be not rash or retaliatory! become not the +companion of this Frenchman who has divided us. We will commence again. +I have tested your fidelity. You shall have all the liberty that you +need, everything that I have; say to me, sweetheart, that you will +stay!" + +For a moment her bright eyes were scintillant with wrath and +indignation. He who had racked her all day for his pleasure was bound +and prostrate now. Should she not do as much for her revenge? + +"I have no other friend now," he pleaded; "my nights have been +sleepless, solitary. In the days I have drunk deeply, squandered my +money, tried all dissipations, and proved them disappointments. If you +leave me I swear that I will plague myself and you." + +"Oh! Ralph," said Suzette, "I do not wonder at the artfulness of women +after this day's lesson. Something impels me to return your cruelty; it +is a bad impulse, and I shall disobey it. I thank God, my baby, that I +cannot do as you have done to me." + +She wept again for the last time, but he kissed her tears away, and +wondered where the great shame lay, upon that child or upon him? + + + + +PART VI. + +DESERTION. + + +When the last fresh passion was over, Suzette, whose face had grown +purer and sadder, roused Ralph Flare to his more legitimate ambition. +"My child," she said, "if you will work in the gallery every day I will +sew in one of the great _magasans_." + +To see that he commenced fairly, she went with him into the Louvre, and +he selected a fine Rembrandt--an old man, bearded and scarred, massively +characterized, and clothed in magic light and shadow. + +As Ralph stood at his easel, meditating the master, Suzette now +fluttered around him, now ran off to the far end of the long hall, where +he could see her in miniature, the sweetest portrait in France. At last +he was really absorbed, and she went into the city to fulfil her +promise. She was nimble of finger, and though the work distressed her at +first, she thought of his applause, and persevered. + +Their method was the marvel of the unimaginative Terrapin, who made some +philosophic comments upon the "spooney" socially considered, and cut +their acquaintance. + +They breakfasted at the _cremery_ at seven o'clock with the _ouvriers_, +and dined at one of Duvall's bouillon establishments. Suzette found the +work easier as she progressed. She was finally promoted to the place of +_coupeur_, or cutter, and had the superintendence of a work-room, where +she made four francs a day, and so paid all her expenses. At the end of +the second month he took the money which he otherwise would have +required for board, and bought her a watch and chain at the _Palais +Royale_. At the same time he put the finishing touch to his picture, and +when hung upon his wall, between their photographs, Suzette danced +before it, and took half the credit upon herself. + +Foolish Suzette! she did not know how that old man was her most +dangerous rival. He had done what no beautiful woman in France could +do--weakened her grasp upon Ralph Flare's heart. For now Ralph's old +enthusiasm for his profession reasserted itself. It was his first and +deepest love after all. + +"My baby," he said one night, "there was a great artist named +Raphael--and he had a little mistress, whom I don't think a whit +prettier than mine. She was called the _Fornarina_, just as you may be +called the _Coutouriere_, and he painted her portrait in the characters +of saints and of the Virgin. She will be remembered a thousand years, +because Raphael so loved and painted her. But he was not a great artist +only because he loved the _Fornarina_. He had something that he loved +better, and so have I." + +"One more beloved than Suzette?" she cried. + +"Yes! it is art. I loved you more than my art before; but I am going +back to my first love." + +Suzette tossed her head and said that she could never be jealous of a +picture, and went her way with a simple faith and toiled; and as she +toiled the more, so grew her love the purer and her content the more +equal. She was not the aerial thing she had been. Retaining her +elasticity of spirit, she was less volatile, more silent, more careful, +more anxious. + +It is wiser, not happier, to reach that estate called thought; for now +she asked herself very often how long this chapter of her life would +last. Must the time come when he must leave her forever? She thought it +the bitterest of all to part as they had done before, with anger; but +any parting must be agony where she had loved so well. As he lay +sleeping, he never knew what tears of midnight were plashing upon his +face. He could not see how her little heart was bleeding as it throbbed. +Yet she went right on, though sometimes the tears blinded her, till she +could not see her needle; but the consciousness that this love and labor +had made her life more sanctified was, in some sort, compensation. + +One Sunday she rose before Ralph, and thinking that she was unobserved, +stole out of the hotel and up the Boulevard. He followed her, +suspiciously. She crossed the Place de la Sorbonne, turned the transept +of the Pantheon, and entered the old church of St. Etienne du Mont. + +It was early mass. The tapers which have been burning five hundred years +glistened upon the tomb of the holy St. Genevieve. Here and there old +women and girls were kneeling in the chapels, whispering their sins into +the ears of invisible priests. And beneath the delicate tracery of +screen and staircase, and the gloriously-painted windows, and the image +of Jesus crucified looking down upon all, some groups of poor people +were murmuring their prayers and making the sign of the cross. + +Ralph entered by a door in the choir. He saw Suzette stand pallidly +beside the holy water, and when she had touched it with the tips of her +fingers, and made the usual rites, she staggered, as if in shame, to a +remote chair, and kneeling down covered her face with her missal. Now +and then the organ boomed out. The censers were swung aloft, dispensing +their perfumes, and all the people made obeisance. Ralph did not know +what it all meant. He only saw his little girl penitent and in prayer, +and he knew that she was carrying her sin and his to the feet of the +Eternal Mercy. + +He feigned sleep in the same way each Sunday succeeding, and she +disappeared as before. After a while she spoke of her family, and +wondered if her father would forgive her. She would not have forgiven +him three months ago, but was quite humble now. + +She sent her photograph to the old man, and a letter came back, the +first she had received for two years. + +She felt unwilling, also, to receive further gifts or support from +Ralph. If I were his wife, she said, it might be well, but since it is +not so, I must not be dependent. + +Foolish Suzette again! She did not know that men love best where they +most protect. The wife who comes with a dower may climb as high as her +husband's pocket, but seldom lies snugly at his heart. Her changed +conduct did not draw him closer to her. He felt uneasy and unworthy. He +missed the artfulness which had been so winning. He had jealousies no +longer to keep his passion quick, for he could not doubt her devotion. +There was nothing to lack in Suzette, and that was a fault. She had +become modest, docile, truthful, grave. A noble man might have +appreciated her the better. Ralph Flare was a representative man, and he +did not. + +His friends in America thought his copy from Rembrandt wonderful. Their +flattery made his ambition glow and flame. His mother, whose woman's +instinct divined the cause of his delay in Paris, sent him a pleading +letter to go southward; and thus reprimanded, praised, rewarded, what +was he to do? + +He resolved to leave France--and without Suzette! + +He had not courage to tell her that the separation was final. He spoke +of an excursion merely, and took but a handful of baggage. She had +doubts that were like deaths to her; but she believed him, and after a +feverish night went with him in the morning to the train. He was to +write every day. + +Would she take money? + +"No." + +But she might have unexpected wants--sickness, accident, charity? + +"If so," she said trustfully, "would not her boy come back?" + +He had just time to buy his ticket and gain the platform. He folded her +in his arms, and exchanged one long, sobbing kiss. It seemed to Ralph +Flare that the sound of that kiss was like a spell--the breaking of the +pleasantest link in his life--the passing from sinfulness to a baser +selfishness--the stamp and seal upon his bargain with ambition, whereby +for the long future he was sold to the sorrow of avarice and the +deceitfulness of fame. + +There was a sharp whistle from the locomotive--who invented that whistle +to pierce so many bosoms at parting?--the cars moved one by one till the +last, in which he was seated, sprang forward with a jerk; and though she +was quite blind, he saw her handkerchief waving till all had vanished, +and he would have given the world to have shed one tear. + +He has gone on into the free country, and to-night he will sleep under +the shadow of the mountains. + +She has turned back into the dark city, and she will not sleep at all in +her far-up chamber. + +It is only one heart crushed, and thousands that deserve more sympathy +beat out every day. We only notice this one because it shall lie +bleeding, and get no sympathy at all. + + + + +PART VII. + +DISSOLVING VIEW. + + +That he might not meet with his own countrymen, Ralph halted at Milan, +and in the great deserted gallery of the Brera went steadily to work. +If, as it often happened, Suzette's pale face got between him and the +canvas, he mentioned his own name and said "renown," and took a turn in +the remote corridor where young Raphael's _Sposializo_ hung opposite +that marvel of Guercino's--poor Hagar and her boy Ishmael driven +abroad. These adjuncts and the fiercer passion of self had their effect. + +He never wrote to Suzette, but sent secretly for his baggage, and was +well pleased with the consciousness that he could forget her. After +three months he set out for Florence and studied the masterpieces of +Andrea del Sarto, and tried his hand at the _Flora_ of Titian. + +He went into society somewhat, and was very much afraid his unworthy +conduct in Paris might be bruited abroad. Indeed, he could hardly +forgive himself the fondness he had known, and came to regard Suzette as +a tolerably bad person, who had bewitched him. He burned all her +letters, and a little lock of hair he had clipped while she was asleep +once, and blotted the whole experience out of his diary. The next Sunday +he went to hear the Rev. Mr. Hall preach, and felt quite consoled. + +The summer fell upon Val d'Arno like the upsetting of a Tuscan +_Scaldino_, and Ralph Flare regretfully took his departure northward. +All the world was going to Paris--why not he? Was he afraid? Certainly +not; it had been a great victory over temptation to stay away so long. +He would carry out the triumph by braving a return. + +In accordance with his principles of economy, he took a third-class +ticket at Basle. He could so make better studies of passengers; for, +somehow, your first-class people have not character faces. The only +character you get out of them is the character of wine they consume. + +He left the Alps behind him, and rolled all day through the prosaic +plains of France; startling the pale little towns, down whose treeless +streets the sun shone, oh! so drearily, and taking up boors and +market-folks at every monastic station. There was a pretty young girl +sitting beside Ralph in the afternoon, but he refused to talk to her, +for he was schooling himself, and preferred to scan the features of an +odd old couple who got in at Troyes. + +They were two old people of the country, and they sat together in the +descending shadows of the day, quite like in garb and feature, their +chins a little peakish, and the hairs of both turning gray. The man was +commonplace, as he leaned upon a staff, and between their feet were +paniers of purchases they had been making, which the woman regarded +indifferently, as if her heart reached farther than her eyes, and met +some soft departed scene which she would have none other see. + +"She has a good face," said Flare. "I wish she would keep there a moment +more. By George, she looks like somebody I have known." + +The old man nodded on his staff. The rumble of the carriages subdued to +a lull all lesser talk or murmurs, and the sky afar off brought into +sharp relief the two Gallic profiles, close together, as if they were +used to reposing so; yet in the language of their deepening lines lay +the stories of lives very, very wide apart. + +"The old girl's face is soft," said Ralph Flare. "She has brightened +many a bit of Belgian pike road, and the brown turban on her head is in +clever contrast to the silver shimmer of her hairs. How anomalous are +life and art! How unconscious is this old lady of the narrow escape she +is making from perpetuation! Doubtless she works afield beside that old +Jacques Bonhomme, and drinks sour wine or Normandy cider on Sundays. +That may be the best fate of Suzette, but it must be an amply dry +reformation for any little grisette to contemplate. For such prodigals +going home there is no fatted calf slain. No fathers see them afar off +and run to place the ring upon their fingers. They renounce precarious +gayety for persistent slavery. The keen wit of the student is exchanged +for the pipe and mug and dull oath of the boor. I wish every such girl +back again to so sallow a fate, and pity her when she gets there." + +And so, with much unconscious sentimentality, and the two old market +people silent before him, Ralph Flare's eyes half closed also, and the +lull of the wheels, the long lake streaks of the sedative skies, the +coming of great shadows like compulsions to slumber, made his forehead +fall and the world go up and down and darken. + +It was the old woman who shook him from that repose; she only touched +him, but her touch was like a lost sense restored. He thrilled and sat +stock still, with her withered blue hand on his arm, and heard the +pinched lips say, unclosing with a sort of quiver: + +"Baby!" + +He looked again, and seemed to himself to grow quite old as he looked, +and he said, + +"_Enfant perdu!_" + +The turban kept its place, the peaked chin kept as peaked; there seemed +even more silver in the smooth hair, and the old serge gown drooped as +brownly; but the sweet old face grew soft as a widow's looking at the +only portrait she guards, and a tear, like a drop of water exhumed, ran +to the tip of her nostril. + +"Suzette!" he said, "my early sin; do you come back as well with the +turning of my hairs? Has the first passion a shadow long as forever? Why +have we met?" + +"Not of my seeking was this meeting, Ralph. Speak softly, for my husband +sleeps, and he is old like thee and me. If my face is an accusation, let +my lips be forgiveness. The love of you made my life dutiful; the loss +of you saddened my days, but it was the sadness of religion! I sinned no +more, and sought my father's fields, and delayed, with my hand purified +by his blessing, the residue of his sands of life. I made my years good +to my neighbors, the sick, the bereaved. I met the temptations of the +young with a truer story than pleasure tells, and when I married it was +with the prelude of my lost years related and forgiven. With children's +faces the earnestness and beauty of life returned; for this, for more, +for all, may your reward be bountiful!" + +There is no curse like the dream of old age. Ralph Flare felt, with the +sudden whitening of each separate hair, the sudden remembrance of each +separate folly; and the moments of grief he had wrung from the little +girl of the Quartier Latin revived like one's mean acts seen through +others' eyes. + +"Pardon you, child, Suzette?" he said; "to me you were more than I +hoped, more than I wished. I asked your face only, and you gave me your +heart. For the unfaithfulness, for the wrath, for the unmanliness, for +the tyranny with which I treated you, my soul upbraids me." + +"How thankful am I," she answered; "the terror to me was that you had +learned in the Quartier lessons to make your after-life monotonous. I am +happy." + +Their hands met; to his gray beard fell the smile upon her mouth; they +forget the Quartier Latin; they felt no love but forgiveness, which is +the tenderest of emotions. The whistle blew shrilly; the train stopped; +Ralph Flare awoke from sleep; but the old couple were gone. + +He went to Paris, and, contrary to his purpose, inquired for her. She +had been seen by none since his departure. He wrote to the Maire of her +commune, and this was the reply: + + "_Ralph, Merci! Pardonne!_ + + "SUZETTE." + +He felt no loss. He felt softened toward her only; and he turned his +back on the Quartier Latin with a man's easy satisfaction that he could +forget. + + + + + THE PIGEON GIRL. + + On the sloping market-place, + In the village of Compeigne, + Every Saturday her face, + Like a Sunday, comes again; + Daylight finds her in her seat, + With her panier at her feet, + Where her pigeons lie in pairs; + Like their plumage gray her gown, + To her sabots drooping down; + And a kerchief, brightly brown, + Binds her smooth, dark hairs. + + All the buyers knew her well, + And, perforce, her face must see, + As a holy Raphael + Lures us in a gallery; + Round about the rustics gape, + Drinking in her comely shape, + And the housewives gently speak, + When into her eyes they look, + As within some holy book, + And the gables, high and crook, + Fling their sunshine on her cheek. + + In her hands two milk-white doves, + Happy in her lap to lie, + Softly murmur of their loves, + Envied by the passers-by; + One by one their flight they take, + Bought and cherished for her sake, + Leaving so reluctantly; + Till the shadows close approach, + Fades the pageant, foot and coach, + And the giants in the cloche + Ring the noon for Picardie. + + Round the village see her glide, + With a slender sunbeam's pace! + Mirrored in the Oise's tide, + The gold-fish float upon her face; + All the soldiers touch their caps; + In the cafes quit their naps + Garcon, guest, to wish her back; + And the fat old beadles smile + As she kneels along the aisle, + Like Pucelle in other while, + In the dim church of Saint Jacques. + + Now she mounts her dappled ass-- + He well-pleased such friend to know-- + And right merrily they pass + The armorial chateau; + Down the long, straight paths they tread + Till the forest, overhead, + Whispers low its leafy love; + In the archways' green caress + Rides the wondrous dryadess-- + Thrills the grass beneath her press, + And the blue-eyed sky above. + + I have met her, o'er and o'er, + As I strolled alone apart, + By a lonely carrefour + In the forest's tangled heart, + Safe as any stag that bore + Imprint of the Emperor; + In the copse that round her grew + Tiptoe the straight saplings stood, + Peeped the wild boar's satyr brood, + Like an arrow clove the wood + The glad note of the cuckoo. + + How I wished myself her friend! + (So she wished that I were more) + Jogging toward her journey's end + At Saint Jean au Bois before, + Where her father's acres fall + Just without the abbey wall; + By the cool well loiteringly + The shaggy Norman horses stray, + In the thatch the pigeons play, + And the forest round alway + Folds the hamlet, like a sea. + + Far forgotten all the feud + In my New World's childhood haunts, + If my childhood she renewed + In this pleasant nook of France; + Might she make the blouse I wear, + Welcome then her homely fare + And her sensuous religion! + To the market we should ride, + In the Mass kneel side by side, + Might I warm, each eventide, + In my nest, my pretty pigeon. + + + + +THE DEAF MAN OF KENSINGTON. + +A TALE OF AN OLD SUBURB. + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE MURDER. + + +Between the Delaware River and Girard Avenue, which is the market street +of the future, and east of Frankfort Road, lies Kensington, a +respectable old district of the Quaker City, and occupying the same +relation to it that Kensington in England does to London. Beyond both +Kensingtons is a Richmond, but the English Richmond is a beauteous hill, +with poetical recollections of Pope and Thomson, while our Richmond is +the coal district of Philadelphia, flat to the foot and dingy to the +eye. + +Kensington, however, was once no faint miniature of the staid British +suburb. The river bending to the eastward there conducts certain of the +streets crookedly away from the rectangular Quaker demon who is ever +seeking to square them. Along the water side, or near it, passes a sort +of Quay Street, between ship-yards and fish-houses on the one side, and +shops or small tenements on the other, and this street scarcely +discloses the small monument on the site of the Treaty Tree, where +William Penn in person satisfied the momentary expectations of his +Indian subjects. + +Nearly parallel to the water side street is another, wider and more +aristocratic, and lined with many handsome dwellings of brick, or even +brown-stone, where the successful shipbuilders, fishtakers, coal men, +and professional classes have established themselves or their posterity. +This street was once called Queen, afterward Richmond Street, and it is +crossed by others, as Hanover, Marlborough, and Shackamaxon, which +attest in their names the duration of royal and Indian traditions +hereabout. Pleasant maple, sometimes sycamore and willow trees shade +these old streets, and they are kept as clean as any in this ever-mopped +and rinsed metropolis, while the society, though disengaged from the +great city, had its better and worser class, and was fastidious about +morals and behavior, and not disinclined to express its opinion. + +One winter day in a certain year Kensington had a real sensation. The +Delaware was frozen from shore to shore, and one could walk on the ice +from Smith's to Treaty Island, and from Cooper's Point to the mouth of +the Cohocksink. On the second afternoon of the great freeze fires were +built on the river, and crowds assembled at certain smooth places to see +great skaters like Colonel Page cut flourishes and show sly gallantry to +the buxom housewives and grass widows of Kensington and the Jerseys. A +few horses were driven on the ice, and hundreds of boys ran merrily with +real sleighs crowded down with their friends. A fight or two was +improvised, and unlicensed vendors set forth the bottle that inebriates. +In the midst of the afternoon gayety a small boy, kneeling down to +buckle up to a farther hole the straps on his guttered skates, saw just +at his toe something like human hair. The small boy rose to his feet and +stamped with all his might around that object, not in any apprehension +but because small boys like to know; and when the ice had been well +broken, kneeling down and pulling it out in pieces with his mitten, the +small boy felt something cold and smooth, and then he poked his finger +into a human eye. It was a dead man. No sooner had the urchin found this +out than he bellowed out at the top of his voice, running and falling as +he yelled: "Murder! Murder! Murder!" + +From all parts of the ice, like flies chasing over a silver salver +toward some sweet point of corruption, the hundreds and thousands +swarmed at the news that a dead body had been found. When they arrived +on the spot, spades, picks, and ice-hooks had been procured by those +nearest shore, and the whole mystery brought from the depths of the +river to the surface. + +There lay together on the ice two men, apparently several days in the +water, and with the usual look of drowned people of good +condition--glassy and of fixed expression, as if in the moment of death +a consenting grimness had stolen into their countenances, neither +composed nor terrified. + +The bodies had been already recognized when the main part of the crowd +arrived. Kensington people, generally, knew them both. + +"It's William Zane and his business partner, Sayler Rainey! They own one +of the marine railways at Kensington. Come to think of it, I haven't +seen them around for nearly a week, neighbor!" exclaimed an old man. + +"It's a case of drowning, no doubt," spoke up a little fellow who did a +river business in old chains and junk. "You see they had another +ship-mending place on the island opposite Kinsington, and rowin' +theirselves over was upset and never missed!" + +"Quare enough too!" added a third party, "for yisterday I had a talk +with young Andrew Zane, this one's son (touching the body with his +foot), and Andrew said--a little pale I thought he was--says he, 'Pop's +_about_.'" + +Here a little buzz of mystery--so grateful to crowds which have come far +over slippery surface and expect much--undulated to the outward +boundaries. As the people moved the ice cracked like a cannon shot, and +they dispersed like blackbirds, to rally soon again. + +"Here's a doctor! Now we'll know about it! _He's_ here!" was exclaimed +by several, as an important little man was pushed along, and the +thickest crowd gave him passage. The little man borrowed a boy's cap to +kneel on, adjusted a sort of microscopic glass to his nose, as if plain +eyes had no adequate use to this scientific necessity, and he called up +two volunteers to turn the corpses over, keep back the throng, give him +light, and add imposition to apprehension. Finally he stopped at a place +in the garments of the principal of the twain. "Here is a hole," he +exclaimed, "with burned woollen fibre about it, as if a pistol had been +fired at close quarters. Draw back this woollen under-jacket! There--as +I expected, gentlemen, is a pistol shot in the breast! What is the name +of the person? Ah! thank you! Well, William Zane, gentlemen, was shot +before he was drowned?" + +The great crowd swayed and rushed forward again, and again the ice +cracked like artillery. Before the multitude could swarm to the honey of +a crime a second time, the news was dispersed that both of the drowned +men had bullet wounds in their bodies, and both had been undoubtedly +murdered. Some supposed it was the work of river pirates; others a +private revenge, perpetrated by some following boat's party in the +darkness of night. But more than one person piped shrilly ere the people +wearily scattered in the dusk for their homes on the two shores of the +river: "How did it happen that young Zane, the old un's son, said +yisterday that his daddy was about, when he's been frozen in at least +three days?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE FLIGHT. + + +A handsome residence on the south side of Queen Street had been the home +of the prosperous ship-carpenter, William Zane. His name was on the door +on a silver plate. As the evening deepened and the news spread, the bell +was pulled so often that it aided the universal alarm following a crime, +and a crowd of people, reinforced by others as fast as it thinned out, +kept up the watch on ever-recurring friends, coroner's officers and +newspaper reporters, as they ascended the steps, looked grave, made +inquiries, and returned to dispense their information. + +But there was very little indignation, for Zane had been an insanely +passionate man, rather hard and exacting, and had he been found dead +alone anywhere it would probably have been said at once that he brought +it on himself. His partner, Rainey, however, had conducted himself so +negatively and mildly, and was of such general estimation, that the +murder of the senior member of the film took on some unusual public +sympathy from the reflected sorrow for his fellow-victim. The latter had +been one of Zane's apprentices, raised to a place in the establishment +by his usefulness and sincere love of his patron. Just, forbearing, +soft-spoken, and not avaricious, Sayler Rainey deserved no injury from +any living being. He was unmarried, and, having met with a +disappointment in love, had avowed his intention never to marry, but to +bequeath all the property he should acquire to his partner's only son, +Andrew Zane. + +What, then, was the motive of this double murder? The public +comprehension found but one theory, and that was freely advanced by the +rash and imputative in the community of Kensington: The murderer was he +who had the only known temptation and object in such a crime. Who could +gain anything by it but Andrew Zane, the impulsive, the mischief-making +and oft-restrained son of his stern sire, who, by a double crime, would +inherit that undivided property, free from the control of both parent +and guardian? + +"It is parricide! that's what it is!" exclaimed a fat woman from +Fishtown. "At the bottom of the river dead men tell no tales. The +rebellious young sarpint of a son, who allus pulled a lusty oar, has +chased them two older ones into the deep water of the channel, where a +pistol shot can't be heard ashore, and he expected the property to be +his'n. But there are gallowses yet, thank the Lord!" + +"Mrs. Whann, don't say that," spoke up a deferential voice from the face +of a rather sallow-skinned young man, with long, ringleted, yellow hair. +"Don't create a prejudice, I beg of you. Andrew Zane was my classmate. +He gave his excellent father some trouble, but it shouldn't be +remembered against him now. Suppose, my friends, that you let me ring +the bell and inquire?" + +"Who's that?" asked the crowd. "He's a fine, mature-looking, charitable +young man, anyway." + +"Its the old Minister Van de Lear's son, Calvin. He's going to succeed +his venerable and pious poppy in Kensington pulpit. They'll let him in." + +The door closed when Calvin Van de Lear entered the residence of the +late William Zane. When it reopened he was seen with a handkerchief in +his hand and his hat pulled down over his eyes, as if he had been +weeping. + +"Stop! stop! don't be going off that way!" interposed the fat fishwife. +"You said you would tell us the news." + +"My friends," replied Calvin Van de Lear, with a look of the greatest +pain, "Andrew Zane has not been heard from. I fear your suspicions are +too true!" + +He crossed the street and disappeared into the low and elderly residence +of his parents. + +"Alas! alas!" exclaimed a grave and gentle old man. "That Andrew Zane +should not be here to meet a charge like this! But I'll not believe it +till I have prayed with my God." + +Within the Zane residence all was as in other houses on funeral eves. In +the front parlor, ready for an inquest or an undertaker, lay the late +master of the place, laid out, and all the visitors departed except his +housekeeper, Agnes, and her friend, "Podge" Byerly. The latter was a +sunny-haired and nimble little lady, under twenty years of age, who +taught in one of the public schools and boarded with her former +school-mate, Agnes Wilt. Agnes was an orphan of unknown parentage, by +many supposed to have been a niece or relative of Mr. Zane's deceased +wife, whose place she took at the head of the table, and had grown to be +one of the principal social authorities in Kensington. In Reverend Mr. +Van de Lear's church she was both teacher and singer. The young men of +Kensington were all in love with her, but it was generally understood +that she had accepted Andrew Zane, and was engaged to him. + +Andrew was not dissipated, but was fond of pranks, and so restive under +his father's positive hand that he twice ran away to distant seaports, +and thus incurred a remarkable amount of intuitive gossip, such as +belongs to all old settled suburban societies. This occasional firmness +of character in the midst of a generally light and flexible life, now +told against him in the public mind. "He has nerve enough to do anything +desperate in a pinch," exclaimed the very wisest. "Didn't William Zane +find him out once in the island of Barbadoes grubbing sugar-cane with a +hoe, and the thermometer at 120 in the shade? And didn't he swear he'd +stay there and die unless concessions were made to him, and certain +things never brought up again? Didn't even his iron-shod father have to +give way before he would come home? Ah! Andrew is light-hearted, but he +is an Indian in self-will!" + +To-night Agnes was in the deepest grief. Upon her, and only her, fell +the whole burden of this double crime and mystery, ten times more +terrible that her lover was compromised and had disappeared. + +"Go to bed, Podge!" said Agnes, as the clock in the engine-house struck +midnight. "Oblige me, my dear! I cannot sleep, and shall wait and watch. +Perhaps Andrew will be here." + +"I can't leave you up, Aggy, and with that thing so near." She locked +toward the front parlor, where, behind the folding-doors, lay the dead. + +"I have no fear of _that_. He was always kind to me. My fears are all in +this world. O _darling_!" + +She burst into sobs. Her friend kissed her again and again, and knew +that feelings between love and crime extorted that last word. + +"Aggy," spoke the light-hearted girl, "I know that you cannot help +loving him, and as long as he is loved by you I sha'n't believe him +guilty. Must I really leave you here?" + +Her weeping friend turned up her face to give the mandatory kiss, and +Podge was gone. + +Agnes sat in solitude, with her hands folded and her heart filled with +unutterable tender woe, that so much causeless cloud had settled upon +the home of her refuge. She could not experience that relief many of us +feel in deep adversity, that it is all illusion, and will in a moment +float away like other dreams. Brought to this house an orphan, and twice +deprived of a mother's love, she had only entered woman's estate when +another class of cares beset her. Her beauty and sweetness of +disposition had brought her more lovers than could make her happy. There +was but one on whom she could confer her heart, and this natural choice +had drawn around her the perils which now overwhelmed them all. +Accepting the son, she incurred the father's resentment upon both; for +he, the dead man yonder, had also been her lover. + +"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the anguished woman, kneeling by her chair and +laying her cheek upon it, while only such tears as we shed in supreme +moments saturated her handkerchief, "what have I done to make such +misery to others? How sinful I must be to set son and father against +each other! Yet, Heavenly Father, I can but love!" + +There was a cracking of something, as if the dead man in the great, +black parlor had carried his jealousy beyond his doom and was breaking +from his coffin to upbraid her. A door burst open in the dining-room, +which was behind her, and then the dining-room door also unclosed, and +was followed by a cold, graveyard draft. A moment of superstition +possessed Agnes. "Guard me, Saviour," she murmured. + +At the dining-room threshold, advancing a little over the sill, as if to +rush upon her, was the figure of a man, dressed, head to foot, in +sailor's garments--heavy woollens, comforter, tarpaulin overalls, and +knit cap. He looked at her an instant, standing there, shivering, and +then he retired a pace or two and closed the door to the cellar, by +which he had entered the house. Even this little movement in the +intruder had something familiar about it. He advanced again, directly +and rapidly, toward her, but she did not scream. He threw both arms +around her, and she did not cry. Something had entered with that bold +figure which extinguished all crime and superstition in the monarchy of +its presence--Love. + +A kiss, as fervent and long as only the reunited ever give with purity, +drew the soul of the suspected murderer and his sweetheart into one +temple. + +"Agnes," he whispered hoarsely, when it was given, "they have followed +me hard to-night. Every place I might have resorted to is watched. All +Kensington--my oldest friends--believe me guilty! I cannot face it. With +this kiss I must go." + +"Oh, Andrew, do not! Here is the place to make your peace; here take +your stand and await the worst." + +"Agnes," he repeated, "I have no defence. Nothing but silence would +defend me now, and that would hang me to the gallows. I come to put my +life and soul into your hands. Can you pray for me, bad as I am?" + +"Dear Andrew," answered Agnes, weeping fast, "I have no power to stop +you, and I cannot give you up. Yes, I will pray for you now, before you +start on your journey. Go open those folding-doors and we will pray in +the other room." + +"What is there?" + +"Your father." + +He stopped a long while, and his cheek was blanched. + +"Go first," he whispered finally. "I am not afraid." + +She led the way to the bier, where the body, with the frost hardly yet +thawed from it, lay under the dim light of the chandelier. Turning up +the burners it was revealed in its relentless, though not unhappy, +expression--a large and powerful man, bearded and with tassels of gray +in his hair. + +The young man in his coarse sailor's garb, muffled up for concealment +and disguise, placed his arm around Agnes, and his knees were unsteady +as he gazed down on the remains and began to sob. + +"Dear," she murmured, also weeping, "I know you loved him!" + +The young man's sobs became so loud that Agnes drew him to a chair, and +as she sat upon it he laid his head in her lap and continued there to +express a deep inward agony. + +"I loved him always," he articulated at last, "so help me God, I did! +And a _parricide_! Can you survive it?" + +"Andrew," she replied, "I have taken it all to heaven and laid the sin +there. Forever, my darling, intercession continues for all our offences +only there. It must be our recourse in this separation every day when we +rise and lie down. Though blood-stained, he can wash as white as snow." + +"I will try, I will try!" he sobbed; "but your goodness is my reliance, +dearest. I have always been disobedient to my father, but never thought +it would come to this." + +"Nor I, Andrew. Poor, rash uncle!" + +"Agnes," whispered Andrew Zane, rising with a sudden fear, "I hear +people about the house--on the pavement, on the doorsteps. Perhaps they +are suspecting me. I must fly. Oh! shall we ever meet again under a +brighter sky? Will you cling to me? I am going out, abandoned by all the +world. Nothing is left me but your fidelity. Will it last? You know you +are beautiful!" + +"Oh, sad words to say!" sighed Agnes. "Let none but you ever say them to +me again. Beautiful, and to the end of such misery as this! My only +love, I will never forsake you!" + +"Then I can try the world again, winter as it is. Once more, oh, God! +let me ask forgiveness from these frozen lips. My father! pursue me not, +though deep is my offence! Farewell, farewell forever!" + +He disappeared down the cellar as he had come, and Agnes heard at the +outer window the sound of his escaping. When all was silent she fell to +the floor, and lay there helplessly weeping. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE DEAF MAN. + + +The inquest was held, and the jury pronounced the double crime murder by +persons unknown, but with strong suspicion resting on Andrew Zane and an +unknown laborer, who had left Pettit's or Treaty Island, at night, in an +open boat with William Zane and Sayler Rainey. A reward was offered for +Andrew Zane and the laborer. + +The will of the deceased persons made Andrew Zane full legatee of both +estates, and left a life interest in the Queen Street house, and $2000 a +year to "Agnes Wilt, my ward and housekeeper." The executors of the Zane +estate were named as Agnes Wilt, Rev. Silas Van de Lear, and Duff +Salter. The two dead men were interred together in the old Presbyterian +burial-ground, and after a month or two of diminishing excitement, +Kensington settled down to the idea that there was a great mystery +somewhere; that Andrew Zane was probably guilty; but that the principal +evidence against him was his own flight. + +As to Agnes, there was only one respectable opinion--that she was a +superb work of nature and triumph of womanhood, notwithstanding romantic +and possibly awkward circumstances of origin and relation. All men, of +whatever time of life and for whatsoever reason, admired her--the mean +and earthy if only for her mould, the morally discerning for her +beautiful quality that pitied, caressed, encouraged, or elevated all who +came within her sphere. + +"Preachers of the Gospel ought to have such wives," said the Rev. Silas +Van de Lear, looking at his son Calvin, "as Agnes Wilt. She is the most +handy churchwoman in all my ministration in Kensington, which is now +forty years. Besides being pious, and virtuous, and humble before God, +she is very comely to the eye, and possesses a house and an independent +income. A wife like that would naturally help a young minister to get a +higher call." + +Young Calvin, who was expected to succeed his father in the venerable +church close by, and was studying divinity, said with much cool +maturity: + +"Pa, I've taken it all in. She's the only single girl in Kensington +worth proposing to. It's true that we don't know just who she is, but +it's not that I'm so much afraid of as her, her--in short, her piety." + +"Piety does not stand in the way of marriage," answered the old man, who +was both bold and prudent, wise and sincere. "In the covenant of God +nothing is denied to his saints in righteousness. The sense of wedded +pleasure, the beauty that delights the eye, love, appetite, children, +and financial independence--all are ours, no less as of the Elect than +as worldly creatures. The love of God in the heart warms men and women +toward each other." + +"Oh, as to that!" exclaimed Calvin, "I've been warmed toward Miss Agnes +since I was a boy. I think she is superb. But she is a little too good +for me. She looks at me whenever I talk to her, whereas the proper way +of humility would be to look down. She has been in love with Andrew +Zane, you know!" + +"That," said the preacher, "is probably off; though I never discovered +in Andrew more evil than a light heart and occasional rebellion. If she +loves him still, do not be in haste to jar her sensibility. It is +thoughtfulness which engenders love." + +The young women of Kensington were divided about Agnes Wilt. The poorer +girls thought her perfect. But some marriageable and some married women, +moving in her own sphere of society, criticised her popularity, and said +she must be artful to control so many men. There are no depths to which +jealousy cannot go in a small suburban society. Agnes, as an orphan, had +felt it since childhood, but nothing had ever happened until now to +concentrate slander as well as sympathy upon her. It was told abroad +that she had been the mistress of her deceased benefactor, who had +fallen by the hands of his infuriated son. Even the police authorities +gave some slight consideration to this view. Old people remarked: "If +she has been deceiving people, she will not stop now. She will have +other secret lovers." + +Inquiries had been made for some time as to who the unknown executor, +Duff Salter, might be, when one day Rev. Mr. Van de Lear walked over to +the Zane house with a broad-shouldered, grave, silent-eyed man, who wore +a very long white beard reaching to his middle. As he was also tall and +but little bent, he had that mysterious union of strength and age which +was perfected by his expression of long and absolute silence. + +"Agnes," said Mr. Van de Lear, "this is an old Scotch-Irish friend and +classmate of the late Mr. Zane, Duff Salter of Arkansas. He cannot hear +what I have said, for he is almost stone deaf. However, go through the +motions of shaking hands. I am told he has heard very little of anything +for the past ten years. An explosion in a quicksilver mine broke his +ear-drums." + +Agnes, dressed in deep black, shook hands with the grave stranger +dutifully, and said: + +"I am sure you are welcome, sir." + +Mr. Salter looked at her closely and gently, and seemed to be pleased +with the inspection, for he took a small gold box from his pocket, +unlocked it and sniffed a pinch of snuff, and then gave a sneeze, which +he articulated, plain as speech, into the words: "Jericho! Jericho!" +Then placing the box in the pocket of his long coat, he remarked: + +"Miss Agnes, as one of the executors is a lady, and another is our +venerable friend here, who has no inclination to attend to the +settlement of Mr. Zane's estate, it will devolve upon me to examine the +whole subject. I am a stranger in the East. As Mr. Van de Lear may have +told you, I don't hear anything. Will I be welcome as a boarder under +your roof as long as I am looking into my old friend's books and +papers?" + +"Not only welcome, but a protection to us, sir," answered Agnes. + +He took a set of ivory tablets from his pocket, with a pencil, and +handing it to her politely, said: + +"Please write your answer." + +She wrote "Yes." + +The deaf lodger gave as little trouble as could have been expected. He +had a bedroom, and moved a large secretary desk into it, and sat there +all day looking at figures. If he ever wanted to make an inquiry, he +wrote it on the tablets, and in the evening had it read and answered. +Agnes was a good deal of the time preoccupied, and Podge Byerly, who +wrote as neatly as copper-plate, answered these inquiries, and conducted +a little conversation of her own. Podge was a slender blonde, with fine +blue eyes and a mischievous, sylph-like way of coming and going. Her +freedom of motion and address seemed to concern the stranger. One day +she wrote, after putting down the answer to a business inquiry: + +"Are you married?" + +He hesitated some time and wrote back, "I hope not." + +She retorted, "Could one forget if one was married?" + +He replied on the same tablet: "Not when he tried." + +Podge rubbed it all off, and thought a minute, and then concluded that +evening's correspondence: + +"You are an old tease!" + +The next morning, as usual, she wrapped herself up warmly and took the +omnibus for her school, and saw him watching her out of the upper +window. That night, instead of any inquiries, he stalked down in his +worked slippers--the dead man's--and long dressing gown, and, after +smiling at all, took Podge Byerly's hand and looked at it. This time he +spoke in a sweet, modulated voice, + +"Very pretty!" + +She was about to reply, when he gave her the ivory tablet, and put his +finger on his lip. + +She wrote, "Did you ever fight a duel?" + +He shook his head "No." + +She wrote again, "What else do they do in Arkansas?" + +He replied, "They love." + +Then Mr. Duff Salter sneezed very loudly, "Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" +Podge ran off at such a serious turn of responses, but was too much of a +woman not to be lured back of her own will. He wrote later in the +evening this touching query: + +"How do the birds sing now? Are they all dumb?" + +She answered, "Many can hear who never heard them." + +He wrote again, "Are you suspicious?" + +She replied, "_Very_. Are you?" + +He shook his head "No." + +"I believe he _is_," said Podge, turning to Agnes, who had entered. "He +looks as if he had asked that question of himself." + +Duff Salter seized his handkerchief and sneezed into it, "Jericho-o! +Jericho-wo!" + +Podge was sure he was suspicious the next night when she read on his +tablets the rather imputative remark, + +"Is there anything demoralizing in teaching public schools?" + +She replied tartly, "Yes, stupid old visitors and parents!" + +"Excuse me!" he wrote; "I meant politicians." + +She replied in the same spirit as before, "I think politicians are +divine!" + +Duff Salter looked a little wondering out of those calm gray eyes and +his strong, yet benevolent Scotch-Irish countenance. Podge, who now +talked freely with Agnes in his presence, said confidently: + +"I believe I can tantalize this good old granny by giving him doubts +about me! I am real bad, Aggy; you know that! It is no story to tell +it!" + +"Oh! we are both bad enough to try to improve," exclaimed Agnes +absently. + +"Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. + +He came down every evening, and began respectfully to bow to Agnes and +to smile on Podge, and then stretched his feet out to the ottoman, drew +his tablets up to the small table and proceeded to write. They hallooed +into his ear once or twice, but he said he was deaf as a mill-stone, and +might be cursed to his face and wouldn't understand it. They had formed +a pleasing opinion of him, not unmixed with curiosity, when one night he +wrote on the back of a piece of paper: + +"Have you any idea who wrote this anonymous note to me?" + +Podge Byerly took the note and found in a woman's handwriting these +words: + + "Mr. Duff Salter, I suppose you know where you are. Your hostesses + are very insinuating and artful--and what else, _you can find out_! + One man has been murdered in that family; another has disappeared. + They say in Kensington the house of Zane is haunted. + + "A WARNER." + +Podge read the note, and her tears dropped upon it. He moved forward as +if to speak to her, but correcting himself hastily, he wrote upon the +tablets: + +"Not even a suspicious person is affected the least by an anonymous +letter. I only keep it that possibly I may detect the sender!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A SUITOR. + + +Duff Salter and the ladies were sitting in the back parlor one evening +following the events just related, when the door-bell rang, and Podge +Byerly went to see who was there. She soon returned and closed the door +of the front parlor, leaving a little crack, by accident, and lighted +the gas there. + +"Aggy," whispered Podge, coming in, "there's Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, our +future minister. He's elegantly dressed, and has a nosegay in his hand." + +"Can't you entertain him, dear?" + +"I would be glad enough, but he asked in a very decided way for you." + +"For me?" + +Agnes looked distressed. + +"Yes; he said very distinctly, 'I called to pay my respects particularly +to Miss Agnes to-night.'" + +Agnes left the room, and Duff Salter and Podge were again together. +Podge could hear plainly what was said in the front parlor, and partly +see, by the brighter light there, the motions of the visitor and her +friend. She wrote on Duff Salter's tablet, "A deaf man is a great +convenience!" + +"Why?" wrote the large, grave man. + +"Because he can't hear what girls say to their beaux." + +"Is that a beau calling on our beautiful friend?" + +"I'm afraid so!" + +"How do you feel when a beau comes?" + +"We feel important." + +"You don't feel grateful, then; only complimented." + +"No; we feel that on one of two occasions we have the advantage over a +man. We can play him like a big fish on a little angle." + +"When is the other occasion?" + +"Some women," wrote Podge, "play just the same with the man they +marry!" + +Duff Salter looked up surprised. + +"Isn't that wrong?" he wrote. + +She answered mischievously, "A kind of!" + +The large, bearded man looked so exceedingly grave that Podge burst out +laughing. + +"Don't you know," she wrote, "that the propensity to plague a man +dependent on you is inherent in every healthy woman?" + +He wrote, "I do know it, and it's a crime!" + +Podge thought to herself "This old man is dreadfully serious and +suspicious sometimes." + +As Duff Salter relapsed into silence, gazing on the fire, the voice of +Calvin Van de Lear was heard by Podge, pitched in a low and confident +key, from the parlor side: + +"I called, Agnes, when I thought sufficient time had elapsed since the +troubles here, to express my deep interest in you, and to find you, I +hoped, with a disposition to turn to the sunny side of life's affairs." + +"I am not ready to take more than a necessary part in anything outside +of this house," replied Agnes. "My mind is altogether preoccupied. I +thank you for your good wishes, Mr. Van de Lear." + +"Now do be less formal," said the young man persuasively. "I have always +been Cal. before--short and easy, Cal. Van de Lear. _You_ might call me +almost anything, Aggy." + +"I have changed, sir. Our afflictions have taught me that I am no longer +a girl." + +"You won't call me Cal., then?" + +"No, Mr. Van de Lear." + +"I see how it is," exclaimed the visitor. "You think because I am +studying for orders I must be looked up to. Aggy, that's got nothing to +do with social things. When I take the governor's place in our pulpit I +shall make my sermons for this generation altogether crack, sentimental +sermons, and drive away dull care. That's my understanding of the good +shepherd." + +"Mr. Van de Lear, there are some cares so natural that they are almost +consolation. Under the pressure of them we draw nearer to happiness. +What merry words should be said to those who were bred under this roof +in such misfortunes as I have now--as the absent have?" + +Podge saw Agnes put her handkerchief to her face, and her neck shake a +minute convulsively. Duff Salter here sneezed loudly: "Jericho! +Jerichew! Je-ry-cho-o!" He produced a tortoise-shell snuff-box, and +Podge took a pinch, for fun, and sneezed until the tears came to her +eyes and her hair was shaken down. She wrote on the tablets, + +"Men could eat dirt and enjoy it." + +He replied, "At last dirt eats all the men." + +"It's to get rid of them!" wrote Podge. "My boys at school are dirty by +inclination. They will chew anything from a piece of India rubber shoe +to slippery elm and liquorice root. One piece of liquorice will +demoralize a whole class. They pass it around." + +Duff Salter replied, "The boys must have something in their mouths; the +girls in their heads!" + +"But not liquorice root," added Podge. + +"No; they put the boys in their heads!" + +"Pshaw!" wrote Podge, "girls don't like boys. They like nice old men who +will pet them." + +Here Podge ran out of the room and the conversation in the front parlor +was renewed. The voice of Calvin Van de Lear said: + +"Agnes, looking at your affairs in the light of religious duty, as you +seem to prefer, I must tell you that your actions have not always been +perfect." + +Nothing was said in reply to this. + +"I am to be your pastor at some not distant day," spoke the same voice, +"and may take some of that privilege now. As a daughter of the church +you should give the encouragement of your beauty and favor only to +serious, and approved, and moral young men. Not such scapegraces as +Andrew Zane!" + +"Sir!" exclaimed Agnes, rising. "How dare you speak of the poor absent +one?" + +"Sit down," exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, not a bit discomposed. "I have +some disciplinary power now, and shall have more. A lady in full +communion with our church--a single woman without a living +guardian--requires to hear the truth, even from an erring brother. You +have no right to go outside the range at least of respectable men, to +place your affections and bestow your beauty and religion on a +particularly bad man--a criminal indeed--one already fled from this +community, and under circumstances of the greatest suspicion. I mean +Andrew Zane!" + +"Hush!" exclaimed Agnes; "perhaps he is dead." + +A short and awkward quiet succeeded, broken by young Van de Lear's +interruption at last: + +"Aggy, I don't know but it is the best thing. Is it so?" + +"For shame, sir!" + +"He wouldn't have come to any good. I know him well. We went to school +together here in Kensington. Under a light and agreeable exterior he +concealed an obstinacy almost devilish. All the tricks and daredevil +feats we heard of, he was at the head of them. After he grew up his eyes +fell on you. For a time he was soberer. Then, perceiving that you were +also his father's choice, he conspired against his father, repeatedly +absconded, and gave that father great trouble to find and return him to +his home, and still stepped between Mr. Zane and his wishes. Was that +the part of a grateful and obedient son?" + +Not a word was returned by Agnes Wilt. + +"How ill-advised," continued Calvin Van de Lear, "was your weakness +during that behavior! Do you know what the tattle of all Kensington is? +That you favored both the father and the son! That you declined the son +only because his father might disinherit him, and put off the father +because the son would have the longer enjoyment of his property! I have +defended you everywhere on these charges. They say even more, _Miss_ +Agnes--if you prefer it--that the murder of the father was not committed +by Andrew Zane without an instigator, perhaps an accessory." + +The voice of Agnes was heard in hasty and anxious imploration: + +"For pity's sake, say no more. Be silent. Am I not bowed and wretched +enough?" + +She came hastily to the fissure of the door and looked in, because Duff +Salter just then sneezed tremendously: + +"Jericho-o-o-o! Jer-ry-cho-o-o!" + +Podge Byerly reappeared with a pack of cards and shuffled them before +Duff Salter's face. + +They sat down and played a game of euchre for a cent a point, the +tablets at hand between them to write whatever was mindful. Duff Salter +was the best player. + +"I believe," wrote Podge, "that all Western men are gamblers. Are you?" + +He wrote, to her astonishment, + +"I was." + +"Wasn't it a sin?" + +"Not there." + +"I thought gambling was a sin everywhere?" + +"It is everywhere done," wrote Duff Salter. "You are a gambler." + +"That's a fib." + +"You risk your heart, capturing another's." + +"My heart is gone," added Podge, blushing. + +"What's his name?" wrote Duff Salter. + +"That's telling." + +Again the voices of the two people in the front parlor broke on Podge's +ear: + +"You must leave me, Mr. Van de Lear. You do not know the pain and wrong +you are doing me." + +"Agnes, I came to say I loved you. Your beauty has almost maddened me +for years. Your resistance would give me anger if I had not hope left. I +know you loved me once." + +"Sir, it is impossible; it is cruel." + +"Cruel to love you?" repeated the divinity student. "Come now, that's +absurd! No woman is annoyed by an offer. I swear I love you reverently. +I can put you at the head of this society--the wife of a clergyman. Busy +tongues shall be stilled at your coming and going, and the shadow of +this late tragedy will no more plague your reputation, protected in the +bosom of the church and nestled in mine." + +Sounds of a slight struggle were heard, as if the amorous young priest +were trying to embrace Agnes. + +Podge arose, listening. + +The face of Duff Salter was stolid, and unconscious of anything but the +game of cards. + +"I tell you, sir!" exclaimed Agnes, "that your attentions are offensive. +Will you force me to insult you?" + +"Oh! that's all put on, my subtle beauty. You are not alarmed by these +delicate endearments. Give me a kiss!" + +"Calvin Van de Lear, you are a hypocrite. The gentleman you have +slandered to win my favor is as dear to me as you are repulsive. Nay, +sir, I'll teach you good behavior!" + +She threw open the folding-doors just as Duff Salter had come to a +terrific sneeze. + +"Jericho! Jericho! Jer-rick-co-o-o-oh!" + +Looking in with bold suavity, Calvin Van de Lear made a bow and took up +his hat. + +"Good-night," he said, "most reputable ladies, two of a kind!" + +"I think," wrote Duff Salter frigidly, as the young man slammed the door +behind him, "that we'll make a pitcher of port sangaree and have a +little glass before we go to bed. We will all three take a hand at +cards. What shall we play?" + +"Euchre--cut-throat!" exclaimed Podge Byerly, rather explosively. + +Duff Salter seemed to have heard this, for, with his grave eyes bent on +Agnes, he echoed, dubiously: + +"Cut-throat!" + +With an impatient motion Podge Byerly snatched at the cards, and they +fell to the floor. + +Agnes burst into tears and left the room. + +"Upon my word," thought Podge Byerly, "I believe this old gray rat is a +detective officer!" + +There was a shadow over the best residence on Queen Street. + +Anonymous letters continued to come in almost by every mail, making +charges and imputations upon Agnes, and frequently connecting Podge +Byerly with her. + +Terrible epithets--such as "Murderess!" "A second Mrs. Chapman!" +"Jezebel," etc.--were employed in these letters. + +Many of them were written by female hands or in very delicate male +chirography, as if men who wrote like women had their natures. + +There was one woman's handwriting the girls learned to identify, and she +wrote more often than any--more beautifully in the writing, more +shameless in the meaning, as if, with the nethermost experience in +sensuality, she was prepared to subtleize it and be the universal +accuser of her sex. + +"What fiends must surround us!" exclaimed Agnes. "There must be a +punishment deeper than any for the writers of anonymous letters. A +murderer strikes the vital spot but once. Here every commandment is +broken in the cowardly secret letter. False witness, the stab, illicit +joy, covetousness, dishonor of father and mother, and defamation of +God's image in the heart, are all committed in these loathsome letters." + +"Yes," added Podge Byerly, "the woman who writes anonymous letters, I +think, will have a cancer, or wart on her eye, or marry a bow-legged +man. The resurrectionists will get her body, and the primary class in +the other world will play whip-top with the rest of her." + +Agnes and Podge went to church prayer-meeting the night following Calvin +Van de Lear's repulse at their dwelling, and Mr. Duff Salter gave each +of them an arm. + +Old Mr. Van de Lear led the exercises, and, after several persons had +publicly prayed by the direction of the venerable pastor, Calvin Van de +Lear, of his own motion and as a matter of course, took the floor and +launched into a florid supplication almost too elegant to be extempore. + +As he continued, Podge Byerly, looking through her fingers, saw a +handsome, high-colored woman at Calvin's side, stealing glances at Agnes +Wilt. + +It was the wife of Calvin Van de Lear's brother, Knox--a blonde of +large, innocent eyes, who usually came with Calvin to the church. + +While Podge noticed this inquisitive or stray glance, she became +conscious that something in the prayer was directing the attention of +the whole meeting to their pew. + +People turned about, and, with startled or bold looks, observed Agnes +Wilt, whose head was bowed and her veil down. + +The voice of Calvin Van de Lear sounded high and meaningful as Podge +caught these sentences: + +"Lord, smite the wicked and unjust as thou smotest Sapphira by the side +of Ananias. We find her now in the mask of beauty, again of humility, +even, O Lord, of religion, leading the souls of men down to death and +hell. Thou knowest who stand before Thee to do lip service. All hearts +are open to Thee. If there be any here who have deceived Thine elect by +covetousness, or adultery, or _murder_, Lord, make bare Thine arm!" + +The rest of the sentence was lost in the terrific series of sneezes from +Duff Salter, who had taken too big a pinch of snuff and forgot himself, +so as to nearly lift the roof off the little old brick church with his +deeply accentuated, + +"Jer-i-cho-whoe!" + +Even old Silas Van de Lear looked over the top of the pulpit and smiled, +but, luckily, Duff Salter could hardly hear his own sneezes. + +As they left the church Agnes put down her veil, and trembled under the +stare of a hundred investigating critics. + +When they were in the street, Podge Byerly remarked: + +"Oh! that we had a man to resent such meanness as that. I think that +those who address God with slant arrows to wound others, as is often +done at prayer-meeting, will stand in perdition beside the writers of +anonymous letters." + +"They are driving me to the last point," said Agnes. "I can go to church +no more. When will they get between me and heaven? Yet the Lord's will +be done." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GHOST. + + +Spring broke on the snug little suburb, and buds and birds fulfilled +their appointments on the boughs of willows, ailanthuses, lindens, and +maples. Some peach-trees in the back yard of the Zane House hastened to +put on their pink scarves and bonnets, and the boys said that an old +sucker of Penn's Treaty Elm down in a ship-yard was fresh and blithsome +as a second wife. In the hearts and views of living people, too, spring +brought a budding of youthfulness and a gush of sap. Duff Salter +acknowledged it as he looked in Podge Byerly's blue eyes and felt her +hands as they wrapped his scarf around him, or buttoned his gloves. +Whispering, and without the tablets this time, he articulated: + +"Happy for you, Mischief, that I am not young as these trees!" + +"We'll have you set out!" screamed Podge, "like a piece of hale old +willow, and you'll grow again!" + +Duff Salter frequently walked almost to her school with Podge Byerly, +which was far down in the old city. They seldom took the general cut +through Maiden and Laurel Streets to Second, but kept down the river +bank by Beach Street, to see the ship-yards and hear the pounding of +rivets and the merry adzes ringing, and see youngsters and old women +gathering chips, while the sails on the broad river came up on wind and +tide as if to shatter the pier-heads ere they bounded off. + +In the afternoons Duff Salter sometimes called on Rev. Silas Van de +Lear, who had great expectations that Duff would build them a +much-required new church, with the highest spire in Kensington. + +"Here, Brother Salter, is an historic spot," wrote the good old man. "I +shouldn't object to a spire on my church, with the figure of William +Penn on the summit. Friend William and his sons always did well by our +sect." + +"Is it an established fact that he treated with the Indians in +Kensington?" asked Duff Salter, on his ivory tablets. + +"Indisputable! Friend Penn took Thomas Fairman's house at +Shackamaxon--otherwise Eel-Hole--and in this pleasant springtime, April +4, 1683, he met King Tammany under the forest elm, with the savage +people in half-moon circles, looking at the healthy-fed and +business-like Quaker. There Tammany and his Indian allies surrendered +all the land between the Pennypack and Neshaminy." + +"A Tammany haul!" interrupted young Calvin Van de Lear, rather +idiotically. "What did the shrewd William give?" + +"Guns, scissors, knives, tongs, hoes, and Indian money, and +gew-gaws--not much. Philadelphia had no foundation then, and Shackamaxon +was an established place. We are the Knickerbockers here in +Kensington." + +"An honest Quaker would not build a spire," wrote Duff Salter, with a +grim smile. + +Duff Salter was well known to the gossips of Kensington as a fabulously +rich man, who had spent his youth partly in this district, and was of +Kensington parentage, but had roved away to Mexico as a sailor boy, or +clerk, or passenger, and refusing to return, had become a mule-driver in +the mines of cinnabar, and there had remained for years in nearly +heathen solitude, until once he arrived overland in Arkansas with a +train from Chihuahua, the whole of it, as was said, laden with silver +treasure, and his own property. He had been disappointed in love, and +had no one to leave his riches to. This was the story told by Reverend +Silas Van de Lear. + +The people of Kensington were less concerned with the truth of this tale +than with the future intentions of the visitor. + +"How long he tarries in Zane's homestead!" said the people that spring. +"Hasn't he settled that estate yet?" + +"It never will be settled if he can help it," said public Echo, "as long +as there are two fine young women there, and one of them so fascinating +over men!" + +Indeed, Duff Salter received letters, anonymous, of course--the +anonymous letter was then the suburban press--admonishing him to beware +of his siren hostess. + +"_She has ruined two men_," said the elegant female handwriting before +observed. "_You must want to be the subject of a coroner's inquest. That +house is bloody and haunted, rich Mr. Duff Salter! Beware of Lady +Agnes, the murderess! Beware, too, of her accomplice, the insinuating +little Byerly!_" + +Duff Salter walked out one day to make the tour of Kensington. He passed +out the agreeable old Frankford road, with its wayside taverns, and hay +carts, and passing omnibuses, and occasional old farm-like houses, +interspersed with newer residences of a city character, and he strolled +far up Cohocksink Creek till it meandered through billowy fields of +green, and skirted the edges of woods, and all the way was followed by a +path made by truant boys. Sitting down by a spring that gushed up at the +foot of a great sycamore tree, the grandly bearded traveller, all +flushed with the roses of exercise, made no unpleasing picture of a Pan +waiting for Echo by appointment, or holding talk with the grazing goats +of the poor on the open fields around him. + +"How changed!" spoke the traveller aloud. "I have caught fishes all +along this brook, and waded up its bed in summer to cool my feet. The +girl was beside me whose slender feet in innocent exposure were placed +by mine to shame their coarser mould. We thought we were in love, or as +near it as are the outskirts to some throbbing town partly instinctive +with a coming civic destiny. Alas! the little brook that once ran +unvexed to the river, freshening green marshes at its outlet, has become +a sewer, discolored with dyes of factories, and closed around by +tenements and hovels till its purer life is over. My playmate, too, +flowed on to womanhood, till the denser social conditions shut her in; +she mingled the pure current of her life with another more turgid, and +dull-eyed children, like houses of the suburbs, are builded on her +bosom. I am alone, like this old tree, beside the spring where once I +was a sapling, and still, like its waters, youth wells and wells, and +keeps us yet both green in root. Come back, O Love! and freshen me, and, +like a rill, flow down my closing years!" + +Duff Salter's shoulder was touched as he ceased to speak, and he found +young Calvin Van de Lear behind him. + +"I have followed you out to the country," said the young man, howling in +the elder's ear, "because I wanted to talk to you aloud, as I couldn't +do in Kensington." + +Duff Salter drew his storied ivory tablets on the divinity student, and +said, crisply, "Write!" + +"No, old man, that's not my style. It's too slow. Besides, it admits of +nothing impressive being said, and I want to convince you." + +"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "Young man, if you stun my ear +that way a third time I'll knock you down. I'm deaf, it's true, but I'm +not a hallooing scale to try your lungs on. If you won't write, we can't +talk." + +With impatience, yet smiling, Calvin Van de Lear wrote on the tablets, + +"Have you seen the ghost?" + +"Ghost?" + +"Yes, the ghosts of the murdered men!" + +"I never saw a ghost of anything in my life. What men?" + +"William Zane and Sayler Rainey." + +"Who has seen them?" + +"Several people. Some say it's but one that has been seen. Zane's ghost +walks, anyway, in Kensington." + +"What for?" + +"The fishwomen and other superstitious people say, because their +murderers have not been punished." + +"And the murderers are--" + +"Those who survived and profited by the murder, of course?" + +"Jer-ri-choo-woo!" exploded Duff Salter. "Young man," he wrote +deliberately, "you have an idle tongue." + +"Friend Salter, you are blind as well as deaf. Do you know Miss Podge +Byerly?" + +"No. Do you?" + +"She's common! Agnes Wilt uses her as a stool-pigeon. She fetches, and +carries, and flies by night. One of the school directors shoved her on +the public schools for intimate considerations. Perhaps you'll see him +about the house if you look sharp and late some night." + +"Jer-rich-co! Jericho!" + +Duff Salter was decidedly red in the face, and his grave gray eyes +looked both fierce and convicted. He _had_ seen a school director +visiting the house, but thought it natural enough that he should take a +kind interest in one of the youthful and pretty teachers. The deaf man +returned to his pencil and tablets. + +"Do you know, Mr. Van de Lear, that what you are saying is indictable +language? It would have exposed you to death where I have lived." + +The young man tossed his head recklessly. Duff Salter now saw that his +usually sallow face was flushed up to the roots of his long dry hair and +almost colorless whiskers, as if he had been drinking liquors. +Forgetting to use the tablets, Calvin spoke aloud, but not in as high a +key as formerly: + +"Mr. Salter, Agnes Wilt has no heart. She was a step-niece of the late +Mrs. Zane--her brother's daughter. The girl's father was a poor +professional man, and died soon after his child was born, followed at no +great distance to the grave by his widow. While a child, Agnes was cold +and subtle. She professed to love me--that was the understanding in our +childhood. She has forgotten me as she has forgotten many other men. But +she is beautiful, and I want to marry her. You can help me." + +"What do you want with a cold and calculating woman?" wrote Duff Salter +stiffly. "What do you want particularly with such a dangerous woman--a +demon, as you indicate?" + +"I want to save her soul, and retrieve her from wickedness. Upon my +word, old man, that's my only game. You see, to effect that object would +set me up at once with the church people. I'm told that a little +objection to my prospects in the governor's church begins to break out. +If I can marry Agnes Wilt, she will recover her position in Kensington, +and make me more welcome in families. I don't mind telling you that I +have been a little gay." + +"That's nothing," wrote Duff Salter smilingly. "So were the sons of +Eli." + +"Correct!" retorted Calvin. "I need a taming down, and only matrimony +can do it. Now, with your aid I can manage it. Miss Wilt does not fancy +me. She can be made to do so, however, by two causes." + +"And they are--" + +"Her fears and her avarice. I propose to bring this murder close home to +her. If not a principal in it, she is an undoubted accessory after the +fact. Andrew Zane paid her a visit the night the dead bodies were +discovered in the river." + +"You are sure of this?" + +"Perfectly. I have had a detective on his track; too late to arrest the +rascal, but the identity of a sailor man who penetrated into the house +by the coal-hole is established by the discovery of the clothing he +exchanged for that disguise--it was Andrew Zane. Concealment of that +fact from the law will make her an accessory." + +"Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter, but with a pale face, and said: + +"That fact established would be serious; but it would be a gratuitous +and vile act for you, who profess to love her." + +"It is love that prompts me--love and pain! A divine anger, I may call +it. I propose to make myself her rescuer afterward, and establish myself +in her gratitude and confidence. You are to help me do this by watching +the house from the inside." + +"Dishonorable!" + +"You were the friend of William Zane, the murdered man. Every obligation +of friendship impels you to discover his murderer. You are rich; lend me +money to continue my investigations. I know this is a cool proposition; +but it is better than spending it on churches." + +"Very well," wrote Duff Salter, "as the late Mr. Zane's executor, I will +spend any proper sum of money to inflict retribution upon his injurers. +I will watch the house." + +They went home through Palmer Street, on which stood the little brick +church--the street said to be occasionally haunted by Governor Anthony +Palmer's phantom coach and four, which was pursued by his twenty-one +children in plush breeches and Panama hats, crying, "Water lots! water +fronts! To let! to lease!" + +As Duff Salter entered the house he saw the school director indicated by +Calvin Van de Lear sitting in the parlor with Podge Byerly. For the +first time Duff Salter noticed that they looked both intimate and +confused. He tried to reason himself out of this suspicion. "Pshaw," he +said; "it was my uncharitable imagination. I'll go back, as if to get +something, and look more carefully." + +As the deaf man reopened the parlor-door he saw the school director +making a motion as if to embrace Podge, who was full of blushes and +appearing to shrink away. + +"There's no imagination about that," thought Duff Salter. "If I could +only hear well enough my ears might counsel me." + +He felt dejected, and his suspicions colored everything--a most +deplorable state of mind for a gentleman. Agnes, too, looked guilty, as +he thought, and hardly addressed a smile to him as he passed up to his +room. + +Duff Salter put on his slippers, lighted his gas, drew the curtains down +and set the door ajar, for in the increasing warmth of spring his grate +fire was almost an infliction. + +"I have not been wise nor just," he said to himself. "My pleasing +reception in this house, and feminine arts, have altogether obliterated +my great duty, which was to avenge my friend. Yes, suspicion was my +duty. I should have been suspicious from the first. Even this vicious +young Van de Lear, shallow as he is, becomes my unconscious accuser. He +says, with truth, that every obligation of friendship impels me to +discover the murderers of William Zane." + +Duff Salter arose, in the warmth of his feelings, and paced up and down +the floor. + +"Ah, William Zane," he said, "how does thy image come back to me! I was +the only friend he would permit. In pride of will and solitary purpose +he was the greatest of all. Rough, unpolished, a poor scholar, but full +of energy, he desired nothing but he believed it his. He desired me to +be his friend, and I could not have resisted if I would. He made me go +with him even on his truant expeditions, and carry his game bag along +the banks of the Tacony, or up the marshes of Rancocus. Yet it was a +happy servitude; for beneath his impetuous mastery was a soul of +devotion. He loved like Jove, and permitted no interposition in his +flame; his dogmatism and force were barbarous, but he gave like a child +and fought like a lion. I saw him last as he was about to enter on +business, in the twenty-first year of his age, an anxious young man with +black hair in natural ringlets, a pale brow, gray eyes wide apart, and +a narrow but wilful chin. He was ever on pivot, ready to spring. And +murdered!" + +Duff Salter looked at the door standing ajar, attracted there by some +movement, or light, or shadow, and the very image he was describing met +his gaze. There were the black ringlets, the pale forehead, the anxious +yet wilful expression, and the years of youthful manhood. It was nothing +in this world if not William Zane! + +Duff Salter felt paralyzed for a minute, as the blood flowed back to his +heart, and a sense of fright overcame him. Then he moved forward on +tip-toe, as if the image might dissolve. It did dissolve as he advanced; +with a tripping motion it receded and left a naked space. In the +darkness of the stairway it absorbed itself, and the deaf man grasped +the balustrade where it had stood, and by his trembling shook the rails +violently. He then staggered back to his mantel, first bolting the door, +as if instinctively, and swallowed a draught of brandy from a medicinal +bottle there. + +"There is a ghost abroad!" exclaimed Duff Salter with a shudder. "I have +seen it." + +He turned the gas on very brightly, so as to soothe his fears with +companionable light. Then, while the perspiration stood upon his +forehead, Duff Salter sat down to think. + +"Why does it haunt me?" he said. "Yet whom but me should it haunt?--the +executor of my friend, intrusted with his dying wishes, bound to him by +ancient ties, and recreant to the high duty of punishing his murderers? +The ghost of William Zane admonishes me that there can be no repose for +my spirit until I take in hand the work of vengeance. Yes, if women +have been accessory to that murder, they shall not be spared. Miss Agnes +is under surveillance; let her be blameless, or beware!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ENCOMPASSED. + + +"He looks scared out of last year's growth," remarked Podge Byerly when +Duff Salter came down-stairs next day. + +"Happy for him, dear, he is not able to hear what is around him in this +place!" exclaimed Agnes aloud. + +They always talked freely before their guest, and he could scarcely be +alarmed even by an explosion. + +Duff wrote on his tablets during breakfast: + +"I must employ a smart man to do errands for me, and rid me of some of +the burdens of this deafness. Do you know of any one?" + +"A mere laborer?" inquired Agnes. + +"Well, an old-fashioned, still-mouthed fellow like myself--one who can +understand my dumb motions." + +Agnes shook her head. + +Said Duff Salter to himself: + +"She don't want me to find such an one, I guess." Then, with the tablets +again, he added, "It's necessary for me to hunt a man at once, and keep +him here on the premises, close by me. I have almost finished up this +work of auditing and clearing the estate. I intend now to pay some +attention to the tragedy, accident, or whatever it was, that led to Mr. +Zane's cutting off. You will second me warmly in this, I am sure." + +Agnes turned pale, and felt the executor's eyes upon her. + +Podge Byerly was pale too. + +Duff Salter did not give them any opportunity to recover composure. + +"To leave the settlement of this estate with such a cloud upon it would +be false to my trust, to my great friend's memory, and, I may add, to +all here. There is a mystery somewhere which has not been pierced. It is +very probably a domestic entanglement. I shall expect you (to Agnes), +and you, too," turning to Podge, "to be absolutely frank with me. Miss +Agnes, have you seen Andrew Zane since his father's body was brought +into this house!" + +Agnes looked around helplessly and uncertain. She took the tablets to +write a reply. Something seemed to arise in her mind to prevent the +intention. She burst into tears and left the table. + +"Ha!" thought Duff Salter grimly, "there will be no confession there. +Then, little Miss Byerly, I will try to throw off its guard thy saucy +perversity; for surely these two women understand each other." + +After breakfast he followed Podge Byerly down Queen Street and through +Beach, and came up with her as she went out of Kensington to the +Delaware water-front about the old Northern Liberties district. + +Duff bowed with a little of diffidence amid all his gravity, and sneezed +as if to hide it: + +"Jericho!--Miss Podge, see the time--eight o'clock, and an hour before +school. Let us go look at the river." + +They walked out on the wharf, and were wholly concealed from shore by +piles of cord-wood and staves. + +"I like to get off here, away from listeners, where I need not be +bellowed at and tire out well-meaning lungs. Now--Jericho! Jericho!" he +sneezed, without any sort of meaning. "Miss Podge," said Duff Salter, +"if you look directly into my eyes and articulate distinctly, I can hear +all you say without raising your voice higher than usual. How much money +do you get for school teaching?" + +"Five hundred dollars." + +"Is that all? What do you do with it?" + +"Support my mother and brother." + +"And yourself also?" + +"Oh! yes." + +"She can't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter inwardly; "that director comes +in the case. Miss Podge, how old is your brother?" + +"Twenty-four. He's my junior," she said archly. "I'm old." + +"Why do you support a man twenty-four years old? Did he meet with an +accident?" + +"He was taken sick, and will never be well," answered Podge warily. + +"Excuse me!" exclaimed Duff Salter, "was it constitutional disease? You +know I am interested." + +"No, sir. He was misled. A woman, much older than himself, infatuated +him while a boy, and he married her, and she broke his health and ruined +him." + +Podge's eyes fell for the first time. + +Duff Salter grasped her hand. + +"And you tell me!" he exclaimed, "that you keep three grown people on +five hundred dollars a year? Don't you get help from any other quarter?" + +"Agnes has given me board for a hundred dollars a year," said Podge, +"but times have changed with her now, and money is scarce. She would +take other boarders, but public opinion is against her on all sides. +It's against me too. But for love we would have separated long ago." + +Podge's tears came. + +"What right had you," exclaimed Duff Salter, rather angrily, "to +maintain a whole family on the servitude of your young body, wearing its +roundness down to bone, exciting your nervous system, and inviting +premature age upon a nature created for a longer girlhood, and for the +solace of love?" + +She did not feel the anger in his tones; it seemed like protection, for +which she had hungered. + +"Why, sir, all women must support their poor kin." + +"Men don't do it!" exclaimed Duff Salter, pushing aside his gray apron +of beard to see her more distinctly. "Did that brother who rushed in +vicious precocity to maintain another and a wicked woman ever think of +relieving you from hard labor?" + +"He never could be anything less to me than brother!" exclaimed Podge; +"but, Mr. Salter, if that was only all I had to trouble me! Oh, sir, +work is occupation, but work harassed with care for others becomes +unreal. I cannot sleep, thinking for Agnes. I cannot teach, my head +throbs so. That river, so cold and impure, going along by the wharves, +seems to suck and plash all day in my ears, as we see and hear it now. +At my desk I seem to see those low shores and woods and marshes, on the +other side, and the chatter of children, going all day, laps and eddies +up like dirty waves between me and that indistinct boundary. I am +floating on the river current, drowning as I feel, reaching out for +nothing, for nothing is there. All day long it is so. I was the best +teacher in my rank, with certainty of promotion. I feel that I am losing +confidence. It is the river, the river, and has been so since it gave up +those dead bodies to bring us only ghosts and desolation." + +"It was a faithful witness," spoke Duff Salter, still harsh, as if under +an inner influence. "Yes, a boy--a little boy such as you teach at +school--had the strength to break the solid shield of ice under which +the river held up the dead and bring the murder out. Do you ever think +of that as you hear a spectral river surge and buoy upward, whose waves +are made by children's murmurs--innocent children haunting the guilty?" + +"Do you mean me, Mr. Salter? Nothing haunts me but care." + +"I have been haunted by a ghost," continued Duff Salter. "Yes, the ghost +of my playmate has come to my threshold and peeped on me sitting there +inattentive to his right to vengeance. We shall all be haunted till we +give our evidence for the dead. No rest will come till that is done." + +"I must go," cried Podge Byerly. "You terrify me." + +"Tell me," asked Duff Salter in a low tone, "has Andrew Zane been seen +by Agnes Wilt since he escaped?" + +"Don't ask me." + +"Tell me, and I will give you a sum of money which shall get you rest +for years. Open your mind to me, and I will send you to Europe. Your +brother shall be my brother; your invalid mother will receive abundant +care. I will even ask you to love me!" + +An instant's blushes overspread Podge's worn, pale face, and an +expression of restful joy. Then recurring indignation made her pale +again to the very roots of her golden hair. + +"Betray my friend!" she exclaimed. "Never, till she will give me leave." + +"I have lost my confidence in you both," said Duff Salter coldly, +releasing Podge's arm. "You have been so indifferent in the face of this +crime and public opinion as to receive your lovers in the very parlor +where my dead friend lay. Agnes has admitted it by silence. I have seen +your lover releasing you from his arms. Miss Byerly, I thought you +artless, even in your arts, and only the dupe, perhaps, of a stronger +woman. I hoped that you were pure. You have made me a man of suspicion +and indifference again." His face grew graver, yet unbelieving and hard. + +Podge fled from his side with alarm; he saw her handkerchief staunching +her tears, and people watching her as she nearly ran along the sidewalk. + +"Jericho! Jerichoo! Jer--" + +Duff Salter did not finish the sneeze, but with a long face called for a +boat and rower to take him across to Treaty Island. + +Podge arrived at school just as the bell was ringing, and, still in +nervousness and tears, took her place in her division while the Bible +was read. She saw the principal's eye upon her as she took off her +bonnet and moistened her face, and the boys looked up a minute or two +inquiringly, but soon relapsed to their individual selfishness. When the +glass sashes dividing the rooms were closed and the recitations began, +the lapping sound of the river started anew. A film grew on her eyes, +and in it appeared the distant Jersey and island shore, with the +uncertain boundary of point, cove, and marsh, like a misty cold line, +cheerless and void of life or color, as it was every day, yet standing +there as if it merely came of right and was the river's true border, and +was not to be hated as such. Podge strained to look through the +illusion, and walked down the aisle once, where it seemed to be, and +touched the plaster of the wall. She had hardly receded when it +reappeared, and all between it and her mind was merely empty river, +wallowing and lapping and sucking and subsiding, as if around submerged +piers, or wave was relieving wave from the weight of floating things +like rafts, or logs, or buoys, or bodies. Into this wide waste of muddy +ripples every sound in the school-room swam, and also sights and colors, +till between her eye-lash and that filmy distant margin nothing existed +but a freshet, alive yet with nothing, eddying around with purposeless +power, and still moving onward with an under force. The open book in her +hand appeared like a great white wharf, or pier, covered with lime and +coal in spots and places, and pushed forward into this hissing, +rippling, exclaiming deluge, which washed its base and spread beyond. +Podge could barely read a question in the book, and the sound of her +voice was like gravel or sand pushed off the wharf into the river and +swallowed there. She thought she heard an answer in a muddy tone and +gave the question out again, and there seemed to be laughter, as if the +waters, or what was drowned in them, chuckled and purled, going along. +She raised her eyes above the laughers, and there the boundary line of +Jersey stood defined, and all in front of it was the drifting Delaware. +It seemed to her that boys were darting to and fro and swapping seats, +and one boy had thrown a handful of beans. She walked down the aisle as +if into water, wading through pools and waves of boys, who plashed and +gurgled around her. She walked back again, and a surf of boys was thrown +at her feet. The waters rose and licked and spilled and flowed onward +again. Podge felt a sense of strangling, as if going down, in a hollow +gulf of resounding wave, and shouted: + +"Help! Save me! Save me!" + +She heard a voice like the principal teacher's, say in a lapping, watery +way, "Miss Byerly, what is the meaning of this? Your division is in +disorder. Nobody has recited. Unless you are ill I must suspend you and +call another teacher here." + +"Help! I'm floating off upon the river. Save me! I drown! I drown!" + +The scholars were all up and excited. The principal motioned another +lady teacher to come, and laid Podge's head in the other's lap. + +"Is it brain fever?" he asked. + +"She has been under great excitement," Podge heard the other lady say. +"The Zane murder occurred in her family. Last night, I have been told, +Miss Byerly refused Mr. Bunn, our principal school director, and a man +of large means, who had long been in love with her." + +"Where is he?" said the principal. + +"I heard it from his sister," said the other lady. "Mortified at her +refusal, because confident that she would accept him, he sailed this day +for Europe." + +These were the last words Podge Byerly heard. Then it seemed that the +waters closed over her head. + + * * * * * + +Agnes, left alone in the homestead, had a few days of perfect relief, +except from anonymous letters and newspaper clippings delivered by mail. +That refined handwriting which had steadily poured out the venom of some +concealed hostility survived all other correspondence--delicate as the +graceful circles of the tiniest fish-hooks whose points and barbs enter +deepest in the flesh. + +"Whom can this creature be?" asked Agnes, bringing up her strong mind +from its trouble. "I can have made no such bitter enemy by any act of +mine. A man would hardly pursue so light a purpose with such stability. +There is more than jealousy in it; it is sincere hate, drawn, I should +think, from a deep social or mental resentment, and enraged because I do +not sink under my troubles. Yes, this must be a woman who believes me +innocent but wishes my ruin. Some one, perhaps, who is sinning +unsuspected, and, in her envy of another and purer one, gloats in the +scandal which does not justly stain me. The anonymous letter," thought +Agnes, "is a malignant form of conscience, after all!" + +But life, as it was growing to be in the Zane house, was hardly worth +living. Podge Byerly was broken down and dangerously ill at her mother's +little house. All of Agnes's callers had dropped off, and she felt that +she could no longer worship, except as a show, at Van de Lear's church; +but this deprivation only deepened Agnes's natural devotion. Duff Salter +saw her once, and oftener heard her praying, as the strong wail of it +ascending through the house pierced even his ears. + +"That woman," said Duff, "is wonderfully armed; with beauty, courage, +mystery, witchery, she might almost deceive a God." + +The theory that the house was haunted confirmed the other theory that a +crime rested upon its inmates. + +"Why should there be a ghost unless there had been a murder?" asked the +average gossip and Fishtowner, to whom the marvellous was certain and +the real to be inferred from it. Duff Salter believed in the ghost, as +Agnes was satisfied; he had become unsocial and suspicious in look, and +after two or three days of absence from the house, succeeding Podge's +disappearance, entered it with his new servant. + +Agnes did not see the servant at all for some days, though knowing that +he had come. The cook said he was an accommodating man, ready to help +her at anything, and of no "airs." He entered and went, the cook said, +by the back gate, always wiped his feet at the door, and appeared like a +person of not much "bringing up." One day Agnes had to descend to the +kitchen, and there she saw a strange man eating with the cook; a rough +person with a head of dark red hair and grayish red beard all round his +mouth and under his chin. She observed that he was one-legged, and used +a common wooden crutch on the side of the wooden leg. Two long scars +covered his face, and one shaggy eyebrow was higher than the other. + +"I axes your pardon," said the man; "me and cook takes our snack when we +can, mum." + +A day or two after Agnes passed the same man again at the landing on the +stairway. He bowed, and said in his Scotch or Irish dialect, + +"God bless ye, mum!" + +Agnes thought to herself that she had not given the man credit for a +certain rough grace which she now perceived, and as she turned back to +look at him he was looking at her with a fixed, incomprehensible +expression. + +"Am I being watched?" thought Agnes. + +One day, in early June, as Agnes entered the parlor, she found Reverend +Silas Van de Lear there. At the sight of this good old man, the +patriarch of Kensington, by whom she had been baptized and received into +the communion, Agnes Wilt felt strongly moved, the more that in his eyes +was a regard of sympathy just a little touched with doubt. + +"My daughter!" exclaimed the old man, in his clear, practised +articulation, "you are daily in my prayers!" + +The tears came to Agnes, and as she attempted to wipe them away the good +old gentleman drew her head to his shoulder. + +"I cannot let myself think any evil of you, dear sister, in God's +chastising providence," said the clergyman. "Among the angels, in the +land that is awaiting me, I had expected to see the beautiful face +which has so often encouraged my preaching, and looked up at me from +Sabbath-school and church. You do not come to our meetings any more. My +dear, let us pray together in your affliction." + +The old man knelt in the parlor and raised his voice in prayer--a clear, +considerate, judicial, sincere prayer, such as age and long authority +gave him the right to address to heaven. He was not unacquainted with +sorrow himself; his children had given him much concern, and even +anguish, and in Calvin was his last hope. A thread of wicked commonplace +ran through them all; his sterling nature in their composition was lost +like a grain of gold in a mass of alloy. They had nothing ideal, no +reverence, no sense of delicacy. Taking to his arms a face and form that +pleased him, the minister had not ingrafted upon it one babe of any +divinity; that coarser matrix received the sacred flame as mere mud +extinguishes the lightning. He fell into this reminiscence of personal +disappointment unwittingly, as in the process of his prayer he strove to +comfort Agnes. The moment he did so the cold magistracy of the prayer +ceased, and his voice began to tremble, and there ran between the +ecclesiastic and his parishioner the electric spark of mutual grief and +understanding. + +The old man hesitated, and became choked with emotion. + +As he stopped, and the pause was prolonged, Agnes herself, by a powerful +inner impulsion, took up the prayer aloud, and carried it along like +inspiration. She was not of the strong-minded type of women, rather of +the wholly loving; but the deep afflictions of the past few months, +working down into the crevices and cells of her nature, had struck the +impervious bed of piety, and so deluged it with sorrow and the lonely +sense of helplessness that now a cry like an appeal to judgment broke +from her, not despair nor accusation, but an appeal to the very equity +of God. + +It arose so frankly and in such majesty, finding its own aptest words by +its unconscious instinct, that the aged minister was presently aware of +a preternatural power at his side. Was this woman a witch, genius, +demon, or the very priestess of God, he asked. + +The solemn prayer ranged into his own experience by that touch of nature +which unlocks the secret spring of all, being true unto its own deep +needs. The minister was swept along in the resistless current of the +prayer, and listened as if he were the penitent and she the priest. As +the petition died away in Agnes's physical exhaustion, the venerable man +thought to himself: + +"When Jacob wrestled all night at Peniel, his angel must have been a +woman like this; for she has power with God and with men!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FOCUS. + + +Calvin Van de Lear had been up-stairs with Duff Salter, and on his way +out had heard the voice of Agnes Wilt praying. He slipped into the back +parlor and listened at the crevice of the folding-door until his father +had given the pastoral benediction and departed. Then with cool +effrontery Calvin walked into the front parlor, where Agnes was sitting +by the slats of the nearly darkened window. + +"Pardon me, Agnes," he said. "I was calling on the deaf old gentleman +up-stairs, and perceiving that devotions were being conducted here, +stopped that I might not interrupt them." + +Calvin's commonplace nature had hardly been dazed by Agnes's prayer. He +was only confirmed in the idea that she was a woman of genius, and would +take half the work of a pastor off his hands. In the light of both +desire and convenience she had, therefore, appreciated in his eyes. To +marry her, become the proprietor of her snug home and ravishing person, +and send her off to pray with the sick and sup with the older women of +the flock, seemed to him such a comfortable consummation as to have +Heaven's especial approval. Thus do we deceive ourselves when the spirit +of God has departed from us, even in youth, and construe our dreams of +selfishness to be glimmerings of a purer life. + +Calvin was precocious in assurance, because, in addition to being +unprincipled, he was in a manner ordained by election and birthright to +rule over Kensington. His father had been one of those strong-willed, +clear-visioned, intelligent young Eastern divinity students who brought +to a place of more voluptuous and easy burgher society the secular vigor +of New England pastors. Being always superior and always sincere, his +rule had been ungrumblingly accepted. Another generation, at middle age, +found him over them as he had been over their parents--a righteous, +intrepid Protestant priest, good at denunciation, counsel, humor, or +sympathy. The elders and deacons never thought of objecting to anything +after he had insisted upon it, and in this spirit the whole church had +heard submissively that Calvin Van de Lear was to be their next pastor. +This, of course, was conditional upon his behavior, and all knew that +his father would be the last man to impose an injurious person on the +church; they had little idea that "Cal." Van de Lear was devout, but +took the old man's word that grace grew more and more in the sons of the +Elect, and the young man had already professed "conviction," and +voluntarily been received into the church. There he assumed, like an +heir-apparent, the vicarship of the congregation, and it rather +delighted his father that his son so promptly and complacently took +direction of things, made his quasi pastoral rounds, led +prayer-meetings, and exhorted Sunday-schools and missions. A priest +knows the heart of his son no more than a king, and is less suspicious +of him. The king's son may rebel from deferred expectation; the priest's +son can hardly conspire against his father's pulpit. In the minister's +family the line between the world and the faith is a wavering one; +religion becomes a matter of course, and yet is without the mystery of +religion as elsewhere, so that wife and sons regard ecclesiastical +ambition as meritorious, whether the heart be in it piously or +profanely. Calvin Van de Lear was in the church fold of his own accord, +and his father could no more read that son's heart than any other +member's. Indeed, the good old man was especially obtuse in the son's +case, from his partiality, and thus grew up together on the same root +the flower of piety and hypocrisy, the tree and the sucker. + +"Calvin," replied Agnes, "I do not object to your necessary visits here. +Your father is very dear to me." + +"But can't I return to the subject we last talked of?" asked the young +man, shrewdly. + +"No. That is positively forbidden." + +"Agnes," continued Calvin, "you must know I love you!" + +Agnes sank to her seat again with a look of resignation. + +"Calvin," she said, "this is not the time. I am not the person for such +remarks. I have just risen from my knees; my eyes are not in this +world." + +"You will be turning nun if this continues." + +"I am in God's hands," said Agnes. "Yet the hour is dark with me." + +"Agnes, let me lift some of your burden upon myself. You don't hate me?" + +"No. I wish you every happiness, Calvin." + +"Is there nothing you long for--nothing earthly and within the compass +of possibility?" + +"Yes, yes!" Agnes arose and walked across the floor almost +unconsciously, with the palms of her hands held high together above her +head. As she walked to and fro the theological student perceived a +change so extraordinary in her appearance since his last visit that he +measured her in his cool, worldly gaze as a butcher would compute the +weight of a cow on chance reckoning. + +"What is it, dear Agnes?" + +He spoke with a softness of tone little in keeping with his unfeeling, +vigilant face. + +"Oh, give me love! Now, if ever, it is love! Love only, that can lift me +up and cleanse my soul!" + +"Love lies everywhere around you," said the young man. "You trample it +under your feet. My heart--many hearts--have felt the cruel treatment. +Agnes, _you_ must love also." + +"I try to do so," she exclaimed, "but it is not the perfect love that +casteth out fear! God knows I wish it was." + +Her eyes glanced down, and a blush, sudden and deep, spread over her +features. The young man lost nothing of all this, but with alert +analysis took every expression and action in. + +"May I become your friend if greater need arises, Agnes? Do not repulse +me. At the worst--I swear it!--I will be your instrument, your subject." + +Agnes sat in the renewed pallor of profound fear. God, on whom she had +but a moment before called, seemed to have withdrawn His face. Her black +ringlets, smoothed upon her noble brow in wavy lines, gave her something +of a Roman matron's look; her eyebrows, dark as the eyes beneath that +now shrank back yet shone the larger, might have befitted an Eastern +queen. Lips of unconscious invitation, and features produced in their +wholeness which bore out a character too perfect not to have lived +sometime in the realms of the great tragedies of life, made Agnes in her +sorrow peerless yet. + +"Go, Calvin!" she said, with an effort, her eyes still upon the floor; +"if you would ever do me any aid, go now!" + +As he passed into the passageway Calvin Van de Lear ran against a man +with a crutch and a wooden leg, who looked at him from under a head of +dark-red hair, and in a low voice cursed his awkwardness. The man bent +to pick up his crutch, and Calvin observed that he was badly scarred and +had one eyebrow higher than the other. + +"Who are you, fellow?" asked Calvin, surprised. + +"I'm Dogcatcher!" said the man. "When ye see me coming, take the other +side of the street." + +Calvin felt cowed, not so much at these mysterious words as at a hard, +lowering look in the man's face, like especial dislike. + +Agnes Wilt, still sitting in the parlor, saw the lame servant pass her +door, going out, and he looked in and touched his hat, and paused a +minute. Something graceful and wistful together seemed to be in his +bearing and countenance. + +"Anything for me?" asked Agnes. + +"Nothing at all, mum! When there's nobody by to do a job, call on Mike." + +He still seemed to tarry, and in Agnes's nervous condition a mysterious +awe came over her; the man's gaze had a dread fascination that would not +let her drop her eyes. As he passed out of sight and shut the street +door behind him Agnes felt a fainting feeling, as if an apparition had +looked in upon her and vanished--the apparition, if of anything, of him +who had lain dead in that very parlor--the stern, enamored master of the +house whose fatherhood in a fateful moment had turned to marital desire, +and crushed the luck of all the race of Zanes. + +Duff Salter was sitting at his writing table, with an open snuff-box +before him, and, as Calvin Van de Lear entered his room, Duff took a +large pinch of snuff and shoved the tablets forward. Calvin wrote on +them a short sentence. As Duff Salter read it he started to his feet and +sneezed with tremendous energy: + +"Jeri-cho! Jericho! Jerry-cho-o-o!" + +He read the sentence again, and whispered very low: + +"Can't you be mistaken?" + +"As sure as you sit there!" wrote Calvin Van de Lear. + +"What is your inference?" wrote Duff Salter. + +"Seduction!" + +The two men looked at each other silently a few minutes, Duff Salter in +profound astonishment, Calvin Van de Lear with an impudent smile. + +"And so religious!" wrote Duff Salter. + +"That is always incidental to the condition," answered Calvin. + +"It must be a great blow to your affection?" + +"Not at all," scrawled the minister's son. "It gives me a sure thing." + +"Explain that!" + +"I will throw the marriage mantle over her. She will need me now!" + +"But you would not take a wife out of such a situation?" + +"Oh! yes. She will be as handsome as ever, and only half as proud." + +Duff Salter walked up and down the floor and stroked his long beard, and +his usually benevolent expression was now dark and ominous, as if with +gloom and anger. He spoke in a low tone as if not aware that he was +heard, and his voice sounded as if he also did not hear it, and could +not, therefore, give it pitch or intonation: + +"Is this the best of old Kensington? This is the East! Where I dreamed +that life was pure as the water from the dear old pump that quenched my +thirst in boyhood--not bitter as the alkali of the streams of the +plains, nor turbid like the rills of the Arkansas. I pined to leave that +life of renegades, half-breeds, squaws, and nomads to bathe my soul in +the clear fountains of civilization,--to live where marriage was holy +and piety sincere. I find, instead, mystery, blood, dishonor, hypocrisy, +and shame. Let me go back! The rough frontier suits me best. If I can +hear so much wickedness, deaf as I am, let me rather be an unsocial +hermit in the woods, hearing nothing lower than thunder!" + +As Duff Salter went to his dinner that day he looked at Agnes sitting in +her place, so ill at ease, and said to himself, + +"It is true." + + * * * * * + +Another matter of concern was on Mr. Duff Salter's mind--his +serving-man. Such an unequal servant he had never seen--at times full of +intelligence and snap, again as dumb as the bog-trotters of Ireland. + +"What was the matter with you yesterday?" asked the deaf man of Mike one +day. + +"Me head, yer honor!" + +"What ails your head?" + +"Vare-tigo!" + +"How came that?" + +"Falling out of a ship!" + +"What did you strike but water?" + +"Wood; it nearly was the death of me. For weeks I was wid a cracked head +and a cracked leg, yer honor!" + +Still there was something evasive about the man, and he had as many +moods and lights as a sea Proteus, ugly and common, like that batrachian +order, but often enkindled and exceedingly satisfactory as a servant. He +often forgot the place where he left off a certain day's work, and it +had to be recalled to him. He was irregular, too, in going and coming, +and was quite as likely to come when not wanted as not to be on the spot +when due and expected. Duff Salter made up his mind that all the Eastern +people must have bumped their heads and became subject to vertigo. + +One day Duff Salter received this note: + + "MR. DEAF DUFF: Excuse the familiarity, but the coincidence amuses + me. I want you to make me a visit this evening after dark at my + quarters in my brother, Knox Van de Lear's house, on Queen Street + nearly opposite your place of lodging. If Mars crosses the orbit of + Venus to-night, as I expect--there being signs of it in the milky + way,--you will assist me in an observation that will stagger you on + account of its results. Do not come out until dark, and ask at my + brother's den for CAL." + +"I will not be in to-night, Mike," exclaimed Duff Salter a little while +afterward. "You can have all the evening to yourself. Where do you spend +your spare time?" + +"On Traity Island," replied Mike with a grin. "I doesn't like Kinsington +afther dark. They say it has ghosts, sur." + +"But only the ghosts of they killed as they crossed from Treaty Island." + +"Sure enough! But I've lost belafe in ghosts since they have become so +common. Everybody belaves in thim in Kinsington, and I prefer to be +exclusive and sciptical, yer honor." + +"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you believed in spirits going and +coming and hoping and waiting, and it gave you great comfort?" + +"Did I, sur? I forgit it inthirely. It must have been a bad day for my +vartigo." + +Duff Salter looked at his man long and earnestly, and from head to foot, +and the inspection appeared to please him. + +"Mike," he said, in his loud, deafish voice, "I am going to cure you of +your vertigo." + +"Whin, dear Mister Salter." + +"Perhaps to-morrow," remarked Duff Salter significantly. "I shall have a +man here who will either confer it on you permanently or cure you +instantly." + +Duff Salter put on his hat, took his stick, and drew the curtains down. + +Mike was sitting at the writing table arranging some models of vessels +and steam tugs as his employer turned at the doorway and looked back, +and, with a countenance more waggish than exasperated, Duff Salter shook +his cane at the unobservant Irishman, and sagely gestured with his head. + +Agnes was about to take the head of the tea-table as he came down the +stairs. + +"No," motioned Duff Salter, and pointed out of doors. + +He gave a slight examination to Agnes, so delicate as to be almost +unnoticed, though she perceived it. + +Duff sat at the tea side and wrote on his tablets: + +"How is little Podge coming on?" + +"Growing better," replied Agnes, "but she will be unfit to teach her +school for months. Kind friends have sent her many things." + +Duff Salter waited a little while, and wrote: + +"I wish I could leave everybody happy behind me when I go away." + +"Are you going soon?" + +"I am going at once," wrote Duff Salter with a sudden decision. "I am +not trusted by anybody here, and my work is over." + +Agnes sat a little while in pain and wistfulness. Finally she wrote: + +"There is but one thing which prevents our perfect trust in you; it is +your distrust of us." + +"I _am_ distrustful--too much so," answered, in writing, the deaf man. +"A little suspicion soon overspreads the whole nature, and yet, I think, +one can be generous even with suspicion. Among the disciples were a +traitor, a liar, a coward, and a doubter; but none upbraid the last, +poor Thomas, and he is sainted in our faith. Do you know that suspicion +made me deaf? Yes; if we mock Nature with distrust, she stops our ears. +Do you not remember what happened to Zacharias, the priest? He would not +believe the angel who announced that his wife would soon become a +mother, and for his unbelief was stricken dumb!" + +The deaf guest had either stumbled into this illustration, or written it +with full design. He looked at Agnes, and the pale and purple colors +came and went upon her face as she bent her body forward over the table. +Duff Salter arose and spoke with that lost voice, like one in a vacuum, +while he folded his tablet. + +"Agnes," he said, "it has been cruel to a man of such a sceptical soul +as mine to educate him back from the faith he had acquired to the +unfaith he had tried to put behind him. Why did you do it? The +suppression of the truth is never excusable. The secret you might have +scattered with a word, when suspicion started against you, is now +diffused through every family and rendezvous in Kensington." + +She looked miserable enough, and still received the stab of her guest's +magisterial tongue like an affliction from heaven. + +"I had also become infected with this imputation," continued Duff +Salter. "All things around you looked sinister for a season. A kind +Providence has dispelled these black shadows, and I see you now the +victim of an immeasurable mistake. Your weakness and another's obstinacy +have almost ruined you. I shall save you with a cruel hand; let the +remorse be his who hoped to outlive society and its natural suspicions +by a mere absence." + +"I will not let you upbraid him," spoke Agnes Wilt. "My weakness was the +whole mistake." + +"Agnes," said the grave, bearded man, "you must walk through Kensington +to-morrow with me in the sight of the whole world." + +She looked up and around a moment, and staggered toward a sofa, but +would have fallen had not Duff Salter caught her in his arms and placed +her there with tender strength. He whispered in her ear: + +"Courage, little _mother_!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A REAL ROOF-TREE. + + +Ringing the bell at the low front step of a two-story brick dwelling, +Duff Salter was admitted by Mr. Knox Van de Lear, the proprietor, a +tall, plain, commonplace man, who scarcely bore one feature of his +venerable father. "Come in, Mr. Salter," bellowed Knox, "tea's just +a-waitin' for you. Pap's here. You know Cal, certain! This is my good +lady, Mrs. Van de Lear. Lottie, put on the oysters and waffles! Don't +forgit the catfish. There's nothing like catfish out of the Delaware, +Mr. Salter." + +"Particularly if they have a corpse or two to flavor them," said Calvin +Van de Lear in a low tone. + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear, a fine, large, blonde lady, took the head of the +table. She had a sweet, timid voice, quite out of quantity with her bone +and flesh, and her eyelashes seemed to be weak, for they closed together +often and in almost regular time, and the delicate lids were quite as +noticeable as her bashful blue eyes. + +"Lottie," said Rev. Silas Van de Lear, "I came in to-night with a little +chill upon me. At my age chills are the tremors from other wings +hovering near. Please let me have the first cup of coffee hot." + +"Certainly, papa," said the hostess, making haste to fill his cup. "You +don't at all feel apprehensive, do you?" + +"No," said the old man, with his teeth chattering. "I haven't had +apprehensions for long back. Nothing but confidence." + +"Oh, pap!" put in Knox Van de Lear, "you'll be a preachin' when I'm a +granddaddy. You never mean to die. Eat a waffle!" + +"My children," said the old man, "death is over-due with me. It gives me +no more concern than the last hour shall give all of us. I had hoped to +live for three things: to see my new church raised; to see my son Calvin +ready to take my place; to see my neighbor, Miss Wilt, whom I have seen +grow up under my eye from childhood, and fair as a lily, brush the dew +of scandal from her skirts and resume her place in our church, the +handmaid of God again." + +"Amen, old man!" spoke Calvin irreverently, holding up his plate for +oysters. + +"Why, Cal," exclaimed the hostess, closing her delicately-tinted eyelids +till the long lashes rested on the cheek, "why don't you call papa more +softly?" + +"My son," spoke the little old gentleman between his chatterings, "in +the priestly office you must avoid abruptness. Be direct at all +important times, but neither familiar nor abrupt. I cannot name for you +a model of address like Agnes Wilt." + +"Isn't she beautiful!" said Mrs. Knox. "Do you think she can be +deceitful, papa?" + +"I have no means to pierce the souls of people, Lottie, more than +others. I don't believe she is wicked, but I draw that from my reason +and human faith. That woman was a pillar of strength in my +Sabbath-school. May the Lord bring her forth from the furnace refined by +fire, and punish them who may have persecuted her!" + +"Cal is going into a decline on her account," said Knox. "I know it by +seeing him eat waffles. She refused Cal one day, and he came home and +eat all the cold meat in the house." + +"Mr. Salter," the hostess said, raising her voice, "you have a beautiful +woman for a landlady. Is she well?" + +"Very melancholy," said Duff Salter. "Why don't you visit her?" + +"Really," said the hostess, "there is so much feeling against Agnes +that, considering Papa Van de Lear's position in Kensington, I have been +afraid. Agnes is quite too clever for me!" + +"I hope she will be," said Duff Salter, relapsing to his coffee. + +"He didn't hear what you said, Lot," exclaimed Calvin. "The old man has +to guess at what we halloo at him." + +"Have you appraised the estate of the late William Zane?" asked the +minister, with his bold pulpit voice, which Salter could hear easily. + +"Yes," replied the deaf guest. "It comes out strong. It is worth, clear +of everything and not including doubtful credits, one hundred and eighty +thousand dollars." + +"That is the largest estate in Kensington," exclaimed the clergyman. + +"I shall release it all within one week to Miss Agnes," said Duff +Salter. "You are too old, Mr. Van de Lear, to manage it. I have finished +my work as co-executor with you. The third executor is Miss Wilt. With +the estate in her hands she will change the tone of public opinion in +Kensington, perhaps, and the fugitive heir must return or receive no +money from the woman he has injured!" + +"I am entirely of your opinion," said Reverend Mr. Van de Lear. "Agnes +was independent before; this will make her powerful, and she needs all +the power she can get to meet this insensate suburban opinion. When I +was a young man, commencing to minister here, I had rivals enough, and +deeply sympathize with those who must defend themselves against the +embattled gossip of a suburban society." + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear opened and closed her eyes with a saintly sort of +resignation. + +"I am glad for Agnes," she said. "But I fear the courts will not allow +her, suspected as she is, to have the custody of so much wealth that has +descended to her through the misfortunes of others, if not by crimes." + +"You are right, Lot," said Calvin. "Her little game may be to get a +husband as soon as she can, who will resist a trustee's appointment by +the courts." + +"Can _she_ get a husband, Cal?" + +"Oh, yes! She's lightning! There's old Salter, rich as a Jew. She's +smart enough to capture him and add all he has to all that was coming to +Andrew Zane." + +Mr. Salter drew up his napkin and sneezed into it a soft articulation of +"Jericho! Jericho!" + +"Cal, don't you think you have some chance there yet?" asked Knox Van +de Lear. "I hoped you would have won Aggy long ago. It's a better show +than I ever had. You see I have to be at work at six o'clock, winter and +summer, and stay at the bookbindery all day long, and so it goes the +year round." + +"Indeed, it is so!" exclaimed the hostess, slowly shutting down her +silken lids of pink. "My poor husband goes away from me while I still +sleep in the dark of dawn; he only returns at supper." + +"Well, haven't you got brother Cal?" asked the bookbinder. "He's better +company than I am, Lottie." + +"But Calvin is in love with Miss Wilt," said the lady, softly unclosing +her eves. + +"No," coolly remarked Calvin, "I am not in love with her. You know that, +Lottie." + +"Well, Calvin, dear, you would be if you thought she was pure and clear +of crime." + +"Don't ask me foolish questions!" said Calvin. + +The lady at the head of the table wore a pretty smile which she shut +away under her eyelids again and again, and looked gently at Calvin. + +"Dear Agnes!" ejaculated Mrs. Knox, "I never blamed her so much as that +bold little creature, Podge Byerly! No one could make any impression +upon Agnes's confidence until that bright little thing went to board +with her. It is so demoralizing to take these working-girls, shop-girls +and school-teachers, in where religious influences had prevailed! They +became inseparable; Agnes had to entertain such company as Miss Byerly +brought there, and it produced a lowering of tone. She looked around her +suddenly when these crimes were found out, and all her old mature +friends were gone. It is so sad to lose all the wholesome influences +which protect one!" + +Duff Salter had been eating his chicken and catfish very gravely, and as +he stopped to sneeze and apologize he noticed that Calvin Van de Lear's +face was insolent in its look toward his brother's wife. + +"Wholesome influence," said Calvin, "will return at the news of her +money, quick enough!" + +"Poor dear Cal!" exclaimed the lady; "he is still madly in love!" + +"My friends," spoke up Duff Salter, "your father is a very sick man. Let +us take him to a chamber and send for his doctor." + +Mr. Van de Lear had been neglected in this conversation; it was now seen +that he was in collapse and deathly pale. He leaned forward, however, +from strong habit, to close the meal with a blessing, and his head fell +forward upon the table. Duff Salter had him in his arms in a moment, and +bore him into the little parlor and placed him on a sofa. + +"Give me some music, children," he murmured. "Oh, my brother Salter! I +would that you could hear with me the rustling sounds I hear in music +now! There are voices in it keeping heavenly time, saying, 'Well done! +well done!' My strong, kind brother, let me lean upon your breast. Had +we met in younger days I feel that we would have been very friendly with +each other." + +Duff Salter already had the meagre little man upon his breast, and his +long, hale beard descended upon the pale and aged face. + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear seated herself at the piano and began a hymn, and +Calvin Van de Lear accompanied her, singing bass. The old man closed his +eyes on Duff Salter's breast, and Mr. Knox Van de Lear went out softly +to send for a physician. Duff Salter, looking up at a catch in the +singing, saw that Calvin Van de Lear was leaning familiarly on the +lady's shoulder while he turned the leaves of the book of sacred music. + +"I am very sick," said the old clergyman, still shaken by the chills. +"Perhaps we shall meet together no more. My fellow-executor, do my part +in this world! In all my life of serving the church and its Divine +Master, I have first looked out for the young people. They are most +helpless, most valuable. See that Sister Agnes is mercifully cared for! +If young Andrew Zane returns, deal gently with him too. Let us be kind +to the dear boys, though they go astray. The dear, dear boys!" + +Duff Salter received the brave little man's head again upon his breast, +and said to himself: + +"May God speedily take him away in mercy!" + +The doctor, returning with Knox Van de Lear, commanded the minister to +be instantly removed to a chamber, and Duff Salter, unassisted, walked +up-stairs with him like a father carrying his infant to bed. As they +placed the wasted figure away beneath the coverlets, he put his arm +around Duff Salter's neck. + +"Brother," he said hoarsely, the chill having him in its grasp, "God has +blessed you. Can you help my new church?" + +"I promise you," said Duff Salter, "that after your people have done +their best I will give the remainder. It shall be built!" + +"Now, God be praised!" whispered the dying pastor. "And let Thy servant +depart in peace." + +"Amen!" from somewhere, trembled through the chamber as Duff Salter, his +feet muffled like his voice, in the habit of mute people who walk as +they hear, passed down the stairway. + +Duff Salter took his seat in the dining-room, which was an extension of +Knox Van de Lear's plain parlor, and buried his face in his palms. Years +ago, when a boy, he had attended preaching in Silas Van de Lear's little +chapel, and it touched him deeply that the nestor of the suburb was +about to die; the last of the staunch old pastors of the kirk who had +never been silent when liberty was in peril. The times were not the +same, and the old man was too brave and simple for the latter half of +his century. As Duff Salter thought of many memories associated with the +Rev. Silas Van de Lear's residence in Kensington, he heard his own name +mentioned. It was a lady's voice; nothing but acute sensibility could +have made it so plain to a deaf man: + +"Husband," said the lady with the slumberous eyelids, "go out with the +pitcher and get us half a gallon of ale. Cal and Mr. Salter and myself +are thirsty." + +"I have been for the doctor, Lottie; let Cal go." + +"Cal?" exclaimed the lady, very quietly raising her lashes. "It would +not do for him to go for _ale_! He is to be the junior pastor, my dear, +as soon as papa is buried, over the Van de Lear church." + +"All right," said the tired husband, "I'll go. We must all back up Cal." + +As soon as the door closed upon Mr. Knox Van de Lear, a kiss resounded +through the little house, and a woman's voice followed it, saying: + +"Imprudent!" + +"Oh, bah!" spoke Calvin Van de Lear. "Salter is deaf as a post. Lottie, +Agnes Wilt has been ruined!" + +In the long pause following this remark the deaf man peeped through his +fingers and saw the lady of the house kiss her husband's brother again +and again. + +"I am so glad," she whispered. "Can it be true?" + +"It's plain as a barn door. She'll be a mother before shad have run out, +or cherries come in." + +"The proud creature! And now, Cal dear, you see nothing exceptionally +saint-like there?" + +"I see shame, friendlessness, wealth, and welcome," spoke the young man. +"It's just my luck!" + +"But the deaf man? Will he not take her part?" + +"No. I shall show him to-night what will cure his partiality. Lottie, +you must let me marry her." + +The large, blonde lady threw back her head until the strong, animal +throat and chin stood sharply defined, and white and scarlet in color as +the lobster's meat. + +"Scoundrel!" she hissed, clenching Calvin's wrist with an almost +maniacal fury. + +At this moment a bell began to toll on the neighboring fire company's +house, and Knox Van de Lear entered with the pitcher of ale. + +"They're tolling the fire bell at the news of father's dying," said +Knox. + +Calvin filled a glass of ale, and exclaimed: + +"Here's to the next pastor of Kensington!" as he laughingly drained it +off. + +"Oh, brother Cal!" remarked the hostess as she softly dropped her +eyelids and smiled reprovingly; "this irreverence comes of visiting Miss +Agnes Wilt too often. I must take you in charge." + +Duff Salter gave a furious sneeze: + +"Jericho! Oh! oh! Jericho!" + +Calvin Van de Lear closed the door between the dining-room and the +parlor, and drew Duff Salter's tablets from his pocket and wrote: + +"I want you to go up on the house roof with me." + +Duff looked at him in surprise, and wrote in reply: + +"Do you mean to throw me off?" + +Calvin's sallow complexion reddened a very little as he laughed +flippantly, and stroked his dry side-whiskers and took the tablets +again: + +"I want you to see the ghost's walk," he wrote. "Come along!" + + * * * * * + +Passing the sick father's door, Calvin led Duff Salter up to the garret +floor, where a room with rag carpet, dumb-bells, boxing-gloves, +theological books, and some pictures far from modest, disclosed the +varied tastes of an entailed pulpit's expectant. Calvin drew down the +curtain of the one window and lighted a lamp. There was a table in the +middle of the floor, and there the two men conducted a silent +conversation on the ivory tablets. + +"This is my room," wrote Calvin. "I stay here all day when I study or +enjoy myself. The governor doesn't come in here to give me any advice +or nose around." + +"Is Mrs. Knox Van de Lear serious as to religious matters?" + +"Very," wrote Calvin, sententiously, and looked at Duff Salter with the +most open countenance he had ever been seen to show. Duff merely asked +another question: + +"Has she a good handwriting? I want to have a small document very neatly +written." + +Calvin went over to a trunk, unlocked it, and took out a bundle of what +appeared to be lady's letters, and selecting one, folded the address +back and showed the chirography. + +"Jericho! Jerry-cho! cho! O cho!" sneezed Duff Salter. "The most +admirable writing I have ever seen." + +Calvin took the tablets. + +"I have been in receipt of some sundry sums of money from you, Salter, +to follow up this Zane mystery. I hope to be able to show you to-night +that it has not been misinvested." + +"You have had two hundred dollars," wrote Duff Salter. "What are your +conclusions?" + +"Andrew Zane is in Kensington." + +"Where?" + +"In the block opposite are several houses belonging to the Zane estate. +One of them stood empty until within a month, when a tenant unknown to +the neighborhood, with small furniture and effects--evidently a mere +servant--moved in. My brother's wife has taken a deep interest in the +Zane murder, and being at home all day, her resort is this room, where +she can see, unobserved, the whole _menage_ and movement in the block +opposite." + +"Why did she feel so much interested?" + +"Honor bright!" Calvin wrote. "Well, Mrs. Knox was a great admirer of +the late William Zane. They were very intimate--some thought under +engagement to marry. Suddenly she accepted my brother, and old Zane +turned out to be infatuated with his ward. We may call it rivalry and +reminiscence." + +"Jer-i-choo-wo!" + +Duff Salter, now full of smiles, proffered a pinch of snuff to his host, +who declined it, but set out a bottle of brandy in reciprocal +friendship. + +"Go on," indicated Salter to the tablets. + +"One morning, just before daybreak, my brother's wife, glancing out of +this window--" + +"In this room, you say, before daybreak?" + +Calvin looked viciously at Duff Salter, who merely smiled. + +"She saw," said Calvin Van de Lear, "an object come out of the trap-door +on Zane's old residence and move under shelter of the ridge of the roof +to the newly-tenanted dwelling in the same block, and there disappear +down the similar trap." + +"Jericho! Jericho!--Proceed." + +"It was our inference that probably Andrew Zane was making stealthy +visits to Agnes, and we applied a test to her. To our astonishment we +found she had only seen him once since the murder, and that was the +night the bodies were discovered." + +"How could you extract that from a self-contained woman like Agnes +Wilt?" asked Duff Salter, deeply interested. + +"We got it from Podge Byerly." + +"Jerusalem!" exclaimed Duff Salter aloud, knocking over the snuff-box +and forgetting to sneeze. "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it is a damned lie." + +Calvin locked up with some surprise but more conceit. + +"I'm a first-class eavesdropper," he wrote, and held it up on the tablet +to Duff's eyes. "We got the fact from Podge's bed-ridden brother, a +scamp who destroyed his health by excesses and came back on Podge for +support. Knowing how corruptible he was, I got access to him and paid +him out of your funds to wheedle out of Podge all that Lady Agnes told +her. She had no idea that her brother communicated with any person, as +he was unable to walk, and she told him for his amusement secrets she +never dreamed could go out of the house. We corresponded with him by +mail." + +"Calvin," wrote Duff Salter, "you never thought of these things +yourself." + +"To give the devil his credit, my brother's wife suggested that device." + +"Jericho-o-o-oh!" + +Duff Salter was himself again. + +"Well, Salter," continued the heir-apparent of Kensington, "we laid our +heads together, and the mystery continued to deepen why Andrew Zane +infested the residence of his murdered father if he never revealed +himself to the woman he had loved. Not until the discovery that Agnes +Wilt had been ruined could we make that out." + +They were both looking at each other intently as Duff Salter read the +last sentence. + +"It then became plain to us," continued Calvin, "that Andrew Zane wanted +to abandon the woman he had seduced, as was perfectly natural. He +haunted and alarmed the house and kept informed on all its happenings, +but cut poor Agnes dead." + +"The infamous scoundrel!" exclaimed Duff Salter, looking very dark and +serious. + +"Now, Salter," continued Calvin, "we had a watch set on that ridge of +roofs every night, and another one at the old Zane house, front and +rear, and the apparition on the roof was so irregular that we could not +understand what occasions it took to come out until we observed that +whenever your servant was out of the neighborhood a whole night, the +roof-walker was sure to descend into Zane's trap." + +"Jer-i-cho-ho-ho!" + +"To-night, as we have made ourselves aware, your servant is not in +Kensington. We saw him off to Treaty Island. I am watching at this +window for the man on the roof. The moment he leaves the trap-door of the +tenant's house, it will be entered by officers at the waving of this +lamp at my window. One officer will proceed along the roof and station +himself on the Zane trap, closing that outlet. At the same time the Zane +house will be entered front and rear and searched. The time is due. It +is midnight. Come!" + +Calvin pointed to a ladder that led from the corner of his study to the +roof, and Duff Salter nodded his head acquiescently. + +They went up the ladder and thrust their heads into the soft night of +early summer. + +There was starlight, but no moon. + +The engine bell just ceased to toll as they looked forth on the +scattered suburb, and at points beheld the Delaware flowing darkly, +indicated by occasional lights of vessels reflected upward, and by the +very distant lamps on the Camden shore. + +Most of the houses within the range of vision were small, patched, and +irregular, except where the black walls of the even blocks on some +principal streets strode through. + +Scarcely a sound, except the tree frogs droning, disturbed the air, and +Kensington basked in the midnight like some sleeping village of the +plains, stretching out to the fields of cattle and the savory truck +farms. + +Duff Salter mentally exclaimed: + +"Here, like two angels of good or evil, we spy upon the dull old hamlet, +where nothing greater has happened than to-night since the Indians +bartered their lands away for things of immediate enjoyment. Are not +most of these people Indians still, ready to trade away substantial +lands of antique title for the playthings of a few brief hours? Yes, +heaven itself was signed away by man and woman for the juices of one +forbidden fruit. Here, where the good old pastor, like another William +Penn, is running his stakes beyond the stars and peopling with angels +his possessions there, the savage children are occupied with the trifles +of lust, covetousness, and deceit. They are no worse than the sons of +Penn, who became apostates to his charity and religion before the breath +had left his body. So goes the human race, whether around the Tree of +Knowledge or Kensington's Treaty Tree." + +Duff Salter felt his arm pulled violently, and heard his companion +whisper, + +"There! Do you see it?" + +Across the street, only a few hundred feet distant, an object emerged +from the black mass of the buildings and moved rapidly along the +opposite ridge of houses against the sky, drawing nearer the two +watchers as it advanced, and passing right opposite. + +Duff Salter made it out to be a woman or a figure in a gown. + +It looked neither to the right nor left, and did not stoop nor cower, +but strode boldly as if with right to the large residence of the Zanes, +where in a minute it faded away. + +Duff Salter felt a little superstitious, but Calvin Van de Lear shot +past him down the ladder. + +Duff heard the curtain at the window thrown up as the divinity student +flashed his lamp and saw the door of the house whence the apparition had +come, forced by the police. + +As he descended the ladder Calvin Van de Lear extended Duff's hat to +him, and pointed across the way. + +They were not very prompt reaching the door of the Zane residence, but +were still there in time to employ Duff Salter's key, instead of +violence, to make the entry. + +"Gentlemen," said the deaf man, with authority, "there is no occasion of +any of you pressing in here to alarm a lady. Mr. Van de Lear and myself +will make the search of the house which you have already guarded, +front, back, and above, and rendered it impossible for the object of +your warrant to escape." + +The dignity and commanding stature of Duff Salter had their effect. + +Calvin Van de Lear and Duff Salter entered the silent house, lighted the +gas, and walked from room to room, finally entering the apartment of +Duff Salter himself. + +There sat Mike, the serving-man, in his red hair, uneven eyebrows, +crutch, and wooden leg, as quietly arranging the models of vessels and +steamers as if he had not anticipated a midnight call nor ceased his +labor since Duff Salter had gone out. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, pale with exertion and rage, +"are you here? I thought you were at Treaty Island." + +"Misther Salter," said the Irishman, "I returned, do you see, because I +forgot something and wanthed a drop of your brandy, sur." + +Duff Salter walked up to the speaker and seized him by the lapels of his +coat, and placing the other hand upon his head, tore off the entire +red-haired scalp which covered him. + +"Andrew Zane," said Duff Salter in a low voice, "your disguise is +detected. Yield yourself like a man to your father's executor. You are +my prisoner!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +IN COURT. + + +Agnes Wilt awoke and said her prayers, unconscious of any event of the +night. At the breakfast-table she met Duff Salter, who took both her +hands in his. + +"Agnes," said Duff Salter--"let me call you so hereafter--did you hear +the bell toll last night?" + +"No," she replied with agitation. "For what, Mr. Salter?" + +"The good priest of Kensington is dying." + +"Beloved friend!" she said, as the tears came to her eyes. "And must he +die uncertain of my blame or innocence? Yet he will learn it in that +wiser world!" + +"Agnes, I require perfect submission from you for this day. Will you +give it in all things?" + +She looked at him a moment in earnest reflection, and said finally: + +"Yes, unless my conscience says 'no.'" + +"Nothing will be asked of you that you cannot rightfully do. Decision is +what is needed now, and I will bring you through triumphantly if you +will obey me." + +"I will." + +"At eleven o'clock we must go to the magistrate's office. I will walk +there with you." + +"Am I to be arrested?" she asked, hesitating. + +"If you go with me it will not be an arrest." + +"Mr. Salter," she cried, in a burst of anguish, "I am not fit to be seen +upon the streets of Kensington." + +He took her in his arms like a daughter. + +"Yes, yes, poor girl! The mother of God braved no less. You can bear it. +But all this morning I must be closely engaged. An important event +happened last night. At eleven, positively, be ready to go out with me." + +Agnes was ready, and stepped forth into the daylight on the main +thoroughfare of Queen Street. Almost every window was filled with +gazers; the sidewalks were lined with strollers, loiterers, and people +waiting. She might have fainted if Duff Salter's arm had not been there +to sustain her. + +A large fishwife, with a basket on her head, was standing beside her +comely grown daughter, who had put her large basket down, and both +devoured Agnes with their eyes. + +"Staying in the house, Beck," exclaimed the mother of the girl, "has +been healthy for some people." + +"Yes, mammy," answered the girl; "it's safer standing in market with +catfish. He! he! he!" + +A shipbuilder's daughter was on the front steps, a slender girl of dark, +smooth skin and features, talking to a grown boy. The girl bowed: "How +do you do, Miss Agnes?" The grown boy giggled inanely. + +Two old women, near neighbors of Agnes, had their spectacles wiped and +run out to a proper focus, and the older of the two had a double pair +upon her most insidious and suspicious nose. As Agnes passed, this old +lady gave such a start that she dropped the spectacles off her nose, and +ejaculated through the open window, "Lord alive!" + +At Knox Van de Lear's house the fine-bodied, feline lady with +nictitating eyes, drew aside the curtain, even while the dying man above +was in frigid waters, that she might slowly raise and drop her ambrosial +lids, and express a refined but not less marked surprise. Agnes, by an +excitement of the nerves of apprehension, saw everything while she +trembled. She could read the dates of all the houses on the painted +cornices of the water-spouts, and saw the cabalistic devices of old +insurance companies on the property they covered. Pigeons flying about +the low roofs clucked and chuckled as if their milky purity had been +incensed, and little dogs seemed to draw near and trot after, too +familiarly, as if they scented sin. + +There were two working-men from Zane & Rainey's ship-yard who had known +kindness to their wives from Agnes when those wives were in confinement. +Both took off their hats respectfully, but with astonishment +overwhelming their pity. + +Half the fire company had congregated at one corner of the street--lean, +runners of men in red shirts, and with boots outside their trousers. +They did not say a word, but gazed as at a riddle going by. Yet at one +place a Sabbath scholar of Agnes came out before her, and, making a +courtesy, said: + +"Teacher, take my orange blossom!" + +The flower was nearly white, and very fragrant. Duff Salter reached out +and put it in his button-hole. + +So excited were the sensibilities of Agnes that it seemed to her the old +door-knockers squinted; the idle writing of boys on dead walls read with +a hidden meaning; the shade-trees lazily shaking in summer seemed to +whisper; if she looked down, there now and then appeared, moulded in the +bricks of the pavement, a worn letter, or a passing goose foot, the +accident of the brickyard, but now become personal and intentional. The +little babies, sporting in their carriages before some houses, leaned +forward and looked as wise and awful as doctors in some occult +diagnosis. Cartwheels, as they struck hard, articulated, "What, out! +Boo! boohoo!" Sunshine all slanted her way. Hucksters' cries sounded +like constables' proclamation: "Oyez! oyez!" + +With the perceptions, the reflections of Agnes were also startlingly +alert. She seemed two or three unfortunate people at once. Now it was +Lady Jane Grey going to the tower. Now it was Beatrice Cenci going to +torture. Now it was Mary Magdalene going to the cross. At almost every +house she felt a kindness speak for her, except mankind; a recollection +of nursing, comforting, praying with some one, but all forgotten now. +"_Via Crucia, Via Crucia_," her thorn-torn feet seemed to patter in the +echoes of her ears and mind, and there arose upon her spirit the +sternest curse of women, direful with God's own rage, "I will greatly +multiply thy sorrow and thy conception." + +Thus she reached the magistrate's little office, around the door of +which was a little crowd of people, and Duff Salter led her in the +private door to the residence itself. A cup of tea and a decanter of +wine were on the table. The magistrate's wife knew her, and kissed her. +Then Agnes broke down and wept like a little child. + +The magistrate was a lame man, and a deacon in Van de Lear's church, +quite gray, and both prudent and austere, and making use of but few +words, so that there was no way of determining his feelings on the case. +He took his place behind a plain table and opened court by saying, + +"Who appears? Now!" + +Duff Salter rose, the largest man in the court-room. His long beard +covered his whole breast-bone; his fine intelligent features, clear, +sober eyes, and hale, house-bleached skin, bore out the authority +conceded to him in Kensington as a rich gentleman of the world. + +"Mr. Magistrate," said Duff Salter, "this examination concerns the +public and the ends of justice only as bears upon the death of the late +citizens of Kensington, William Zane and Saylor Rainey. It is a +preliminary examination only, and the person suspected by public gossip +has not retained counsel. With your permission, as the executor of +William Zane, I will conduct such part of the inquiry here as my duty +toward the deceased, and my knowledge of the evidence, notwithstanding +my frontier notions of law, suggest to me." + +"You prosecute?" asked the magistrate, and added, "Yes, yes! I will!" + +Calvin Van de Lear got up and bowed to the magistrate. + +"Your Honor, my deep interest in Miss Agnes Wilt has driven me to leave +the bedside of a dying parent to see that her interests are properly +attended to in this case. Whenever she is concerned I am for the +defence." + +"Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "Salter, have you a witness?" + +"Mike Donovan!" called Duff Salter. + +A red-haired Irishman, with one eyebrow higher than the other, and scars +on his face, walked into the alderman's court from the private room, and +was sworn. + +"Donovan," spoke Duff Salter, standing up, "relate the occurrences of a +certain night when you rowed the prisoner, Andrew Zane, and certain +other persons, from Treaty Island to an uncertain point in the River +Delaware." + +"Stop! stop!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear, rising. "It seems to me I +have seen that fellow's face before. Donovan, hadn't you a wooden leg +when last I saw you?" + +"No doubt of it," answered the Irishman. + +"Why haven't you got it on now?" cried Calvin, scowling. + +"Because, yer riverence, me own legs was plenty good enough on this +occasion." + +"Now, now, I won't!" ordered the sententious little magistrate. + +"Proceed with the narrative," cried Duff Salter, "and repeat no part of +the conversation in that boat." + +"It was a dark and lowering night," said the waterman, "as we swung +loose from Traity Isle. I sat a little forward of the cintre, managing +the oars. Mr. Andrew Zane was in the bow, on the watch for difficulties. +In the stern sat the boss, Mr. William Zane. Between him and me--God's +rest to him!--sat the murdered gintleman, well-beloved Saylor Rainey! +The tide was running six miles an hour. We steered by the lights of +Kinsington." + +"Then you are confident," said Duff Salter, "that the whole length of +the skiff separated William Zane from his son?" + +"As confident, yer honor, as that the batteau had two inds. They niver +were nearer, the one to the tother, than that, for the whole of the +ixpidition. And scarcely one word did Mr. Andrew utter on the whole ov +that bloody passage." + +"Say nothing, for the present, about any conversations," commanded Duff +Salter, "but go on with the occurrences briefly." + +"I had been a very little while, ye must understand me, gintlemen, in +the imploy of thim two partners. After they entered the boat they spoke +nothing at all, at all, for siveral minutes. It was all I could do wid +the strong tide to keep the boat pinted for Kinsington, and I only +noticed that Mr. Rainey comminced the conversation in a low tone of +voice. Just at that time, or soon afterward, your Honor, a large vessel +stood across our bow, going down stream in the night, and I put on all +my strength, at Mr. William Zane's order, to cross in front of her, and +did so. I was so afraid the ship would take us under that I put my whole +attintion to my task, not daring to disobey so positive a boss as Mr. +Zane, though it was agin my judgment, indade." + +All in the court and outside the door and windows were giving strict +attention. Even Andrew Zane, whose face had been rather sullen, listened +with a pale spot on his cheeks. + +"Go on," said Duff Salter gently. "You relate it very well." + +"As we had cleared the ship, gintlemen, I paused an instant to wipe the +sweat from my brows, though it was a cold night, for I was quite spint. +I then perceived that Mr. Rainey and the master were disputing and +raising their voices higher and higher, and what surprised me most of +all, your Honor, was the unusual firmness of Mr. Rainey, who was +ginerally very obedient to the boss. He faced the boss, and would not +take his orders, and I heard him once exclaim: 'Shame on you, sir; he is +your son!'" + +"Stop! stop!" cried Duff Salter. "You were not to repeat conversations. +What next?" + +"In the twinklin' of an eye," resumed the witness, "the masther had +sazed his partner by the throat and called him a villain. They both +stood up in the boat, the masther's hand still in Mr. Rainey's collar, +and for an instant Mr. Rainey shook himself loose and cried--" + +"Not a word!" exclaimed Duff Salter. "What was _done_?" + +"Mr. Rainey cried out something, all at once. The masther fetched a +terrible oath and fell back upon his seat. 'You assisted in this +villainy!' he shouted. They clinched, and I saw something shine dimly in +Mr. William Zane's hand. The report told me what it was. I lifted one +oar in a feeling of horror, and the boat swung round abruptly on the +blade of the other, and Mr. Rainey, released from the masther's grip, +fell overboard in the dark night." + +Nothing was said by any person in the court except a suppressed "Bah!" +from Calvin Van de Lear. + +"Silence! Order! I won't!" exclaimed the lame magistrate, rising from +his seat. "Now! Go on!" + +"I dropped both oars in me terror, and one of them floated away in the +dark. We all stood up in the boat. 'My God!' exclaimed the masther, +'what have I done?' As quick as the beating of my heart he placed the +pistol at his own head. I saw the flash and heard the report. Mr. +William Zane fell overboard." + +There was a shudder of horror for a moment, and then a voice outside the +window, hoarse and cheery, shouted to the outer crowd, "Andrew is +innocent! Three cheers for Andrew Zane!" + +The people in and out of the warm and densely-pressed office +simultaneously gave cheers, calling others to the scene, and the old +magistrate, lame as he was, arose and looked happy. + +"No arrests!" he cried. "Right enough! Good! Now, attention!" + +But Andrew Zane kept his seat with an expression of obstinacy, and +glared at Calvin Van de Lear, who was trembling with rage. + +"Well got up, on my word!" exclaimed Calvin. "Who is this fellow?" + +"Go on and finish your story!" commanded Duff Salter. + +"God forgive Mike Donovan, your Honor!" continued the witness. "I'm +afraid if Mr. William Zane had been the only man overboard I wouldn't +have risked me life. He was a hard, overbearin' masther. But I thought +of his poor son, standin' paralyzed-like, and the kind Mr. Rainey +drownin' in the wintry water, and I jumped down in the dark flood to +rescue one or both. From that day to this, the two partners I never saw. +It was months before I saw America at all, or the survivin' okkepant of +the boat." + +"You may explain how that came to be," intimated Duff Salter, grimly +superintending the court. + +"Well, sir! As I dived from the skiff my head encountered a solid +something which made me see a thousand flashes av lightning in one +second. I was so stunned that I had only instinct--I belave ye call it +that--to throw my ar-rum around the murthering object and hold like +death. Ye know, judge, how drownin' men will hold to straws. That straw, +yer Honor, was the spar of a vessel movin' through the water. It was, I +found out afterward, one of the pieces which had wedged the ship on the +Marine Railway, where she had been gettin' repaired, and she comin' off +hurriedly about dusk, had not been loosened from her. I raised my voice +by a despairin' effort, and screamed 'Help! help!' When I came to I was +on an Austrian merchant ship, bound to Wilmington, North Carolina, for +naval stores, and then to Trieste. The blow of the spar had given me a +slight crack av the skull." + +"That crack is wide open yet," said Calvin Van de Lear. + +"Begorra," returned the Irishman, facing placidly around until he found +the owner of the voice, "Mr. Calvin Van de Lear, it would take many such +a blow, sur, to fracture your heart!" + +"Go on now, Donovan, and finish your tale. You were carried off to +Trieste?" spoke Duff Salter. + +"I was, sir. At Wilmington no news had been recaved of any tragedy in +Philadelphia, and when I told my story there to a gentleman he concluded +I was ravin' and a seein' delusions. The Austrian was short av a crew, +and the docthor said if they could get away to sea he could make me +effective very soon. I was too helpless to go on deck or make +resistance. Says I, 'It's the will av God.'" + +A round of applause greeted this story as it was ended, and cheerful +hands were extended to the witness and the prisoner. Calvin Van de Lear, +however, exclaimed: + +"Alderman, what has all this to do with the prisoner's ignominious +flight for months from his home and from persons he abandoned to +suspicion and shame? This man is an impostor." + +"Will you take the stand, Mr. Andrew Zane?" asked Duff Salter. + +"No," replied the late fugitive. "I have been hunted and slandered like +a wolf. I will give no evidence in Kensington, where I have been so +shamefully treated. Let me be sent to a higher court, and there I will +speak." + +"Alas!" Duff Salter said, with grave emphasis, "it is you father's old +and obstinate spirit which is speaking. You are the ghost I thought was +his at the door of my chamber. Mr. Magistrate, swear me!" + +Duff Salter gravely kissed the Testament and stood ready to depose, when +Calvin Van de Lear again interrupted. + +"Are you not deaf?" asked the divinity student. "Where are your tablets +that you carry every day? You seem to hear too well, I consider." + +"You are right," cried Duff Salter, turning on his interrogator like a +lion. "I am wholly cured of deafness, and my memory is as acute as my +hearing." + +Calvin Van de Lear turned pale to the roots of his dry, yellow whiskers. + +"Devil!" he muttered. + +"My testimony covers only a single point," resumed the strong, direct, +and imposing witness. "I saw the face of this prisoner for the first +time since his babyhood in his father's house not many weeks ago. It +resembled his father's youthful countenance, as I knew it, so greatly +that I really believed his parent haunted the streets of Kensington, +according to the rumor. The supposed apparition drove me to investigate +the mysterious death of William Zane. I believed that Agnes knew the +story, but was under this prisoner's command of secrecy. Seeking an +assistant, the witness, Donovan, forced himself upon me. In a short time +I was confounded by the contradictions of his behavior. Looking deeper +into it, I suspected that in his suit of clothing resided at different +times two men: the one an agent, the other a principal; the one a +reality, the other a disguise. I armed myself and had the duller and +less observant of these doubles row me out upon the Delaware on such a +night as marked the tragedy he witnessed. When we reached the middle of +the river I forced the story of the coincidence from him by reasoning +and threats." + +"Ha! ha!" exclaimed Calvin Van de Lear. "Is this an Arkansas snake +story?" + +"The young Zane had gratified a wilful passion to penetrate the +residence of his father, and look at its inmates and the situation from +safe harborage there. He found that Donovan in his roving sailor's life +had played the crippled sea beggar in the streets of British cities, +tying up his natural leg and fitting a wooden leg to the knee--a trick +well known to British ballad singers. That leg was in Donovan's +sea-chest, as it had been left in this city, and also the crutch +necessary to walk with it. Mr. Zane and Donovan had exchanged the leg +and crutch, and the former matched his fellow with a wig and patches. +Thus convertible, they had for a little while deceived everybody, but +for further convenience Mr. Zane ensconced himself as a tenant in a +neighboring house, and when the apparatus was in request by Donovan, he +crossed on the roofs between the trap-doors, and still was master of his +residence." + +"What does all this disclose but the intrigue of despairing guilt?" +exclaimed young Van de Lear. "He had destroyed the purity of a lady and +abandoned her, and was afraid to show his real face in Kensington." + +"We will see as to that," replied Duff Salter. "I had hoped to respect +the lady's privacy, but Mr. Zane has refused to testify. Call Agnes +Wilt." + +All in the magistrate's office rose at the mention of this name, only +Andrew Zane keeping his seat amid the crowd. Calvin Van de Lear +officiously sought to assist the witness in, but Duff Salter pressed him +back and gave the sad and beautiful woman his arm. She was sworn, and +stood there blushing and pale by turns. + +"What is your name?" asked Duff Salter gently. "Speak very plain, so +that all these good friends of yours may make no mistake." + +"My name," replied the lady, "is Agnes Zane. I am the wife of Mr. Andrew +Zane." + +"Very good," said Duff Salter soothingly. "You are the wife of Andrew +Zane; wedded how long ago, madam?" + +"Eight months." + +"Do you see any person in this court-room, Mrs. Zane, that you wish to +identify? Let all be seated." + +Poor Agnes looked timidly around the place, and saw a person, at whom +all were gazing, rise and reach his arms toward her. + +"Gracious God!" she whispered, "is it he?" + +"It is, dear wife," cried Andrew Zane. "Come to my heart." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE SECRET MARRIAGE. + + +Reverend Silas Van de Lear was drawing his latest breaths in the house +of one of his elder sons, and only his lips were seen to move in silent +prayer, when a younger fellow-clergyman entering, to a cluster of his +cloth attending there, said audibly: + +"This is a strange _denouement_ to the great Kensington scandal, which +has happened this afternoon." + +The large, voluptuous lady with the slowly declining eyelids raised them +quietly as in languid surprise. + +"You mean the Zane murder? What is it?" asked a minister, while others +gathered around, showing the ministry to have human curiosity even in +the hour and article of death. + +"Miss Agnes Wilt, the especial favorite of our dying patriarch here, was +married to young Andrew Zane some time before his father died. There was +no murder in the case. Zane the elder, in one of his frequent fits of +wild and arrogant rage, which were little less than insanity, killed his +partner, Rainey, and in as sudden remorse took his own life." + +"What was the occasion of Zane's rage?" + +"That is not quite clear, but the local population here is in a violent +reaction against the accusers of young Zane and his wife. The church +recovers a valuable woman in Agnes Zane." + +Mrs. Knox Van de Lear had a vial of smelling salts in her hand, and this +vial dropping suddenly on the floor called attention to the fact that +the lady had a little swooning turn. She was herself again in a minute, +and her eyes slowly unclosed and lifted their tender curtains prettily. + +"I am so glad for dear Agnes," she said with a natural loudness in that +hushed room. "It even made me forget papa to find Agnes innocent." + +The dying minister seemed to catch the words. A ministerial colleague +bent down to hear his low articulation: + +"Agnes innocent!" said Silas Van de Lear, and strove to clasp his hands. +"The praying of the righteous availeth much!" + +The physician said the good man's pulse ceased to beat at that minute, +and they raised around his scarcely cold remains a hymn to heaven. + +Mean time, at the alderman's court, a surprising scene was witnessed. +For a few minutes everybody was in a frenzy of delight, and Duff Salter +was the hero of the hour. The alderman made no effort to discipline any +person; people hugged and laughed, and entreated to shake hands with +Andrew Zane, and in the pleasing confusion Calvin Van de Lear slunk out, +white as one condemned to be whipped. + +"Now! now! We will! Yes!" said the sententious old alderman. "Come to +order. Andrew Zane must be sworn!" + +At this moment the Kensington volunteer fire apparatus stopped opposite +the alderman's office and began to peal its bells merrily. The young +husband's obstinacy slowly giving way, seemed to be gone entirely when, +searching the room with his eye, he detected the flight of Calvin Van de +Lear. He kissed the little book as if it were a box of divine balm, and +raised his voice, looking still tenderly at Agnes, and addressing Duff +Salter: + +"Will you examine me, my father's friend?" + +"Yes, now! You will!" exploded the alderman. + +"No, take your own method, thou alternate of the late Mike Donovan," +exclaimed Duff Salter with a smile. + +"I never thought there could be an excuse for my behavior," said Andrew +Zane, "until this unexpected kind treatment had encouraged me. Indeed, +my friends, I am in every alternative unfortunate. To defend myself I +must reflect upon the dead. I will not make a defence, but tell my story +plainly. + +"My father was a man of deeds--a kind, rude business man. He loved me +and I worshipped him, though our apposite tempers frequently brought us +in conflict. Neither of us knew how to curb the other or be curbed in +turn. Above all things I learned to fear my father's will; it was +invincible. + +"My wife and I grew up in my widower father's family, and fell in love, +and had an understanding that at a proper season we would marry. That +season could not be long postponed when Agnes's increasing beauty and my +ardor kept pace together. I sought an occasion to break the secret to my +father, and his reception of it filled me with terror. 'Marry Agnes!' +he replied. 'You have no right to her. Your mother left her to me. I +may marry her myself.' + +"If he had never formed this design before it was now pursued with his +well-known tireless energy. The suggestion needed no other encouragement +than her beauty, ever present to inflame us both. Her household habits +and society were to his liking; he offered me everything but that which +embraced all to me. 'Go to Europe!' he said. 'Take a wife where you +will; but Agnes you shall not have. I will give you money, pleasure, and +independence, but I love where you have looked. Agnes will be your +mother, not your wife!' + +"Alas! gentlemen, this purpose of my father was not mere tyranny; he +loved her, indeed, and that was the insurmountable fact. My betrothed +had too much reason to know it. We mingled our tears together and +acknowledged our dependence and duty, but we loved with that youthful +fulness which cannot be mistaken nor dissuaded. In our distress we went +to that kind partner whom my father had raised from an apprentice to be +his equal, and asked him what to do. He told us to marry while we could. +Agnes preferred an open marriage as least in consequences, and involving +every trouble in the brave outset. I hoped to wean my father from his +wilfulness, and yet protect my affection by a secret marriage, to which +with difficulty I prevailed on my betrothed to consent. After our +marriage I found my husband's domain no less invaded by my father's +suit, until life became intolerable and it was necessary to speak. Poor, +brave Rainey, feeling keenly for us, fixed the time and place. He had +seldom crossed my father, and I trembled for his safety, but never +could have anticipated what came to pass. + +"Mr. Rainey said to us, 'I will tell your father, while we are crossing +the river some evening in a batteau, that you and Agnes are married, and +his suit is fruitless. He will be unable to do worse than sit still and +bear it in the small limits of the boat, and before we touch the other +shore will get philosophy from time and consideration.' + +"That plan was carried out. Shall I recount the dreadful circumstances +again? Spare me, I entreat you!" + +"No, I won't! The whole truth!" exclaimed the stern magistrate. "Tell +it!" + +"You are making no mistake, my young friend," said Duff Salter. "It will +all be told very soon." + +"As we started from Treaty Island, on that dark winter night," continued +Andrew Zane, growing pale while he spoke, "Mr. Rainey said to me, 'Go in +the bow. You are not to speak one word. I will face your father astern.' +The oarsman, Donovan, had a hard pull. The first word I heard my father +say was, 'That is none of your affair.' 'It is everybody's affair,' +answered Mr. Rainey, 'because you make it so. Behave like a gentleman +and a parent. The young people love each other.' 'I have the young +lady's affections,' said my father. 'You are making her miserable,' said +Mr. Rainey, 'and are deceiving yourself. She begins to hate you.' 'You +are an insolent liar!' exclaimed my father. 'If you mix in this business +I will throw you out of the firm.' 'That is no intimidation to me,' +answered his partner. 'Prosperity can never attend the business of a +cruel and unjust man. I shall be a brother to Andrew and a father to +Agnes, since you would defraud them so. William Zane, I will see them +married and supported!' With that my father threw himself in mere +physical rage upon Mr. Rainey. They both arose, and Mr. Rainey shook +himself loose and cried, 'You are outwitted, partner. I saw them +married! They are man and wife!' + +"With this my father's rage had no expression short of recklessness. He +always carried arms, and was unconquerable. His ready hand had sought +his weapon, I think, hardly consciously. His dismay and indignation for +an instant destroyed his reason at Mr. Rainey's sudden statement of +fact. + +"My God! can I further particularize on such a scene? In a moment of +time I saw before my eyes a homicide of insanity, a suicide of remorse; +and to end all, the sailor in the boat, as if set crazy by these +occurrences, leaped overboard also." + +This narrative, given with rising energy of feeling by Andrew Zane, was +heard with breathless attention. Andrew paused and glanced at his wife, +whose face was bathed with the inner light of perfect relief. The +greater babe of secrecy had ceased to travail with her. + +"Mr. Magistrate," said the young husband, "as I am under my oath, I can +only relate the acts which followed from the inference of my feelings. +My first sense was that of astonishment too intense not to appear unreal +and even amusing. It seemed to me that if I would laugh out loud all +would come back, as delusions yield to scepticism and mockery. But it +was too cold not to be real, the scene and persons were too familiar to +be erroneous. I had to realize that I was in one of the great and +terrible occasional convulsions of human nature. Do you know how it next +affected me? With an instant's sense of sublimity! I said to myself, +'How dared I marry so much beauty and womanly majesty? Doing so, I have +tempted the old gods and their fates and furies. This is poetical +punishment for my temerity.' Still all the while I was laboring at the +one scull left in the boat while my brain was fuming so, and listening +for sounds on the water. I heard the sailor cry twice, and then his +voice fainted away. I began to weep at the oar while I strained upon it, +and called 'Help!' and implored God's intervention. At last I sat down +in the boat, worn out and in despair, and let it drift down all the +city's front, past lights and glooms and floating ice, and wished that I +were dead. My father's kindness and all our disagreements rose to mind, +and it seemed God's punishment that I had married where his intentions +were. Yet to know the truth of this, I said a prayer upon my knees in +the wet boat while my teeth chattered, and before the end of my prayer +had come I was thinking of my wife's pure name, and how this would spot +her as with stains of blood unless I could explain it. + +"When I reached this stage of my exalted sensibilities I was nearly +crazed. There had been no witness of our marriage except the minister, +and he was already dead. We had been married at the country parsonage of +an old retired minister beyond Oxford church, on the road from Frankford +town, as we drove out one afternoon, and I prevailed with my +conscientious wife to yield her scruples to our heart's necessity. +'Great God!' I thought aloud--for none could hear me there--'how +dreadfully that secret marriage will compromise my wife! Who will +believe us without a witness of what I must assert--a story so +improbable that I would not believe it myself? I must say that I married +my wife secretly from my father's house, confessing deceit for both of +us, and with Agnes's religious professions, a sin in the church's +estimation. If there could be an excuse for me, the strict people of +Kensington will accord none to her. They will charge on her maturer mind +the whole responsibility, paint her in the colors of ingratitude, and +find in her greatest poverty the principal motive. Yes, they may be +wicked enough to say she compassed the death of my father by my hands, +to get his property.' + +"I had proceeded thus far when the terror of our position became +luminous like the coming fire on a prairie, which shows everything but a +way of escape. 'Where is your father?' they would ask of me in +Kensington. 'He is drowned.' 'How drowned?' 'He shot himself.' 'Why did +he shoot himself?' 'Because I had married his ward.' 'But his partner is +gone too.' 'He is murdered.' 'Why murdered?' 'Because he interceded for +me.' 'Where is your witness?' 'He has disappeared.' I saw the wild +improbability of this tale, and thought of past notorious quarrels with +my father ended by my voluntary absence. There were but two points that +seemed to stick in my nervous mind: 'It never would do to tell our +marriage at that moment, and I must find that sailor, who might still be +living.'" + +"He found me, sure enough, begorra!" exclaimed Mike Donovan, giving the +relief of laughter to that intense narrative. + +"Cowardly as you may call my resolution, gentlemen, it was all the +resolution I had left. To partake of the inheritance left me by both +partners in our house I feared to do. 'Let us do the penance of +suspicious separation,' I said to Agnes; 'as your husband I command you +to let me go!' She yielded like a wife, and stood my hostage in +Kensington for all those melancholy months. I had just learned the place +for which the bark which passed us on that eventful night had cleared, +when the two bullet-pierced bodies were discovered in the ice. That +night I sailed for Wilmington, North Carolina. When I arrived there the +bark was gone for the Mediterranean, but I heard of my sailor, wounded, +in her hospital. I sailed from Charleston for Cuba, and from Cuba to +Cadiz, and thence I embarked for Trieste. At Trieste I found the ship, +but Donovan had sailed for Liverpool. From Liverpool I tracked him to +the River Plate, and thence to Panama. You will ask how I lived all +those months? Ask him." + +He turned to Duff Salter. + +"Mr. Magistrate," spoke Duff Salter, a little confused. "I sent him +drafts at his request. He knew me to be the resident executor, and wrote +to me. I did it because of the pity I had for Agnes, and my faith in her +assurance that he was innocent." + +"Good! Yes!" exclaimed the magistrate. "I would have done the same +myself." + +"I returned with my man," concluded Andrew Zane. "I was now so confident +that I did not fear; but a hard obstinacy, coming on me at times, I +know not how, impelled me to postpone my vindication and make a test of +everybody. I was full of suspicion and bitterness--the reaction from so +much undeserved anxiety. I was the ghost of Kensington, and the spy upon +my guardian, but the unknown sentry upon my wife's honor all the while. + +"Magistrate!"--the young man turned to the alderman, and his face +flushed--"is there no punishment at law for men, and women too, who have +cruelly persecuted my wife with anonymous letters, intended to wound her +brave spirit to the quick?" + +"Plenty of it," said the magistrate. "Yes, I will. I will warrant them +all." + +"I will not forget it," said Andrew Zane darkly. + +"My husband, forget everything!" exclaimed Agnes. "Except that we are +happy. God has forgiven us our only deceit, which has been the +temptation of many in dear old Kensington." + +The old magistrate arose. "Case dismissed," he said: "Dinner is ready in +the next room for Mr. and Mrs. Zane, and Judge Salter. I fine you all a +dinner. Yes, yes! I will!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +TREATY ELM. + + +Andrew Zane was leaning on his elbow, in bed, listening to the tolling +bell for the old pastor of Kensington. He had not attended the funeral, +fearing to trust his eyes and heart near Calvin Van de Lear, for the +unruly element in his blood was not wholly stilled. Good and evil, +gratitude and recollection, contended within him, and Agnes just escaped +from the long shadow of his father's rage--had forebodings of some +violence when the two young men should meet in the little thoroughfare +of Kensington--the one with the accumulated indignities he had suffered +liable to be aroused by the other's shallow superciliousness. Agnes had +but one friend to carry her fears to--Him "who never forsaketh." She had +not persisted that her husband should attend the old pastor's funeral, +whither Duff Salter escorted her, and going there, relieved from all +imputation, her evidently wedded state was seen with general respect. +People spoke to her as of old, congratulated her even at the grave, and +sought to repair their own misapprehensions, suspicions, and severities, +which Agnes accepted without duplicity. + +Andrew Zane was leaning up in bed hearing the tolling bell when Agnes +reappeared. + +"Husband," she said, "only Knox Van de Lear was at the grave, of the +pastor's sons." + +"Ha!" exclaimed Andrew. + +"He looked worse than grief could make him. A terrible tale is afloat in +Kensington." + +Husband and wife looked at each other a moment in silence. + +"They say," continued Agnes, "that Calvin Van de Lear has fled with his +brother's wife. That is the talk of the town. Professing to desire some +clothing for the funeral, they took a carriage together, and were driven +to Tacony yesterday, where the afternoon train, meeting the steamboat +from Philadelphia, took them on board for New York." + +Andrew fell back on his pillow. + +"God has hedged me all around," he answered. "While Calvin Van de Lear +lived in Kensington I was in revengeful temptation all the time. He has +escaped, and my soul is oppressed no more. Do you know, Agnes, that the +guilty accomplice of Calvin, his brother's wife, wrote all the worst +letters which anonymously came through the post?" + +Agnes replied: + +"I never suspected it. My heart was too full of you. But Mr. Salter told +me to-day that he unravelled it some time ago. Calvin Van de Lear showed +him, in a moment of egotism, the conquest he had made over an unknown +lady's affections, and passages of the correspondence. The keen old man +immediately identified in the handwriting the person who addressed him a +letter against us soon after his arrival in the East. But he did not +tell me until to-day. How did you know she was the person?" + +Andrew Zane blushed a little, and confessed: + +"Agnes, she used to write to me. Seeing the anonymous letters you +received, I knew the culprit instantly. It was that which precipitated +the flight. She feared that her anonymous letters would result in her +arrest and public trial for slander, as they would have done. The +magistrate promised me that he would issue his warrant for every person +who had employed the public mails to harass my wife, and when you +entered this room my darker passions were again working to punish that +woman and her paramour." + +"Dearest, let them be forgotten. Yes, forgiven too. But poor Mr. Knox +Van de Lear! They have stolen his savings and mortgaged his household +furniture, which he was confiding enough to have put in his wife's name. +That is also a part of the story related around the good pastor's +grave." + +"Calvin has not escaped," exclaimed Andrew Zane. "As long as that +tigress accompanies him he has expiation to make. Voluptuous, jealous, +restless, and, like a snake in the tightness of her folds and her +noiseless approach, she will smother him with kisses and sell him to his +enemies." + +"Do you know her so well?" asked Agnes placidly. + +"Very well. She was corrupt from childhood, but only a few of us knew +it. She grew to be beautiful, and had the quickened intelligence which, +for a while, accompanies ruined women: the unnatural sharpening of the +duplicity, the firmer grasp on man as the animal, the study of the +proprieties of life, and apparent impatience with all misbehavior. Her +timid voice assisted her cunning as if with a natural gentleness, and +invited onward the man who expected in her ample charms a bolder spirit. +She betook herself to the church for penance, perhaps, but remained +there for a character. My wife, if I have suffered, it was, perhaps, in +part because for every sin is some punishment; that woman was _my_ +temptress also!" + +His face was pale as he spoke these words, but he did not drop his eyes. +The wife looked at him with a face also paled and startled. + +"Remember," said Andrew Zane, "that I was a man." + +She walked to him in a moment and kissed his forehead. + +"I will have no more deceit," said Andrew. "That is why I give you this +pain. It was long, my darling, before we loved." + +"That was the source, perhaps, of Lottie's anger with me," spoke Agnes. + +"I think not. There was not a sentiment between us. It is the way, +occasionally, that a very bad woman is made, by marriage or wealth, +respectable, and she declares war on her own past and its imitators. You +were pursued because you had exchanged deserts with her. You were pure +and abused; she was approved but tainted. Not your misfortunes but your +goodness rebuked her, and she lashed you behind her _alias_, as every +demon would riot in lashing the angels." + +"My husband," exclaimed Agnes, "where did you draw such secrets from +woman's nature? God has blessed you with wisdom. I felt, myself, by some +intuition of our sex, that it was sin, not virtue, that took such pains +to upbraid me." + +"I drew them from the old, old plant," answered Andrew Zane; "the Tree +of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Yonder, where I skimmed the surface of a +bad woman; here, where I am forgiven." + +"If you felt remorse," said Agnes, "you were not given up." + +"After _we_ were engaged that woman cast her eyes on my widowed father +and notified me that I must not stand in her way. 'If you embarrass me +by one word,' she said to me in her pretty, timid way, but with the look +of a lion out of her florid fringes, 'I will shatter your future +hearthstone. You are not fit to marry a Christian woman like Agnes Wilt. +I am good enough for your father--yes,' she finished, with terrible +irony, 'and to be your mother!' Those words went with me around the +world. Agnes, was I not punished?" + +"To think that the son of so good a man should be bound to such a +tyrant." + +"Yes, she will make him steal for her, or worse. He will end by being +her most degraded creature, leading and misleading to her. Theirs is an +unreturning path. God keep us all faithful!" + +Duff Salter became again mysterious. He sent for his trunks, and gave +his address as the "Treaty House," on Beach Street, nearly opposite the +monument, only a square back from the Zane house. + +"Andrew," said Salter, when the young husband sought him there, "I +concluded to move because there will be a nurse in that house before +midsummer. If I was deaf as I once was, it would make no difference. But +a very slight cry would certainly pierce my restored sensibilities now." + +The Treaty House was a fine, old-fashioned brick, with a long saloon or +double parlor containing many curiosities, such as pieces of old ships +of war, weapons used in Polynesia and brought home by old sea captains, +the jaws of whales and narwhals, figure-heads from perished vessels, +harpoons, and points of various naval actions. In those days, before +manufactures had extended up all the water streets, and when domestic +war had not been known for a whole generation, the little low marble +monument on the site of William Penn's treaty with the Indians attracted +hundreds of strangers, who moistened their throats and cooled their +foreheads in the great bar parlor of the Treaty House. It was still a +secluded spot, shady and dewy with venerable trees, and the moisture +they gave the old brown and black bricks in the contiguous houses, some +of them still stylish, and all their windows topped with marble or +sandstone, gray with the superincumbent weight of time or neglect. Large +rear additions and sunless sideyards carried out the idea of a former +gentry. Some buttonwood trees, now thinning out with annual age, +conveyed by their speckled trunks the notion of a changing social +standard, white and brown, native and foreign, while the lines of maples +stood on blackened boles like old retired seamen, bronzed in many +voyages and planted home forever. But despite the narrow, neglected, +shady street, the slope of Shackamaxon went gently shelving to the edges +of long sunny wharves, nearly as in the day when Penn selected this +greensward to meet his Indian friends, and barter tools and promises for +forest levels and long rich valleys, now open to the sky and murmurous +with wheat and green potato vines. + +Sitting before the inn door, on drowsy June afternoons, Duff Salter +heard the adzes ring and hammers smite the thousand bolt-heads on lofty +vessels, raised on mast-like scaffolds as if they meant to be launched +into the air and go cleared for yonder faintly tinted spectral moon, +which lingered so long by day, like the symbol of the Indian race, +departed but lambent in thoughtful memories. Duff had grown +superstitious; he came out of the inn door sidewise, that he might +always see that moon over his right shoulder for good luck. + +One morning Andrew Zane appeared at the Treaty House before Duff Salter +had taken his julep, after the fashion of malarious Arkansas. + +"Mr. Salter, it is all over. There is a baby at our house." + +"Girl?" + +"Just that!" + +"I thought so," exclaimed Duff Salter. "It was truly mother's labor, and +ought to have been like Agnes. We will give her a toast." + +"In nothing but water," spoke Andrew soberly. "I hope I have sown my +wild oats." + +"I will imitate you," heartily responded Duff Salter; "for it occurred +to me in Arkansas that people shot and butchered each other so often +because they threw into empty stomachs a long tumbler of liquor and +leaves. You are well started, Andrew. Your father's and his partner's +estate will give you an income of $10,000. What will you do?" + +"I have no idea whatever. My mind is not ready for business. My serious +experience has been followed by a sort of stupor--an inquiry, a detached +relation to everything." + +"Let it be so awhile," answered the strong, gray-eyed man. "Such rests +are often medicine, as sleep is. The mind will find its true channel +some day." + +"Can I be of service to you, Mr. Salter? Money would be a small return +of our obligations to you." + +"No, I am independent. Too independent! I wish I had a wife." + +"Ah! Agnes told me that besides seeing the baby when you came to the +house, little Mary Byerly would be there. She is well enough to be out, +and has lost her invalid brother." + +"If you see me blush, Andrew," said Duff Salter, "you needn't tell of +it. I am in love with little Podge, but it's all over. With no +understanding of woman's sensibilities, I shook that fragile child in my +rude grasp, and frightened her forever. What will you call your baby?" + +"Agnes says it shall be _Euphemia_, meaning 'of good report.' You know +it came near being a young lady of bad report." + +"As for me, Andrew, I shall make the contract for the steeple and +completion of the new church, and then take a foreign journey. Since I +stopped sneezing I have no way to disguise my sensibilities, and am more +an object of suspicion than ever." + +Duff Salter peeped at the beautiful mother and hung a chain of gold +around the baby's neck, and was about slipping out when Podge Byerly +appeared. She made a low bow and shrank away. + +"Follow her," whispered Andrew Zane. "If she is cool now she will be +cold hereafter, unless you nurse her confidence." + +With a sense of great youthfulness and demerit, Duff Salter entered the +parlors and found Podge sitting in the shadows of that thrice notable +room where death and grief had been so often carried and laid down. The +little teacher was pale and thin, and her eyes wore a saddened light. + +"I am very glad to see you again," said Duff Salter. "I wanted your +forgiveness." + +Striking the centre of sympathy by these few words, the late deaf man +saw Podge's throat agitated. + +"If you knew," he continued, "how often I accused myself since your +illness, you would try to excuse me." + +After a little silence Podge said, + +"I don't remember just what happened, Mr. Salter. Was it you who sent me +many beautiful and dainty things while I was sick? I thought it might +be." + +"You guessed me, then? At least I was not forgotten." + +"I never forgot you, sir; but ever since my illness you seem to have +been a part of the dread river and its dead. I have often tried to +restore you as I once thought of you, but other things rise up and I +cannot see you. My head was gone, I suppose." + +"Alas, no! I drove away your heart. If that would come back, the +wandering head would follow, little friend. Are you afraid of me?" + +"Sometimes. One thing, I think, is your deafness. While you were deaf +you seemed so natural that we talked freely before you, prattling out +our fancies undisguised. We wouldn't have done it if we knew that you +heard as well as we. That makes me afraid too. Oh! why did you deceive +us so?" + +"I only deceived myself. A foolish habit, formed in pique, of affecting +not to hear, adhered to me long before we were acquainted. If you will +let me drive you out into the country to-morrow I will tell you the +whole of my silly story. The country roads are what you need, and I need +your consideration as much." + +The next day a buggy stopped at the door, and Podge, sitting at the +window with her bonnet on, saw Duff Salter, hale and strong, holding the +reins. She was helped into the buggy by Andrew Zane, and in a few +minutes the two were in the open country pointing toward old Frankford. +They rode up the long stony street of that old village, whose stone or +rough-cast houses suggested the Swiss city of Basle whence the early +settlers of Frankford came. Then turning through the factory dale called +Little Britain, they sped out the lane, taking the general direction of +Tacony Creek, and followed that creek up through different little +villages and mill-seats until they came to nearly the highest mill-pond, +in the stony region about the Old York road. A house of gray and reddish +stones, in irregular forms, mortised in white plaster, sat broadside to +the lawn before it, which was covered with venerable trees, and bordered +at the roadside by a stone rampart, so that it looked like a hanging +lawn. A gate at the lawn-side gave admission to a lane, behind which was +the ancient mill-pond suspended in a dewy landscape, with a path in the +grass leading up the mill-race, and on the pond a little scow floated in +pond-lilies. All around were chestnut trees, their burrs full of fruit. +Across the lane, only a few feet from the house, the ancient mill gave +forth a snoring and drumming together as if the spirit of solitude was +having a dance all to itself and only breathing hard. Then the crystal +water, shooting the old black mill-wheel, fell off it like the beard +from Duff Salter's face, and went away in pools and flakes across a +meadow, under spontaneous willow trees which liked to stand in moisture +and cover with their roots the harmless water-snakes. A few cottages +peeped over the adjacent ridges upon the hidden dale. + +"What a restful place!" exclaimed Podge Byerly. "I almost wish I might +be spirit of a mill, or better still, that old boat yonder basking in +the pond-lilies and holding up its shadow!" + +"I am glad you like it," said Duff Salter. "Let us go in and see if the +house is hospitable." + +As Podge Byerly walked up the worn stone walk of the lawn she saw a +familiar image at the door--her mother. + +"You here, mother?" said Podge. "What is the meaning of it?" + +"This is my house, my darling. There is our friend who gave it to us. +You will need to teach no more. The mill and a little farm surrounding +us will make us independent." + +Podge turned to Duff Salter. + +"How kind of you!" she said. "Yet it frightens me the more. These +surprises, tender as they are, excite me. Everything about you is +mysterious. You are not even deaf as you were. What silly things you may +have heard us say." + +"Dear girl," exclaimed Duff Salter, "nothing which I heard from your +lips ever affected me except to love you. You cured me of years of +suspicion, and I consented to hear again. The world grew candid to me; +its sounds were melodious, its silence was sincere. It is you who are +deaf. You cannot hear my heart." + +"I hear no other's, at least," said Podge. "Tell me the story of your +strange deceit." + +They drew chairs upon the lawn. Podge took off her bonnet and looked +very delicate as her color rose and faded alternately in the emotions of +one wooed in earnest and uncertain of her fate. + +"I have not come by money without hard labor," said the hale and +handsome man. "This gray beard is not the creation of many years. It is +the fruit of anxiety, toil, and danger. My years are not double yours." + +"You have recovered at least one of your faculties since I knew you," +said Podge slyly. + +"You mean hearing. The sense of feeling too, perhaps--which you have +lost. But this is my tale: After I went to Mexico, and became the +superintendent of a mine, I found my nature growing hard and my manner +imperious, not unlike those of my dead friend, William Zane. The hot +climate of Mexico and confinement in the mines, hundreds of feet below +the surface and in the salivating fumes of the cinnabar retorts, +assisted to make me impetuous. I fought more than one duel, and, like +all men who do desperate things, grew more desperate by experience +until, upon one occasion, I was made deaf by an explosion in the bowels +of the ground. For one year I could hear but little. In that year I was +comparatively humble, and one day I heard a workman say, 'If the boss +gets his hearing back there will be no peace about the mine.' This set +me to thinking. 'How much of my suspicion and anger,' I said, 'is the +result of my own speaking. I provoked the distemper of which I am +afflicted. I start the inquiries which make me distrustful. I hear the +echo of my own idle words, and impeach my fellow-man upon it. Until I +find a strong reason for speech, I will remain deaf as I have been.' +That strong reason never arrived, my little girl, until all reason +ceased to be and love supplanted it." + +"There is no reason, then, in your present passion," said Podge dryly. + +"No. I am so absolutely in love that there is no resisting it. It is +boyishness wholly." + +"I think I should be afraid of a man," said Podge, "who could have so +much will as to hold his tongue for seven years. Suppose you had a +second attack, it might never come to an end. What were you thinking +about all that time?" + +"I thought how deaf, blind, and dumb was any one without love. I found +the world far better than it had seemed when I was one of its +chatterers. By my voluntary silence I had banished the disturbing +element in Nature; for our enemy is always within us, not without. In +that seven years, for most of which I heard everything and answered +none, except by my pencil, I was prosperous, observant, sober, and +considerate. The deceit of affecting not to hear has brought its +penalty, however. You are afraid of me." + +"Were you ever in love before?" + +"I fear I will surprise you again by my answer," said Duff Salter. "I +once proposed marriage to a young girl on this very lawn. It was in the +springtime of my life. We met at a picnic in a grove not far distant. +She was a coquette, and forgot me." + +Podge said she must have time to know her heart. Every day they made a +new excursion, now into the country of the Neshaminy, and beyond it to +the vales of the Tohicken and Perkiomen. They descended the lanes along +the Pennypack and Poqessing, and followed the Wissahickon to its +sources. Podge rapidly grew in form and spirits, and Agnes and Andrew +Zane came out to spend a Saturday with them. + +Mean time Andrew Zane was in a mystic condition--uncertain of purpose, +serious, and studious, and he called one night at the Treaty tavern to +see Duff Salter. Duff had gone, however, up the Tacony, and in a +listless way Andrew sauntered over to the little monument erected on the +alleged site of the Indian treaty. He read the inscription aloud: + +"Treaty Ground of William Penn and the Indian Nations, 1682. Unbroken +Faith! Pennsylvania, founded by deeds of Peace!" + +As Andrew ceased he looked up and beheld a man of rather portly figure, +with the plain clothes of a Quaker, a broad-brimmed hat, knee-breeches, +and buckled shoes. Something in his countenance was familiar. Andrew +looked again, and wondered where he had seen that face. It then occurred +to him that it was the exact likeness of William Penn. The man locked at +Andrew and said, + +"Thee is called to preach!" + +"Sir?" exclaimed Andrew. + +In the same tone of voice the man exclaimed, + +"Thee is called to preach!" + +Andrew looked with some slight superstition at the peculiar man, with +such a tone of authority, and said again, but respectfully: + +"Do I understand you as speaking to me, sir?" + +"Thee is called to preach!" said the object, in precisely the same tone +of voice, and vanished. + +Andrew Zane walked across to the hotel and saw Duff Salter, freshly +arrived, looking at him intently. + +"Did you see a person in Quaker dress standing by the monument an +instant past?" + +"I saw nobody but yourself," said Duff heartily. "I have been looking at +you some moments." + +"As truly as I live, a man in Quaker dress spoke to me at the monument's +side." + +"What did he say?" + +"He said three times, deliberately, 'Thee is called to preach!'" + +"That's queer," said Duff, looking curiously at Andrew. "My friend, that +man spoke from within you. Do you know that it is the earnest desire of +your wife, and a subject of her prayers, that you may become a +minister?" + +"I didn't know it," said Andrew. "But there is something startling in +this apparition. I shall never be able to forget it." + +To the joy of Agnes, now a happy wife and mother, her husband went +seriously into the church, and the moment his intention was announced of +entering the ministry, there arose a spontaneous and united wish that he +would take the pulpit in his native suburb. + +"Agnes," said the young man, "the dangers I have passed, the tragedy of +my family, your piety and my feelings, all concur in this step. I feel a +new life within me, now that I have settled upon this design." + +"I would rather see you a good minister than President," exclaimed +Agnes. "The desires of my heart are fully answered now. When you saw the +image standing by the Treaty tree at that instant I was upon my knees +asking God to turn your heart toward the ministry." + +"Here in Kensington," spoke Andrew, "we will live down all imputation +and renew our family name. Here, where we made our one mistake, we will +labor for others who err and suffer. Such an escape as ours can be +celebrated by nothing less than religion." + +Duff Salter went to Tacony for the last time on the Sunday Andrew Zane +entered the church. He did not speak a word, but at the appearance of +Podge Byerly drew out the ancient ivory tablets and wrote: + +"I'll never speak again until you accept or refuse me." + +She answered, "What are you going to do if I say _no_?" + +"I have bought two tickets for Europe," wrote Duff Salter. "One is for +you, if you will accept it. If not I shall go alone and be deaf for the +remainder of my days." + +Podge answered by reaching out her lips and kissing Duff Salter plumply. + +"There," she said, "I've done it!" + +Duff Salter threw the tablets away, and standing up in a glow of +excitement, gave with great unction his last articulate sneeze: + +"Jericho! Jericho!" + + + + + THE DEAD BOHEMIAN. + + * * * * * + + My hope to take his hand, + His world my promised land, + I thought no face so beautiful and high. + When he had called me "Friend," + I reached ambition's end, + And Art's protection in his kindly eye. + + My dream was quickly run-- + I knew Endymion; + His wing was fancy and his soarings play; + No great thirsts in him pent, + His hates were indolent, + His graces calm and eloquent alway. + + Not love's converse now seems + So tender to my dreams + As he, discursive at our mutual desk, + Most fervid and most ripe, + When dreaming at his pipe, + He made the opiate nights grow Arabesque. + + His crayon never sharp, + No discord in his harp, + He made such sweetness I was discontent; + He knew not the desire + To rise from warmth to fire, + And with his magic rend the firmament. + + Perhaps some want of faith, + Perhaps some past heart-scath, + Took from his life the zest of reaching far-- + And so grew my regret, + To see my pride forget + That many watched him like a risen star. + + Some moralist in man-- + Even Bohemian-- + Feathers the pen and nerves the archer too. + Not dear decoying art, + But the crushed, loving heart, + Makes the young life to its resolves untrue. + + Therefore his haunts were sad; + Therefore his rhymes were glad; + Therefore he laughed at my reproach and goad-- + With listless dreams and vague, + Passed not the walls of Prague, + To hew some fresh and individual road. + + Still like an epic round, + With beautifulness crowned, + I read his memory, tenderer every year, + Complete with graciousness, + Gifted and purposeless, + But to my heart as some grand Master dear. + + +THE END + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistencies of spelling, punctuation and accents +in the original have been retained in this etext.] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bohemian Days, by Geo. 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